#i was gonna throw a daddy in there too...but like let's just keep it vague for a bit 😉 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nohoney · 10 months

Note

Hehehehe....I have an other one 😈 Sorry for spamming you by the way 😅

But I have an other however it's center around more of an dominant woman because yes.

Stripper/Sugar Baby Hawks x Taller business(Mafia maybe) reader

But both are switches😏 again smut/fluffy

Also thank you for that short demon Keigo it is nice🥲💕

~👁

i attempted to salvage what i could remember from the original draft ｡ﾟ･ (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡ i’m not quite as satisfied since the original one got lost but i hope it’s still good!

warnings: mentions of violence/death (very vaguely), switch dynamics, edging

keigo sits back on the couch trying to keep his composure, his eyes set on you as you lean over the items on the coffee table. his hand jerks at his cock, huffing quietly and his thighs are shaking a little as he comes to close to the edge of cumming. he strokes himself a little faster, chasing the high and hoping this time you’ll be kind and-

“don’t cum yet.” you command to him, your eyes briefly glance to him before looking back down at the coffee table.

he groans, grasping the base of his cock and holds in a frustrated sigh.

this is torture for him, he’s the kind of man that loves to indulge himself a little too much. you play into that with him and you equally frustrate him when you dangle the peak of his ecstasy with just a simple command or a look.

“you know if he had just done his job, i would have been nice and worked something out.” you say into the phone and pick up a polaroid before setting it back down. it’s placed next to a gun packed inside a ziplock, a bloody tie, and a small baggy of partly crushed blue pills. “if he only he died a respectful death, i would see his family off so that they were taken care of. now they’re gonna struggle because their dumb daddy got too greedy.”

you talk about a man’s death as if it were a minor inconvenience. like when the heels of your shoes snap; a mild irritation but ultimately has no long term effect on you.

walking over to where he sits on the couch, you keep your phone pressed to your ear with one hand and use the free one to slap his hand away and stroke him yourself. you still continue to talk passively, going over some details of the hit you placed on someone and what needs to be taken care of. and keigo groans lowly, his head dropping back and throwing his arms over the back of the couch. his fingernails dig into the rich, fine leather couch as he tries to will himself to not cum under your touch.

he can’t cum until you say he can.

“o-oh fuck!” keigo grits through his teeth, “baby, i don’t think i can-“

you shush him gently before resuming your phone conversation. “make sure to sweep the entire basement and do a good clean up. drop the car off to the hotel manager and give him the black card from the glove compartment.” you instruct the person, nodding your head when you hear a confirmation and hang up the phone.

the phone is tossed to the other side of the couch and you put your full attention on your precious plaything.

keigo remembers life before you, he was aimless and wandering and struggling. he also remembers how you always looked fairly unhappy, such a pretty face you have that he couldn’t help staring at.

now look where he is now, living in the lap of luxury because you thought him too pretty to be fending for himself.

there’s a big part of him that feels a little prideful to be with a woman like you. for someone that always had the hardest gaze when dealing with business, he managed to melt your icy exterior. you’re capable of giving soft smiles and showing some vulnerability.

“what’s on your mind, love?” you ask with a small tilt of your head, your hand still stroking his cock and working him up. “care to share?”

“fuck, i wanna cum!” keigo hisses, “god, please let me cum!”

you play coy and simply give him a sweet smile.

he wants to rip your silk gucci dress off you. he wants to eat out your cunt until you squirt all over him. he wants you to give him permission to fuck you until you cry. just in the same way you lord all the power over him, when he is allowed to cum or beg in a way that panders to you, you willingly give up your power to let him do as he pleases to you.

it’s what he loves most about this; a powerful woman like you can reduce him to a sexed out mess and he can do the same to you, making you blissed out and needy for only him.

“say you love me and that you’re grateful to me.” you command him, still keeping that coy smile on your face.

“i love you and i’m grateful,” keigo tells you with sincerity, “so grateful that i’m yours.” you retreat to fold your hands into your lap, suddenly bashful. only he can make you that way. seeing you so shy like this almost sets him off and makes him cum untouched. but he wants to cum in you or on you, all over your face or in your throat or over your tits. “baby, please?”

you seem to mull it over before telling him, “you’ve been good. lie back.”

thank fucking god, finally after forty something minutes he gets rewarded.

you take off the dress and let it drop to a heap on the floor, comfortably nude in your luxury apartment just as in the same way you are comfortable with evidence of a murder laying out on your coffee table. you spit into your hand to lube his cock first, spreading the wetness first before sinking him into your tight warmth. his mouth drops and he lets out a choked moan, finally feeling relief to be with you.

he’s unprepared though when you ride him, hoping to savor a slow fuck with you but you make his eyes roll to the back of his head. you slam your pussy down as you fuck him and keigo knows what he won’t last at all-

“fuck!” he curses when he cums inside you, his core clenching as he fills you. all the edging frayed his control and he revels in the high of an orgasm.

you’re kind enough to give him a little bit of time to compose himself, getting off his lap and his cock slipping out. his cum leaks out your pussy but you simply grab the gucci dress and use it as a cum rag to clean yourself.

“come upstairs when you catch your breath.” you tell keigo as you take the ruined gucci dress with you.

keigo lays in his spot for a few minutes before finally sitting up. his eyes barely glance to the items on the coffee table, already having gotten used to the business that you run. he goes up the stairs to the bedroom you and him share together and he finds you sitting at the edge of the bed, one hand dangling an expensive gold chain.

his eyes immediately go to the gold earrings that are adorned on your ears, noticing them since you weren’t wearing them earlier. he moves to kneel down in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs and resting on your hips as he waits patiently for what you want him to do. you clasp the golden chain around his neck, fixing it so that it’s presented properly. “they’re matching.” he comments on the jewelry.

you give a little hum and lean back, propping yourself on your elbows and opening your legs for him. “what do you say?”

“thank you.” keigo is gifted with a smile and he musters up the courage to ask, “can we… can i-“

“yes.” you answer before he even finishes his question. he sees the shift in your attitude. “you can.”

only he can do this to you, he can follow your every command even when he is frustrated from it because he lives for you, and in turn you reward him with the same submissiveness he gives you. so keigo has you lie flat on your back onto the soft mattress, hooking two fingers into your cunt. they slip in easily since you’re still wet with his cum, making you whine slightly. slowly his fingers curl into you and a devious smile comes on his face.

now it’s his turn to torture you.

he works you up to the very edge only for him to tell you, “don’t cum yet.”

#there was so many good lines from the original that i just couldn’t remember but i tried to replicate them :(#ooof okay now i’m done with writing prompts for a lil bit after wracking my brain for the last few hours #hawks smut #hawks thirst #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #k.inbox

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ravs6709 · 1 year

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All This Love (I'll Show You How It Feels)- Ambiguous Kam

Word count: 2.8k words

To ink @soryasongsaa !!! Happy late birthday! Have some kam fake dating shenanigans because it hit my brain and I couldn't not write it <3 it was fun as hell to write and I hope you enjoy it just as much

Also he/they keefe!!!

Warnings: swearing, and vaguely suggestive scene except it'd also just crack

•~•~•~•~•~•

Tam thought that it'd been a perfectly normal day. It had been a perfectly normal day. It was 11 p.m., he was in his room and had no reason to interact with anyone, so really, the day should have ended completely normal.

And then there was a knock on his window.

(Oh, of course when the window mesh was damaged, that's when all the nonsense happened.)

He grabbed some old, heavy as hell, textbook in one hand and opened the curtains with the other, then the window, ready to knock the intruder to the ground.

When he saw a glimpse of messy blond hair, he nearly smacked the intruder out of instinct, but barely managed to refrain.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked Keefe, who was casually sitting on the narrow ledge of Tam's window. "Give me a reason to not just shove you off."

Keefe guffawed. "Bangs Boy, is this a death threat?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's not a long fall."

(...he would know, he accidentally fell out one time when he was younger.)

He raised an eyebrow. "A favour."

"Ugh, fine, I have a favour. Can't let me be dramatic in peace."

They nodded. "A favour. Unless you want me to go to Linh instead-"

Tam yanked them by the arm and pulled them in. "Do not." Ignoring Keefe's yelp, he continued. "You want me to do some last minute assignment due tomorrow?"

They rolled their eyes. "I wish. I'd have just gone to Fitzy. Unfortunately, I can only ask this of you, because I'm in a much, much more dire-"

"Get on with it. You're interrupting my sleep."

They laughed. "Sleep? You were just gonna stay up until 2am playing a gacha game."

Keefe scowled briefly, then their features shifted into that really annoying expression they got when they were planning something. "Be my boyfriend."

Tam blinked. The expression on their face didn't change. The clock on his wall kept ticking.

"What?"

"Be my boyfriend," Keefe repeated, as if this wasn't the most inane thing they'd ever said, and they'd said some really inane things over the two years that Tam has known them for.

"I know what you said. But let me repeat myself. What."

Their expression schooled into something serious, and Tam decided he wasn't going to throw them out of his window.

"It's fake dating, not a real relationship," they said, "just to clarify."

Never mind. The window was back to being appealing.

"Why."

They shrugged. "To piss off my dad?"

Tam sighed. "Alright, fine, that's understandable. Why the hell are you asking me? You know Sophie would be down for pissing him off."

"I know. But Daddy Dearest himself said I should get a girlfriend."

Tam scrunched his face in disgust. "He actually told you that?"

"It was so awkward, I didn't even know how to snark my way out of what."

"Okay, fine. A boyfriend. Fitz?"

"And interrupt whatever weird Fitzphie pining is going on?" They scoffed. "Another reason I can't date Foster, by the way."

He nodded. "Dex?"

Their expression went serious again. "For... personal reasons, I can't. So really, that leaves you, Bangs Boy, as my final and only candidate." They sighed dramatically. "So. Be my boyfriend?"

He raised an eyebrow. "How does this work? Do I go to your dad's house and hold your hand? Kiss you on the cheek?"

They both grimaced at that. Yeah, no.

"Uhhh, it'd be nice if it were that simple. We gotta like, do a full pretense. Date at school and all that."

He narrowed his eyes. "You want the whole school to know we're dating?"

They nodded. "Yeah, and our friends should believe it too."

"Why the fuck do they have to believe it's real?"

They waved a hand. "They're shit at keeping secrets. You know this. Daddy Dearest is also great at sensing lies, so the less people to lie to him, the better."

This went from mildly annoying to getting on his nerves. "You're annoying."

This was insane. He had to pretend to date Keefe, and make it believable to his friends. He had to fool Linh. "I'm not kissing you."

They gagged. "Ew, hell no. Are you stupid? Who needs to flaunt kissing to prove they're a couple? Bangs Boy, you read too many romance novels."

"Shut up, or I won't date you."

"...you were going to agree this fast?"

"No," he lied.

Obviously he didn't actually want to date Keefe, but they clearly didn't want to do it either, seeing as he was a last (and only) resort. The fact that they actually came to him meant that this was at least kind of serious.

"How long is this supposed to last?"

"I'm gonna move out once I start college. Then give it another month or so, we can break up saying the distance was too much for us."

Tam had to say, for how impulsive and absolutely reckless this fake dating thing sounded, it sounded like they'd thought a lot of this through.

He weighed the pros and cons of this in his head.

Cons: he had to fake date Keefe. He'd have to swallow his pride and be a little affectionate towards them. He'd have to be believable. Keefe would make fun of him. Linh would tease the hell out of him. His parents wouldn't be the happiest with him when they found out.

Pros: He'd have to watch Keefe swallow their pride in order to be affectionate. And they were a very physically affectionate person. He'd get to make fun of them back. He could say he got a boyfriend before Linh could get herself a girlfriend (it was fake and they came to him but that didn't matter). His parents wouldn't actually do anything, might send a few judgemental looks, but he'd long learned to not care about those. He didn't even have to worry about the breakup story.

"How are we going to convince our friends we're in love?" Tam asked. "We hate each other."

To his utter surprise, their face turned red. "Um. There's a non-zero chance that at least one of our friends think I have a thing for you."

"What."

"Weird conversation in a groupchat for that gacha game Linh plays. Denying it made it worse."

"What."

"And since Marella and Biana play it too, they might actually be convinced too-"

"What."

"It is not my fault if I think a fictional character who happens to look like you is hot-"

Tam put a hand over their mouth. "Please," he said, his voice oddly strained to his ears, "shut up."

Keefe nodded, their face growing warm to the touch. Tam removed his hand, and Keefe scowled at him. "We never speak of this again."

Tam nodded sagely.

•~•~•~•~•~•

So that conversation had happened on Sunday night, and now it was Monday morning, and Tam had to go to school. It felt like a blessing now more than ever that they were in different grades, because it meant they only saw each other at lunch or at the school's strings ensemble.

When lunch came, Keefe was at the lunch table already, so he just sat beside him.

Linh raised an eyebrow, and sat opposite of him. "Strange."

Marella, who sat beside her shrugged. "If it means they won't play footsies again, I'll take it."

Tam glanced at Keefe, wondering if this was a good opportunity to say something, but the idea of a public announcement of dating was so weird. How do you even make that kind of announcement when neither of you showed interest in the other?

(Well, ignoring... what Keefe had said. That didn't count.)

He had no desire to kiss him on the lips, a cheek kiss was less weird but still way too excessive. Handholding was probably not a bad idea, but when it came to the two of them, it seemed too quick, too fast.

Keefe kicked his foot. Tam kicked it back. The angle was weird because they were sitting beside each other instead of on opposite sides, but clearly, that wasn't stopping Keefe.

"They're at it again," Biana said, from where she was sitting beside Keefe.

When Keefe's foot knocked into his again, Tam hooked his ankle around Keefe's. He glanced at him from his peripheral vision, and noted the almost wide-eyed look. It was such a minor action, but it seemed to have stunned him.

Linh hummed, looking straight at Tam, before her eyes flicked down as she leaned back, peeking under the table.

Tam hid his smile as he continued eating. Maybe this could be fun.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Well. Unlike Tam, who was going for subtlety with his under the table, before building up to something more, Keefe had no intention on that. Which, he really should have expected.

They'd been a little quiet during their group study session/hangout at the Vackers, but it wasn't until they'd slid a paper onto his notebook did he understand why.

Tam picked up the sheet of paper and looked at it. It was a sketch from a pencil, the lines smooth as it depicted a soft looking picture. A picture of Tam doing some of his work, a slight smile on his face, probably a relieved smile from when he'd managed to figure out an answer to a question earlier.

"This..." Tam began, lost on what to say.

"Felt like drawing you," they replied, as if that was a proper answer.

And if that wasn't enough, they then grabbed his hand and brought it to their cheek. For a moment, he almost thought that they'd bring his hand to their lips, but fortunately, they did not do that. "Your hand's cold," they murmured, "but it feels nice."

"You are... very shameless."

He thought that they'd struggle more to be affectionate with him. Then again, they were always one to defy expectations.

"What?" Sophie asked, and not just her, but the rest of his friends were staring at them. "Since... when?"

"It's not unexpected," Linh said neutrally, looking at Tam. "The more surprising thing is that I didn't get to know beforehand. That being said, I also want to know how long."

"Last night," Tam replied. "Came to my window like they're in some romantic drama, then confessed their undying love for me. The absolute sap."

He hid his smile as he glanced at their briefly scowling face. And because they hated being outdone, they had to add, "Well, you should've seen the look on his face. The cute blush, the wide eyes, the way his voice lowered as he told me how he hated me but still couldn't help loving me."

He glared. It wasn't as chilled as it usually was, which was a testament as to how surprisingly calm he felt. If this had been even yesterday, there was a relatively high chance of this devolving into a fistfight.

•~•~•~•~•~•

During one of Tam's grocery shopping sessions, he'd been browsing through the snack aisle. He usually only came here every once in a while to stock up on some relatively low sugar cookies. As he walked down the aisle, he spotted a certain brand of cookies.

("Bangs Boy," Keefe whined over the phone, because for some reason, Tam decided to accept his call instead of denying it like he normally did. "I'm out of cookies and the store doesn't have more in stock."

"That sounds like a you problem," Tam told him.

"Such a mean boyfriend, you are. I've got the worst boyfriend."

"Sure, sure," he said absently, because he'd been paying more attention to the show that he'd been watching before he got the phone call.)

Without thinking, he grabbed a box and tossed it into the shopping basket. He paid for his stuff and shoved it into his backpack, then walked over to Keefe's house.

He probably could just enter the front door, but at this point it was almost 9:30 p.m. and he didn't feel like coming across Keefe's dad. There was an easy to climb tree, and it was definitely easier than getting to his own window.

The mesh was attached, but the window had been opened slightly, and Tam could hear the sound of a violin playing.

Now, he was no stranger to Keefe's playing, he heard it every time during their strings ensemble club meeting. He was even familiar with Keefe playing to only him. But there had always been an audience, and when there was an audience, there was always the need to play a certain way.

He couldn't see Keefe at this moment, but he could imagine the lack of tension in his posture, could imagine closed eyes as he immersed himself fully.

On your own, when there was no one to hear other than yourself, there was a lack of restraint, there was a vulnerability. He knew it from hearing Linh play cello, but hearing it from Keefe, it was...

The flash of a camera blinded him.

"You look like a creep, staring from my window," Keefe said.

"You play well," Tam blurted.

His mouth parted into a small gape, and Tam had expected a reply of 'obviously' or 'you finally admit it, Bangs Boy?' but he didn't say anything, eyes wide.

"Soo, why are you here?" Despite the words, he took down the mesh and let Tam in. "Surely it wasn't to act like a creepy stalker."

Tam pulled out the box of cookies and threw it at him, annoyed by the ease of which he caught it.

"Oh my god, a present?" Keefe gasped dramatically. "I've changed my mind. You're the best boyfriend!"

"Don't expect this to happen often. I just happened to be shopping."

Still though, Keefe was grinning, ice blue eyes gleaming, as he hastily opened the box and took out a pack. "Thanks, Bangs Boy!" There was a sense of genuine happiness, none of that smugness, none of that bravado, and it wasn't often that Tam was the one to make him that happy.

While Keefe was busy pleasantly eating his cookies, Tam snatched his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey, what the hell—hah, you don't know my password!"

Tam quickly entered his fingerprint—because he'd managed to sneak it on and was saving it for an important moment—and he opened the photos app.

Upon realizing this, Keefe tackled him. They both fell on to the bed.

"When the hell did you get your fingerprint on?"

"I'm not telling you."

They wrestled on the bed for the phone. Their hands fumbled as they aggressively grabbed at each other.

"Delete that picture."

"Hell no!"

They continued wrestling, as Tam managed to pin him down on the bed. It was only when Keefe stopped struggling when he realized the position that they were in.

And then the door opened.

"Keefe—" the sound of Cassius Sencen's voice cut off.

And if that wasn't horrifying enough...

"Oh, dad, can't you see you're interrupting something?" Then he cupped Tam's face in his hand.

Tam didn't dare look back to actually see Cassius's face, but there was an awkward silence and then he could hear footsteps leave.

"Keefe," Tam let out a breath. He was frozen in shock. "What the fuck what that?"

He grinned. "I was planning to pretend to kiss you in front of him anyway, this could not have gone better."

"Your dad thinks you and I are..."

"Tell me it isn't hilarious."

"It is. But I'm going to be horrified anyway because what the fuck. I'm leaving. Also, delete that picture or else I'm telling Sophie about your fictional crush."

"Hey—we agreed we'd never speak of that again!"

•~•~•~•~•~•

When Tam opened his locker at school, he was not expecting a crap on of drawings of him pasted on the walls by magnets, but somehow, he wasn't surprised.

"And you call me the creepy stalker," Tam said to Keefe.

"This is revenge for you getting your fingerprint on my phone."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you've been here before."

They sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

•~•~•~•~•~•

During lunch, Keefe had a physics test soon that they were now whining about.

"I should've dropped out," they wailed. "What if I ditch the test?"

"Hey," Tam said, leaning over to rest a hand on their head, ruffling their hair a little bit. "You'll be fine. You've done better with less studying."

Keefe relaxed into his touch, and he wondered when this became normal. Physical touch wasn't necessarily his thing, but he'd noticed that Keefe was very receptive to it. And he was more fine giving it, comparing to receiving. It even made Keefe less annoying when they got this comfortable.

This whole fake-dating thing was... kind of fun. He found he didn't mind if Keefe dragged him on random outings or showed up at his window at 11 p.m.

He didn't mind keeping up this pretense.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @stellarune @my-swan-song @impostertamsong @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the tag list? Just let me know!

#tam song #keefe sencen #kam #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fanfiction #ravi writes a thing

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k347 · 3 years

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punk, steeeve, pal, steeb, stevie, steebling, doll, sweetheart, captain

wow, I wish my boyfriend could come up with as many petnames as bucky barnes did for his man

#couple goals #stucky #♥️#husbands #steve rogers #bucky barnes #mcu #otp: till the end of the line #i was gonna throw a daddy in there too...but like let's just keep it vague for a bit 😉#they switch

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hopespeak-hostclub · 2 years

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Okay everyone, I had a request for this but accidentally deleted it so here you go!

Light Yagami NSFW ABC’s

Also I 100% HC Light as pansexual and he does not care your gender identity or sexuality if he wants to fuck he wants to fuck he does not discriminate. So I made this as vague on who the reader is as possible, and it does come up at least once lol.

TW:// i use the term daddy once.

A (Aftercare) Almost nonexistent. After Light fucks you, he throws a towel at you and tells you “clean up.” Sometimes he’s nice and gets you water or tea, and every once in a while he holds you while you lay in his arms. But that’s not often.

B (fave body part) ASS. LIGHT YAGAMI IS AN ASS MAN. He kisses, bites, grabs, slaps, spanks, bites, whips… he worships your ass.

C (cum) Light does one of two things. He either cums over and over and over again, just continuing to fill you up, OR he controls himself so well that he only cums once at the very end of everything so he can orgasm harder than ever.

D (dirty Secret) he’s always wanted a 3 way (and secretly an orgy). He’s been with a good number of people but never more than one at a time and he thinks it would be incredible.

E (experience) very experienced! He has been with MANY other people, of all genders and sexualities. He knows how to make ANYBODY scream his name and beg him for more.

F (favorite Position) he usually starts by throwing you against the wall, and fucking you there. But usually ends up in doggy style because he loves being in total control and absolutely POUNDING that ass of yours.

G = (Goofy?) oh absolutely not. Sex with Light is very serious, intimate, and the opposite of goofy. Lots of sighing, screaming, moaning, and grunting- from both of you.

H = (Hair) Grooming wise: Light always cleans himself up and prefers his partner does too. He doesn’t need you to be clean shaven, but at the very least, groomed. Sex wise: if you have long hair, he LOVESSSSS pulling your hair. He also loves when your fingers get tangled in his hair.

I = (Intimacy) yes, sex with Light is rough and crazy. He is very dominant and takes charge but he also loves to praise and tell you what a good baby you’re being for him, and how gorgeous you look under him, and that you take daddy’s dick so well don’t you? Lots of kisses and bites and hickeys all over your entire body.

J = (Jack Off) oh yes. But only to tease you. He’ll draw you into bed and tease you, then start playing with himself instead of playing with you.

K = (Kink) he’s a dom, so basically BDSM, over stimulation, orgasm deprivation? Anything to make you squirm under him and beg him for more.

L = (Location) anywhere with privacy. Which ranges from any room of his place honestly. Countertops, beds, couches, tables, floors. He also likes to take you to his patio and fuck you in the pool and hot tub. Similarly, the shower and bathtub.

M = ( Motivation) when you obey him/do anything for him. He comes home from a rough day and you had cleaned the house and made him dinner? He’s gonna ravage you. He asks you to grab something from another room and you drop everything to get it for him? Lay down and let him pleasure you for listening so well.

N = (NO) the only thing he won’t do is be a sub. He refuses to let his partner dominate him.

O = (Oral) he LOVES giving oral. It is hands down one of his favorite ways to make you squirm. He also is never opposed to receiving as well.

P = (Pace) Truthfully, whatever he feels like that day. Sex with Light is usually very rough and fast, but he loves to draw things out and keep you on the verge of cumming constantly. So he definitely doesn’t mind going nice and slow.

Q = (Quickie) only if it’s for him. When the two of you have a quickie, Light’s the only one finishing. Not you. Never you. He has a big meeting and he’s stressed? He’s gonna fuck you super quick, cum, clean up and leave.

R = (Risk) oh yes. You’ve tried many roleplaying scenarios, different kinks, positions.. all of it. Much of it is Light’s idea but he’s also open to try anything you suggest as well.

S = (Stamina) I genuinely think Light can fuck forever. There’s no end. He has been known to last for hours. There’s some breaks thrown in there of course (bathroom, take a drink, ect) but for the most part he’s nonstop until he’s decided he’s done.

T = (toy) Light doesn’t hate toys by any means, but he’d much rather NOT use them.

U = (Unfair) oh 10000%. Light lives for teasing you. Orgasm deprivation, edging, all of it. He’s a big fan.

V = (Volume) he is very very loud. Grunts, groans, deep loud guttural moans, hell, Light’s even fully screamed a few times. The screams usually happen when he’s cumming, but god he’s so loud and it’s so hot.

W = (Weird fact) he tries to make you jealous by reminding you of all his past sexual experiences. He likes seeing you get possessive and jealous. But only he knows you’re the best person he’s ever been with. Absolutely nobody else has made him feel the way you do.

X = (X-Ray) his dick is probably the only thing about him that’s average. He’s just over 6 inches, but he’s pretty thick. His cock definitely stretches you out.

Y = (Yearning) pretty often. He’s a busy man with a lot going on in his life, but he makes it a point to have sex with you at least 4 times a week if not more.

Z = (ZZZ) he usually gets up and does some work afterwards, but depending on the time of day, once he’s finished with whatever he’s doing, he will almost always cuddle up next to you in bed and fall asleep.

#light yamagi #light #Yagami #yagami light #death note #light death note #death note light #deathnote #death note not sfw #not sfw #not sfw light #light smut #light yagami smut #light abc #light Yagami abc

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avintagekiss24 · 3 years

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one cup sugar, one cup spice | a. barber

→ pairing: andy barber x black!reader

→ word count: 7074

→ warnings: age gap, corruption kink, innocent reader, daddy kink, pain kink, smut, sex, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, hand job (male receiving)

→ author note: happy holidays my dudes! what i would do to have andy barber standing in my kitchen... anyway, reader is i n n o c e n t, but totally of age, and in college. as always, line breaks by @firefly-graphics, gif by @evansensations

There’s a light dust of white covering the green lawns and black asphalt of the street. You shiver as you follow your parents out towards their car, pulling your beanie down over your ears before you shove your hands into your navy blue Dartmouth hoodie.

“Honey,” your mom coos, turning back towards you as your dad loads the car, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? Your aunt has plenty of room.”

“I’m positive,” you laugh, “Aunt Sohpie and I don’t get along that great anyway.”

“Well, you could try a little harder.”

Your mouth drops open, eyes wide as you stare at her, “She called me a stuck up, yuppie bitch when I told her I wasn’t going to stop using deodorant.”

Your dad chuckles, prompting a swift slap to the shoulder from your mother before she turns back towards you, “Sophie is a free spirit. She doesn’t believe in putting chemicals in or on her body. One week of trying to get along won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, it’ll hurt,” you answer, pulling her into a hug, “Smelling her B.O. for a week would actually kill me.”

Your mother tuts, pulling back and slumping her shoulders a little as she squeezes your sides gently, “I don’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas.”

“Oh, stop badgering the girl. She’ll be fine,” your dad cuts in, kissing your forehead when he approaches, “She had a tough semester, she’s allowed some alone time. Be good, baby. I left a credit card on my desk for any emergencies.”

You smile warmly, “Thanks daddy.”

There’s a sound of a door opening, then closing, heavy footsteps against the old wood of the porch next door, “Oh, Andy,” your mom calls towards the neighbor, “You got a minute?”

Your face scrunches as you glance over at your father, who sighs heavy, “Don’t get mad, baby.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“She kinda, you know,” he shrugs, knocking his head back and forth, “Asked the neighbor to look in on you while we’re gone,” when your face drops, he throws up his hands, “I didn’t do it, she did.”

“Mom!” You hiss, flipping your eyes to the tall, dark haired man cutting across his front lawn, “I don’t need a babysitter! I’m twenty years old!”

“Hush,” she whispers, plastering a smile on her face as she wraps her arm around your waist, “Sorry to bother you, Andy.”

“Oh, no, no, no. It’s okay, I was just checking the mail.”

You’re angry and embarrassed as the tall, older man approaches, but a sudden heat blooms across your chilled brown skin. Pushing your glasses up your nose, you take a heavy breath, expelling it hard as you eye him. You’ve only really seen him in passing, throwing your hand up in a friendly wave as you jogged into your childhood home during a long weekend away from school. You only vaguely remember him moving in about a year or two before. Hell, you don’t even think the two of you have uttered anything more than just a neighborly ‘hey’, and now, thanks to your mother, he’s going to be keeping an eye on you.

Just wonderful.

She smiles proudly, “You remember our daughter, right?”

“I do,” he smiles slowly, an intense pair of blue-green eyes bouncing between yours, “We’ve run into each other a few times over the years. How you doin’ kiddo?”

He reaches out, extending a large palm and long fingers. You take it gently, smiling soft as you drop your eyes from his, nerves suddenly pooling in your stomach, “Um, good. Thanks for asking. How um,” you swallow, glancing back up at him, finding his eyes still centered on you, “How are you?”

He shrugs, but keeps your much smaller hand in his, “Can’t complain.”

“Listen, honey,” your mom starts, “I asked Mr. Barber to pop over and check on you every now and again while we’re gone.”

“Mother,” fake laughter filling the air, your face hot from being annoyed to all hell, “I’m not a child, and I’m sure Mr. Barber has better things to do with his time than to check on me constantly.”

“It’s no problem,” he shrugs again, those eyes of his now roaming, down your body, then up again, slowly, “I have the next couple of weeks off myself.”

“Congrats on the promotion, by the way.” Your father smiles, finally drawing Andy’s attention away from you. He nudges your side with his elbow, “Andy’s the new District Attorney.”

You keep your eyes on the tall Andy, sliding them the length of his body. He’s sturdy. Broad shoulders not so hidden underneath his zip up hoodie, clinging to thick biceps. Dark jeans accentuate long legs and a little waist. A perfect, full beard lines his strong jaw and chin. Two enormous hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants, so large that they don’t even fit right… You inhale deep, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth, sinking your teeth into the flesh as a tiny moan slips through.

Blue eyes snap to you again as it sounds. God. Your lips part, eyes widen as they stare back at him in embarrassment. He just smiles again, slow and seemingly knowing; his eyes falling down your frame again.

“We better go if we’re gonna miss traffic, hun.” Your dad’s voice suddenly breaks into your conscience, snapping you out of the small trance that Andy Barber has leveled over you, “Andy, thanks for watching over our baby while we’re gone.”

Andy winks at you, “I won’t hover, I promise. If you need anything, at any time, I’m right next door, okay? Better yet, let me give you my number.”

You nod quick, clearing your throat as you fumble around with your phone, pulling it out of your hoodie and handing it over to him, “Sure, yeah. Th-thank you, Mr. Barber.”

“Andy,” he corrects, reaching out and cupping your elbow gently, “Please.”

Another warmth spreads through you, emanating from the contact, making you giggle and smile nervously like a stupid girl before you get a hold of yourself and blink away. You all exchange another round of pleasantries, Andy wishing your parents a safe trip before he locks eyes with you again— biting his lip as he blinks and hands your phone back before turning away and heading towards his mailbox.

Almost frozen in place, you blink as you watch him move across his grass, forcefully swallowing. You really need to get out more.

One last hug from your mom and dad and you wave as they pull out of the driveway, your mom waving excitedly at you through the windshield. Rolling your eyes, but smiling wide, you return a wave before heading back inside, locking the door behind you before making a brisk b-line to the front door.

Andy’s still outside, pushing the green trash cans up against his garage as you peek out at him from behind the thin, white, door curtains. He throws open one of the lids before dipping his head, eyeing the mail in his hand as he flips through it slowly, tossing the junk into the open can. A pink blush piques on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, lips red with the chill. He looks up suddenly— out of nowhere— and cocks his head, letting another smile curl onto his lips when the two of you make eye contact again.

You gasp and jump back, instantly turning on your heel to run up the stairs towards your bedroom, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The smell of fresh baked cookies fills the house as you pull a pan from the oven. You hum in satisfaction, a small smile on your face as you scoop the sugar cookies onto the cooling rack before pulling your mom’s Santa Claus mittens off your hands and tossing them to the counter. Last Christmas by Wham plays from the small bluetooth speaker in the corner of the kitchen, A Charlie Brown Christmas on mute playing from the ipad leaning against the utensil holder.

There’s a random crackling from the fire you started in the living room as you move around, a whir from the mixer as it beats the eggs, powdered sugar, vanilla extract, and corn syrup together. You dip your finger into the mixture, popping it into your mouth and groaning as the sweetness explodes on your tongue before you pull the beaters out, slipping your finger down the stainless steel to collect the icing still stuck to them.

A knock sounds from the front door, permeating through the rather quiet house. You lean to the side, blinking at the door as a shadow shifts through the windows on either side. Shoving the icing laden finger into your mouth, you jog towards the door, bare feet heavy against the wood floor.

“One second, one second,” you mumble, wiping your hands on your pale pink cotton shorts before you tug at your hoodie and unlock the door. A sharp inhale of cold air fills your chest when you pull open the door to find one Andy fucking Barber standing on the opposite side, “Oh,” is all you can manage.

“Hey,” he smiles, “It’s been a few days, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Being a biomedical engineering student, you can rattle off some of the most difficult, obscure words known to man with exactly zero problems. When it comes to social interaction with the hot, forty-something, lawyer next door? Your tongue is heavy, your brain… dumb.

His smile widens as you blink like a moron, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he waits for you to talk. Here’s the part where you speak, dumbass! “Um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I, uh, yeah, I’m okay. I’m good, sorry.”

“Smells good in here.”

Nodding, you bite your lip, your eyes everywhere but on his face— his stare just too much, “I’m making cookies.” you glance over your shoulder before you point, “Do you want to make some? I mean,” you slam your eyes closed, “Do you want to try some? Not, some, one, do you— do you want to try one? Or some… I guess… whatever.”

Idiot. You’re a bumbling, stumbling, idiot.

He chuckles, the rumble low and deep as he runs one of those big ass hands through his dark, soft looking hair, “That is the best offer I’ve had all day.”

He steps over the threshold, his fingers brushing over yours as he reaches to close the door. You snatch your hand from it quickly, wringing it within the other as you turn awkwardly and move towards the kitchen, swallowing hard, suddenly hyper aware of how bare your legs are.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Andy starts from behind you, “I’m surprised to find you here and not out with some friends.”

You move behind the marble topped island in the center of the kitchen as Andy walks around the opposite side. His eyes are on you again, staring as you fumble with the spatula, your fingers going as dumb as your brain, dropping it with a loud clang. You don’t even know why— okay, you know why, but this is something deeper, something you haven’t experienced before.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No, I uh, I just kinda like to stay around the house.”

He nods slowly, “A homebody, huh? Me too.”

He makes you dizzy; his masculinity is intimidating. It fills up every little space in the room. His intelligence— worldly, experienced— oozes from him. He looks like you could ask him anything, anything, and he’d have the right answer for you. He could teach you a thing or two, that’s for sure.

A shudder creeps through your body, heat blooming across your skin, having to shift on your feet as your stomach flutters while you focus on icing this stupid cookie. The physical space he takes up unnerves you too. That wide, towering frame looming over you. Deft, thick fingers tapping gently against the countertop as you stumble around, your hands shaky.

There’s a stickiness. A warm, little wet spot in the center of your panties as stupid thoughts run through your stupid brain. You’re being ridiculous. Like this grown man would be interested in an inexperienced, socially awkward, in bed by eight thirty, little girl. Get a grip.

You slather some icing over the warm cookie and cautiously hand it towards him, clearing your throat and forcing a smile. Wringing your hands again, you find a little courage to lift your eyes just as he pops the small cookie into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chews slowly, a grunt sounding from deep in his throat.

Every muscle in your body clenches at the sound. It’s gorgeous— and if there’s anything your body appreciates, it’s a gorgeous man with a gorgeous grunt.

“It’s okay?” You squeak, timid and small before you nervously clear your throat.

“Shit, girl,” he moans again, licking his lips as he extends his hand again, “I could eat every single one of these.”

Nervous fingers clutch another cookie, adding a dollop of icing before you hand it over to him, eyes drifting up his chest and to his face as he devours the second treat. Your curious eyes watch with a longing. Pretty, thick, dark eyelashes closing again, splashing across smooth, slightly reddened cheeks. A pink tongue darts out of a wet mouth to slip along an inviting— too inviting— bottom lip, and you zero in on it. Chest rising and falling a little harder as you blink, in your own little world as you imagine just how much experience those lips, that tongue has.

There’s a hint of blue suddenly, his eyes no longer closed, now set squarely on you as those sickenly perfect white teeth emerge with another sly smile.

Another wave of embarrassment pushes through your veins, but you can’t look away from him this time. Locked in a heated stare, mind racing, palms sweaty as you watch Andy dip his index finger into the bowl of icing, scooping the sugary mix onto the pad of his digit.

“You like watching me, huh?”

Your mouth parts to answer, but nothing comes out, mouth and throat suddenly dry. He laughs at you, standing there, dumb and nervous, unable to form a coherent sentence as he pushes the tip of his finger into his mouth, sucking the icing from it slowly.

He’s moving, that much your brain can comprehend. Moving around the island, sliding the bowl of icing right to the edge where he dips his finger again, curling it to collect another glob.

Shallow, shaky breaths escape the small part in your lips, your chest and stomach so tight you’re surprised you can breathe at all. As it is, you have to rest your palm against the marble island, just to keep from falling over.

A long arm slips around your waist, nudging you forward— closer— so close that when one of those shallow, little breaths pushes out, your chest, well, your tits, brush against his. You picked a fine day to go without a bra. He drops his free hand to your waist, pushing it underneath your oversized hoodie to feel your skin as he wraps those long fingers around your hip, giving it a squeeze before he cups your chin.

“You have a boyfriend back at that fancy ass school?” He asks, eyes hooded as he tilts your head upward.

A hum vibrates through your chest before there’s a quick shake of your head as he pushes the icing over your bottom lip, smearing the sugary mix along it. He keeps your chin anchored in his hand as he stares down at you through slits, his own mouth dropping open as he coaxes yours.

“No, a smart girl like you doesn’t have time for boys, does she?” He purrs, “You probably haven’t even been touched by a boy.”

A squeak chokes in your throat as he teases you, pushing that finger back and forth, the tip pushing ever so gently into your mouth. He chuckles again, real low, menacing almost as he knows he has you right where he wants you.

“Ya know,” he starts, thumbs stroking your chin and jaw, “This Christmas cookie frosting would taste a hundred times better on you than my finger.” He smiles again, tilting his head, “Can I see?”

You mewl, pitiful and small as emotion pools in your eyes. You’re overwhelmed— nervous and unsure, wanting to be perfect. Womanly— but surely falling flat.

“Oh, baby,” he laughs, sweeping his thumbs underneath your eyes to catch the hot streaks, “Awww, it’s okay.”

Andy pushes in close, his lips brushing yours as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of yours, a low sound thrumming in his throat. He presses his cheek against your face, the soft hair of his beard pushing along your skin, goosebumps popping up all over. Your bodies start to sway in a slow rhythm, side to side, his warm breath washing over you as he smiles.

He pulls away, eyes traveling your face, “You haven’t even been kissed before?” When you don’t answer, he closes his eyes, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, “No? Oh, my sweet girl. That is just,” he groans, eyes twinkling with an emotion you don’t even understand, “You are so perfect— so good.”

His forehead comes to rest on yours, his hands still corralling your face, fingers sticky. His tongue darts out quick, licking at your lips, dragging up to the tip of your nose. You shudder, bleating as the rough velvet passes over your mouth.

Andy moans again, sucking the icing into his mouth and swallows slow, “Yum.”

You’re jittery— clammy, as labored breaths push out of your mouth, a murky fog clouding your brain. Shaky whirs tremble through your chest as you shift on your feet, your panties sticking to your now throbbing pussy. Andy closes the distance between your mouths again, his eyes hooded as he nips at you.

Your eyes flutter, closing instinctively— waiting for the claim. It doesn’t come, not right away, making your eyes pop open, a childish whine squeaking out. You even stomp your foot a little. Twenty years is a long enough wait.

“Kiss me,” you breathe, not wasting a second, “Please, Andy—”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he grabs your lips, inhaling deep. His tongue fucks into your mouth, slipping along the roof before massaging yours, sucking lightly. You go limp against him, trying to keep up with the fervent kiss, but soon just let him take full control.

Andy pushes his hips into yours, pressing his hard cock against you, forcing you to break the kiss, gasping deep. He rests his forehead on yours again, tittering as he bites his bottom lip, “Never felt that before, huh? Mmmm,” he groans again, “I bet you feel good. So tight and warm— umph, I’m probably not even going to be able to fit my cock all in.”

You shudder at the thought.

He brushes the tip of his nose against yours, “I gotta open you up a bit, don’t I? Hmm? This sweet little cunt needs to get used to being stuffed full.” He turns you in his hands, presses his burly chest into your back, his lips to your ear, “I want you to finish icing these cookies like a good girl, okay? You do as daddy says.”

You don’t move, you can’t really, as you try to comprehend what’s going on. It takes Andy pushing his crotch into your ass, grinding your hips against the island and literally grabbing your wrists, making your hands grab the butter knife and a cookie before your brain catches up. With shaky fingers, you push the knife through the icing and slather it on one of the small, round, golden brown cookies.

“Good girl,” he praises, pecking your cheek, nuzzling into the side of your face, “Daddy wants you to focus.”

He drags his warm palms up your forearms, stroking gently before they fall to your sides. They push up into your hoodie, fingertips glancing across sensitive, untouched skin. Small laughter vibrates through his chest as you jump and gasp, huffing and keening as he explores.

Little kisses are pressed to your temple and side of your face as his hands venture up your sides, curling around your rib cage until he’s grasping your bare tits in both hands, squeezing and kneading— hissing as he grinds his rigidly hard cock into your ass.

You freeze, body going stiff as nimble fingers play with your thick, piqued nipples. Warm lips nip at your neck as you push back into his hips, wiggling slowly, the thin cotton of your shorts not proving to be much of a barrier at all.

Andy reaches around, plucking the cookie out of your hand and pops it into his mouth just as his free hand skips down your stomach— right into your shorts. You jut your hips forward as his fingers plunge through your folds, massaging your clit slowly as he murmurs in your ear.

“That’s what I love about virgins. The slightest little touch gets you all worked up.” He pulls his hand from your shorts, holding it out for you to see your slick coating his fingers— a string connecting from his index finger to the middle. He brings his wet fingers to your lips, steel eyes peering at you as he waits, “Clean ‘em up.”

He slides his free hand back into your sweatshirt, pushing it up over your tits before he tweaks your left nipple, rolling it slow as he pushes the tips of his fingers into your mouth. Sweet, tiny little whines sound from you as you accept his long fingers into your mouth, starting to suck gently, the taste of your arousal exploding on your tongue.

“That’s right, just like that baby.” He reassures, slipping a hand back into your panties.

Your mouth goes slack around his fingers as he toys with you, rubbing your achy clit as your hips start to move with his rhythm. Resting your weight against his sturdy body, you moan loud, pushing out hard breaths, eyes slipping closed, head rolling on his shoulder as his wet fingers slip from your mouth back to your left nipple.

His fingers start to tease your slit, pushing gently, slowly, until… a sharp yelp fills the kitchen as two fingers stuff you full. Andy wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to him, cooing in your ear as he continues to push in, “You’re okay baby. I know, I know sweet girl, we’re almost there. Just a bit more.”

Tears sting your eyes as your face strains from the pressure and pain of being spread for the first time. Once his fingers have disappeared, the heel of his palm pressing against your folds and clit, he pulls your chin towards him and licks at your mouth, sucking air in between his teeth.

“I can’t wait to fuck this sweet pussy,” he kisses you quick and hard, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before he releases you with a loud smack, “I love a virgin cunt. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

You squeak when his fingers start to move, slow, deep, a squelch sounding as his fingers push into your muscles. It hurts, but there’s a twinge of good, something inside of you being pleasured once you push past the pain. The sweet taste of pleasure doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks as his fingers pick up a brisk pace.

Andy growls in your ear, the sound scratching at the back of his throat, kind of hollow and breathy as he grinds his cock into your ass, “You havent fucked yourself like this before? I didn’t think I’d hurt you this bad with just my fingers, baby.”

A hot, rough wetness slides along your cheek, his tongue, lapping at you. You grab onto his forearm, feeling his muscles tense and flex as he fingers your innocence, digging your nails into the thick Shetland wool sweater covering his torso. He pushes deep, suddenly, making you cry out again.

He grunts, snaking his hand up into your hoodie to take a firm hold of your tit. Resting his forehead to the back of your head, he quickens his fingers, his hot breath on the back of your neck, quick swipes of his tongue and lips against your hypersensitive skin— making the miniscule hairs on your body stand on end.

His palm presses against your clit with each shove of his fingers. Strapping, hard chest flattened to your back, loud, husky moans in your ear. His hips roll and push, writhe into yours as his fingers start to thrash. Teeth sink into your shoulder, his tongue sliding and sweeping.

“Andy—” you cry, whimpering like a child, “It hurts. I— I can’t,”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His fingers slow and then stop, pulling out of you to rub your clit, soothing the balmy flesh. He turns you around in his arms as you cry, lifting you right from your feet, “I’m sorry. Shh, shh, I’m sorry, baby.”

The instant warmth of his mammoth chest and arms soothe the tumultuous pangs of anxiety coursing through you. Nuzzling in, the softness of his beard helps ease your nerves as you wrap two jelly arms around his neck. Andy’s big hands push up and down your back as he murmurs sweet nothings. Stomach tight, heart fluttering, face hot and wet with tears— you’re properly overwhelmed and overstimulated, and Andy could just eat it all up.

“You are so pretty when you cry, you know that? You did so good, baby. You took my fingers so well.”

You huff, disappointed, pushing your face deeper into his neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” he whispers, “It’s okay to not be ready.” He sits you back on your feet, pulling and adjusting your sweatshirt back over your chest. He pecks your lips quick before cupping your face in his hands, “It’s gonna make our first time together so much better.”

He pushes in to kiss you again, but stops, just as his lips brush yours. You get up on your tiptoes, wanting to meet his mouth but he’s quick, pulling away and stealing another cookie as he takes a step back.

“Thanks for the cookies, sweetheart.”

And just like that, with a wink and a smile, he’s moving out of the kitchen, the front door slamming behind him.

It might as well be the middle of a Texas summer heatwave in your bedroom. Exasperated, you throw the covers away from your body, skin slick with sweat as you wipe at your forehead. You’ve been like this all day— hot and irritated, stomach and mind jumbled, unable to focus on much of anything but thoughts of depravity. Pissed off at yourself more than anything; that you couldn’t take it all.

You sit up in the dark room, a sliver of moonlight spilling in from behind the thin curtains over your window. Snow flakes float down from the sky, glimmering, basking in the soft, natural light of the moon. Thoughts of Andy return. Reddened, full lips on your face, his soft, velvety, pink tongue forging its own path in the uncharted territory that is your mouth. His hands, big and warm, pinching and grabbing, pushing in deep.

Every muscle in your body clenches; achy cunt squeezing around nothing.

A soft light illuminates from the nightstand, followed by a buzz, a random alert from your twitter. But then, oh but then— Andy’s words come floating back to you. Better yet, let me give you my number. The sleek iphone is in your hand within seconds, fingers sliding over the keyboard, shooting off a text.

You 1:15am

You up?

Andy B. 1:17am

What’s a smart girl like you doing up so late on Christmas Eve?

An influx of air fills your lungs as your heart leaps.

You 1:17am

I can’t sleep…

Andy B. 1:18am

Want me to help with that?

You won’t be getting much sleep tho…

You 1:18am

That’s what I’m hoping…

Andy B. 1:19am

LOL, okay smarty pants, come wait for Santa with me, front door’s open

You’re already halfway down the stairs by the time his invite slides across the screen. You shove your feet into your Ugg boots at the bottom of the staircase and grab your jacket from the coat rack, pushing into it as you throw open the front door. Crossing your arms over your chest, you jog down the steps of the porch and start for Andy’s, an instant chill rattling right down to your bones.

Footprints in the snow follow you as you cross the lawn, a light crunch sounding underneath your feet, adding to the whoosh of a breeze that rips through the sleepy street. Once you’re on Andy’s porch, you reach for the door, pushing through the threshold and closing it softly with a click.

The house is dark, and quiet, a tiny point of light coming from the kitchen and the random ticks of a clock somewhere deep. Your jacket hits the floor, ugg boots thump against the wall as you kick them off, hand slides along the banister as you climb the stairs slow. Wide eyes adjust to the dark as you pad slowly down the long hall, passing by one closed door, and then another until you reach one that’s slightly ajar. Light spills out of it, splashing over your bare toes as you step right up to it, fingertips pushing against the door.

You find Andy propped up against his headboard, chest bare, legs spread— hard, pink cock sticking out of his boxers, gripped tight in his hand. He flips his eyes to yours as he strokes himself slow, pushing his hips into it, groaning at the sight of you.

The air in your body— the room— is sucked right out as you lock eyes. With a blink, your greedy eyes are on the move, down his hair smattered chest and chiseled stomach, over the dark blue boxer briefs, down his meaty thighs and toned calves, right to his curled toes and back up again.

You have to bite your lip to keep quiet.

“I’ve been,” the words out of his mouth come to a halt being replaced by a low grunt as he squeezes his cock, precum dribbling out of his slit, “Shit sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Haven’t been able to cum since you left me all worked up.”

You bleat softly, blinking wild and nervous as you watch his hand slide up and down, palm and fingers sweeping over his mushroom head to collect the droplets of his arousal to push it down his shaft.

“Well, come on. Come touch me.”

It’s a good thing your feet aren’t as stupid as your brain, or else you’d still be standing in place. Before you can get your mind to catch up, you're pulling yourself towards the edge of the bed, falling forward, catching yourself with your hands. Crawling between his legs, your tank top hangs low, Andy’s eyes peering down your cleavage before you sit on your knees— hands trembling.

He reaches for you, grabbing your wrist gently, pulling your hand towards his towering cock. Guiding you slow, he wraps your hand around him, his hips jerking soft at the warmth of your palm and pushes your hand down to his base, before dragging it up to the tip. He helps you for a few more strokes, twisting your hand around him, guiding your fingers up over his cock head and then back down, squeezing your hand to apply a gentle pressure.

“That’s right, baby—ah—” he hisses, jutting his hips up into your hand, “Shit.”

You continue to pump him after his hand falls away, relishing in the small noises that sound from him— sending your heart soaring. His hips pulse into your hand, eyes fluttering as more cum bubbles out, slipping and sliding over your fingers. Andy reaches for the lamp on the nightstand, turning it out, covering the room in darkness except for the moon.

He’s beautiful like this. Chest tight and shuddering with each breath, dark eyelashes splayed over fair skin, a chorus of sweet, small little whines and praise pouring from him. A soft pink blush unfurling over his broad chest, creeping up his neck.

“Fuck baby,” breathless and strained, “You’re a fuckin’ pro already. My smart little girl.” You suck your bottom lip into your mouth but still can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners, “Oh, you like that?” Andy smiles lazily, “You like being my smart little girl?”

Hot lips are on yours before you can even form your mouth to answer. Flipped onto your back, strong hips digging into yours, his cock pushing against your covered clit and slit as he kisses you hard. It takes your breath away.

You’d always thought you’d be awkward, stiff and unknowing, once you finally reached this moment— nothing but teeth and elbows and knees in all the wrong places— but, there’s a natural instinct coming into play. You’re lost, but somehow intricately aware. Fingers creep up his biceps and curl around his shoulder blades, digging in as your hips push back into his. Mouth leans into the feverish kisses, tongue sliding with his.

Colossal hands push into your shorts, pushing them down before his feet knock them off the rest of the way. Your top is rucked up, up over your breasts, exposing more brown skin, two soft, jiggling mounds, two piqued nipples soon sucked into a warm, wet mouth. A long middle finger toys with your clit, rubbing circles before more fingers join, slipping through slick and skin as they play.

“Tell me,” hot, whispered words sting in your ear, “Tell me you like being my smart girl.”

Hips dig into yours once more, hard cock pushing against your sensitive nub, then pressing at your opening. You grab the back of his neck, moaning hard and loud as electricity bounces through your veins, “Andy—” you squeak, “I like—”

A sharp cry breaks through the words as Andy pushes hard, spearing you for the very first time. Pressure and pain courses through you, body going tight and stiff as he sinks deeper and deeper, large palms on your cheeks, forehead to yours, warm breaths and ragged, choked grunts washing over your face.

Hard kisses— one, two, three— on your lips as he holds your face, his eyes closed, mouth hanging as he sinks, sinks, sinks until you’ve taken him all. Your head is empty. Devoid of any real, coherent thoughts, unable to focus on any one thing; well, nothing other than the fullness.

“Tell me you like being my smart girl.” Andy rasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to keep himself together. He shifts, hips pulling away from yours, cock dragging out, “Come on baby, tell me you like it.”

Andy pushes his hips, pushes back into you, but real gentle and smooth, knowing you’re teetering— overwhelmed in more ways than one, a feeling that can turn south on a dime. So, he keeps his hands on your face, thumbs rubbing soft circles. He opens his eyes, giving you something to focus on as he moves gently— so, so gently. Keeping you present.

“Use those words, sweet girl. Talk to me.”

Water fills your eyes as you grip, nails biting into the meat of his sides as he fucks you slow and sweet. Heat burns through you, tiny sounds, choked sobs scratch at the back of your throat, but it’s good— feels so good. Your legs push up and around his waist, hands start to snake up his sinewy back, feeling the muscles flex and tighten as he makes you a woman— makes you his.

Safe. Warm. Cocooned between his heavy body and the light mattress. Hips rolling, pushing and pulling. Hot breath over hot skin. Quick, jumbled words, thick and ripe with a heady lust. You like being his smart girl. Gripping fingers, around your face, your wrists, your tits, hips, thighs, ankles— everywhere you could possibly imagine.

Andy flips you over suddenly, his back now pressed into the mattress as you lay on top of him. He positions you right where he wants you— sitting you up straight, positioning your hands against his brawny chest. He encases your waist with those massive hands, squeezing tight before the pads of his fingers drag along your thighs as you wiggle, getting used to the new position.

“Push up— that’s right, sweetheart,” he sighs softly as you follow his direction, “Now sit back down— slowly, baby, go slow.” His head falls back on the pillows as he exhales, a groan trembling through his chest, “God, yeah babe. Good girl. Up and down, up and down.”

Your fingers push through the tuft of soft, dark hair covering his chest as you ride him, lifting and sitting, rolling and bucking as you get a hang of it— catch a feel— your clit rubbing against his taut skin. You feel Andy trying to keep his composure, feel him trying to restrain himself, his hips. Watch his eyes flutter and close as his mouth goes slack again as he pushes up into you, meeting your increasingly greedy thrusts downward.

“I’m your smart girl,” you whisper, heart beating hard and fast in your chest as your confidence grows, “I’ve always wanted to be your smart girl.”

He jams up into you, much harder than anything you’ve felt so far.

A sharp yelp cracks into the silence and he grabs your wrists, runs his hands up your arms, before he cups your face, “Shhh, shhh, shhh, I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know it was gonna sound so sweet,” he laughs, “God, I fucking love hearing you say that.”

He drops a hand back to your chest, grabbing a handful of your tit, toying with your nipple, pinching and pulling. His other hand wraps around your hip again, helping to pull you forward, as he thrusts soft. You don’t move; you just let him fuck up into you, grab his hands and thread your fingers with his as you bounce.

Thrusts get faster; hips hurried, jabbing. Wet rasps fill the room, octaves soaring. You fall forward a little, unclasping his hands to catch yourself against his chest. Andy’s hands are back around your waist and hips as you fuck down onto him, chasing that little, dull ache in the pit of your stomach that grows with each push of his hips.

Andy has two full handfuls of your ass, growling loud, hips faltering— losing control as he forces you down on him. You take each hard thrust, tears spilling down your cheeks, pleasure and pain all wrapped up into one. Sweat and heat crawls along your skin, stomach goes tight, throat dries. You dig your fingers into his chest as your toes curl, whimpering and crying out, choking as the pressure builds.

You tighten— freeze quick, gasp hard as a white hot orgasm floods your veins, like a molten lava, oozing, spreading. Flattening yourself to Andy’s chest, you let him wrap his arms around your back and hold you tight as he fucks you through it. The meat of his thighs slapping against yours, your cunt sounding wet and filthy, squelching and convulsing as you come.

There’s another heat, quick and dense, filling you as Andy’s grunts grow deeper. His grip on your ass tightens as he spurts— your used cunt coaxing long, hot ribbons of white silk from his sensitive, red cock head. He falls out of you, dick wet and hard, pushing through your ass cheeks as his hips still churn out of habit and inherent instinct.

Hands are on your head, fingers wiping at your face and forehead, pushing hair away. You’re embarrassed— not sure why— and nuzzle into his neck, hiding your face as you tuck your hands into your chest protectively. Another laugh sounds from him, vibrates through you, as he kisses your forehead and rubs his bearded cheek against your face.

“You’re a sweet girl,” honeyed, his voice, smooth and sweet, slow drags of his hands up and down your back lulling you, calming you, suddenly nervous, “My sweet, smart little baby. You okay?” you nod, but it isn’t good enough, “Tell me.”

“I’m okay.” You sniffle, eyelashes clumped, cheeks wet, lips swollen and red.

You nuzzle into him more, taking a deep breath as you listen to his heartbeat. Another silence fills the room, Andy’s breaths soon turn deep, slow and rhythmic, his hands and fingers coming to a slow stop but still splayed out over your back. A quick press of your lips against his neck makes him shift, but doesn’t wake him. You press another on his chin before you settle down into him once more, watching as snow starts to fall again.

There’s a Christmas present sitting at the edge of the bed when you wake the next morning, your name scrawled out on the name tag. You tear into it, pulling out a small white box, the name LELO embossed over the top. Eyebrows firmly furrowed, you turn it over in your hand, mouth falling open as you read the description and eye the two twenty karat gold Ben Wa beads.

Andy appears in the doorway, a steaming cup in his hand, a smile on his face, “Merry Christmas. Santa came for you, huh?”

“Merry Christmas,” you glance away, “I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s okay,” he shrugs, “I was a bit presumptuous after our little rendezvous in the kitchen— ordered those from Amazon yesterday.” He pads towards you, leaning down to kiss you quick before he hands you the hot mug, “Are you okay?”

A nervous giggle escapes through your lips, your head falling as you cover your mouth with your hand, “Mmhmm.”

Andy tips your head back upwards, pushing his index finger underneath your chin, smiling again before he kisses you all sweet and soft and slow, making you go all stupid and gooey again.

“What are these for?” You ask after he pulls away a few moments later.

His eyes twinkle in the sunlight as he winks, “Training. Now, lay back and spread your legs for daddy, little one.”

#andy barber #andy barber x black!reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber smut #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #defending jacob smut #avintagekiss24

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s-brant · 3 years

Text

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx s2 #okay but ive been doing some thinking and i can formally declare that i think their song is call it what you want (by taylor swift)#it fits tbh

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persephones-wren · 3 years

Note

Could you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader and Kaz are more than friends but not lovers and the reader is a Crow and therefore, can handle things for herself so she doesn't tell Kaz when a friend's ex is threatening her but Kaz ultimately finds out when the ex comes to the Crow Club and Kaz handles it since as much as he knows she capable, he is still protective of her and it leads to them finally becoming official?

Protective (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

I'm sorry about the ending, I couldn't find a great way to finish it- but maybe I'll fix that when I can think of something. Besides that, I hope you like it! :)

Warnings: depicted abuse, mentions of sedatives, misogynistic language (please let me know if there's any more)

Genre: not fluff

Word Count: 2705

You had a confusing relationship with Kaz.

It was an odd “more than friends, less than dating” relationship. It made sense, considering in the Barrel, women were more property than anything else. Besides, leverage was a thing everyone wanted on Kaz, even his closest allies. He wasn’t going to put himself in a position that made him anyone’s puppet. You didn’t exactly need him to declare you untouchable, anyway; you were usually more than okay with skirmishing with the Dime Lions and others that happened to be in your way.

You had never expected him to help you handle things that you could do alone.

It had been one of your wealthier friends, who helped get you out of the Menagerie. She had dated Zachariah Alix, a man with power and influence. She had usually dealt with his off-putting advances and abuse, but even you, who couldn’t see her often, could tell she wasn’t happy.

“Break up with him, then.” Your voice echoed in her private chambers as she sighed, multiple emotions running through her expression.

“Y/N, I just, I can’t. We’re already supposed to be married soon. Criminals in the Barrel are lucky in the way that you’re allowed to love who you please,” and damn your head for immediately thinking Kaz, “but merchers, well, it’s not that simple.”

“You callin’ me a criminal?”

“Yes,” she muttered, and you laughed, “but that’s not the point.”

“Are your parents forcing you to marry him?”

“Not exactly, but there’s going to be a lot more pressure if I break up with him.”

“Alright, well...from the list of merchers we’ve stolen from-'' she shot you a look, “sorry, sorry. It’s true though. I’m sure there’s someone on the list that’s for you.”

“I’ve got someone in mind already.”

“Well, that makes things easier, doesn’t it? Break up with him and get with the other guy. No parental pressure. Why do you need my advice, then? I get caught here and I’m as good as dead.”

“Okay, okay! It’s not parental pressure,” she lowered her voice, guilt painted across her face. “He’s going to stalk me if we break up. He might kill me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright,” you mulled it over. “That’s different. What can I do for you, then?”

“Can you be there when we break up? Moral support? And perhaps, well...if it wouldn’t trouble you, maybe do a little something to get him to leave me alone.”

“Like beat him up. It won’t trouble me,” you had answered. “Sure, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” she sighed in relief. “You’re the best, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing.”

…

“I don’t think we should continue on like this.”

There was a tension-filled silence, before Alix spoke again. “Why not, sweetheart?” He advanced towards her, and you had to prevent yourself from physically cringing. You were mostly moral support, and there to defend your friend if she got into deep shit, but, well...hopefully it wouldn’t come to revealing yourself.

“You- get off of me,” she pushed him away harshly. “You don’t get to talk me into forgiving you again. You are a child. You hit me and scream and throw tantrums. I want to be with someone who loves me, not someone who treats me like his mother. So that’s it. Get out of my house. We’re breaking up.”

There was another silence, before he spoke up again. “You little bitch,” he snarled, and grabbed at her dress, “you think you can just break up with me? No one’s ever going to be there for you. I’ll kill you and blame it on some Barrel thug. Check yourself, you’d be nobody without me.”

His hand closed in on her neck, and she looked to you, panicked. You put a finger to your lips before you snuck behind him, flicking off the safety and putting the pistol to his head.

He froze.

“Drop her.”

He did, and she slid down against the wall, tears streaming down her face. You had never intended to let it get that far, and it hurt your heart- but you had to deal with him first.

You knocked the gun into his head and used your elbow to knock him to the ground, putting a foot on his chest.

He looked up at you, terrified. What a coward.

“Too bad your daddy never taught you how to use guns,” you taunted, and grinned. “You leave her alone. She’s broken up with you. Get out of her house.”

“You’re Brekker’s whore, aren’t you?”

Your grin grows incredulous. You apply pressure to his chest steadily, and he wheezes, but he still continues.

“Yeah, look at you.You’re all upset, aren’t you, girl? Bet you’re sold out to half of the Barrel by him. Brekker likes his Kruge.” His eyes scan from underneath you. “Can’t say I’d blame him if he wanted to keep you as his personal pet, though.”

You scoff. “Careful what you say, I’m the one with a gun,” you remark, and you click a bullet into place for show, before taking your foot off. “Get out. If you touch her again, it’ll be more than me you’ll deal with.”

He scrambles upwards and disappears, and you hear the front door open and shut. You sigh.

“I’m sorry, I never intended for him to get that far. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” your friend sighs, hands lightly touching the bruises on her neck. “I think I’ll be okay. Thank you. What about you? You’re not-”

“I’m not with Kaz.” You help her up, and she smothers out her dress. “If Alix ever bothers you again, let me know.”

“Of course. I doubt he will. Thank you again, Y/N.”

…

He never did bother her again, but you- you were a different story. Every day, now, Kaz would offer you a note with some vague taunt on it.

“I’ll kill you.”

“Brekker’s slut! Slept your way to the top!”

“Let’s fight without a gun next time. I’ll have you pinned underneath me.”

“I’ll sedate and have my way with you. You still know some things from the Menagerie, don’t you?”

You had brushed off most of the taunts and threats, but they might’ve been starting to impact you, just a bit. You had assumed that Kaz had never read the threats. Each time, he would hand you the note with no expression.

Today’s note was a bit different.

“Y/N. Another note came in for you today.” He set the note on the table.

“Huh? Oh, thanks.”

You picked it up and unfolded the note, shielding the back of the paper with one hand. Kaz was clever, one of the many things you liked about him. You were sure that he’d try and read the back of the note if he could.

“Let’s meet on your territory. Crow Club at eight, in the alleyway.”

“Got yourself a boy, Y/N? These notes have started coming in every day,” Jesper whistled next to you, eyes scanning over the note. You look up, and Kaz is gone, watching from more of a distance. They’ve got it completely wrong.

You glance back down, and fail to notice how Kaz’s fingers tighten on his cane. Your laugh is dry, and you shake your head. “Nothing of the sort.”

Jesper ignores your denial. “Well, whoever he is, he seems awfully persistent. He wants to meet at the Crow Club, in the alleyway? Kinda sweet he wants to meet on your land, but why won’t he come in? He afraid of us, or somethin’?”

“Something like that,” you affirm.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to meet in here, either,” Inej says.

“Especially not with him here,” Jesper adds.

Your eyes meet Kaz’s across the room, and you both stare for a moment before he turns and looks away.

“Maybe.” Your answers are ambiguous, and you’re sure both Inej and Jesper want to know more, but you need to prepare for tonight.

“Sorry, guys. Excuse me.”

…

You have three throwable knives strapped into your boots, a small handgun holstered in your coat, and a syringe full of clozapine tucked up your sleeve. You’re prepared to take Alix down easily. You don’t exactly intend to shoot him, if only to make sure that the Crows don’t have a bigger target on their back from getting involved with the wealthy, but- well, you can’t deny it’s good to be ready in dire circumstances.

It’s 7:58 by the time you’re heading out to the back of the alley. You’re hiding behind the wall, just about to step over, but there’s already voices conversing there.

Did he bring backup? You grimace. You hadn’t considered that he might not fight fairly.

“Did she send her boyfriend after me ‘cause she was too much of a pussy to show?”

“I’d be careful what you say about Y/N.”

That’s Alix, and Kaz.

You’re not sure what you’re supposed to feel. He never did these kinds of things for you, never declared you his, but- you could handle this yourself. You didn’t need his protection, and you didn’t need him going out to deal with things because of one creepy ex.

Or, your thoughts betray you, you’re worried for him, because this could be a trap.

He glances over at the wall, where he seems to know you’re standing. It’s a warning glance, one to be quiet and let him deal with it.

“Aw, Brekker, you sweet on her? And here I thought it was a one-sided thing. Too bad I’m gonna ruin that pretty face of yours.”

Alix comes swinging. Kaz doesn’t say anything in reply, and instead jabs his cane forward, right into his stomach. He stumbles backward, and Kaz is still poised, waiting.

“I thought you were going to be more of a challenge than this. Even a fool knows not to attack first.”

“I’m no fool, Brekker. Don’t make any more sudden moves, or you’ll be shot. Do you know how easy it is to hire hitmen?”

There’s a faint look of surprise in Kaz’s expression before it smooths back into calm. “Well, to be honest,” he smiles pleasantly, “I thought merchers were above such methods.”

He’s glancing at you again, before his eyes move over two guard towers.

He’s pointing out to you where they are. Shit, what do you do? You’re no Inej, who can scale the walls and take them down silently. You’re no Jesper, who can shoot them with precision. You’re not going to be able to take out both snipers quickly enough. If you kill Alix and Kaz doesn’t dive behind the wall in time, he’ll get shot.

You let out a silent sigh. If only you could get both Kaz and Alix behind the wall, then you can get rid of the problem at its source, and then fuck the hitmen. They’re not going to kill Kaz if they can’t get paid.

“The rich are never above any methods. The only thing the rich care about is eradicating the criminals that roam the streets. I thought I was gonna get Y/N, and I could take her back to Tante Heleen,” he grinned, “But you’ll be worth a lot more. Wonder who’ll lay claim to you first.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything, just puts his hands behind his back, as if he’s waiting to be cuffed. But he gives quick signals to you, right before Alix steps around to secure the bonds- a quick countdown. He’s expecting you to shoot.

“No plans up your sleeves this time, Dirtyhands?”

You suddenly fire at Alix’s shoulder, a scream tearing through his throat as the cuffs drop to the ground. Kaz dives towards the wall, grabbing his cane along the way and breathing hard next to you.

Somehow, your aim remains true, and when you peek over the corner, you see Alix desperately trying to grasp at his wound. A grim sort of satisfaction greets your expression.

“Should’ve shot him in the head,” Kaz looks on with you.

“I’m trying not to paint a bigger target on our backs,” you explain, before you remember you’re supposed to be mad at him. Damn him for taking the fall for you. Did he know it was going to be a trap?

“Why the hell would you confront him alone? I had it handled, Kaz.”

“Not now..” His stare is directed at the shadows. And before you can get another word out, both of you are headed to his office.

The brisk walk is silent, and the tension could be cut through with a knife. At last, you reach his office, and he shuts the door, and sits down at his desk. You stand in front of him.

“Care to explain why you decided to confront Alix by yourself?” “I read the notes. I knew it was a trap.”

This doesn’t make you feel any better. “So you read the notes, where he called me a whore, a slut, your personal toy, and you don’t decide to tell me? You let it continuously happen, and then when the note comes today, you decide to go and white-knight for me because protecting me is a better idea than consulting me, huh?” you scoff. “That’s bullshit. You know I can handle myself. There’s a reason you chose me to be a part of the Crows, is there not? Or is what Alix said true? Did I sell myself to get to the top? Become your bitch?”

“I knew you could handle yourself just fine,” Kaz says calmly. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, because you didn’t consider the fact it was a trap. You could’ve died.”

“I would’ve been fine alone. Just because you’re the one who accounts for everything doesn’t mean I don’t use my head.” You know you’re being unfair, he’s right about the fact that you thought the fight was legitimate, but you could’ve saved yourself all the same.

“I’m not saying you don’t use your head, I’m saying that the probability of you dying if you went alone were much higher. I wanted to help you, save your ass back there,” he refutes.

“I would’ve died. So what? Deaths happen all the time in the Barrel! I die, and what?”

He doesn’t say anything.

You give a sardonic laugh. “I’m just an investment to you. I do what you want, with no question or hesitation, because I put my faith in you. My death just means the loss of a good soldier. I’m replaceable, though. My opinions are invaluable, so you don’t talk to me before you do shit. I’m always going to be underneath you, just a pawn.”

“You’re assuming things.”

“Like what, then?”

“Have you considered the fact that I was there because I wanted to help you? Because you’re a part of my Crows, and I don’t take anyone threatening us too kindly?”

His admission has you pausing, but he continues. “You die, and what? Forget what I may feel. What about Inej and Jesper? What about Nina, Wylan? I don’t want you to be underneath me. I see you as an equal.”

“I-”

“That’s why I was there. Because I-” love you, he nearly says, but he stops himself. “I protect the people I love.”

“And I’m someone you love,” you state quietly.

“Yes.”

You’re not sure how much you must have pissed him off to make him an honest man, but you can’t help smiling a little. “Saints, Kaz, at least ask a girl to be yours before you tell her you love her.”

“Fine. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?” You grin.

“Stop dodging the question,” he bites out.

“Yeah, I will,” you sigh. “But don’t get yourself killed, and especially not over me, please.”

“Well, darling, I think it’s fair of me to ask the same thing for you- don’t be reckless. People die far too easily in the Barrel,” he responds.

There’s another small silence, before you speak up again.

“Kaz. Thank you.”

He’s slightly surprised at the genuine warmth in your eyes, quickly replacing the anger that was in them before. He shrugs a little.

“It’s what lovers do, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “Lovers.”

Lovers, indeed.

#shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #six of crows x reader #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #soc kaz #soc x reader #kaz x reader #kaz brekker #thank you anon #might edit later #request

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therenlover · 3 years

Text

The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)

(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love

Rating: T

Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot

Word Count: 7000~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!

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The University of Novi Grad

Fall 1996

Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.

Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.

From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.

There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.

You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.

That being said there was something else too…

Someone else to be specific.

The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.

He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.

All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.

You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.

If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?

Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.

Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.

Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.

So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.

As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.

Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.

Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.

When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.

The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.

He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.

He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.

You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.

“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”

Shit.

“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.

Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.

Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”

“It is not an accusation if it is true,”

“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”

“But you were. This happens every week,”

You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”

Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”

“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”

The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.

“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”

Fuck.

Friday was only two days away.

You were so screwed.

The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.

Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.

Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.

“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”

He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”

“Who isn’t?”

Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”

Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”

Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.

A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.

“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.

Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...

There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.

Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.

You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.

Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.

If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…

The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.

Your eyes scanned the wall.

Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…

Gilgamesh!

On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…

You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.

“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”

Of course they had stools.

If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.

In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”

You stopped short.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.

There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.

He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.

“Would you like my help?”

“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.

“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”

“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”

In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.

“Thanks for that,”

“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”

You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”

“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.

You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.

“Your hair is really nice!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah… your hair,”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”

Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?

“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.

“It was definitely a compliment,”

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat.

That was a new revelation.

You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”

He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”

“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”

With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.

“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.

“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”

The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”

Shit.

Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?

In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.

“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.

“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”

“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”

His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”

Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless.

“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”

“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.

Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.

You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.

“Who said anything about letting you pay?”

True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.

The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.

Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.

“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.

Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”

“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”

“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”

You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”

“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”

“Absolutely,”

The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.

If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”

He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”

“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”

“Absolutely,”

“Then I can’t wait to try one,”

The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.

Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.

Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.

“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”

Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”

You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”

The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”

“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”

“Alright,”

There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.

You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.

He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”

It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”

Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.

“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”

Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”

“I think I would,”

“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”

Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.

“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”

Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”

Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”

The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”

“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”

“Then it’s a deal,”

“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”

“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”

With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.

Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.

He had invited you over to his apartment.

He liked you.

Easel boy really, honestly liked you.

No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.

Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.

You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.

Hel.

It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.

Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.

------

a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx , @be-cautious-around-bri , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car , @frothonthedaydreams

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #fanfiction

216 notes · View notes

gone-daddy-gone · 3 years

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TW: yandre, toxic relationships, abuse (emotional, some physical stuff but they don’t outright hit you), coercion, mentions of blood, spanking, twins are kinky

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❝ 𝒢𝑒𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓎 ❞

let’s start with the type of yandere he is

i think he is an unholy combination of obsessive, protective, and delusional

lets unpack this shall we

he, just like his brother would be the type to obsess and obsess about their darling day in and day out

making jokes about what classes they could be in (for the explicit purpose of finding out from their peers which one they actually are in)

picking at his finger nails as he mauls over what you could be doing at that exact moment, who you could be talking to

he goes to the bathroom at least once in every class just so he could walk past your class and catch even just a glimpse of you

scrawls your name on every paper he can, whispers your name to himself when he...has his privacy

if he is in a relationship with his darling or not, he is over protective

we all know what he did to draco for calling his mother a name, just imagine what he’s willing to do for someone he’s in love with

one time he over heard a group of boys detailing what they want to do to your body

and he lost it

he felt his fingers curl, and his face twitch, before he turned around and knocked a kids head into another kid

at the sight of their blood, he felt a rush of encouragement

as if the blood was some form of physical proof to his devotion to you

needless to say he beat them to a bloody pulp before finally coming out of his angered state

a very concerned fred behind him

fred knows his twin though, he knows he can get a little, rowdy sometimes

he’s seen him do this before, and fred wasn’t exactly a saint himself

he’s also a bonfide stalker

mascaraing his dark intentions by vehemently swearing that he’s only lurking in the dark hallways near your dorm to plant some of his pranks for everyone to enjoy in the morning

fred eating up every lie his twin said

because he says it with so much enthusiasm he just can’t help but go along

if you two are dating this is only made worse

for both you and he offender

he follows you everywhere

a firm hand on your hip making you think he was gonna crack your hip bone in those slender fingers of his

every single person who talks to gets some weird kind of vague threat about waking up with spiders crawling out of their eyes

or about how well he can truly swing his beater bat

slowly but surely the only people that talk to you become the teachers

every student (besides the weasley family) far too scared to even look in your direction

it was isolating

so much so that you needed to end it

and that goes horrible

him telling you that you can’t leave him

and that he can’t live without you

you’re his everything!

but you’re not having it, and you tell him to stay away

all is well

for a few days

you don’t see george hanging around anymore

some students have started talking to you again

you can finally breathe

you feel so confident that you resign to throw yourself into your work alone in the library

its a quiet night, not a single kid is in sight

probably all partying in some house dorm on campus

you’re just so wrapped up in your little studying that you don’t even feel georgies presence behind you

“did you miss me love?” is the last thing you hear as goose bumps cover your flesh and black clouds your vision

when you do happen to come to, you’re in some small white room bound and gagged

finding yourself staring at your ex boyfriend who currently wrapped himself around you like an anaconda

you make a shrill scream through your gag prompting he sleeping giant to awake from his slumber

this is when his delusional side truly sets in

when you cry to him and beg to home he chuckles and runs his fingers through your hair, telling you that you are home silly!

reciting all the “conversations” you two had about running away together

about how sick of school you are

how you can’t wait to finish school and two months, you need to get out now

of course you tried to convince him otherwise

but he wouldn’t listen

only saying how much he loves you and how much you two were meant to be together

one can only stay in his fictional world for so long

and with your insistent telling him you hate him, crying, begging, and hitting...well it could make a man snap

he never puts his hands on you

opting to throw things at you for crying when he enters the room

screaming at the top of his lungs terrible terrible things he wants to do to you, plans to do to you

then he starts crying because he’s never been good enough for anyone

how hes unlovable, always the second choice

before he starts screaming insults at you for crying in terror at his mood swings

saying that if you would just love him back you could of stopped all of this

eventually he collapses in your arms, whispering sweet nothings as tears leak out of his eyes as his fit had finally wore him out

if you want to avoid his punishments, you best figure out how to make him feel loved

his punishments are on the less extreme side, at least compared to his brother

he’ll tie you completely down, to the point where you can’t move any joints at all

this serves as a means for him to feed you

almost like a lover

allows him to cuddle you without you biting him again

sometimes he spanks you till you can’t sit down anymore

getting a rather sick pleasure out of seeing your plump ass black and blue

isolation, so bad that he won’t see you face to face or feed you for days, and on one occasion, a week long

you began to give in to him rather quickly

giving him sexual favors in turn for food

cuddling with his so he’ll let you walk around outside in the sunlight

calling him daddy like he asked so you could see pictures of your old friends and family

all in all having george as your yandere could be an amazing time, with him making you home made meals

singing you to sleep

him praising you for every correct action

so long as it’s the correct, action after all

❝𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂❞

his type is protective and obsessive

it starts out small

maybe him just glaring at kids who talk about you

telling them to keep your name out of their mouth or he might just wash it out with soap

all said with a smile on his face of course

so no one really takes him seriously

that is until he starts putting a curse on students who said your name that etched some vile things into their skin

they kept quiet of course

not wanting whatever else the sick red head had up his sleeve to be perpetuated on them

so when he made it increasingly obvious that he had a liking to you

you were nothing less than thrilled

he was on the Gryffindoor quidditch team after all

and quiet handsome to boot

and at first everything is grand

he writes you love letters

sings to you

lets you wear his jersey

has you hang on his arm everywhere you go

and honestly, he starts out as perfect gentleman

but that is until the cracks beigin to appear

and you start to see his cute protective side turn into his obsessive and selfish side

it started off with him not wanting you to talk to other guys

which was a dramatic request, but still in the realm of reality

then it went from just boys to everyone

he said that everyone in all your classes talked trash about you

saying that it was best to just shut out those fake people

to rely on him and his family

they were real, wholesome people afterall

then when you’re isolation wasn’t enough for him he would get angry at you for looking too long at anyone really

you would receive long lectures about how you don’t truly love him because you have your eyes on other people

you would swear up and down that you do love him

only for him to respond to prove it

if that wasn’t enough, he had to be with you at all times, he would wait outside your class room with his brother and his darling escorting you to your next class

he would stay with you up until the very last moment he could

sometimes he would force you to sneak into his dorm, or let you into yours

if you’re a trooper and can take all of this pressure with a smile, then you get to keep your life at hogwarts under his oppressive thumb

but if you decide it’s too much...

well just like his brother, you end up in a cold white room

although unlike his brother, he has a grip on reality and knows just what he’s doing

he’s heard of Stockholm syndrome before...and you already loved him before

how hard could making you fall in love again be?

he’s still a perfect gentlemen, but this time when you don’t do what he wants

he doesn’t hold back

he does try his hardest not to lay his hands on you

his mother taught him better after all

but sometimes he finds himself grabbing at the strands of hair in your scalp and yanking them at a force no person should have to feel

or other unfortunate occasions he would slam you full force into a wall when you got a little mouthy and told him those lies about how you don’t love him

how no one kidnaps the ones they love

he would always apologize and kiss you all over, detailing about how sorry he is

how if you would just be a good girl he could treat you how he prefers to

aside from that another form of his punishments is making you get through one of his traps he set up, he calls it the whipping machine

if you can get past all the lashings that cause welts and sometimes blood to from your skin

then you get to eat for the night

and if you don’t well then you get to sit there all night and the next morning without food and until you can complete his tasks

if he’s in a more cheerful mood when you misbehave he gives you one of his new inventions to try out

you shutter to think about what happened to your skin the last time he gave you one

he doesn’t force himself onto you

but he lets you know that if you give him what he wants then he’ll give you a new privileged

your latest privilege was getting a book to read while he went off to go work on the shop

fred much like his brother, isn’t all that bad

if you can stand the whipping tree

and his outburts

↷𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕋𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖↶ (mostly sex- choking, slapping, not vanilla)

having both the twins as yandere’s is by far the worse outcome

god do they feed on each other

usually, they compliment each other in the best ways

but yandere twins,,,not so much

fred feeding into george’s insecurity

george feeding into fred’s whole they belong to us mentality

and between the two of them, there’s nowhere in the school you could escape from them

somehow someway they always find you

pestering you until you oblige them

with them having someone else to feed into their obsessions they both detonate at a faster rate than individually

it would be george would decided that they needed to kidnap you

and fred was the one that planned it all out

the room they kept you in as a collective was much better than it would be if it was one on one

far more things to do

far better blankets

more time time outside what with the two of them being there to stop you

the doors were all enchanted to spray some weird liquid at you that would make you drop down as the alarm was set off

they would come running and laughing

going back and forth about how silly you are to think you can get away from them

they would pick you up and tell you that it was time for your punishment now

which almost always tended to be sexual

which you endured if only for the sake of your future

this included over-stimulation

spankings

choking

slapping you around

and your eventual begging for forgiveness

the twins are rather kinky in bed

the more obvious ones being double penetration

they liked to be refereed to as daddy or sir

nipple clamps

bondage

hair pulling

flogging

sensory deprivation

they want to do it all to you

they just can’t help it with how beautiful you are

and he worst part is, you like it

you like being treated like an object in bed

you knew it

the twins knew it

its rather hard to fake disdain for them when they make you cum over and over again during sex

maybe that’s what helped you to slowly begin to break

slowly start to believe yourself when you said you loved them

after all, when you just love them and do what they say...it isn’t all that bad

634 notes · View notes

ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

Anything faust!valter

I usually don't enjoy vague requests like this, but I was writing a Faust!V piece anyway. So, I'll just put this here.

Warning: 18+ smut, mature language, anti-religious themes. **In this part: consensual sleep sex, family conflict, angst.**

Summary: Faust and Faith get caught in the act, propelling Faith to do the one thing she never thought herself capable: defy her father.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

A warm prodding awakened Faith in the early hours. Faust was pressed against her naked back, chest and stomach soft and contoured to her spine. Lower down, he nudged her with a growing erection. It twitched across her tailbone once, twice, and so on, in reflection with the man's heartbeat. He felt enormous behind her. Drawing his knees up, his thighs balled her and squeezed.

His breath spread over the back of her neck, followed by a crawling moan. Faust curled his hips under hers, seeking out the sleek warmth between her legs. They had fallen asleep with the TV on, and the same non-stop pornographic advertisements played with the volume low. The ruddy morning glow swirled up the moans, tenderizing the bedded bodies in low heat.

Faust whispered through strands of hair, "can I be inside of you?"

Faith raised her right leg, providing him access which he took with a slow but forceful stab. He trusted her whimpers and went along with each one, finding a steady rhythm guided by her noises. Sleep still licked at his eyelids, teaming with comfort to lead Faust back into a restful embrace. Even her enclosing wetness wasn't enough to keep his eyes open.

This process repeated. Faust fought lazily to stay awake, to stay hard inside of her. Faith didn't seem to mind the five-minute doses of lovemaking with a reprieve to doze. Car alarms, porn trailers and a gentle buzzing went off, ignored by the sleepy couple.

Faust picked up the pace eventually and lifted Faith's leg for less resistance. He slammed into her, wrapping one long arm around her midriff to keep her from bouncing across the bed. Anchored, Faith let the stretch soothe her to the core. Having him inside, muted and reserved to the pleasure and not the filth, was a rarity she longed to savour. Too often, Faust spent their time together teasing, making her feel like the hungry one, the desperate one. Now, he was the one who couldn't hold back.

"Faith... I'm gonna come soon."

Before she replied, he angled her face to smother her mouth with a kiss. His lips devoured her moans, tongue licking hers. He sent his hand down to her groin and pressed his index and middle finger together to create the perfect cushion for her clit.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "Yes, that's amazing."

"Mm, good. I need you to come at the same time as me."

The request struck Faith softer than his usual demands. Faust always told her exactly what to do, at the precise time, through clenched teeth, and if she failed to meet his expectations, he hissed and scolded her. Not this time. Faust paused his movements to get her up to speed.

"Mm, more, please," Faith said.

He fed her half his length. Anything more, and she would clench and mewl. Faust didn't want that kind of thing today. Working her clit with his fingers and pumping himself into her with care, Faust forgot everything.

Faith's cell phone continued to rumble. The first few rounds of vibrations had gone unnoticed, but now Faith was starting to worry. It broke her concentration, robbed Faust's caresses of poignancy. It was Sunday morning, and she hadn't checked in with her parents in a few days. By the shade of light filtering through the rust-coloured drapes, she deduced it couldn't be later than noon.

"Faust...I should answer my phone."

"No, baby. Just stay here. Get close with me."

"I can't," she said. "What if it's..."

"Don't answer. What's more important? Me, or him? You're a big girl. Make your own decisions."

Faith closed her eyes and waited for the vibrations to cease. Faust had not stopped slowly easing his cock inside of her, then out and back in. He delivered one stroke that was harder than the others and hooked her attention back to him.

"Come on, beautiful. Help me come."

It was another hour before Faust came to his shuddering end and spilled a shocking amount of cum both inside Faith and between her thighs. It dripped onto the bed, soaked the sheets and continued dribbling from her cunt even as he climbed down the bed to position his face there. He licked her from hole to clit, over and over until she moaned animatedly.

"Oh my god, Faust."

"You like that, baby? Let me lick that cum-soaked pussy for you."

Faust pinched the sensitive crest, revealing her clit and applying pressure. He used the months he'd spent eating her out to pull out all the tricks. He teased her opening with his middle finger, flicking her clit periodically to make her nerves jump.

"So much fucking cum in there. Oh, it's so nice watching it all dripping out of that perfect hole."

Again, the commotions of the outside world faded into obscurity while they played in their private bubble. Not even the indecency on the TV screen compared to Faust's green eyes watching her reactions while a perfect pair of lips toyed with every inch of her womanhood. She stroked his long hair back, but the black tresses fell over his face until he shouldered them out of the way.

"Are you ready to come for me, Faith?"

"Mm, yes. I'm ready."

"Yeah? What do you want? My fingers a bit harder? Suck your clit?"

"Both," she gasped.

Faust served two equally measured stimulations, enhanced by the slippery sound of his tongue. The peak fell into line, nudged forward by the mix of incentives working together to tickle her beyond pleasure. The noise delighted Faith, filled her with arousal, and she twisted and writhed as her climax approached. Matched with Faust's deep moans, the television and cars passing by on the street faded into obscurity. All thoughts of her neglected cell phone disappeared.

All of this smashed against an invisible wall and shattered before realization. There was a temperamental rapping at the door, followed by the boom of Faith's name from the other side. Faith shot up and away from Faust, clutching for a pillow to block her nudity.

"Faith! You better get out here, girl!"

"Daddy?"

"Oh, shit," said Faust. "Go to the bathroom. Now. Go on!"

Faith scrambled off the bed and grabbed her shredded panties from where Faust threw them the night before. In her haste, she missed her top and only brought her skirt into the washroom for coverage.

Faust wiped his glistening mouth, let the pounding at the door go unanswered until he caught his breath and climbed into his boxers. Prepared to face Stan, he wrenched open the door and found the man fuming, ready to throw his fists.

"Where is she?" Stan asked, bowling through the door and into the motel room where pornography still flashed on the TV.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Faith! Get out here now."

"You need to get the fuck out, right now. Faith's not here."

"Bullshit! Her phone's right there on the table."

Stan went to the bathroom door and banged hard enough the wood jumped from its frame. Faust hauled the man away from the door and met swift resistance.

"You can't be in here!"

"Don't tell me what I can't do. You have my daughter!"

"Daddy, please stop!" Faith cried from the other side of the bathroom door.

Stan glared at Faust with heat snapping behind his eyes. Not one to succumb to intimidation, Faust planted his feet and motioned for the man to leave.

"Don't make this violent, Stan. Faith's with me. She's a fucking adult."

The father noticed the television and spat on the carpet.

"She will never see you again if I have anything to do with it."

"That's just it... There's nothing you can do. So, I suggest you get the fuck out of here before something bad happens."

Stan ignored Faust and knocked on the door again.

"Faith, get dressed. You're coming with me."

"Daddy, you have to leave. I don't have any clothes."

"You son of a bitch," Stan hissed. "What the fuck have you done to my daughter? First, you don't answer calls, then I find you in here fornicating with this scumbag? What the hell is wrong with you, Faith?"

"Look, man, she doesn't have any clothes. Get the fuck out so she can at least get dressed. Or do you plan on dressing her yourself?"

Stan ignored Faust's comments with a sneer. "Have you forgotten your phone's tracking? How did you think this would end, Faith? Your mother and I thought you were taken! Get dressed right now, young lady. You are in for the punishment of your life!"

Faust followed Stan outside and watched the preacher thrash his fists. He recognized the car in front and smirked. The father's anger spread, fuelling Faust's urge to retaliate.

"You'll never keep her away from me," said Faust with a laugh.

"Shut your mouth."

"Can't handle the truth, can you? You hate that she loves me. You hate the thought of someone like me with her."

Stan whipped a warning look at Faust. The air outside was cool and raised goosebumps over his bare skin, but inside, his guts boiled. Faust longed for a more violent reaction. He wanted fire and destruction.

"I fucked her. You've no idea how many times I've fucked her."

Faith made it outside in time to witness her father advance on Faust. She shrieked as Stan's fist made contact with Faust's jaw and sent him reeling backward. He clenched the side of his chin and laughed, blood already coating his teeth.

"Oh, nice shot, big man. Come on. Beat the shit out of me. Show your daughter how a man handles things."

"Get in the car, Faith," Stan pointed.

"No, Daddy. I'm not leaving."

"Faith! I said get in the car!"

"No, Daddy! I won't go with you!"

Faith ran to Faust and threw herself around him, burying her face under his arm. Faust popped his brows and snickered.

"It's okay, babe. I'm fine. It was a good punch, though. Enough for an assault charge."

Faust kissed the top of Faith's head, eyes pinned to Stan while he licked his teeth.

"Get over it, preacher. She's mine."

"Stop it! Both of you stop, right now!" Faith pushed off Faust and stood in the middle of them. "Daddy, you have to go. I'm not a baby, and I'm not going to church. You can move the whole family across the country if you want to, but I'm staying and going to school."

"You are not missing church," Stan said.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions. And I'm disabling my phone's tracker. This is an invasion of my privacy. And Faust... You keep quiet, too! Both of you."

The manager of the motel stepped out of the office, interested in the source of the commotion but not concerned enough to call the police. Fights broke out on the property all the time. Drapes pulled back, and anonymous eyes surveyed the scene as well. Faith suddenly felt far too exposed to the possibility a gust of wind might lift her skirt and reveal her nakedness. She reserved to make a point to Faust to stop ruining her underwear, but that would have to wait.

"Get in your car, drive back home, and maybe I won't press charges, old man," Faust negotiated.

"I'm not leaving without my daughter."

"Fine. You can stay here and explain to the cops why you punched me in the face and how you're trying to abduct an adult who has already stated multiple times that she doesn't want to leave. I'm sure that will all sound really nice to your congregation."

"Faith... You have one more chance. Get in, or else," Stan opened the car door.

She shook her head while disbelief of her actions sickened her stomach. Not once had she ever defied her father. Before the morning's incident, she didn't believe she had it in her to refuse him. The sky didn't turn red, and the earth refused to break open and swallow her. Faith understood what Faust had been saying; she didn't have to listen to anyone but herself.

Defeated, Stan got into the family car, staring at his daughter through the windshield. His oldest daughter, who he barely recognized, returned the stare until he drove off. Once the car turned the corner and was out of sight, Faust began to laugh.

"Stop laughing! Why do you think this is funny?" Faith asked.

"I dunno. It just is."

"No, it's not! Do you understand the trouble I'm in? You don't know what my dad will do. I'll have to move! I can't afford my own place working part-time."

"Baby, don't worry. You're not moving away from me. I won't let you."

Faith's delayed reaction hit all at once, like a storm cloud bursting above her head. Fiery tears stung her eyes as panic erupted from within her ribcage.

"So, what? You're gonna let me move in with you? Live in your tiny room with your weird roommate, who you hate? Because I highly doubt Mister Solitary will want me around twenty-four seven. You already can't handle more than a couple of days around me at once."

"Faith...Baby, come on. Don't say that kind of shit. We'll find our own place, obviously."

"You don't have a job anymore! You quit your band!"

"Doesn't matter. Just trust me. Stop crying, and trust me, okay? I'll get it all worked out. You have two more months at school before we have to make any moves. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?"

"No," Faith peeped. "I guess not."

"I got this, Faith. Stop worrying. You're with me, and that's all that matters, right?"

She nodded. Faust pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Everything's gonna be fine. I promise."

#faust x faith #Faust!Valter #Valter Skarsgard fanfiction #Valter Skarsgard imagine

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

you are

a horny little snapshot of your life with daddy keigo 😉

characters: hawks x reader

wc: 1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), daddy kink, dom/sub dynamic, bondage (cuffs), choking, mentions of edging

notes: this is part of a sweet little v day exchange! @keilemlucent my light, my love, you are my valentine now & always. i hope this horny little treat sits nice & sweet on your tongue 💖please check out the other works in this exchange by @shadowworks and @hawnks !

(MASTERLIST)

“Daddy, please…”

That’s far from the first time you’ve given in and begged tonight. It hasn’t helped you much in getting what you want, either.

You’re stretched out on Keigo’s massive bed, buttery, silky sheets pillowed under your sweat-coated flesh. He’s got your hands cuffed together and bound cleanly over your head. Your thighs are hitched over his, knees clamping tightly down around his hips. And he’s gliding his hand up your trembling sides with his cock buried and stilled deep inside you.

“I know, bluebird,” he purrs, reaching up to draw his smooth knuckles across the curve of your heated cheek. His other hand is clamped tightly between your bodies, holding a smooth, pink little egg vibrator against the warmed swell of your tight clit. “I know it hurts. But you can hold on a little longer for me, can’t you?”

“I can’t,” you plead, throwing your head to one side, burying it into the flesh of your arm to hide the way tears are threatening to spill over.

Keigo’s been keeping you in this vicious cycle all evening, all as punishment for parading around the apartment at dinnertime in nothing but one of his shirts and your favourite pair of thigh-high socks. They were the tallest ones you own- the ones that come right up to the crease of your ass- and now they’re slipping down around your knees as he warms his cock in your molten depths and keeps you cruelly on the brink of climax.

“You’ve been so good for me, taking your punishment like this.” He takes your jaw carefully into his free hand, dipping over your shaking body to press his forehead over yours. “I think you deserve a treat.”

Your nerves perk at the thought, followed by a spike of embarrassment. He’s frighteningly good at reducing you to your most basic instincts- making a pet out of you, behaving just the way he wants.

He drops a tender kiss to your mouth and rears back to look at you with all the prowess and elegance of a raptor, letting a pleasured smirk gracing his lean face. He’s gone flushed about the cheeks and hairline, too, fucking you in short spurts but always stilling inside you before you can find your peak.

Keigo’s brassy eyes glint with interest as he leans back further to watch the way your messy cunt flutters desperately around his cock, clenching around him for a bare crumb of the pleasure he’s denying you.

The vibrator’s slipped away from your clit at this point, but he takes it into his palm and you can’t ignore the subtle spread of his wings, casting your aching form into shadow. He smooths his other hand up your sternum, brushing his fingertips over the delicate column of your windpipe.

“I know how you want it,” he purrs, flicking his eyes over your throbbing pulse point. His eyesight is so sharp you’re sure he can see the way your heart pounds, and your toes curl subtly against his lower back. He grins, flashing a pearly canine as he wraps his fingers around your throat without restriction.

“Should I give it to you, though?”

His offer clicks into place and instantly your brain rushes with desperate need. You know exactly what he’s considering and now that it’s on the table, it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

“Daddy please,” you beg vaguely, thrashing gently in your restraints and humping down against him. Keigo lets out a little groan and bucks forward but quickly recenters himself, tugging his hand from your throat to crush your hips to the sheets.

“Hold still, bluebird,” he growls, shivering all the way out to the tips of his wings, “and tell me what you want.” He sighs gently through flared nostrils, eyes flaming now as he stares down at you.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“Do… what you were gonna do,” you try, knowing full well that’s not what he’s asked for. Keigo clucks his tongue, shaking his head affectionately and giving your hips another rough push.

“Try again.”

“Choke me,” you sob. “While I cum. Please?” You turn your gaze to his, wet and wobbly and pleading.

“God,” he gasps, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and making you giggle in spite of yourself. “You’re so fuckin’ dirty, baby. How’m I supposed to say no, when you ask so nice?”

He pulls his hand to your throat again, keeping his face next to yours as he draws his hips back and finds your clit with the vibrating egg.

“You close?” He presses the toy up between your legs and you cry out, a wave of warning pleasure washing instantly over your body.

You’ve been close all night.

“Yeah,” you whine, breathless. “Yeah, ‘m almost there. Daddy, please let me cum, please let me, please…”

You trail off, realizing that he’s not going to pull away this time as his fingers close around your windpipe. Keigo knows exactly how long to restrict for, squeezing as your peak hits and sending you into the stratosphere. Your long-awaited climax sends electricity racing up your spine, diluting into delicious, spasming tension that’s drawn out longer and longer the more firmly he keeps that vibrator on you.

The tight clenches of your twitching cunt are too much for him, and as you’re coming down from your high he releases your throat and hits his own peak with a wild, deep groan against your skin. He lets his hips stutter against yours as he pours his climax into you, fucking hot shots of cum back into your body and letting it spill from your dripping pussy.

He goes limp, collapsing on top you. You gasp for breath together, and after a dozen heartbeats of silence he reaches over your head to lace his fingers with yours.

“Give me a squeeze, bluebird.” You give a week little nod and respond. One. Two. Three.

I’m okay.

And when he takes you into his arms, crooning absolute praise as he unbuckles you from your cuffs, you are.

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #mha keigo x reader #mha keigo

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

The Dark Team (part 5 S2)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Warnings: abductions, kidnapping, forced unconsciousness, electroshocks (non explicit).

A/N: Listen. Listen. The chronologies... we already knew those were weird in this story and we accepted that. Now, we have to also accept the whole multiverse thingy being even more weird, because, yes, I'm mentioning OSCORP. Let's deal with it like mature people *screams into abyss of no return*.

“Your dirty little secret? Oh, come on. You gotta be kidding!”, exclaimed Steve, slamming the table. He immediately looked at you, “I’m sorry”.

He said sorry because it was three in the morning, Narfi was sound asleep and you all kept bickering about the coded message. You had peeped in your room several times, only to find, the first two times, Loki and your son reading in silence, each his own book, both neatly tucked under the same weighted blanket and Narfi's head resting on his father's shoulder. The third time, Narfi was asleep and Loki kept reading. The fourth, Narfi was all alone in the king-sized bed and Loki wasn't there. But he hadn't joined the meeting either.

Nobody could figure out what the dirty little secret was, and they all thought it was something Tony did. Like, you know, selling weapons.

“It’s okay, Steve. Listen, this is getting nowhere. And Loki should be here by now, where did you send him?”.

“I didn’t send him, he just… he said he needed to do something that had something to do with… could he have mentioned an old tutor?”, said Bucky, and you furrowed your brows.

“Is he in Asgard, now?”.

“I guess”.

You took your phone out, and tried to call him again, but he didn’t answer. There wasn't any phone signal in Asgard. Why would he go in there without saying anything?

“Look, all I’m saying is, the message was through JARVIS, and you’re the one with the most filthy secrets in here”, said Thor.

“Are you serious?”, spat Tony, pointing at Bucky. “This one was a hydra assassin”, pointing at Natasha “this one is an assassin”, pointing at Thor “we have no idea what’s going on with your thousand and half long life”, and finally pointing at you “there are no records whatsoever of anything you’ve done before my internship. So, no. I’m not the only one with the dirty secrets here. And, by the way, they’re dirty but public”.

“Yes. The billions you’ve won by selling weapons are very well known”.

“Shut your mouth”.

“Listen, this will get us nowhere. We could be in danger if we don't do something about this so if anyone is under any little suspicion of what a dirty secret they could be cultivating, this is the time to say it", you mediated, still calling Loki and getting directly to the voicemail.

"What could we possibly be having, Y/n?", asked Bruce tiredly.

"Any weird and innovative lab experiment? Something that could be used as a weapon? A disease? A cure? A mutation? Anything?", and you stopped on your words immediately. "Oh, no". As you opened your eyes widely, about to run to Narfi's room, Loki picked up the phone and you put it on speaker, pausing your fear. "Love! Where are you?".

Silence. Silence in the whole room, and a flickering light kind of sound. And then the unmistakable sound of a bad microphone on the other line, white noises, whispers to which you couldn't figure out the words.

"It's easy, really", said a rusty voice from the other side of the line. Everyone put on their best panic faces. You could feel your heartbeat on your throat. Not again. Not goddamn again, someone kidnapped one of you. This wasn't the kind of mission you wanted to join to get back on your feet. "You give us what we want, Mr. Stark, and we give you the man".

You looked at Tony and he huffed in frustration. He opened his mouth to speak, but on the background of the call you could hear Loki's unimpressed voice,

"The God. I'm not a man".

"Loki, are you okay? Can you hear me? Where are you?", you tried.

"I'm okay. These idiots think that they can…", he began saying, but a buzzing noise cut him off, along with a muffled screaming and something you figured was an electroshock took him out of the conversation.

"What do you want?", asked Stark. "Who are you?".

"We want money, Mr. Stark. A lot of it, to found our project", explained the voice. "And the other thing we need for the project. We could do with this one, but I'm sure you could give us a better sample".

"What is he talking about, Tony?".

"You think you can be more specific, dear?", asked Tony, losing his patience.

"Imagine a supersoldier, a superior being like that, but with ice powers, Mr. Stark. A man that's a mortal weapon itself", explained the kidnapper. "This one is particularly alright. But we will need a lot of him".

"What are you saying?".

"The frost giant. We want his blood".

They cut the conversation and Bucky grabbed your shoulder as you began to panic.

"Y/n, before jumping to this mission you should leave Narfi with someone strong enough to protect him", intervened Thor. You looked at him and sighed.

"Fine. Loki can't hear a word of this, alright?".

"Let it in my hands. I'll also ask Heimdall", he assured you and you squeezed his hand.

"Thank you", you told him, and traced the call. You did it in a few minutes and walked to Narfi’s room, to tell him where he would go. You wondered how you’d keep him calm. Usually Loki is the one that brought calmness to the situations, and this time around you had to be the one to keep calm and manage it all. You also wondered if he was capable of escaping on his own or if the kidnappers knew who they were dealing with and got him too restrained to run. Electroshocks. Loki’s weakness (anyone’s, really), so you guessed they knew better.

You knocked on Narfi’s door and he let you in with a flick of his wrist. Purple lights around the door made it disappear and he shifted his expressions from panic to disappointment really quickly.

“I’m so sorry, I…”, he began, but you walked hurriedly to him.

“Don’t worry about it, Narfi. Listen”, you said, and kneeled in front of him to reach his own height. You grabbed his tiny hand, and he paid close attention. “Daddy’s in trouble, and uncle Buck and I are going to help him come back home, alright? He’s fine, you don’t need to worry”, you explained the best you could.

“Can I come with, please, please? Daddy taught me things that could be useful, please?”.

“Don’t you wanna go with grandma, better?”, you smiled at him, hoping he’d accept and you wouldn’t have to take him against his wishes, “come on, darling, she wants to teach you some new tricks”.

Narfi smiled at those words and you sighed in relief.

“How long are you gonna take?”.

“I’m not sure. Couple of days at most”.

“Is daddy on a mission?”.

“Yeah”.

“Is he winning?”.

“I’m sure he is”.

“Is he cutting people with his new dagger?”.

“What do you mean new dag… wait, no, he’s not… hurting anyone, alright? Just… pack your things”.

“I hope he someday teaches me to throw knives like him”.

“Pack your toothbrush!”, you said from the door, and whispered to yourself, “dear Lord, I’m not letting Loki train at his sight again”.

As you left his room for him to get ready, you hurried your steps to meet the team. You tripped and fell over with someone’s leg. When you got up, hurting from the hit, you realized you tripped over Steve’s unconscious body. Looking around, the whole team seemed to have passed out completely.

“JARVIS!”, you called, your voice less calm than you would’ve liked to.

“Yes, Mx. Y/n?”.

“‘Yes, Mx. Y/n?’ What the hell happened here? Take their vitals!”, you rushed to Tony’s side and took his pulse. He seemed asleep. Just in case, you covered your nose and mouth with your sleeve.

“According to my database, they all seem to be in perfect condition. There might be some sort of a substance in the air. Should I alert Mr. Laufeyson as he comes back?”.

“Oh, God”, you realized.

Narfi.

You ran up to his room, knocking everything on your way to him. But as you didn’t even need to open an invisible door, you realized he wasn’t there. The room was completely empty.

Half an hour passed, and in the middle you ran all the way around the Tower, trying to unsuccessfully find your son hiding somewhere. But no, you were sure. You had already some theory of what could’ve happened to him and where he could be. And you didn’t like that idea at all. Oh, no. You much rather the Allfather keeping him forever than the alternative.

You poured a bit of the chemical mix you managed to prepare despite your trembling hands on the room’s vaporizer, and everyone began slowly recovering consciousness. Tony coughed up a blue liquid, and looked at it without much clue of what happened.

“Amitriptyline”, you told him, and he furrowed his brows. “In this dosage can make saliva blue, besides urine”, you explained what he hadn’t asked.

“But what for? I’m not depressed”.

“It’s for blocking whatever you’ve been given to get passed out. I know their tricks”, you vaguely explained, but, in all honesty, you really did not want to explain why you knew antidepressants blocked the effects of that substance.

“Their? What just happened?”.

“Where is my brother?!”, beamed Thor, ready to guilt him on it.

“This is not on Loki”, you said, taking a notepad out of your pocket and scribbling down some things while Bucky, Steve, Sam, Tony and Natasha got up and approached you cautiously. Thor began looking up, still trying to figure out if there was any of his brother’s magic involved. “They took Narfi. We have to act quickly, alright?”.

“Oh God, you’re not serious”, said Bucky, lowering his voice.

“They said… they said they wanted Loki’s blood”, recalled Natasha. “Loki’s blood, his heir. Not his actual blood”, she realized. You nodded.

“They want to mix human DNA with Jötun DNA and do that weird icy supersoldier mix, that terrible idea. That’s why they wanted Loki, to get his pure Jötun cells, and then get Narfi, to see how the chromosome pairs work. They want to experiment with my child”, you blurted out with your heart on your chest. “This, this right now, is an important mission. So we all better do this right now”.

“Wait, so what’s your plan of approach? Go to whatever place you think they are and go get them?”, said Steve. “I know you’re stressed and you have every right to be, but think. We need a plan”.

“We don’t need a plan, we need action, right now”, you said, unrecognizable words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/n”, mediated Tony. “Listen. We’ll figure it out. Rest of the team, to my office. You stay here and do not move even a hair, you hear me? You’re in no condition to get on board with this. Let us do this and you can help from a distance”.

“No way. There is no way you’re leaving me out of rescuing my own son”.

“Exactly because it’s your kid we’re talking about. Listen, a surgeon can’t operate on their own child. No, no. Don’t argue with me. Close your mouth. Barnes, make sure they don’t do anything stupid, wouldn’t you?”.

And with that, he left.

You and Bucky stayed in silence for about ten seconds, fidgeting with the notepad you had in between your fingers, ready to tear it to pieces out of anxiousness. After that, you said,

“Rescuing my child is not doing something stupid, right?”.

He shrugged and huffed out.

“I guess not. What’s your plan?”.

“Where would you go if you were a kidnapper with a very important child to perform very illegal experiments?”.

“I… don’t know”.

“I do”.

“What?”.

“Remember when you asked what my major was?”.

“Yes...?”.

“I… well, before the stark internship I worked in a very… odd place, it made experiments. Genetic experiments. The famous OSCORP, you know the place. They were the ones doing all the spider shit and Peter got bit by a spider in there. I worked there, and there was something that… never added up. The experiments grew worse and worse, more immoral, more dangerous. I couldn’t take them anymore and I left without leaving a trace of me in the public eye. Or so I thought”.

“You think your kid might be in OSCORP?”.

“I’m afraid so”.

“No more waiting then, let’s get the motorbike”.

“Shouldn’t we alert the team?”.

“What, so they can go by themselves, without you, without a plan and without your knowledge about that place? Besides, Loki is already in there, right?”.

“You’re the voice of reason, sometimes, Barnes”, you said, tossing him a pair of keys and his jacket. And with that, you two headed to OSCORP without warning.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson )

#Loki #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki series #loki oneshot #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki x reader #loki x gn reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki ragnarok #the dark team season 2 #the dark team #bucky barnes #tony stark #iron man

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all-things-fic · 4 years

Text

Country Lane | Divorce Harry III

Thank you all for waiting for this one. Massive middle finger to tumblr for screwing the post up! Divorce Harry III is finally here!

Shoutout to my lovely ladies who taking time to read this for me @harrytheehottie, @harryfeatgaga, @haute-romance-quotidienne and of course @waitingfortwilight. Also, thank you to all my lovely anons and those of you who come off anon to talk about this, I’ve really loved the general chit chat about the series <3

Without further ado, enjoy! Lots of love and happy Saturday! x

*~*

You had no idea where you were.

Surrounded by nothing but overgrown grass and the odd wooden fence. If you listened carefully in the distance you could hear the traffic of what you thought could be the A34 road and you were pretty sure that the last sign you had seen before your car cut out had been for Congleton.

Rubbing your hands down your fresh face, your spa retreat to Mottram Hall for the hen-do of one of the school Mum’s entering her second marriage, was nothing more than a distant memory. As you sat freezing, in your car, looking out onto the harsh autumn weather of October, you were far from relaxed and rejuvenated.

Worrying your bottom lip with your top teeth, you juggled your phone from palm to palm. You knew you had to call him, you effectively didn’t have any choice. Especially after you’d pulled your way through your glove compartment and you hadn’t come up trumps with your breakdown cover documentation.

Part of you was cursing in that moment at how you’d handed the piece of paper which held all telephone numbers and car insurance policy account numbers over to your son to scribble upon during one particularly long car session, just to keep him quiet. You were actually sure it was now stuck on your fridge with a lovely drawing of what you presumed to be Marvel characters all over it.

The worst of it all was that you knew whatever had happened to your car was bad. You knew simply from the way the car had spluttered and started to grind before almost seizing up and stalling to a halt.

Unlocking your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and landed on his contact card. Clicking on it you saw when the last time you had called him was and recalled the soft FaceTime he’d had with your eldest son, who wanted to tell his Daddy about how he’d been picked for the schools first rugby team, taking him out of reserves and off the bench.

Breathing deeply, you ignored the ache the fond memory began to cause and tapped Harry’s name. The dialling tone that greeted you filled the pit of your stomach with knots as you tried to relax in the leather seat of your Range Rover.

Again, you started to worry your lips at the fifth ring, before the line clicked and you heard his warm voice. You froze at how friendly he sounded, his voice held an edge of laughter to it and you heard shuffling faintly in the background, followed by chatter, before it was shut out.

On the other end of the line, Harry had found himself dodging his way around people in his Mother’s kitchen in Cheshire, before leaving the room and catching your call before it cut off.

“Sorry ‘bout tha’,” he spoke an unnecessary apology, probably because of how long it had taken him to answer, as you remained quiet on the other line.

You blinked harshly at the sound of your name being spoken. “Are you still there?” Harry asked, pulling the phone away from his ear to see that the call was indeed still running.

“Ye- yeah,” you stuttered, partly due to a soft tremble to your lips from being cold.

“Everythin’ alrigh’?” He asked, a concerned edge to his question, as you dropped deeper into your car seat.

Another small amount of silence.

“Not really,” you responded, honestly. “Where are you?”

With a small frown, he answered, “‘M at Mums. ‘S her birthday this weekend, remember?”

Shit. You’d forgotten.

Heavily breathing in response, you said, “It slipped my mind. Sorry.”

There was a chuckle at the end of the line.

“Not like you tha’,” he playfully jostled, causing the pit of your stomach to fall through again. You hated how he always managed to make any conversation between the two of you not seem as if you were in the middle of a prolonged divorce. “Usually got everything colour coordinated on our kitchen calendar.”

And he still did that so smoothly too, spoke about things as if you still did them together. The use of ‘our’ and ‘we’ was second nature and so naturally fell off his tongue in a velvety way that was soothing but left you shivering if caught by your touch in a different way.

As if he could read your mind, before you’d thought it, he said, “Don’t worry. I added everyone’s names to the presents so she thinks they’re from all o’ us.”

“I shouldn’t have called, you’re busy,” you responded without feeling, starting to pull the phone away from your ear and back to thinking about how you could get in touch with your breakdown cover. There had to be a way, surely.

“Hey, no,” he was urgent. “Don’t hang up, ‘s fine. I’ve pulled myself away. ‘S okay- please. Don’t hang up on me, something’s not right ‘ere. ‘S okay to still need me sometimes, y’ know?”

“It’s okay, I can sort it myself-“ you flung your car door open. “Can you just tell me know how to pop the bonnet up on this car, cause it’s been so bloody long since I last had to do it-“

“Pop the bonnet? Why’d you need to do that? Have you broken down somewhere?” His questions were clipped as he asked.

“Don’t get arsey with me-“

“‘M not,” he replied, quickly cutting. He really was. “Are the kids wi’you?”

“‘S alright for me be stranded on the side of the road on my own when it’s about to get dark-“

“Did I say that?” Again, he words were clipped. “Are you trying to wind me up?”

“Why have you not told me how to raise the bonnet?”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking the short distance in his Mother's hallway to lower himself, slowly, down to sit on the stairs.

“Underneath the passenger side there’s a lever,” he paused his softer tone, giving you time to find it. As he spoke you trampled against the grass closest to the passenger side and opened the door. Looking down at a red lever, which had clearly made itself known to you now that it had been brought to your attention.

“Found it?” he asked, hearing you hum.

You shut the passenger door of your car and stared at the slightly popped up bonnet, Harry’s voice filling your ears again. “If you feel underneath the bonnet, between the E and the R there is another little lever. Squeeze that and it’ll release the bonnet-“

“Where’s the little thing to keep it up?”

He breathily chuckled, “‘s on hydraulics so keeps itself up.”

Again, you didn’t respond and he was met with silence. Harry rested his chin against his palm waiting for you to speak, eyes looking towards the dimming light as night began to approach.

“Wha’ can you see?”

“Not a whole lot, it looks fine to me.“

“Darling, just let me come to you.”

“But this is why I pay for breakdown cover,” you snapped.

“Where are you?” He asked, voice deep and to your annoyance laced with concern that he should no longer hold.

You stammered trying to figure out some sort of excuse to bullshit him with, eyes taking in the country lane and the vast greeness around you.

“Last time ‘m askin’,” he harshly cut in. “‘S gonna get dark soon, so jus’ tell me where y’are.”

“Somewhere near Congleton.”

“And wha’s the matter wi’the car?”

You noted his voice on his last question was a bit pinched, probably from focusing on another task like pulling on a pair of trainers to bring him to you. He clearly wasn’t playing along anymore.

“Well, I think I’ve had an oil leak but none of the lights have come on to officially let me know whether I have or haven’t. The only thing is the nasty black marks that are on the driveway at home, but ‘s nothing that couldn't probably be jet washed off-“

As you rambled about cleaning the oil from the drive of the Hampstead home, Harry zoned out beginning to list the things he would probably require to bring with him. He was sure some of it could be found in Robin’s old garage, knowing that boxes of tools were still piled in the far corner.

“Send me your exact location via text.”

“Harry-“ you sighed.

“‘M not askin’, ‘m telling,” he abruptly responded.

***

People say that Googling symptoms is never a good thing, you suppose the same could be said for a car.

Were they symptoms though? You couldn’t quite coherently think of another descriptor for them as they brought up search after search at how you quite possibly could have ruined your car.

You tried not to dwell as the sky around you began to get darker while you sat in the safe passing place on the country lane. It wasn’t like you had much choice but to stick around.

Cold, and dithering slightly, you had taken to throwing your coat over your body like a blanket as simply wearing it wasn’t keeping your entire body warm enough.

Car doors locked and eyes closed, you tried to find some solace in your waiting. You didn’t have much avail, as you were interrupted by the harsh white lighting of LED headlights breaking through the dimming dusk sky.

You frowned, eyes squinting as the light got closer and pulled in behind you. A sense of uncertainty filled your body at the new arrival, along the otherwise desolate road.

A figure of a male jumped out of the car behind you, causing you to still all of your movement in your car seat as you tried to make out any features to you that would make you comfortable in knowing it was Harry.

The blinding lights made it far too difficult to see anything and you were beginning to think that the person behind you had left them on, on purpose. Unless they were those annoying ones that slowly turned themselves off.

Staring out you vaguely were able to make out the figure approaching you and as he got halfway you relaxed.

It was Harry.

He rapped his knuckles gently at your driver's side window and then smiled to himself as he realised how you wouldn’t be able to open it due to your inactive engine.

“Open the door for me,” he spoke, his voice slightly muffled as it came through your car window. He watched as you reached for the door handle inside and pushed the door ajar ever so slightly. “Could you have picked anywhere more hidden away?”

You didn’t respond straight-away, deciding instead to take him in as he stood with his left arm leaning up against the doorframe of your car. His right arm taut as he held the car door open and away from you both, not wanting it to cause any obstruction.

Underneath his khaki parka you could faintly make out a worn Versace tee as it hung open, unzipped. You internally rolled your eyes. What kind of person wore Versace to fix a car and possibly get covered in oil in the process?

As you rested your head back against the seat behind you, you silently enjoyed the way he looked down at you. It was always quite frustrating, even more so now you weren’t together, how magnetising he was.

“Do me a favour?” He broke the silent stare, “Lean over and pull the lever for me? Don’t quite fancy walking around the car and possibly going down a ditch.”

“My parking isn’t that bad!” You chastised, watching the way his lips twitched. “I’m being courteous of other cars on this tiny lane, given them extra room near the passing place-“

“You got miles of space this side of the dotted line,” he spoke cutting in, eyes wide and filled with humour. “Surprised you didn’t drive down the hill bank the other side to be extra courteous.”

“Can pull the lever yourself now, hope you break your ankle-“

“No you don’t-“

“I’d just leave you here, you know? Take the keys out of your pocket and go.“

“Don’t need to resort to petty crime,” his voice was a bit weaker now but still just as cheeky. “Could’ve just asked for ‘em.”

Your eyes moved towards the glinting keys that he held loosely by the key ring after quickly retrieving them from his pocket. Tauntingly wanting you to reach out from them.

“You’re just going to pull them away, if I grab for ‘em.”

“‘M not,” he stressed with a slight laughter. “You’re always so cynical and defensive. Not even thanked me for driving out to come and get you.”

You didn’t respond, instead you gently reached for the keys, feeling him slightly shift them from your grip as he enjoyed the determination on your face.

Fingers filled with want, you still grabbed for them, successfully but having to be halfway out of the seat and door of your car in order to fulfill your achievement.

When your feet met the ground beneath you, you quickly shifted around to pull your coat on properly. As you moved from the doorway, you watched as Harry dropped his chest onto the driver's seat and reached across the width of the car to pull the lever without needing to walk around the car to do so.

Putting a bit of distance between you, so you didn’t fall foul of staring too long at his bum in his blue jeans, you stalled yourself as he pushed his body up to standing and flipped through a book in his hands.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He said, flicking through what you now knew to be the car’s manual that he must’ve also grabbed from the glove box while inside the car. When you didn’t reply he tore his eyes away from the pages and over to you.

“You’re a good man.”

The honesty in your voice, knocked him. “‘M not, but ‘m trying t’be.”

The two of you stared at each other in the dimming darkness and you knew your gaze matched his sad one.

Clearing his throat, he threw the manual against the driver’s seat. “Anyway out m’ sight, leave the men to the work an’ all tha’. ‘S got heated seats an’ all, if you’re into tha’ sorta thing.”

***

You felt bad watching him out in the cold and dark, a light hanging from the bonnet the only source around him that you imagined was keeping him going.

Sitting in the passenger seat, you let your eyes roam around the black interior of his car that was incredibly spacious and so suitable for your barrage of children.

Your attention turned to outside again as you saw Harry move around from your car and walk up towards his own. His forearm came up to wipe across his mouth, bringing your attention to his facial hair that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker.

Without needing to be prompted, you pressed the button to lower the driver's side window and watched as he pressed his forearms into the resting place you had created for him now there was no window blocking his way.

“Can you get me one of them shammy cloths from out o’the boot please? Jus’ need to double check the dipstick.”

You nodded as he continued, “Would do it m’self but-“ he paused, opening out his hands and showing how dirty his fingers were to you.

“It’s fine,” you said, leaving the car and joining him. “I feel a bit useless anyway,” you admitted.

Both of you remained silent when he joined you at the back of his car, two sets of eyes easily spotting what you were looking for. You opened the packet of two cloths, a horrible peach colour, and passed him one before swapping places with him.

You moved to stand at the side of the car, watching him drop his head inside the boot to see if there was anything else he needed while he was at the other car.

“Since when did you become one of them?”

“One of who?” He asked, his head popping around the side of his car and out of the boot to look at you.

“Your lights on this car are far too bright.”

He rolled his eyes, remaining quiet as he turned back to the contents of his boot. He wasn’t going to respond to your unnecessary nitpicking.

“It’s really nice inside though. Single about me did well then,” you found yourself saying the comment in a biting fashion, unable to hold your tongue.

“Which one?” He bit right back, a clanging heard from the boot, “I asked you if you wanted a credit, you said no.”

You clammed up. He hadn’t taken what you said as a joke. A bit of light humour, you thought, for the road. It was your own fault. You’d become that sort of annoying person you often could get when you found yourself awkwardly doing nothing with yourself. Your delivery of your joke didn’t help either.

“Think I preferred you when you stayed sat, quiet, in the car,” Harry said, head moving out from the boot again so you could read his expressions. Raised eyebrows and twitching lips.

“Piss off,” you glared at him, slowly turning to walk away.

Now it was Harry’s turn to think you were joking, as he shouted after you. “Really gonna be like that after I turned up to save you. That’s twice now I’ve had t’remind yer.”

“You insisted-“

“I know I did,” he spoke around a chuckle. “Now where’re you off to?”

“‘M walking home-“

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous,” he shouted after you, a frown jarring through his light features when he moved from the open boot to walk closer to you as you turned back around to face him.

***

He managed to coax you to sit back in the car not much longer after you’d stormed off in a huff. Not without a fight, but this was one he was willing to back down on just to get you to stop storming off.

Looking back on it now, the scene was probably quite funny to some passerby or outsider, or it would’ve been if you weren’t so secluded. A female dressed in the most fetching of clothes - sarcasm noted - arguing in the middle of a street. Like some five year old in need of a nap.

Speaking of naps, your eyes shot open wide at the loud bang of your car bonnet being shut. You hadn’t realised that you’d begun to doze until you were abruptly woken.

Bleary vision was quickly erased with a rub of your eyes, as you moved to face the front and pushed your hair from your face.

You were met with Harry busy fiddling with the wires of his lamp. His face dropped down and hair falling so easily into his eyes. He kept walking rather than look into the car to see if you were still with him. Instead, he dropped everything that was in his hands into the boot and proceeded to annoyingly continue to subconsciously show off by pressing a button to close his boot automatically.

Staying wrapped up in one of your kids car blankets, you curled your legs underneath your body and rested your right cheek against the headrest. You continued to be silent as you started to wake up, eyes blinking slowly as you watched Harry in the dark pull open his car door.

He swung his body into the car with an almighty groan, one that caused you in your sleepy haze to softly smile. He looked shattered as he relaxed in his seat and rested his head backwards.

With eyes closed he sighed heavily, letting you take him in without a care. You’d noticed that at some point since your nap he’d removed his coat and now he sat in just his t-shirt and jeans. Both, of which, now looked like they had seen better days.

His brow had begun to perspire as he entered the warmth of his car, the quick switch from the Baltic (slight over exaggeration) temperatures outside to those more welcoming inside the G-Wagon could do that to you.

“Don’t think it’s fucked completely,” he said to break the silence, wiping his face and sweat with the back of his hand and wrist, to try and ensure his oil covered fingers didn’t leave any other stains on his skin.

You enjoyed the way he used the back of his hand, wrist and forearm to wipe at his now slightly clammy skin. Stupidly it emphasised how defined his upper body had become. “Dipstick wasn’t as dry as I was expecting,” he continued, “Just topped her up and ‘m ‘oping she turns over and sounds as good as new.”

Again, silence. His eyes staring straight ahead of him, yours enjoying his profile. God, he had a fantastic nose. It was definitely something that your daughter had inherited and you wondered if it would be a feature that a loved one in her life would sometimes admire in the next generation.

“Got any baby wipes wi’ you?” He cut his eyes to yours from the corner of his vision, taking in the way you were curled up in the passenger seat wearing the car blanket of your eldest son.

His eyes lingered on your shape for a while, dropping down and enjoying the way you had curled yourself up and presented to him in such a cosy vision. It meant you felt relaxed around him and that was all he ever wanted.

It was a nice contrast to the emotive happenings between the two of you that had almost become commonplace of late. A foreign feeling that was so simple, but so exciting.

Without verbal response you reached from your handbag that was in the footwell to have a look inside at the contents.

“Don’t wanna leave this car, been a bit spoiled over the last hour or so. Could do with an upgrade myself as they’re all getting older and need a bit more room,” you spoke as you rummaged around, movements still slightly sluggish.

You were successful in finding what you needed, the rustling of the plastic packaging jarring to your ears. Quickly pulling at the cover overlay, you swiftly pulled out a couple of wipes with such a mom-like finesse that had you balancing them on top of the now closed packet as you turned to face Harry.

“Don’t even think about making it a clause in the divorce,” he joked, eyes looking up at you from underneath his brow. His eyebrows snapped up in shock as you snatched at his hand and abruptly pulled at the baby wipes you’d retrieved from inside your handbag.

The two of you fell silent as you wiped at his left hand first, watching the black of the oil slowly leave his fingers. Breathing was heavy in the empty space as you didn’t dare raise your gaze higher to look into his eyes, that you knew were watching you.

“It’s so attractive, how much of a Mum you are,” he dared to say what he really thought as his humoured expression fell away. “Cleaning my hands up nicely, like ‘m your child that’s made a mess of m’dinner.”

“Harry,” you sighed his name, fidgeting softly in your seat. He chuckled in such a husky way that you found yourself softening regardless of the way it riled you.

Releasing his left hand, you reached straight for his right. Seeing the way he caught himself and stopped it before it fell against his lap. He smoothly reached for you, brushing your hair behind your shoulders as it began to curtain across the right side of your face.

“Last time m’hands were this dirty, you were licking and sucking ‘em clean.”

You felt your face begin to heat up from his brazenness.

“Are you blushing for me?” He whispered, his left hand moving along your jaw, to tilt your head upwards. He had a hold of your jaw, slightly rougher than before and while your face played ball, your eyes did not. “‘S been ages since you blushed fo’me.”

Again the sound of breathing filled the car, Harry’s gaze all over your features before his other words punctuated the air, “Look a’me.”

As your eyes moved sharply to the right, you looked at the way he’d lolled his head back. His thumb slowly pulled at your bottom lip, watching the way it softly bounced from his touch, before he lifted it to trace faintly over your Cupid’s bow.

“Missed your lips,” he admitted, enjoying the light puffs of breath that bounced against the pad of his thumb. Before you could think, you’d taken his thumb inside your mouth, an appreciative groan leaving his lips.

You felt the way his fingers cupped under your chin, gently stroking at your skin, silently caressing. Teeth nipping playfully against the skin of his thumb as you pulled away.

“How much?” You asked, lips turning to ghost against the inside of his hand.

His eyes lingered as you watched him nudge his chin up slightly, silently asking for you to come to him.

You sucked in a heavy breath as you leaned into him, the dimming ceiling light of the car slowly allowing darkness to swallow you both. A faint smile nudged your lips as your nose fell against his top lip.

He scooped you under his arm - lining you up better - hands trying to hold you as near to him as he could as you leaned over the centre console of the car to be closer to him.

“Enough,” he husked, before adding, “Your nose is cold,” in a passing tone, lips against your temple now. Breathing deeply through your nose you let him pull you even closer, unable to believe that you weren’t close enough. Muffled apologies left your lips, about how your nose was cold.

The soft drag of his lips to yours pulled you under a haze that swept away your apologies and into a tender reacquaintance. His lips were slightly shaking against yours and you weren’t sure if it was to do with the cold that he had found himself in or if it were due to his nervousness.

Regardless he was steady. Knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted. Pulling kiss after kiss from you in the slowest fashion that you felt yourself beginning to warm up.

“‘S nice to have a little kiss,” he gently spoke against the corner of your mouth. “Missed you treating me to ‘em.”

“I think you just know exactly what to say,” you murmured as you allowed him to continue ghosting his lips over yours. “Know exactly what you're doing.”

“‘F you’re suggesting that I’m trying it on,” he murmured against your lips, “I absolutely fucking am.”

“Would never have guessed,” you looked at him with heavy eyelids, head now nudged back slightly to enable you to see his entire face. He smirked at you, eyes blinking slowly as he willed you to him once more.

His hand was secure around the back of your neck, fingers messily woven through your hair. His other hand gently massaged at the top of your back, over your fetching loungewear that you had chosen to drive home in.

“‘S it working?”

“What do you think?”

Harry’s eyes dropped in a slow blink as he felt the way your hand lowered down his chest and abdomen, which was wavering slightly from his nervous anticipation.

Dropping your head down to his chest, you left a kiss to his pec as you mumbled and felt the button of his jeans giveway to your fingers and thumb. “I am grateful, you know?”

“Yeah?”

The ruffle of your hair against the cotton of his tee filled the car, him recognising it as you nodding.

“Me too,” he assured.

And he was. Grateful.

For the life he’d had with you up until this point.

The family the two of you had created. The one you were so fiercely fighting for. Messily and viciously, all from a good place. The best place.

He licked at his dry lips, leaving his mouth to hang open slightly as he watched you descend down to his semi that was hidden in the confines of his jeans.

“Both of us need warming up,” he mused, his hands sliding from your hair and down your back, slowly and gently to your slightly raised bum from how you had placed yourself over the center console. “In’t that right?”

A dull slap of his hand against your leggings-clad bum had you rocking back as you felt his hands slide under the waistband to massage at your cheek.

Swallowing heavy, Harry tilted back his head and even through his hooded eyes he caught his blissed expression in the rear view mirror, as he felt you take his balls into your mouth and gently suckle.

He rasped your name as he basked in the dirty licks, heavily laden with saliva from your watering mouth before you took him into your throat. Obscene sounds from your actions wove between his heavy breathing and quick pants.

“Fuck me, darling.”

With his hand that was still against your bum, he pulled you closer. Hands desperate to have purchase of something as you gently but messily sucked and licked, desperate to feel the tickle of his pubic hair against the tip of your nose to know you’d successfully taken him all the way down.

His breathing was shaky, a quick hiss leaving his lips as he felt the way your nails dug into his denim clad thighs from his previous movements to try and hold steady. The position wasn’t ideal, but the feeling of your shaking breath against his wet cock as you nosed against his jeans had him smiling.

As you turned your head slightly to look at him from the corner of your vision, you noticed the way he was looking down at you. How powerful he seemed in that moment as you were slightly beneath him.

The thought changed though with the way his hand came up to your face, his thumb against your wet lips for the shortest time before he cradled the back of your head to help pull you back up and avoid any mishaps.

He tugged you forward to crush his mouth to yours with pleased hums as he tasted himself on you. Lips smacking as he pulled kiss after kiss from your mouth, smiling at the eagerness of you both.

His hands joined yours as they pulled at his jeans, his hips lifting in the seat and his arms strong as he pushed the denim and underwear down to sit closer to his knees.

“Mm,” he hummed, as his bare bum cheeks met the heated seat beneath them. “Put the seats on fo’me.”

“Don’t say I don’t ever treat you nicely.”

He huskily chuckled as he brought your lips back to him again. “Nice an’ warm,” he lazily spoke, acknowledging the heated seats. “Jus’ for me.”

And he knew every bit of his words meant the double entendre that you had caught,looking on as you pulled away to sink back into your own seat

Looking over at him, you noticed the lust behind his eyes as he slowly pumped his hand up and down his wet and aching cock when you sunk back into your own seat and watched his head loll against the headrest once more. His nostrils flared as he bit down on his bottom lip and nudged his chin up, getting you silently to come to him once more when he’d seen your movements in removing your own bottoms had ended.

“Wouldn’t do this for anyone else, y’know that?” You said around your messy kiss as you raised your legs and felt his hands guide you to straddle him. Hands splayed across your lower back and the top half of your bum as he secured you to him.

“Should bloody ‘ope not.”

As you sat above him, you could feel him there. Sprung back and wet. Your mouths rested against each other, heavy and open. Eyes moving to and fro over each other’s.

“Been at this too long to start sharing now.”

Your hips moved forward at his words, with the smallest of motions but it was enough to make his cock glide between your lips. His expression was one of immeasurable pleasure regardless of how little the touch.

Deep down you knew you didn’t have time for this sort of behaviour. The kind where you revelled in the nudge of him against your clit, and the way it caused you to gasp lightly while your brow creased and forehead fell against his.

“Take it,” he encouraged as you rolled your hips on him. “Let me in.”

Heavy breathing and shaking hands, you held Harry’s eyes as you reached behind you to take him in your hand.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you raised yourself, feeling him shuffle down slightly in his seat to help ensure you didn’t bump your head as you lifted. Fingers gave way when he lined up nicely, slipping only his tip inside of you.

This stretch was one like no other. A burn that you savoured as much as the expression that welcomed you from the desire felt by the only man who had ever made you feel this way. His one hand crawled up your back, to cup around your neck, anchoring you to him.

When you were fully seated shaky exhales bounced against each other’s lips. Every tremble of you above him felt so vividly by Harry. The way your thighs shook from the small confines you found yourself in, to the quiver of your fingers against his neck and jaw.

“You’re so big,” your moan was feeble. Embarrassing in many ways. Especially given the amount of times you’d done this with him.

“Mm,” he agreed. “‘S cause ‘m so hot for you. Got me so hard. Always have.”

“Always will-“

“Always will,” he confirmed.

Your moan was thick as it left your throat, his words enough to get you to roll against him and have you clit drag pleasing against his pelvis.

He groaned, knowing that’s what you were doing too. Having been in this position so many times before. No one had ever had you this way, and you knew no one ever would either. A pleasure this giving was one of familiarity. Aided so deeply by feeling.

When your mouth met his again the only word to describe your kiss was sinful. His tongue waiting to meet yours, flicking so easily and far too filthily for those on the cusp of middle age.

But he still had it.

The gleaming boyish gaze and curling smile. Could charm his way into any heart and into any pair of knickers. But the ones he had chosen time and time again were yours. Regardless of their sexiness at times.

“Yes,” you gasped, pulling away from his mouth and feeling his hands encourage the knocking of your hips against his.

You were close, nowhere to go and not wanting to go anywhere. How you had made it here so quickly, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was the surroundings, how you potentially could get caught. Maybe it was because your partner - husband - just knew you so well.

His eyes didn’t want to leave you as they admired the flushed skin you were beginning to show and the gleaming, plush lips that you were rolling into your mouth to hide your pleasure.

“That’s it, fuck me,” his voice was hushed, quick in its delivery. “‘S wha’ it’s all about,” he hummed, as you rocked your hips over his. Knocking his head back against the headrest once more.

As he looked down his nose at you, he watched as your eyes fell to your navel, taking in each roll of your hips. Your expression dropped with realisation, slightly pained. “What’s wrong?”

Looking up at him, you wish you hadn’t. You wished you’d kept your eyes down to see the ripple of his abdomen each time your body flexed around him. That way it wasn’t doused in emotion, it was just raw pleasure that lived in your mind.

“We shouldn’t be doing this anymore. Needs to be the last time.”

A mix of a breathy laugh and scoff left his lips as he urged you to restart your hips that were starting to stall above him, “Bit late for tha’ now, don’t yer think?”

Falling against him, you hid your face feeling his lips over the shell of your ear and against your hair. His hand gently stroked at your hair, lips moving to your temple and pressing affection kisses that did nothing but make you feel worse.

“Do you want t’stop? Mm?” He asked, feeling your hips so tight against his, but your core so open that he hoped you would say no. Widening his thighs he pressed his feet into the footwell, seeking momentum to meet your hips with his own.

“‘S okay to love me still,” he groused, feeling your chin tremble from his words. “‘S okay to let me love you still. This is okay, us just doing this is okay.”

It wasn’t okay and he knew. He also knew everything he was saying - every single word - was just a way to satiate you.

So, you let them. Swallowed the lump in your throat and inhaled deeply.

His words were cut short as he groaned, “Sit up for me, fuck me properly.”

Sitting yourself up, you felt the way Harry’s hands moved so that the backs of his fingers were smoothing against your lower stomach. Sweaty palm turned, he pressed it gently down your stomach and let his thumb finger your clit.

The softest frown hit your brow, as his thumb slowly rubbed in a downwards motion at your sensitivity. From his actions you felt a warmth pool around both him and you, Harry groaning appreciatively as he felt it too.

“Yeah,” he stressed the word as you gripped at his t-shirt which sat against his stomach. Cotton in handfuls as you scrunched the fabric. “‘S tha’ nice- good?”

You nodded.

“‘S it enough?”

You nodded with more fervour. Eyes holding his as you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and scratched along his right forearm as he continued to gently swipe at your wet clit.

The abruptness of the rock to your hips showed itself as the warmth within your belly grew. Eyes now hooded, you were unable to stop them from closing as your mouth parted to desperately say, “Don’t stop.”

And you didn’t know who you were talking to; yourself or Harry.

Harry responded with a moan so deep that you clenched down around him, causing his free hand to reach up and squeeze harshly against your hips.

“‘M going to come so hard for you ‘f you keep doing that,” he gritted, breathing shallow as he felt his chest constrict. “Like tha’, just like that.”

His words were low, and like just moments before you weren’t sure if they were for him or you, but they had you moaning his name. Head dropping against his, his hand gripping at the back of your neck.

With one hard roll of your hips, you cried out, forehead against his chin and mouth fallen. His hand squashed between your bodies as you shook and convulsed.

Pliant for him, you were too dazed to move as you felt his arm wrap securely around your back and hold you to him, tight.

A merciless and repeated smack of his hips upwards, which you were sure would have the car rocking, made you aware of him seeking his release. He moaned your name, as he pulled you down to him, his orgasm shooting into you.

His heavy breathing was hot against your sweltering skin when you finally came to, his grunts melding into your neck as your core continued to flutter in the aftermath of your own release.

His hands somewhat selfishly and most definitely greedily moved you against him, both crooning at the sensitive rush that met you before he lifted you to aid himself with slipping out.

Cold air met his sensitivity, as he nuzzled against you. Hand crawling up your back, under your shirt and feeling your damp skin peel away from his own as he moved his hand up and down.

“Want to try out the back wi’me after this,” he hummed, brushing your hair off your face with his other hand. His words were heavy as they pressed into the skin of your cheek while he still tried to catch his breath.

As much as you knew you should, you didn’t even try to stop yourself from nodding.

***

Looking forward to hearing all of your thoughts! x

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #my writing #divorce!harry

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lovemeleo · 3 years

Note

I would love to see Sirius Remus and Asher going to Nuny's to check up on Jackson and then Asher is all adorable with the cats

Thanks so much for this prompt, anon! I got so excited as soon as I saw it. Get to combine my baby Asher with my favorite Nuny boys. I hope you enjoy it! These characters and their world (except for Asher) belong to the always amazing @lumosinlove.

If you haven’t read the rest of the Asher Pascal series, here’s the link!

***

“Now remember Ash, just because Uncle Nado doesn’t have the cast anymore doesn’t mean you can jump all over him.” Sirius said, glancing back at his son through the rearview mirror.

Asher nodded, clutching at his Lions stuffie as he stared out the window, “‘Cause he’s still hurtin’.”

Smiling, Remus reached back to pat the little boy’s foot, “That’s right, bub.”

Asher had been there for the game when Nado got hurt, and had been worried ever since. They’d already talked to him about how a lot of his family played hockey, and sometimes they got hurt. He had understood that but talking about it is a lot different than seeing it in front of your very eyes. The almost two year old had been itching to visit Jackson, but Sirius and Remus wanted to give him more time to heal up. So Asher video chatted with Nado whenever he could, going on about his day and whatever other things happened to pop into his head. He also gave Kuny drawings and get well cards, as well as one of his favorite stuffed animals to give to Nado until he could visit. Jackson teared up a bit when Kuny brought the gifts home, but he’ll deny it.

Now after two months, today was finally the day. Jackson had gotten his cast off a few days before and the Black-Lupin clan was given the OK to come visit.

Asher was wiggling in his seat as soon as Sirius put the car in park, a new drawing clutched in his hands, “C’monnnn. Time to get out!”

“Alright, let me get my seatbelt off first, jeez.” Remus said with a laugh before he climbed out. As soon as Asher was unbuckled, he made a break for the door but Sirius grabbed him quickly, throwing him over his shoulder. Wild giggles came from Asher as he held onto his daddy, dangling upside down over his back.

Remus let out an exasperated sigh, but it was mostly fond, “Be careful. We don’t need anyone else in casts.” Sirius looked back at him with a smile, blowing the other man a kiss before knocking on the door.

After a brief pause, there was some talking from behind the door before Kuny swung open, “Sorry, I should have asked. Do you have allergies?”

“Like food allergies?” Sirius asked, his eyebrows furrowed at the strange greeting as he moved Asher onto his hip.

Kuny shook his head as he pushed something behind the door away with his foot, “No, no food. Like animals.”

Then a voice came from inside the house, “Cats. He wants to know if you’re allergic to cats!” Nado yelled. Kuny glanced back, giving him a look.

“You got a cat?” Remus asked, peeking behind Kuny curiously. “And no, we’re not allergic to cats. Asher has a habit of trying to steal them though when we help at the shelter.”

Nodding, Kuny moved back to let them in, “We got cats. And I would steal too.” He said with a grin as he stole Asher from Sirius’s arms, leading them to the living room where Nado was waiting. Asher clung to him happily, his arms wrapping around the giant man’s neck.

Nado grinned, holding Milo up like he was Simba in the Lion King, “Kuny took me to a cat café after I got my cast off, and we ended up getting attached.” He said, bringing the kitten back down so he could nuzzle him back into his neck.

“Uncle Nadooooooooo!” Asher squealed as soon as he saw his other uncle. Kuny set him down next to the couch. “I drew you this picture, it’s got me and you and Uncle Zhenya!”

Carefully taking the drawing, Jackson smiled as he ruffled Asher’s hair, “It’s great, dude. Can’t wait to hang it up.”

Asher smiled big, but his eyes quickly scanned over his Uncle as if to check him over, “You ‘kay?” He asked, looking up from the boot.

“I’m doing much better now. The boot’s a lot more comfy than the cast.” Nado said with a soft smile, pulling Asher onto the couch next to him. Milo peered down at the new little person and started to scamper his way down Nado’s chest. “Seems like Milo wants to meet you.”

Remus leaned forward from his spot on the opposite couch, smiling as the small gray ball of fluff sniffed curiously at Asher, “He’s so cute.”

The kitten nuzzled into Asher’s hand, letting out a soft purr as he made himself comfortable on the small boy’s lap.

“Wait… did you say cats? As in plural?” Sirius asked, glancing around the room.

Kuny nodded, before he got up, “I grab Pumpkin. One second.” He said before heading to their room.

Petting his hand gently down the small kitten’s back, Asher looked up at his dads with a big smile, “He’s so soft. And tiny!”

“Yeah, Milo is the smallest of the bunch. He’s our little guy.” Jackson smiled, gently scratching under the kitten’s chin before he handed Asher one of the toys, it had a long stick with a string attached that had a small fish toy on the end. “He likes this one. If you just drag it back and forth, he’ll chase it.”

Asher took the toy, trailing the small fish toy back and forth. Milo scampered after it, stumbling a bit as he tried to keep up with the fish toy.

Kuny came out of their bedroom not long after, carrying what looked to be a mass of orange fluff in his arms, “This is my Pumpkin.” He may have been smiling but the entirety of his face was covered by Pumpkin’s fluff.

Remus couldn’t help but laugh as he watched his friend try to sit next to his boyfriend when he very obviously couldn’t see.

“To the left a bit, babe.” Nado said, a fond smile spreading on his face as he pulled Kuny to sit down next to him before looking at their friends. “He got attached to her so we couldn’t leave her behind.”

Pumpkin let out an indignant meow as Kuny set her down on the floor by his feet, her tail swishing behind her as she made her way to where Sirius and Remus sat.

“You guys know you don’t have to take the cats with you when you visit cat cafes right?” Sirius teased, gently running his fingers through Pumpkin’s soft fur as she brushed against his legs.

Kuny laughed, resting his arm behind Nado as he leaned back into the couch, “They choose us, we just can’t refuse them.” He said, a soft smile spreading on his face.

Shaking his head, Remus reached to pet Pumpkin who had sprawled across Sirius’s lap, “So we leave you guys alone for a couple weeks and come back to you adopting two cats.”

“Three.”

Their heads whipped up to look at Nado who was smirking, “We got three cats.. And well the last one. It was more like he adopted us.”

Asher looked up from where he was nuzzling into Milo’s fur, “Where’s the other kitty?”

As if he heard them talking about him, Loki let out a loud meow from the kitchen, followed by another long one.

Kuny and Nado sighed, sharing a glance as Kuny got up, “Probably stuck on fridge. Again.”

“You spoil him, Zhenya. He’s big enough to get down by himself, but he knows you’ll come get him.” Nado said, shaking his head.

Eyebrows furrowed, they watched Kuny wander into the kitchen. Remus could hear soft whispering, but it was in Russian so he had no clue what the man was saying.

Nado looked over at them, “Loki jumps on the fridge if he feels that he’s not getting enough attention from Zhenya. And he stays up there until he comes and gets him.”

Kuny came back in, followed by a massive cat who was trailing as close to the Russian as possible without stepping on his feet.

“Jesus Fu-..” Sirius said, cutting himself off with a glance at his son.

Asher’s eyes were wide as he looked at the new cat, “Uncle Nado, you got a jaguar?!”

Laughing, Kuny picked Loki up, cradling him in his arms like a massive furry baby, “No jaguar, Ash. Just big kitty.” The massive cat nuzzled into Kuny’s chest as he sat back on the couch, letting out a loud purr now that he finally had his human’s attention.

“He’s a maine coon cat actually, they think he’s around one or two years old.” Jackson said, reaching over to scratch at Loki’s head.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “So he’s still growing?” He asked as the giant cat stretched out, sprawling across Nado and Kuny’s laps but his eyes were on the newcomers. “I’m feeling vaguely threatened.”

Kuny shook his head, “Nah, Loops, no threat. He's a big cuddle bug. You can pet him, Ash. Let him sniff you.” He said, as the little boy handed Milo off to Nado.

Asher moved slowly, holding his hand out for Loki to smell his hand. The big cat watched the tiny human curiously, sniffing at his hand before he got up. The tiny human had a small lap but it would have to do. Loki flopped down into Asher’s lap, almost covering him completely as the cat let out a loud purr. Asher’s face lit up as he looked between his parents and his uncles.

“He likes me!” Asher said happily as Loki curled up, nuzzling up into the little boy’s neck. Remus couldn’t help himself as he pulled out his phone, snapping pictures of Asher and Loki.

Smiling, Nado set Milo back onto his shoulder, “Well, I’m not surprised he likes you, dude. Loki’s a good judge of character.” Asher held the giant cat closer, his massive grin partially hidden in Loki’s fur.

Sirius couldn’t help but let out a sigh as he saw the happiness on Asher’s face, “Dammit… now we’re gonna have to get a cat.”

Letting out a laugh, Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’s head. He couldn’t even disagree at this point.

Guess they should start looking at shelters.

#nuny #coops #asher pascal #anon prompt #anon ask #lumosinlove #sweater weather #jackson nadeau #evgeni kuznetsov #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #cat dads #wolfstar being dads #fluff #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar kid #lumosinlove sweater weather #soft boys

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imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Arvin Russell - Bad feeling

Requested by an anon, here it goes! I tried my best, hope you like ❤ Third time I post this, I swear I’m gonna burn Tumblr

Plot: Arvin is worried about Lenora, so he goes to you for advice. You don’t get too far before tragedy strikes the Russell house.

Warnings: SPOILERS OF TDATT, IF YOU DON’T THEM STOP READING THE WARNINGS AND THE FIC, that scene of Lenora’s death.

“So it’s just – throwing up? Nothing else?”

Arvin shook his head as he hid his hands in his denim jacket’s pockets. Looking around as if someone would suddenly pop out of the bushes, he confirmed that Lenora was just throwing up and complaining about feeling a bit bad at the stomach. You knew he hoped you could tell him the solution, even if you hadn’t seen the girl since she started feeling sick. No one had, because she had started feeling that way just before church, and Arvin had been the only one talking with her.

With the vague explanation he was giving you, you had a bunch of possibilities. Being the doctor’s daughter had its good things, like you could help as much as your father. You hadn’t gone to school, as your father had home-schooled you since you were four. So it was normal that Arvin had come to you about the problem with his step sister, who was his whole world and happiness.

“I don’t know, Arv. It could be a stomach bug, or maybe she’s coming down with the flu” you gave him a small smile, trying to cheer him up. “From what you’re saying it’s probably nothing, don’t worry”

“Nah, it’s somethin’. She’s been acting all strange lately, and she don’t wanna tell me bout it” Arvin scoffed.

“Maybe she found out what happened with those boys, and is processing it”

A laughing kid passed by running, followed by her older sister and his cousin. Arvin stood quiet until they were far away. He was trying to keep his voice down, because he didn’t want the whole town knowing about Lenora. The small graveyard before starting the Sunday’s mass wasn’t the best place to avoid it, but he couldn’t wait no longer.

“She already knows, it’s not that”

“Arvin” you placed a gentle hand on his chin, meeting his worried eyes. “I’m sure it’s just some teenage drama. Do you want me to visit her after the lecture?”

“Your daddy won’ mind?”

To erase his doubts, you briefly pressed your lips against his, and he finally relaxed. Everyone ran to the church a moment after, the preacher finally appearing. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him with you into the temple, choosing a bench in the end since the one his family had chosen was already full.

You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was over worrying things. Not only because he couldn’t stand the sight of the preacher because of what he did to his grandma, but because it didn’t matter how many times you assured him how Lenora was fine; he would still worry, that was who he was.

Arvin Russell and you met when you were just kids, kids who didn’t have many friends. You were well known for everyone, but couldn’t say a word without stuttering and only your father had enough patience to listen to what you had to say. Arvin was new to Knockemstiff, his parents dead. He was a shy boy too, who only talked with his step sister. After his grandma asked your father for help, he said the boy didn’t have anything wrong; just a huge trauma. So he gave you the task to talk to him and befriend the new boy, who turned out to be as patient as your father.

Since then, it was rare to see you without the other. You had started dating after he dropped out of highschool, and now you were saving for, when the right moment came, moving in together.

During the lecture, Arvin’s hand, trapped between yours, twitched uncomfortable. He shifted on his seat a few times, earning some glances from the surroundings. You tried to whisper him that he didn’t have to worry so much, but he didn’t listen to you; if anything, he seemed ready to run out of the church. He managed to wait until the preacher said you could leave in peace, and even let you say goodbye to your dad.

The good man just smiled at you and told you to be careful, asking if he was meeting you for lunch. Arvin, who was shaking on his feet, shook his head, so you told him you were grabbing something outside. Once in the car, Arvin drove past all the traffic signals in town.

“I hope they don’t have to scrape my body from the road” you chuckled nervously, and Arvin lowered the speed.

“Sorry darlin’. I’m just – ‘ave a bad feeling bout it”

“You know that she’ll grow up some day, right?” you moved from your seat, closer to him. “She’s gonna have kids, and a husband, and you’re gonna have to sit through family dinner without threats”

“Still a long way there”

“Oh, not so long” you tried to pry something from him that wasn’t worry. “Haven’t you seen the soft smile she has been carrying around? Bet she has someone in her head”

“She doesn’t – Lenora ain’t like that” he scoffed, finally driving in an acceptable speed. “She’s… uh, she’s Lenora. She doesn’t –“

“What? Get crushes and think about boys? You know that she’s turning fifteen in two months, right?”

“Not if I don’ think bout it”

The ghost of a smile appeared in Arvin’s face, and you high fived yourself. He always looked beautiful when he genuinely smiled, not in one of those usual frowns that he always carried around. To you, he looked younger and happier, and made a fuzzy feeling appear in the middle of your chest.

“You asked me out when I was fourteen, and one year later –“

“I’m fuckin’ throwin’ you out the road now” he cut you off, sneaking a glance at you. “Lenora is datin’ no boys”

“And does she know or are you planning on scare all of them away?”

“I work fine by scarin’ them ‘way from you”

“But I only have eyes for certain Russell boy. She’s going to be more difficult”

Arvin finally gave you a belly laugh, and the sun shined brighter. You still had a few minutes in the car, which you filled by useless talk. He was insistent in treating you lunch, since you never accepted money for taking care of him or his family. Lunch with Arvin meant he had to work extra harder the next week to recover from whatever it took, but saying no meant him carrying you like a sack of potatoes to the café. You wouldn’t mind not eating anything, just a stroll around the woods with him was enough payment.

The conversation ended when the Russell’s house came into view. You let loose your seatbelt to reach in the back seat for you bag. It had the basics; some aspirins, bandages, alcohol, meds for the headache and the stomach, syringes and a thermometer. Arvin parked while you searched into it for the last object, that seemed to be buried deep down.

“I think I forgot the thermometer. You still have the one from your grandma?”

“You can look for it, I haven’ seen it” Arvin told you as he moved the car around.

“Damn, I hope she isn’t too –“

You didn’t finish your sentence as suddenly the car came into a stop and you were pushed forwards, with the bad luck of having your seatbelt off and slamming your head against the front part of the car. It left a throbbing pain in the middle of your forehead, a nasty bruise and some swelling in a few hours. Because you were too busy with the bag, you didn’t notice what made Arvin stop the car so suddenly.

The barn had its door open, something unusual since there were a few bad people who didn’t have problem in stealing from the humble houses. It let Arvin see what was inside, that turned out to be a bucket upside down. For a moment, he was ready to tell you to stay in the car or run to call for someone, take the gun for his father and search for any intruders. Then, he saw a body hanging from the ceiling and recognized Lenora’s dress.

He ran out of the car before fully stopping it, leaving you cradling your head. Your eyes lost focus for a solid second, everything turning blurry around and a feeling as if you were underwater. It was Arvin’s desperate scream that had you blinking yourself into the present.

“Y/N!”

The pure anguish on his voice made you stumble out of the car, your knees scraping with the rough floor when you couldn’t hold your balance. You held onto the vehicle until you saw what Arvin was screaming about. He had tears running down his cheeks, horrible sobs racking his body, that was shaking under Lenora’s weight.

You managed to get to him without falling again, messing with the end of the rope until it came loose. Lenora came crashing down on Arvin, who fell to the ground as his knees gave out. His whole body was shaking as he tried to sit right, cradling her head.

“Please, please” he cried out. “Lenora, wake up! Lenora!”

Prying the rope from her neck, you already knew the answer. There was a sickening blue bruise around her neck, with hints or purple. She didn’t move when you shifted her head and checked for a pulse.

Your fingers fell on flat skin.

There weren’t a lot of people in the backyard, not even the preacher, who had left shortly after the ceremony. The Russell expected him to stay for a bit longer, seeing the relationship between the young girl and him. He had been the only person who she talked out of her family, and they had been sure he was fond of her too. That came down quickly when he threw into the lecture that suicide was a coward way to go. Uncle Earskell had held Arvin the whole time, preventing him from throwing fists with the preacher; even if the man himself looked close to doing so.

Everyone left eventually, even your father, who had a business to attend. You hadn’t talked with Arvin since his grandma found you with Lenora’s body in the barn, but once your father left and said goodbye to the boy, you were forced to do so. You were dying to go home and lay in bed, sleeping off the throbbing feeling of the gash of your head. But Arvin had giving you a side glance, shy and pleading, and you told your father you would be meeting him later.

While they lowered the coffin, you stayed by Arvin’s side, eventually working your arm through his elbow in an attempt to comfort him. His grandma broke down and his uncle was quick to gather her into his arms, walking away so she could cry in peace. It was then just Arvin and you.

“I’m sorry, Arv” you whispered, rubbing his upper arm.

When your father, who had ran to the barn after being notified by a neighbour, confirmed what you already knew, you felt a crushing guilt it you. Maybe, if you hadn’t been so insistent in comforting Arvin you could have prevented it. Arvin always had a sixth sense to know when something was wrong before it actually happened. And you had ignored it.

“How’s your head?” he asked. You had never heard him sound so small unsure.

“Just a nasty bump and a small concussion. It’ll be healed in a few days”

“I didn’ meant for you to hit your head” Arvin confessed. “I’m so –“

“Hey, I don’t blame you” you turned around and looked up to his eyes. “No one does. What happened wasn’t your fault”

When tears rushed to his eyes you knew he had understood what you meant by it. He trapped you in a bear hug the next second, his whole body hiding between your arms. You shushed him when the first sob appeared, and then they appeared one by another.

Since you had found her in the barn, Arvin hadn’t cried. He had carried his body to the funeral’s parlour, had chosen the coffin when his grandma couldn’t even sit straight, and had put on a stone face through the ceremony. It was hard always being the strong one, to be so weary about everyone and never breaking down. He was glad he had you, so glad it only made him cry harder.

Grandma and his uncle went back to their house just before the sun came down, but you didn’t release Arvin. It was hard to explain how much he loved his sister, because everything he did or thought about was for her security.

“Don’t leave me” Arvin suddenly said, making you go rigid with the express confession. “Please. Don’t – You’re the only thin’ I have left, and I can’t – I… I love you so much, that – “

“I love you too” you finished for him, the last sob breaking through. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not now or ever”

Arvin nodded against your shoulder a few times, interiorizing the words. The rational part of his brain that always worked before things happen, that was mildly drowned by the sorrow, was starting to understand that there was more about Lenora’s death to know that just a suicide. And he promised to himself, right there and then, that no one would ever take away another important person from him, not if he was around.

He wasn’t going to leave you either for as long as you had him.

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