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beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

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The Art of Subtlety

Summary: You were quiet, almost shy, but Bradley suspected there was more to you than meets the eye. When Jake claims that it’s impossible for a woman to successfully fake an orgasm, you prove him wrong (while proving Bradley absolutely right) right there in the middle of the Hard Deck. With his world tilted on its axis at your little display, he’s left wondering: why are you so good at faking it, and how would you really sound if he’s the one bringing you pleasure?

Word Count: 2.7K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed OC)

Warnings: Language, allusions to smut, I guess public acts even though it’s faking?

Notes: I found this buried in my WIP list and decided to finish it. Hope y’all like it!

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“She has an Oscar. Of course she can fake it.”

“What exactly is it that you’re implying, Hangman?”

Bradley wasn’t sure what he was walking up to, but it was surely something interesting, because Jake was only Hangman to Phoenix when he was doing something irritating, Bagman being her name of choice. The way it fell out of her mouth laced with venom wasn’t to be overlooked, either.

He settled into an open seat at one of the high tops in the corner they tended to take over in the Hard Deck. You met his eyes and sent him a small smile from your seat across the table, twirling the small black straw in your drink. You looked pretty tonight, in tight denim jeans and an off the shoulder black shirt. But you always looked beautiful; it was one of the first things he had noticed about you.

“I’m saying it would be noticeable to a man if a woman fakes it!” Jake exclaimed, before a slow smirk made its way onto his lips. “Not that I would know. I never leave a woman unsatisfied.”

There’s a mixture of groans and laughter at his cocky response, Coyote even going as far as fist bumping his best friend for his comment. Bradley doesn’t do either, simply shaking his head and taking a sip of his beer. The same can’t be said for his table partner.

You snorted into your drink, which immediately drew all eyes your way. You had been quiet up until now, which wasn’t unusual for you; sometimes you rivaled Bob with how much of a wallflower you could be. But Bradley had a hunch it was just because you were still adjusting to the group, not so much because shy was your default setting; he had been fortunate enough to witness a quick wit and a snarky sarcasm that kept him on his toes a handful of times since you transferred to Top Gun three months ago.

“Something to add, sweetheart?” the blonde aviator asked, an eyebrow raised in a clear challenge. To his surprise, you scoffed lightly and rolled your eyes.

“Nothing that you would probably like to hear,” you responded easily. Bradley hid his smirk by taking another drink. There was the snark that intrigued him so much.

“Well now you need to tell us,” Phoenix said, waving at you to continue, clearly wanting whatever advantage she could get at Hangman’s expense. The rest of the group agreed and jeered at you to continue. You sighed with a roll of your eyes.

“I fake it all the time, and you would never know,” you shrugged, and Bradley almost spat out his draft at the words. “But then again, it’s not surprising for a man to overlook the art of being subtle.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, clearly still recovering from your blunt statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that it’s not all loud moans and screaming of a guy’s name when a woman orgasms,” you explained, bringing your straw to your lips and finishing off the rest of your drink. After you set the empty glass on the table, you cleared your throat and rolled your shoulders. It was only a moment later, right there in the crowded bar, that Bradley noticed the shifting in your breathing. It came out slightly heavy, shaky in a breathless kind of way. You drew your bottom lip between your teeth and your eyes fluttered shut before they opened again, hooded and dark.

Bradley was entranced, feeling a flush creep up his neck as a barely audible gasp escaped from the back of your throat.

You rolled your neck to the side as you panted almost silently, like you were experiencing an ardent kind of pleasure you were trying to keep hushed. When you arched your back, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if you were doing that while perched in his lap. It wouldn’t be the first time he had thought of you that way since meeting you, and after this little display you were putting on, it certainly wouldn’t be the last, either.

“Oh,” you let out quietly, touching a hand lightly to your heaving chest, “yes.”

It was subtle, like you had said, but oh, was it convincing. Bradley thought he could watch you like this all day, but it was over far too soon.

With one more soft moan, you returned your breathing to normal and a smirk appeared on your face as you opened your eyes fully. You sat back in your seat like you hadn’t just titled his world on its axis and tightened his jeans with your little display.

“So,” you drawled nonchalantly, “would you have known?”

A loud laugh broke the silence that had overtaken the group. There were tears in Phoenix’s eyes at the gobsmacked looks on everyone's faces, and you started giggling right alongside her, though much softer and tinged with embarrassment. Bradley found himself still unable to look away even now that the facade was over.

When he was finally able to pick his jaw off the floor, Jake cleared his throat almost awkwardly. The smirk on his face was half hearted and a blush covered his cheeks; it’s not hard to see that maybe he’s questioning his satisfaction rate, afterall. Or maybe he, like all the guys are looking to be, was just as flustered by you as Bradley was. Still though, that cocky persona of his shown through. He lets out a long whistle as his eyes raked up and down your body, almost like he was seeing you for the first time. Bradley’s grip tightened around his glass as jealousy crept up in him.

“Okay,” the blonde started, “you’re right. Subtlety is not my strong suit. Maybe I need some more lessons. Private ones, perhaps?”

The confidence you had been showing faded just the slightest bit, embarrassment heating your cheeks, but Bradley didn’t let you stutter out a response for long before he was interrupting on your behalf.

“The Navy doesn’t pay her enough to teach you how to find the clit, Hangman. Sounds like it might be a lost cause anyway.”

“He’s right, Bagman. Some men just don’t have that special touch,” Nat snickered, and Bradley thought she looked downright gleeful at the turn of events and the absolutely affronted look she got in return.

Laughter rang out throughout the corner again, but it had the desired effect of taking everyone’s attention off of you for the moment. Bradley turned back only to see your gaze fall to your empty glass.

“Thank you,” you murmured without looking at him, twirling your straw again. He knocked his foot gently against yours under the table. He waited until you raised your pretty eyes to his before he spoke for your ears only.

“Buy you another drink?”

You looked relieved at his offer of escaping, hopping down from the chair you had been sitting in with no hesitation.

“Yes. Please.”

The Hard Deck was crowded tonight, as it typically was on the weekends, and it allowed him the excuse to guide you to the bar with a hand at the small of your back. He let it remain there when he placed your order. You raised your eyebrows when he didn’t have to ask you for your drink of choice, to which he shot you a wink.

“Maybe you aren’t so subtle afterall,” he joked with a playful smirk.

You huffed out a laugh that broke into a groan. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” he suggested.

“Why not?”

He thanked Jimmy when he handed him two fresh glasses, passing you your vodka and Sprite. You immediately brought the small black straw to your lips. It distracted him for a moment before he shook himself out of it and took a drink of his IPA. He spotted a couple leaving a table behind you and instead of heading back to the rest of the group, he led you there. “You just gained all of their respect.”

You gave him a clearly skeptical look. “How do you figure?”

“They appreciate it when people bite back. Challenging each other is kind of what we all do, you know? You've been here for three months, but you haven’t really let anyone get to know you. Showing that you can take what they dish out and return it back like that was bold.”

You hummed in response, moving the straw between your fingers. He wondered if it was a nervous tick of yours, a way to keep you centered. He could tell you were mulling over his words but weren’t entirely convinced. He leaned a little closer.

“Plus, anyone who can make Hangman turn that shade of red and stutter like you did gets instant bonus points.”

He got a smile for that one, accompanied by a soft giggle that had his heart racing. You looked at him from under your lashes and when you drew your bottom lip between your teeth, he felt that same flush from earlier starting under his collar. Damn, you were something.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“You just did.”

Bradley chuckled with a shake of his head. You laughed again but motioned for him to continue with his question.

“Why do you…” Bradley cleared his throat, suddenly realizing just how personal his question was in nature. You arched an eyebrow, clearly wondering why he paused.

“Why do I…?”

“Why do you bother with guys you have to fake it with?”

You choked a little on the drink you just taken a sip of, slamming the glass back on the table a little harshly as you coughed. Bradley scooted closer and extended an arm to pat your back in sympathy, wincing at the consequences of his words. You sputtered for a moment and when you caught your breath, he kept his hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“Sorry,” he murmured. You met his eyes again and he could see specks of colors he hadn’t noticed before; they were even more enchanting this close.

“Why do you care?” you rebutted, your voice adopting that same shy tone from before. Bradley shrugged, trailing his fingertips up and down your spine. He was so close he could smell the scent of your perfume and see the goosebumps raise on your arms.

“A woman like you…she shouldn’t have to ever fake her pleasure.”

“A woman like me?” you asked in surprise.

He let his fingers twirl the strands of your hair for a moment. It’s silky soft and he wanted to know what it would feel like to be able to really thread his fingers through it and tug.

“Mmm. A woman like you. Beautiful. Smart. Witty. Kind. Beautiful.”

Bradley saw the shiver go through your body and heard the little gasp that you let out. “You said that one already.”

A smirk tugged at his lips and he nodded. “I know.”

You stared at each other for a long moment. Your pupils were slightly dilated and your breathing just a little uneven, and the look taking over your face made his jeans feel a little snugger. He risked getting even closer, rising from his stool and standing so his front was nearly flush against your side. He noticed how your eyes flickered down to his mouth.

“So?”

“What?” you asked, clearly distracted. Bradley’s smirk grew.

“Why bother? With them?”

“I…don’t really know,” you answered honestly, “It’s not like I seek out the disappointment intentionally. it just…happens that way, I guess.”

“And no one has ever caught on?”

“Once or twice,” you murmured, gaze lingering on his lips for another few seconds before looking back up into his eyes that he’s sure are even darker than normal. “I give it away if they actually eventually make me come.”

He raised an eyebrow, two fingers rubbing circles into the small of your back. He can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like curled inside of you instead. “What do you mean?”

“I’m…um…”

With the hand not touching your back, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, tracing the shell of it until you shiver under his touch again. Your breath hitched and this time it was you that shifted closer, almost like you were learning into his touch.

“You’re what?” he asked. His voice dropped, coming out raspier than he intended. You were making him feel hot all over, only made worse with your next words.

“I’m pretty loud,” you revealed quietly, a perfect juxtaposition.

Bradley froze, processing this new information. A hundred different scenarios played through his head but all of them came back to you, screaming his name in pleasure as he devoured you. His cock hardened in his jeans and he swallowed thickly.

“And I know it’s not me,” you continued, and if he wasn’t so turned on, he would think that your nervous babble was one of the most endearing things about you, though the list has grown exponentially tonight, “I can get myself off just fine. So it must be them. Right?”

Your voice trailed off at the end, like you were realizing what you were sharing for the first time. But it was too late, and now there was brand new imagery in his head.

Bradley groaned and let both of his hands fall to your hips. He moved your body until you were teetering on the edge of your seat, your legs falling open so he could stand between them. He raised one hand to your face, cupping your jaw and tilting your head back in a way that ensured you couldn’t look away from his gaze.

"It's definitely not you. Some guys try to rush to the finish line instead of enjoying the scenery along the way."

“And is that what you would do?” you asked, setting your hands gently on his stomach. The muscles flexed under your touch. He wanted to feel it without his clothing working as an unwanted barrier. “Enjoy the scenery?”

“Let’s just say I like to take the long way. And despite what our friends may say, sweetheart, sometimes going slow is best. I’d take my time with you, baby.”

A tiny whimper escaped you before you clamped down on your bottom lip with your teeth, but Bradley shook his head and tugged it free with the fingers still cupping your jaw. He traced it with his thumb, marveling at how soft and full it was. He wanted to feel your lips against his to see if they would be just as soft. You watched him with wide eyes, your hands clenched in his white undershirt.

“You’d have no choice but to be loud with me, because I’d make sure you felt so good.”

“Do you promise?” Your voice was breathy and tinged with what he thought might be desperation - he desperately wanted to hear more of it from you.

“I do,” he swore, and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment before focusing back on him. He was almost certain he was reading the situation and your reactions correctly, but still, he swallowed down the urge to throw you over his shoulder and take you home with him, or even to the bathroom right down the hall. He let his knuckles caress your cheek as he pulled on his self-restraint.

“Is that something you would want?” he rasped. Instead of answering, you run your hands up his body to wrap around his neck. He went willingly when you pulled his mouth to yours. He groaned against your lips; they were even softer than he thought it would be. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer, but before he could deepen the kiss, you pull back. When you slide off the stool you had been sitting in the whole time, your entire body is flush against his. Peering up at him through your lashes, you give him your answer. Your voice is as confident as he’d heard it in the last three months of knowing you.

“Take me home, Bradley. I want to see if you keep your promises.”

Without a second thought for any of your friends or the open tab he had, Bradley grabbed your hand and pulled you behind him to the exit.

He was a man of his word, and he’d prove it to you.

-------- Notes: Hope you like this one!! As always, any feedback is so greatly appreciated💚

Thanks Mak and Em for your help as always!

Masterlist

Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!) : @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

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@shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @merishfit - @plaper1 - @lunamooncole - @pariahsparadise - @bunny-nonnie - @blackwidownat2814 - @huang-the-geek - @jpgliv - @bluelicious - @loveyhoneydovey - @pisupsala - @nuvoleincielo - @olivezeppelin - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87 - @ouralcohol - @lumpypoll - @discowitchyy - @bellaireland1981- @princessmiaelicia - @eighthwvnder - @floydflys - @smile-child-13 - @rashelruby10 - @csoutsider - @cowboybarbie - @haydensith - @itsizzythebell - @phantomxoxo - @myhealthymarvelobsession - @winterrebel04

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whisperofsong · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: Bob fulfills a promise he made to a special someone years ago.

Word Count: Approx. 2K

Warning: One mildly suggestive line

Note: This fic corresponds with @notroosterbradshaw ‘s #hello december playlist challenge. After discovering this challenge, I immediately thought of the included song and how it suits our precious Bob Floyd. I hope this piece gets you in the Christmas spirit💛

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Ever since Bob was a kid, he considered snow to be special. He loves the stillness it brings. He reveres its ability to transform one’s surroundings, giving the outside world a brilliant glow. However, his appreciation for this side of Mother Nature was not inherent; rather, it sprung from his paternal grandfather’s Christmas record.

Although Bob’s older brothers often spent their time playing football and roughhousing in the backyard while visiting their grandparents, these activities didn’t hold the same allure for their younger brother. Instead, Bob frequently found himself reading alongside his grandfather, Theodore Floyd, in the spacious living room. His grandfather sought comfort in his worn, yet loved, brown leather recliner while Bob sat cross-legged on the edge of the couch with a favorite book. He enjoyed the shared solitude, something that was foreign in his own home.

Bob recalls the Christmas he and his family spent with his paternal grandparents when he was eight years old. His grandmother was doting on two of his brothers in the kitchen while his other brother was engrossed in conversation with his father about something in which he had no interest. As a result, Bob decided to join his grandfather in the living room where he found him setting up a record to play. The album jacket read Christmas Classics and was somewhat tattered.

“Thought we could use some additional Christmas cheer. Whaddya say, Bobby?”

Bob nodded enthusiastically in response. Within seconds, a familiar Christmas song softly filled the space and his grandfather returned to his beloved spot, ensconced in the coziness of it all.

For a while, Bob and his grandfather only listened to the music, no words exchanged between them, until the fifth song began, its melody producing a grand smile on Theodore Floyd’s face. “Ah, this is one of my favorites,” he recalled with understated glee.

“What is it?” Bob asked curiously.

‘A Marshmallow World’ by Dean Martin,” revealed his grandfather. “The lyrics paint quite a picture, Bobby.”

Bob’s attention returned to the music and he focused intently on the lyrics as the singer crooned on the record player.

Those are marshmallow clouds being friendly

In the arms of the evergreen trees

And the sun is red, like a pumpkin head

It’s shining so your nose won’t freeze

The vision that the lyrics evoked made Bob smile, too, and his grandfather took notice of Bob’s approval. “This next part is my favorite,” he announced and Bob leaned forward, eagerly anticipating the upcoming words.

Oh, it’s a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts

Take a walk with your favorite girl

It’s a sugar date, what if spring is late

In winter it’s a marshmallow world

“You know, Bobby. Lemoore doesn’t make it easy for such a thing to happen. Sure, we get a dusting here and there, but not enough snow to make it a marshmallow world.” His grandfather briefly paused as he gazed out the window, lost in thought. “I’ve always wanted to share in an experience like that with your grandmother, but at my age now, I doubt it’ll ever happen.”

Despite the disappointment laced within Theodore Floyd’s words, he didn’t appear to be melancholy. Instead, there was a twinkle in his eye that Bob couldn’t pinpoint.

“Promise me something, Bobby.” His grandfather held his finger in an authoritative manner as his eyes locked with his grandson’s. “When you meet a girl, the right girl, you’ll find a way to have an experience like that.”

“I will, Grandpa,” Bob asserted as much as a gangly eight-year-old boy possibly could in such a situation.

Every Christmas after this, Bob and his grandfather would steal a few minutes away from the rest of the family and escape to a place that was only made possible by Dean Martin. This became a beloved holiday tradition, one that Bob was proud to have reserved for just the two of them.

Twenty years following that memorable Christmas, Bob is putting away the last of his items in the dresser in the guest bedroom at his aunt’s house. You recently hit your eight-month anniversary and Bob timidly suggested you spend Christmas with him and his family at his aunt’s house in Colorado. Although he prepared himself for rejection, you instantly accepted his invitation and the happiness that flowed throughout his body hasn’t ceased since you agreed to accompany him.

When he turns around, he finds you sitting on the bed, staring at him lovingly.

“What is it?” he asks with a faint smile crossing his face.

“I’m just happy to be here with you. Thank you for inviting me.”

He walks towards you and joins you on the bed, reaching for your hand and bringing it to his lap. “I’m happy, too, Y/N. I, uh, wasn’t sure if you would even want to come with me. I mean, I know you have your own family traditions and would never want you to-“

You delicately brush your fingertips against Bob’s cheek. Bob’s rambling comes to an abrupt halt and his eyelids flutter closed, breathing in sharply. He ever so slightly leans farther into your touch, savoring the contact.

“I’m always certain with you, Bob,” you admit and his eyes open once more, struck by the weight of your statement. He recognizes what a privilege it is to love and be loved by you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he declares before gently grasping the side of your face and bringing you forwards so he can kiss you. The kiss is tender and far too brief for your liking, but it solidifies that what you two have is not finite; it’s forever.

“We should probably head downstairs. Otherwise we’ll be met with incessant teasing from my brothers about what kept us up here…” Bob gives you a sheepish look and you caress his chin affectionately before taking his hand as he leads the way.

The Next Morning

Bob can’t recall the last time he slept this restfully, but when he peers down, still somewhat groggy from slumber, he’s reminded why he slept so well: you. Throughout the night, he hadn’t tossed or turned and it was apparent you hadn’t budged either as he observed your intertwined hands, something you two had done before drifting to sleep. He smiles to himself and strokes his thumb over your smooth skin, grateful to belong to someone as angelic as you.

He slowly sits up and gingerly removes his hand from your grasp. He reaches for his glasses on the nightstand, but when he peeks out the window, he blinks rapidly several times to ensure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. The outside is covered in snow. Not merely a coating or sprinkling, but several feet of authentic, fluffy, glorious snow.

Bob launches himself out of bed and begins changing into all the winter gear he brought with him, wanting to be prepared for the day.

A half hour later, your eyes flutter open, slowly adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. What you weren’t expecting is to see your boyfriend wearing his puffer jacket, wool hat, thick scarf, gloves, and snow boots while lying beside you in bed.

“Bob…what are you doing?”

“It snowed last night.”

“Uh huh…” You’re hoping he’ll provide you with more because you aren’t making the connection.

“Real snow, Y/N. This is a big deal for a guy from Lemoore,” he admits with a boyish grin. “I wanna take you outside with me,” he says excitedly.

“I’m not really a fan of the snow, baby,” you tell him, hoping this won’t result in too much disappointment.

Bob’s heart plummets. “Oh. Oh, well…in that case, we can just forget about it. It’s uh, it’s fine.” He gives you a small smile, but he looks deflated. He begins to take off his hat with his back to you and you can tell this means something to him, although you’re not entirely sure why.

You sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I can make an exception for today,” you whisper in his ear and he whips his head around.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure.”

Bob grins from ear to ear and squeezes your hand in gratitude before leaving the room so you can get ready.

Once you’re finally dressed from head to toe in the proper apparel, you find Bob waiting outside. He turns around at the sound of the front door opening and extends his hand, which you take instantly.

“I thought we could take a walk,” he shares, his cheeks already pink from the frigid temperature. You didn’t think it was possible for him to look any cuter than he already did, but you were proven wrong.

“Can I tell you something?” Bob asks in a voice that suggests he’s on the precipice of sharing something significant, something deserving of your full attention.

“Anything, Bob.” You squeeze his hand in a reassuring way, prompting him to continue.

“When I was younger, we would spend Christmas with my dad’s parents and I especially enjoyed being with my grandfather. He was quieter like me and more of an observer. One Christmas, he introduced me to a song that’s stuck with me ever since.”

“What song is that?” you question softly.

‘A Marshmallow World’ by Dean Martin. He was fond of it and after he showed it to me, I developed fondness for it, too. His favorite part of the song was, well, it’s kind of sill to say aloud…” Bob fiddles with the nape of his neck, indicating he’s somewhat nervous.

“I still wanna know. I wanna know everything about you, Bob.” Your honesty dispels Bob’s uneasiness, causing him to take a deep breath before sharing the following lyrics:

Oh, it’s a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts

Take a walk with your favorite girl\

“He made me promise that someday, I would fulfill that part of the song with the right girl. At the time, I promised him that I would. But as the years went by, I began to doubt whether I’d ever meet someone special enough who I’d want to experience it with. But…” Bob sighs and stops walking, looking down at his snow boots.

“But what?” you ask, ducking your head to attempt to meet his gaze.

“But now that you’re in my life, I realize you’re not just special enough. You’re the most special woman I’ve ever known, Y/N.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at your boyfriend’s romantic proclamation, your heart swelling with pure love for the man who gives so much of himself to you that you no longer want a life that doesn’t involve Bob Floyd.

Bob glances around and the endearing smile you’ve quickly grown to adore spreads across his handsome face. “I’m finally living in a marshmallow world, Y/N, and it’s even better than I imagined it would be all those years ago in my grandfather’s living room because you’re living in it with me.”

Your eyes well with tears and without a second thought, you tackle him to the ground, causing Bob to grunt as you two land in the plush snow. You cup his cheeks with your mittens and kiss him passionately, letting him know the effect his words had on you. When you finally pull away, your lips land upon his forehead, cheeks, and nose.

“I love you, Bob Floyd.”

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.” His lips seek yours again, but you recoil.

“I don’t think so, Bob. You’ve got to finish what you started first.”

He furrows his eyebrows and an amused grin appears while peering up at you. “And what would that be?”

“A walk with your favorite girl.” You wink before resuming an upright position and guiding your boyfriend to his feet.

“You’re right. I can’t let Grandpa Floyd or my favorite girl down,” Bob states before reaching for your hand again and pulling you close to plant a prolonged kiss on your cheek as you two decorate the snow with your footprints.

@bradshawsbaby @luminousnotmatter @bobfloydsbabe @demxters @roosterforme @notyoursbutlewis @sebsxphia @joaquinwhorres @notroosterbradshaw @theforgottenmcrmy @mothdruid

#hello december playlist challenge #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

Text

Sweet Spring Showers

AN: This fic is for Beanie’s Double-Trouble Sleepover #rolling into spring writing challenge. I tried to make it dark, @springdandelixn by my characters refused. Enjoy the smut instead.

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board and banner by me.

Master list

Relationship: Queen’s Handmaiden Reader x Prince Loki

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: More fluff than was intended, flirting and banter, casual sex, smut (inc Oral - f receiving, Unprotected PinV sex, fast recovery) Loki has a ‘King/God’ kink, various mentions of norse mythology.

You tripped down the palace steps into the garden, the soft fabric of your dress flowing behind you. It had been a busy morning, and you needed to take a break from your duties as one of the Queen’s maids. Spring was finally here, and the weather was now warm enough to go for walks without having to bundle up first.

As somewhat of a free spirit, you resented the time it took in the Winter to get ready, impatient to just get on with what you wanted to do. Anything that interrupted your ideas and plans was met with a scornful look and mumbling under your breath, much to the disappointment of Queen Frigga, who still hoped you could be transformed into a proper lady. You were lucky that she liked you, or you’d have been kicked out of your position years ago.

You wound your way down the paths, entranced by the early blooming flowers, striving to cover the garden in a blanket of cover. Birds chirped, and you watched them fly to and fro with small twigs and clumps of moss as they set out to build their nests. The sun was high in the sky, and as you stepped under its rays, you felt them warm your skin. The sensation made you smile. Spring really was your favourite season, bringing with it the promise of renewal and new life.

You wandered further, away from the formal gardens and into the more natural area behind them. Thin dirt paths led in every direction, deep into the trees. You knew from experience that they led towards pergolas, follies, and love seats, places to rest and take in the beauty of nature. You decided to head towards your favourite of these places, which was also the most out of the way one. If anyone wanted to find you, to get you to carry out some tedious task, it would take them a while and give you more time to yourself.

Your movements were graceful as you half-walked, half-skipped down the track, skirts still billowing and fluttering in the breeze. You plucked the odd flower here and the odd flower there, placing them into your hair like a crown.

“Beautiful, as always, my dear.”

You let out a startled shriek and spun on your heel, only to find the grinning face and sparkling eyes of Prince Loki fixed on you. He walked out from between the trees with languid movements, a feline-like grace. It was one of the many ways he was different from his brother, Prince Thor. Light and dark. Broad and slim. Loud and quiet. Brash and considered.

You dropped into a deep curtsy, keeping your eyes trained on his black leather boots.

“Your Highness.”

“Oh, get up, please. There’s just the two of us here, in the most informal setting ever.”

You looked up at him as you stood back up.

“Much better,” he purred. “If I ever desire you to kneel, dove, you’ll know about it.”

You raised your hand in front of your face and giggled at his implication.

“I have no doubt that you have any number of people ready to kneel for you, Highness.”

He raised his eyebrow and smirked before offering the crook of his arm towards you. You bobbed a small curtsy and, with a smile, looped your arm into his. You both started to stroll down the track, further into the woodland.

“The problem with that, dove, is that it’s boring. Where is the fun, the excitement, when everyone is willing to bend over backwards to do what you want?”

“Nice problem to have, though.”

Loki chuckled.

“Are you telling me that you don’t have the same problem?”

It was your turn to smirk.

“Me? I’m just a maid, and you’re a prince. I won’t lie, I get my fair amount of attention, but probably nothing compared to you.”

“I fear my mother would have an aneurysm if she knew I was talking to one of her trusted servants about such improper things.”

“You’re beloved mother would roll her eyes and then quietly chastise me - I am known to be the least lady-like of her ladies.”

You let go of his arm and skipped in front of him, spinning around and throwing your arms up in the air.

“She despairs of me, but luckily, I’m her favourite. I just find it difficult to hold my tongue when someone says or does something stupid.”

Loki reached out and snagged your hand and lifted both your arms, twirling you under them.

“How could anyone tame such a nymph as you? I must say you look a lot happier out here than when I’ve seen you by my mother’s side.”

His smile was warm, and you blossomed under it like a flower beneath the sun. Most of the folk who approached you did so in hope of taking advantage of your influence with the Queen. Not that you had much - those people always imagined you had her right ear and were able to manipulate policies and treaties, which was ludicrous. The only thing you could sway was which dress and jewels she wore, and even then you’d say your success rate was less than 50%.

It was nice though, to have a conversation with someone who had no ulterior motive for being nice to you. It wasn’t as though you’d be able to help advance a member of the royal family. His tone was light and flirty, and he was exceedingly charming, and it was fun to have some harmless fun. It’s not like he was really interested. Probably just doing the same as you and escaping the stuffiness of both the palace and your individual roles.

Somehow, when you’d come back to his side, you’d ended up with his arm over your shoulder. You couldn’t say that you minded. It brought you closer to him, and you could smell the scent that was distinctly Loki; leather, sandalwood, and a perfumed musk. It was obvious that he cared for his appearance, but he didn’t primp or overdo it.

“So, is that what brings you out here, Nymph? My mother’s despair?”

“Oh no - not today, well at least not yet. I was going mad being trapped inside over Winter, so now that Spring is raising its head, I decided to venture forth and bask in her beauty.”

“Well that decision was fortuitous, as it allows me to bask in yours.”

With a giggle, you bumped your shoulder up against his side. He really was fun to be around.

“And, if I may ask, my Prince, why are you out here today?”

He squeezed your shoulder with his hand, and you were hyper-aware of the way his long, tapered fingers dug gently but firmly into your flesh. A rush of images raced through your mind, and you fought hard to squash them down.

“Anything is better than listening to my father try to teach my brother about affairs of state. While Thor is very skilled at a lot of things, diplomacy and negotiation are not his strong suites, but you didn’t hear that from me, Nymph.”

You smiled and mimed locking your lips with a key. When he smiled back and brushed your forehead with his lips, you almost expired.

“So where are we wandering too? I take it you had a destination in mind?”

Loki’s question drew you back from the meandering of your own mind.

“Oh? Yes. I quite like the little summer house that’s a bit further down the track. If the weather is inclement, it provides just the right amount of cover, but when it is nice and sunny, it provides useful shade.”

Just then, you shivered, bumps coming up on your bare arms. As you peered up through the canopy of branches above you, you saw that a rather large, grey cloud had come over.

“Oh dear. I think we might need that shelter. That’s the problem with Spring; the weather can turn so quickly.”

The moment the words left your mouth, a large raindrop landed on the end of your nose with a large ‘plop’. Then the floodgates opened. One moment it was dry, the next it felt as though someone was trying to dump a bucket of water over you.

You screeched and with your hands over your head, ineffectually trying to keep your hair dry, you raced down the path, toward your destination. You heard Loki’s footsteps right behind you and the pair of you virtually tumbled through the wooden doors of the summer house, laughing heartily. However, you were now in the shade and with your clothes and skin sodden, you couldn’t repress your shiver of cold. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to warm up, only to realise that your gauzy dress had turned almost entirely see-through due to the water. The fabric clung to your legs, hips and decolletage, highlighting your soft curves, as well as causing a chill to settle deep into your skin.

You realised that Loki was no longer laughing either, and you looked toward him, only to be trapped in the green of his eyes. They drew you in as they also devoured your form. You were aware of the drumming of the rain on the sloped wooden roof of your shelter. You were aware of the gentle ‘plop’ noise as water rolled off his leathers. You were aware of the delicate movement of his fingers as he took off his emerald cape. You were aware of the beating of your heart as he stepped even closer and threw the sumptuous fabric around your shoulders, drawing you nearer. You were aware of his soft breath as it warmed your chilled lips.

“You are cold, Nymph. Will you let me warm you?”

His voice permeated your senses as if you were in a dream; warm, soft, all-encompassing. There was a tension to the air, but one as delicate as a cobweb. One wrong move, and it would all collapse, leaving virtually nothing in its wake. You took a half step closer, barely a sliver of air separating you.

“Please…” Your whispered plea had barely left you when his lips descended to yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your middle. Your own fingers slid up to his wet hair, tangling in his ebony tresses as you opened yourself to him. He was full of passion, of a strength you’d never imagined, given his usual behaviour, but it was intoxicating, pulling you under his spell.

“Your Highness! Please!”

You breathed your plea into his mouth, shamelessly rubbing yourself against the prominent bulge in his leather trousers. His hands slid down your back, over the swell of your buttocks, to grasp at your soft thighs, lifting you with his godly strength and taking a few strides to place you down on the small couch.

He continued to kiss you while his clever fingers dealt with the clasps of your dress, peeling the damp fabric away from your skin and exposing it to the cool air. Your nipples immediately hardened at the sensation, and then you gasped as his hands moved to your breasts, and his thumbs skimmed over the stiffened peaks.

Your own questing fingers pulled ineffectually at his clothes, the leather failing to yield to you. You both heard and felt Loki chuckle, and with a flash of his green seidr, his clothes disappeared. He pulled his lips from yours, leaning back and baring his alabaster skin to your gaze before grinning and then latching back onto the soft flesh of your neck. You moaned at the pleasure and wiggled your lower half, assisting him in fully removing your clothes. The fabric landed on the wooden floor with a wet ‘splat’, but you were now too focused on other things to care.

Like the warmth from Loki’s lips as they trailed down your next and across your collarbone. Like how one hand rested on your thigh, and his fingers, despite their gentle grip, felt like a brand, marking you as his. Like how the other hand rested, oh so teasingly, on your mound, his index finger toying with the thatch of curls that grew there. Things like how the muscles of his back and chest felt under your eager fingers. He may have been the slimmer of the two brothers, but he was still made of solid muscle, firm and strong.

As Loki trailed his lips down your body, you moaned and squirmed, eager to feel him more intimately.

“Patience, my Nymph. I don’t want to heat you up too fast.”

Part of you wanted to scream at him, but part of you never wanted this to end. You weren’t stupid - this was only a tryst - a way to pass the time and work out frustrations, so you wanted to commit every second to memory.

Loki’s lips on your inner thigh, his nose grazing against your folds had your back arching, your hands firmly back in his hair now. He teased you for what felt like forever, his breath warming your core and promising so much. You threw your legs over his shoulders, trying to urge him to move forward and put you out of your misery.

“Who am I to you, dove?”

His question surprised you, and you lifted your head as he lifted his eyes, full of confusion.

“Your Highness?”

His fingers started to circle your opening with a feather-like touch, and you whined.

“It’s a simple question, my dear. Who am I to you?”

“You are my Prince, your Highness.”

His lips twitched up with a wry smile as his eyes sparkled like the most priceless emeralds.

“Just a prince? Could a man who was only a prince make your heart beat like the hooves of Sleipnir running along the Bifrost? Could a prince make your cunt weep as Freyja wept when she was left alone by Óðr for months on end?

Oh!

Realisation dawn in your lust-fogged mind.

“No, a Prince could not do that. Which means you are my King, Highness. My God.”

“Yes, Nymph. That I am. And I will show you a glimpse of Vahalla.”

He lowered his head again, fastening straight onto your clit, pulling it between his lips and suckling on it. The fingers that had been teasing your entrance slipped deftly inside you, and you keened. Not only was he pleasuring you with no ulterior motive, but he was actually pleasuring you, something that the majority of your previous lovers either weren’t good at, or didn’t care about. No wonder he was nicknamed ‘Silvertongue’.

Loki’s fingers and lips explored you, learning what made you tremble and what made you cry out under him, and when you unintentionally tugged at his hair, he went where you lead, taking you towards that high heady peak, where the oxygen was thin, causing you to go dizzy before you fell off the edge, your body wracked with ecstasy. You cried out his name, over and over, the only word your mind could remember.

“There you go, dove. That’s it. You came so beautifully for me.”

A warmth spread through you at his praise, and you opened your arms, inviting him back into your embrace. You needed to feel him near you, feel his weight on you. You longed to envelop him with your body and return the pleasure he had gifted you. He smiled impishly and crawled up your body, trailing kissing up your heated skin, and when he reached your face, he recaptured your lips, letting you taste your own release. His cock nudged your thigh, and you shifted, wordlessly encouraging him to take what he wanted from you.

Without warning, Loki flipped the pair of you, and you found yourself straddling him as his back lay against the soft couch.

“Are you ready to please your king? Fuck yourself on my cock, and make us both feel good.”

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you nodded with faux shyness and looked down.

And got your first proper view of his cock.

For a moment you froze, partly from concern, but mostly from want. You wanted, no needed, him inside you. You could almost imagine the delicious stretch, the immense fullness, and your cunt wept more for him at just the thought.

Your hand wrapped around him, learning him as he’d learnt you. You felt every ridge, every vein, and teased his slit with your thumb. When he let out a hiss, you smirked, feeling pride in your chest at making him lose his composure, albeit briefly.

“Norns! You are testing my patience, Nymph. Don’t keep your king waiting…”

You smiled, as mischievous as he’d been only a few minutes previously.

“Good things come to those who wait, Your Highness.”

However, despite your words, you gave in to his entreaties. You rose up on your knees and with your hand, positioned him at your entrance. You teased both of you for a moment, swirling his broad head through your wetness before, spurred on by a brief growl, you slowly let yourself sink down.

The stretch was as good as you’d imagined, and you had to bounce slowly and gently to ease him inside of you. You did so with your head thrown back, your hands holding your own breasts while Loki’s hands gripped your waist, steadying you. When your inner thighs met his hips, you moaned at how deep he was inside you. You lowered a hand to rest on his firm chest, steadying yourself.

“You are definitely a God, Highness. No Prince, no mere mortal, could fill me like this.” His eyes flashed with triumphant amusement, pleasure at you indulging his whims.

Slowly, you rose up, letting him slide from the clutch of your cunt until only the tip remained, teasing your sensitive entrance, before sliding back down to feel him fully again. You repeated the movement, and while your intention was to make it last, the feeling was too intoxicating, and within moments you were riding him fast and hard.

Loki didn’t seem to mind though - if his expression was anything to go by when you glimpsed it from between your hooded eyelids, he was greatly enjoying your abandon. The hands on your waist tightened, and you hoped he would leave marks, so you would have a physical reminder of this encounter for even longer.

With each upwards movement of your body, his thick cock stroked over your walls, and with each counter-movement, his tip nudged over that spot inside you, and the neat thatch of hair at his base scratched wonderfully over your engorged clit. You could feel your orgasm approaching once more, and your movements became more frantic.

When Loki sat up, pulling you to him and burying his head in your chest to suckle on your breasts, you were done for. The pleasure barreled into you, knocking you back off that cliff edge, leaving you a trembling and mewling mess in his strong arms. The world tilted once again, and you felt the soft sofa fabric at your back before your entire focus became how Loki was now rutting into you with hard, feral strokes, chasing his own high. With a shout, he threw his head back, and you saw the veins in his neck pulse in time with his cock that was buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you had an unobstructed view of his torso, and you took the chance to memorise every part that you could see, before he dropped back down, smiling and panting, hips still flush to yours, prolonging the intimacy for as long as possible.

You wound your arms around his neck and smiled back. Coils of his damp hair slid over his shoulder, and a water droplet rolled down a strand to land on your collarbone with a soft ‘splat’. Loki looked at the small puddle on your skin as if becoming aware of both your soaked states for the first time.

“I should fix that.”

Another flash of green and you were both dry. Loki’s hair was now fluffed up around his shoulders. Turning your head towards the sodden pile that was your dress, you saw to your amazement that it was now perfectly dry and neatly folded. You looked back at the Prince and raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just dry us and our clothes off with your magic? Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

He grinned, his expression somewhat sheepish.

“Wouldn’t have been nearly romantic if I had, would it?”

You laughed, unintentionally clenching down on where he was still encompassed by your soft heat. In response, Loki moaned and gave a tentative thrust.

“Again, Highness? Already?” You were both shocked and aroused by his quick recovery.

“Well, I am a God, Nymph.”

His lips captured yours once more as the spring rain continued to fall outside.

Tag List: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel @animnerd @strangeprincex @mochie85

#rolling into spring #loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki x you #late writes

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wearingaberetinparis · 1 year

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for you, i am wild

@jilymicrofics I hadn't posted one of these in a few days, so I thought it was about time I wrote a little something. Prompt: Wild Word Count: 803 She locates him – as always – at the very centre of the room. He looks edible, his hair as wild as ever, his eyes so bright, his smile so wide that she can’t bear to look away from him. She remembers a time when the opposite was a reality, when she was so afraid that he might see her looking and what he would think it might mean. Now – and it might be the Firewhiskey speaking – she is fearless, bold and audacious in her admiration of him. She hopes he notices her incessant gaze, she hopes he clocks her and – when he does – that he will make his way over, lopsided grin flashing at her charmingly, seductively even. He does a minute later and his response does not disappoint. He seems surprised at first, pleased a second later and then – he mutters something in Sirius’ ear – he does what she had imagined he might. She knows that Black is watching her now too, but she doesn’t even spare him a glance, too preoccupied with James Potter and the way he makes her feel, the way he can still make her tremble with desire, the way her heart twirls inside her chest. He reaches her, she stand a little taller, drink in her hand, knuckles brushing his chest as he stands just a tad too close, which – she is certain – is his exact intent. “Lily Evans,” he says, his grin wide, his eyes glued to hers. “James Potter,” she replies, raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

His grin – it seems impossible – widens further, a chuckle escaping his lips as he takes her drink from her hand, brings it to his upturned mouth and tips back its contents completely. His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes stay on hers, teasingly almost, and heat swirls in her stomach, catching her almost off-guard in its intensity. She decides to take control over the situation, her heart pounding inside her chest at his proximity. She hasn’t been this close to him since their Hogwarts days and it was far too distracting to be once again. “So, what have you been up to?” she asks cheekily, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Chasing gullible, unsuspecting witches all over Britain and breaking their hearts in the process?" He cocks his eyebrow, places his free hand on her waist, leans in a little and tells her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear: "No. There's only one witch I've cared for my entire life and you know it." It is evident from the way he speaks that he means to imply she is the witch he speaks of and she wants to tell him she hadn’t known, but she - thankfully - doesn’t get a chance. (Speaking is the last thing she wants to waste her time on.) “What do you want, Evans?” he asks her, his nose brushing against her cheekbone. “What is it you were looking at me for just now?” You make me go wild, she wants to say, but she can’t. Instead, she rests her palm on his lower abdomen, his breath hitching as she does, his pupils dilating, his fingers twitching against her side, digging into the curve of her waist. Wild, she thinks again, I am wild for you, James Potter. If only he had mastered the art of Legilimency, it would make her life so much easier. “Please just say it,” he whispers then and she wonders for a moment if he can, in fact, read minds. But she decides it must just be that he can read her, that he knows her far too well to know that she's got something on her mind. “I don’t want to be wrong, I don’t think I could take it if I am.” Her hand inches up, wraps around the back of his neck, pulls his face down to hers. Their noses bump against the other's, their lips so close that the slightest movement will bring them together and end the agony they have both been experiencing for years. “I want to regret you no longer,” she confesses. “Regret me?” his lips brush against hers as the question rolls off his tongue. "What is there to regret?" “So much, James, so much that I can barely breathe –” He silences her, his lips pressed against hers firmly now, his arm hooking firmly around her waist, pulling her up against him. She hears the party around them go wild, cheering as they lock lips, but she can’t focus on any of it. Wild, she thinks over and over. For you, I am wild. She reckons, judging by the incessant press of his lips against hers, the way he seems all too happy not to ever stop what has just been started, that he is too.

#jilymicrofics #jily #james potter #lily evans

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unnokka · 8 months

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MC Hellfire

Motorcycle Club AU!

Sooo. I couldn't let go of the motorcycle club AU...

(With a/b/o dynamics)

So I decided to write it. Here is the first chapter!

I'm not sure how long this will be, but there is more to come!"

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

Steve put on his sneakers before checking the time. Almost 20pm, an hour before his shift would start.

He grabbed his blue work vest and Robin's lunch (which she had once again forgotten) knowing she would be way too hungry to wait after her shift to eat, before heading out the door and calling the elevator.

Inside the elevator he glanced at the mirror adjusting his clothes and hair.

He had chosen a white T-shirt that was slightly shorter, revealing his skin at the waist and jeans that hugged his bottom emphasizing his omega hips even more.

It didn't take long before Steve was standing at the bus stop checking the time. Five more minutes until his bus would arrive.

Steve and Robin didn't live close to the city center, but the journey to the workplace still took 30 minutes with the gas station being a bit further away to cater to travelers.

They had tried to find jobs in the city when they moved to their apartment, but many employers were unwilling to hire both of them and some were sexist assholes not wanting to offer work to an omega.

Steve tried to talk to Robin suggesting that it would be okay for her to take a job as being an beta but Robin firmly refused, saying he wouldn't work for jerks even if the pay were a dream.

So, when the only requirements for the gas station job were being able to count change and prepare simple snacks for travelers, they took the job and started the following week.

Keith, their boss was a bit of a boring beta, except for his occasional political rants of which Steve and Robin had a good laugh.

He quickly trained them both, teaching them how to use the cash register and operate the gas station's fuel pumps, as well as what sandwiches to make and other easy-to-prepare foods.

After a week they hardly saw Keith except on days when they had to refill the gas tanks or order more supplies.

It wasn't a glamorous job, nor did it pay well, but they got by.

Steve could only imagine what his parents would say if they found out their omega son was working in such a dirty and lowly job.

They were already disappointed in him for being a 24 year old unmarried omega who challenged traditional norms and wasn't conventionally feminine enough. Don't get him wrong, Steve didn't hate being an omega but it frustrated him how he was lumped into a generic category.

The bus stopped in front of Steve, interrupting his train of thought.

"Hello, Steve. Is Robin not with you?" the bus driver said as the omega boarded.

"Hi, Bob. She is on the day shift today," he replied smiling and handing the fare to the driver.

Bob was an older beta man who remembered almost all of the passengers by name and enjoyed chatting with them, Robin suspected that the man might be a bit lonely.

Steve walked down the bus aisle, putting on his headphones while looking for a good place to sit.

At the back of the bus there was a group of people talking loudly and laughing making Steve feel uncomfortable, so he decided to sit in the middle section next to another omega.

As the bus continued on its route, it gradually emptied out and when the omega sitting next to him got off too only a few passengers remained, including the noisy group at the back.

A little while later Steve began to yawn softly, but he stopped when he was startled by someone suddenly sitting next to him.

An unfamiliar man whose body language appeared nervous said something with a smile on his face.

Steve sniffed the air detecting the bitter scent of an alpha.

He removed one of his headphones and simply looked back, waiting for the stranger to continue speaking.

"My friends and I are having a party tonight. Would you like to join us, baby?" the alpha said trying to appear self-assured while eyeing Steve's body.

"No thanks" Steve replied simply hoping the alpha sitting next to him would drop the subject.

"C'mon it would be a fun evening.. and a night." the alpha winked suggestively.

"Umm... still no. I have other plans already" the omega responded with a sarcastic smile, Steve always tried to be nice to people but this man was starting to annoy him...

The alpha huffed in annoyance and turned sideways toward Steve, puffing up his shoulders to make himself look bigger.

"Omega I could–" The bus suddenly stopped abruptly, causing Steve to sway and the man to lose his balance crashing into the seat in front.

"Steve! It's your stop!" Bob called out from the driver's seat, turned toward Steve.

The omega glanced around to confirm before turning back to look at the man.

"Excuse me, would you move?" Steve said, staring at the alpha expectantly.

The man grumbled and got up, walking back to his seat. "You're missing out a good date omega."

Steve rolled his eyes as he walked to the door and before exiting called out a thanks and goodbye to Bob.

The end of the journey to work is just a few minutes walk so Steve put his music back on.

The sound of the engine came through his headphones making him glance up, seven motorcycles were speeding toward and past him.

Upon reaching the gas station he checked the parking lot where he saw a few motorcycles, probably the same group that he had encountered on the road meaning there weren't too many customers at the moment, Steve thought.

The omega walked to the back door, which was for employees only and checked his phone while taking off his headphones as he walked inside.

"Hey, Robs! You forgot your lunch again, this is the fifth time in two weeks" Steve called out while still looking at his phone notifications.

"I can't alw-" Brown eyes finally lifted from the phone screen and Steve froze a few steps away from the door which swung closed.

In front of him stood a bewildered man holding a weapon, pointing the barrels toward people on their knees.

Steve dared not move his gaze away from the two men.

"Well well, what do we have here?" The other man recovered from his surprise, and a grin crept across his face.

He turned his weapon toward Steve and approached sniffing the air.

"Oh, could it be a sweet little omega, do you work here honey?" The man asked, glancing at the work vest Steve was wearing.

The omega remained silent, observing every the man.. The man was an alpha had a black eye, a bleeding nose and a slight limp.

He didn't want to provoke the situation and risk getting shot but Steve was ready to defend himself if necessary, preferably he would like to run away.

Steve knew how to defend himself, thanks to the mandatory omega self-defense course but the problem was that alphas were stronger than omegas and betas...

And Steve had been in only one small fight and no gun was involved then...

So he needed to find a way to surprise the man in front of him if the situation called for it.

"Oh, looks like the cat's got his tongue. Jason, check out how adorable and stiff this cutie is" the man laughed and grabbed Steve's face squeezing his cheeks.

The omega jerked his face out of the alpha's grip, prompting the other man to laugh.

"Now, cutie, here's the deal. We need to get rid of a few people, including your co-worker and well now you too because we can't leave any witnesses" the alpha said with an unsettling tone.

The man's words finally made Steve look around anxiously, searching for Robin.

On the floor kneeling with their hands over their heads there were five people in a row, four of them had bruises and they were wearing black vests.

One of them who appeared very pale and in worse condition than the next two that Steve glanced at.

The last man made his heart skip a beat.

The man had messy black curls and a few longer, thin strands were mixed in with his bangs.

Despite a hefty bruise on his chin, he was still incredibly handsome.

His whole body was tense and there was something in his eyes that Steve couldn't quite read. Realizing that he had been staring at the stranger for far too long, he shifted his gaze to the next person.

Robin.

Steve assessed Robin's condition and noticed a red mark on her cheek as if someone had slapped him, which made the omega angry. No one should hurt his only pack member.

"Oh, maybe we should have some fun with him. What do you say, Jason? I know your beta ass could use a bit of an omega" a foul-smelling alpha approached Steve and caressed his cheek.

Steve let the men talk among themselves and made eye contact with Robin, raising an eyebrow slightly as an unspoken question and quickly glancing at the disgusting alpha and another man named Jason.

How many?

Robin glanced at the two men and the door that led to the front of the gas station's cash register area, looked back at Steve and blinked slightly slower than usual three times.

Three. There were three armed men here.

Before Steve could respond to Robin the alpha grabbed him by the neck and began dragging him to the other side of the room. Steve began to resist until he felt something cold pressing against his chin.

"Steve!" Robin panicked.

"Don't resist sweetheart or you'll make this much harder for yourself. Enjoy your last moments" the alpha growled in Steve's ear and he felt his throat tighten.

There was a low growl and then a sound of a gun cocking. "Don't even think about moving" Jason said pointing the gun more precisely at the man on his knees and at Robin.

Steve was pushed against the kitchen counter where small snacks are prepared making him whimper, he was turned around so that omegas upper body is laying on his stomach and ass is on display.

The man placed his weapon on the counter a short distance away from him within arm's reach but in a way that alpha would notice if Steve attempted to take it. And then there is also Jason only a few meters away.

Alpha spoke something to him while at the same time his other hand that wasn't holding him in place touched omegas waist grabbing him by the waist of his pants and started tearing it.

Steve started to panic.

He couldn't hear anything except the pounding of his heart, a ringing in his ears and his shallow breaths.

He needs to do something.

Steve tried to collect his thoughts and looked around as best as he could.

Steve's gaze came to a halt. The coffee maker.

An idea flashed through Steve's mind, and without further thought, Steve began to act.

As hard as he could omega stepped on alpha's toes causing him to release his grip, giving Steve the opportunity to turn around and headbutt the man in the head... not a great idea, Steve thought, but it worked as the man stumbled backward a few steps.

Steve noticed movement behind the man... Jason. He reached behind grabbing a full pot of freshly brewed coffee and tossed it past alpha towards the beta, making him shout as the hot coffee and glass crashed against him.

Knowing he didn't have time to savor the great throw Steve grabbed the first thing he saw, which happened to be the man's gun on the counter and smacked alpha in the head with it, causing him to collapse unconscious on the floor.

Steve looked up and saw that a long-haired man had jumped on beta, hitting him as well and rendering him unconscious

A deep silence fell over the room for a few seconds until the door next to Steve suddenly burst open.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" started the third man, but Steve's reaction was to kick the door hard causing it to slam into the third man's face and making him retreat back into the room.

The handsome man ran out of the door after the third man. For a moment there was some arguing, a few words that couldn't be deciphered and then a gunshot.

And everything fell silent once again.

Steve was still breathing heavily as the man returned to the room.

Three men breathed a sigh of relief and one of them moved over to the injured one, but the tension still lingered and no one dared to break the silence to say anything.

Steve and the handsome man silently stared at each other.

Omega knew he should probably be panicking, especially with a likely dead man on the other side of the door but with adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he remained calm.

Finally tearing his gaze away from the deep hypnotic eyes, Steve glanced around the room.

The walls bore a few bullet holes, items were strewn across the tables, and a cchair was in pieces.

On the floor were two unconscious men, broken glass, spilled coffee and lastly Steve's gaze settled on an open lunchbox, its contents scattered on the floor.

Steve turned to look at the frozen Robin whose face still bore the intensity of the moment.

Robs slowly shifted his gaze from the man's blue eyes who is on the floor to Steve's brown ones.

"I-...I dropped your lunch" Steve said softly, his voice filled with a myriad of emotions.

Robin turned her gaze back to the floor, looking at her lunch.

A small chuckle bubbled up within her. "I don't think I'm hungry anymore" Robin replied in a hushed tone before looking back at Steve and letting out another, slightly more hysterical laugh.

Steve felt the corner of his mouth twitch and eventually he too couldn't contain a laugh, until both of them were laughing together.

"Ookay..." The handsome man began, somewhat puzzled as he watched the two employees giggling..

"Gareth and Jeff, try to patch up Freak's wounds. I'll take these two for some fresh air and call Hopper." The men nodded and began to act grabbing the first aid kit from the gas station's wall.

"Heyy you two. Let's go get some fresh air, yeah? Clear our heads a bit" the handsome man said gently approaching them cautiously, as if they were startled animals... perhaps they were.

Robin got up from the floor and walked over to Steve hugging him tightly before they both turned to look at the approaching man.

Now as the man has gotten closer Steve could smell beneath the adrenaline in the air, the scent of autumn, the forest and a campfire, the warmth that comforted Steve.

Alpha. The handsome man was Alpha and Steve felt a desire to seek safety in this unknown Alpha.

Alpha backed up to the back door and opened it waiting for Steve and Robin to walk out.

They carefully made their way over broken glass and past the unconscious man.

As they reached the door Steve had to resist the urge to touch the handsome man.

Robin and he settled on a small box next to the trash cans while the handsome man stood in front of them.

"I'm going to make a call and you can catch your breath and gather your thoughts before you ask your questions, panic, or do anything. Okay? Okay" Alpha said and moved a bit farther away when he received no response from either of them, taking out his phone.

"What the hell happened Robin?" Steve asked softly, Robin hugging him tightly.

"I-I don't know... It w-was a quiet night, there were few-few members of the motorcycle club members eating and then s-suddenly several bikers came in and started fighting! They had guns! I d-didn't really think an-anything except diving behind the counter to hide and hope for the b-best. Next thing I was forced into the back r-room... S-Steve..." Robin began to cry. "T-they were going to k-kill us! A-all of us! and then you came to work. I forgot! I forgot you were coming to work Steve! he.. he.. th-tehy...The Alpha and Beta.. they wanted to r-ra-..." Robin spoke rapidly in panic.

"Hey hey Robs, w-we're okay. Me, you, we both are okay. Everything is okay. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier and I'm so sorry you had to go through this" Steve replied, comforting her and releasing a calming scent.

"I'm sorry too Steve, and thankfully you weren't here earlier. I don't want to know what could have happened then" she murmured into Steve's shoulder.

The handsome Alpha returned to them ending his call and crouching in front of them.

"I know you want to call the police, but I can't allow that... not yet. My club members will be here soon to take care of the situation discreetly" Alpha said and sighed looking down for a moment.

"I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of a feud between two clubs" he said as he lifted his gaze back up and looked directly into Steve's eyes.

Suddenly, Steve felt like he was way too aware of himself, his rumpled shirt, pants slightly lower than they should be, and that he was trembling and very tired all of a sudden.

"I.. Can we... I don't really know what to say" Steve responded in a whisper, fearing he might break otherwise.

The man smiled slightly at Steve. "You don't have to say anything. We'll take care of everything and you can go home when we're done or call the police after we leave. We might need to clarify few matters before you can leave, so wait here, okay?" Alpha said, kindly but in a way that left no room for negotiation.

Steve and Robin nodded in response.

The man got up.

"And thank you, Steve. You saved all of us" he said before walking back inside.

Beta and Omega remained silent just hugging each other until they began to feel calmer.

"Well, he's strangely nice" Robin said, making Steve chuckle.

"Yeah, he is" Steve agreed.

#steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #MC Hellfire #stranger things #a/b/o dynamics #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson

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subspencer · 3 years

Text

the to-do list

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried that she’s not adventurous enough in bed. So, she makes a secret checklist of things to try with Spencer. Based on this request.

Category: Smut, 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings/Includes: switch!Spencer, (sort of?) corruption kink, exhibitionism, mile high club, brief description of oral, unprotected sex, creampie, brief mentions of other stuff but no descriptions

Word Count: 3k

Spencer’s girlfriend has a secret checklist. It could be called a bucket list, of some sort, but really all of the items on it pertain to sexual acts to perform with Spencer, on Spencer, or in front of Spencer. So checklist is a more appropriate term.

The list came into existence after a girl’s night game of Never Have I Ever, in which she discovered there was an embarrassing number of things she’d never done. Some of them seemed nearly impossible to have gone twenty-something years without doing, especially when in a committed relationship. That was made abundantly clear to her when the girls pointed it out, teasing her — and by association, Spencer — for being more than vanilla.

There was no real reason she hadn’t tried those certain things — she wasn’t adverse to the idea of most of them at all. Really, it was just that she never bothered to dip her toes beyond what was familiar.

When Emily, Penelope, and Tara had nearly all ten of their fingers down after a couple rounds, she finally realized she might’ve been coming up short in the sex department. She figured it was about time to find out what she’s missing, so she made a list of everything she needed to try. And one by one, she and Spencer checked the items off.

One of the more simple things on the list, and perhaps her favorite, was giving her first blowjob. It wasn’t something she felt compelled to try with any of the guys she’s been with before, and Spencer, though he was very curious about it, was too much of a gentleman to ask for one.

So when she asked him to sit on the edge of his bed and dropped to her knees in front of him, he didn’t stop to ask questions. His mind went blank the second her fingers undid his zipper. It was Spencer’s first, too, and his fingers knotted in her hair as she took him in as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks around his cock and swirling her tongue as her head bobbed up and down. Spencer always made pretty sounds in bed, but in this instance she envied his memory because she wished she could replay his moans and gasps from that first blowjob all over again in her mind.

Another favorite was allowing the favor to be reciprocated until completion. She figured she might just be someone who couldn’t get off from oral, because though she always welcomed Spencer to go down, she got impatient every time and pulled his head up by his hair, demanding him to fuck her already. Spencer was one to oblige every request, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t overjoyed when one time she never stopped him short.

There were no interruptions, no hands shoving his face away from its rightful place against her, just increasing moans and shaking legs as Spencer was encouraged to give more. She can still remember the half-moon shapes his nails left on her thighs from where he had to grip them so tightly as she rode out her high. And she definitely remembers the almost feral look in his eyes after, because since that first time he insists on doing it again nearly every day.

There were more or less a dozen other items that slowly but surely got ticked off the list.

Handcuffs in the bedroom — fun, but perhaps better saved for special occasions. Or if Spencer was being extra good and deserved a treat.

Various new positions — a reminder to stretch more. And that sixty-nine is not as easy as it sounds on paper.

She let Spencer put a blindfold on her — it was decided they both prefer it more when the blindfold is on him. It keeps him guessing.

Spanking — both of them like this one, either giving or receiving. Surprisingly, she thinks she might like receiving it a little more, and Spencer is always excited to give.

Shower sex — a bit of a logistical nightmare, yet still a weekly staple. It’s slippery, yes, but it’s also relaxing and intimate. And Spencer just enjoys putting his hands on her wet, soapy body.

Sending dirty texts — great, but Spencer prefers taking nude polaroids of her instead. He keeps a few in his wallet for easy access. And because he knows Garcia can’t hack his wallet and find them.

And there were more items that went in the same tune until there was just one left. The one she was most nervous to attempt.

She wondered if joining the mile high club was better or worse if it was on the BAU jet. They’d have ample opportunities to do it, but they’d also be surrounded by their colleagues, and there is no coming back from getting caught.

But the main challenge was convincing Spencer to do it in the first place.

The initial plan of attack was to drop some “subtle” hints. She brought it up for the first time one night in their shared hotel room, right after Spencer fucked her against the bathroom counter, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“We could totally do that in the jet bathroom.”

“Yeah, I guess the basics are the same. Cramped space and a ledge to lean on.” Spencer was completely aloof as he picked up the scattered articles of clothing from the floor, rattling off about the size and dimensions of the airplane bathroom and missing the entire point of the comment.

She mentioned it again a little later, hoping the repetition may help him catch the drift.

“What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?” she asked, completely catching him off guard as he ate a breakfast of frosted flakes in his kitchen.

“Um.. I don’t know? You tell me,” he shrugged, knowing that whatever the craziest place was, it was definitely with her.

“What about doing it on the jet?” It couldn’t get more obvious.

“We haven’t done that, silly. OH! I’m gonna say it was in my car,” he nodded with a wide grin, confident in his answer that unfortunately brushed past the proposition far too quickly.

It was time to change methods.

The new plan was to see if she could get him turned on enough on the jet to motivate him to do something about it right then and there. It seemed easy enough.

She sat next to him on the small couch, as she always did, and cuddled up to his side as he read his book.

Once everyone was distracted, she snaked a hand onto his thigh, allowing it to rest there long enough for Spencer to get over his initial shock and relax into her touch. As soon as he let his guard down, she moved her hand up another inch or two, watching him squirm again as he fought his mind from wandering. She repeated that cycle every five minutes until it drove him insane, his willpower diminishing in tandem with the proximity of her hand.

When everyone finally fell asleep, she craned her head to press small kisses on his neck, alternating between quick pecks and lingering ones, sucking warm and wet little flecks onto his skin that drew soft sighs without fail.

“What are you doing?” his breath was raspy and low as he muttered into her ear.

“Nothing.” She kept her tone innocent and sweet as she continued to sprinkle the teasing kisses across the column of his throat.

Her hand finally found its way directly on top of the bulge straining against his slacks and gave it a gentle squeeze. Spencer grinded himself into her palm, desperate to feel some friction, his jaw slacked and pupils wide. She dragged a thumb across his length, stopping to rub slow circles over the sensitive tip, drawing out a wet spot at the front of his trousers.

But even with his skin flushed red and his cock leaking and half-near orgasm, Spencer still found the restraint to stop her from jerking him off right on the jet and ripped her hand away, placing it in her lap as if the action could permanently force her to keep her hands to herself.

“I can’t go to the crime scene with cum in my pants,” he hissed, squeezing her wrist tighter.

She smirked at the opportunity, wrapping her warm lips around his ear lobe and tugging with her teeth before whispering with hot breath. “Then put it in me.”

For a second she saw him consider it. His eyes had a dark cast, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat. But then Emily woke up and it was yet another failed attempt.

She resigned to the fact that it just wouldn’t happen, and that the item might remain unchecked on the secret list. So she cleared the idea from her mind, not wanting to keep pushing Spencer toward something he clearly didn’t have an interest in, or to keep embarrassing herself by trying.

And then a couple weeks later, as the team wrapped another case up, she came back to their hotel room to find Spencer sitting on the bed, facing away from the door.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted. When Spencer didn’t respond, she crawled onto the bed behind him, placing both hands on his shoulders and attacking the side of his face with kisses, giggling into his messy curls. “I said hey.”

Still nothing. Her eyes followed his line of sight down to his hands and went wide with realization.

“Spencer, where did you get that!?” She tried to snatch the crumpled piece of paper from him, but he was too quick to pull it away.

“I was looking for gum in your purse,” he explained, reading the sheet over again in complete amusement, “but I found something better.”

Spencer was much too excited about it, bordering on smug, and she rolled off the bed away from him in annoyance.

“Is this what I think it is?” She remained silent, suddenly feeling very insecure about the note. “Did you... did you make a list of things to do in bed?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s so stupid.”

“Hey, who said it’s stupid?” He tugged on her fingers, pulling her back onto the bed next to him. “I just wanna know where it came from.”

“Well... when I went out with the girls, we started talking about all the things we’ve done…” she paused to see if Spencer could guess where this was going, and of course he didn’t, “... in bed. And I hadn’t even done half of what they have, so I wrote some of them down. I — I wanted to try them with you.”

“So you… you’ve never done these with anyone else?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he pieced the puzzle together. He looked down again at the discarded sheet laying on pillows, his pride swelling at how long the list was. “I’m the first?”

She nodded in assent and no sooner was Spencer pushing her back flat against the mattress, settling his body on top of hers.

“God, that’s so hot,” he spoke into her neck as he sucked purple bruises into it, allowing his hands to roam freely under her shirt. His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra clasp, pulling the hem of the top up to attach his lips to her exposed nipple. He rolled the other in his fingers, tugging gently as she arched into his touch, rolling her hips up to grind against his. He groaned and pushed back, nestling himself perfectly between her legs.

Suddenly his motions halted and he popped his head up, looking at her with wide eyes and freshly ruffled hair. “We haven’t finished the list yet!”

“I — I didn’t think you were interested in the last one.”

“If my girlfriend makes a list of ways she wants to fuck me, I’m interested.”

A devilish grin took over her face. “Well, we fly home tomorrow.”

And true to the plan, they arrived on the jet the next day with at least a vague sense of strategy: wait until everyone is asleep then go at it in the bathroom. It wasn’t the most elaborate of plans, but there wasn’t much else to think of.

Except for the possibility that the others might not go to sleep.

The flight was already halfway through its journey and everyone was still wide awake, and Spencer was growing incredibly impatient. Perhaps even more than his girlfriend, now that he knew this would be part of a long list of things he got to be her first for.

That fact seemed to encourage him, the thrill of forever being her first at something. Never mind that she’d be his firsts, too.

Spencer’s not stupid, he knows that bending her over the bathroom counter while everyone is awake to hear it is a horrible idea. But his willpower doesn’t extend far enough to stop him from dropping his hand to her exposed knee, rubbing it softly just to be able to touch her. It seemed innocent enough in case anyone might see.

He kept his eyes on the open book he was pretending to read as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh, pushing up the hem of her skirt ever so slightly.

He inched his hand up and slowly spread his long fingers apart until they covered the length of her inner thigh. The tips stopping just below her cunt, delicately tracing lines back and forth parallel to the seam of her underwear.

And she quickly discovers there’s no taste worse than your own medicine. There was gentle brushes and concealed touches, all the things that she did to him. But where Spencer would’ve stopped her teasing before it got too far, she wouldn’t have done the same.

She covered up his hands by bringing her own down to her lap, silently encouraging him to continue unseen.

Spencer looked down at her through his thick lashes, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Looking for more confirmation that she wanted this. The answer came in the form of her shifting subtly down the seat, pressing her clothed pussy firmly against his hand.

His cock twitched against the confines of his slacks when he felt the damp patch on the fabric. His knuckles brushed against her clit and her knees clamped shut, holding him in place as she brought her lips close to his ear to let him hear her soft whines.

He has to put his book over his lap to cover how hard he is, and it almost makes him regret starting this game. Almost.

Because just as she starts desperately grinding against his hand, squirming for more friction, he notices that everyone’s asleep. And then it��s a race to the bathroom, Spencer positioning her directly in front of him to cover his bulge as they stand up.

Their mouths are on each other before the door even closes, her hands wasting little time in going for his zipper. Both desperate to have each other after all the anticipation. She immediately perched herself on the countertop, spreading her legs wide so Spencer could fit in between them, just like in that hotel room. A confused whine fell from her mouth when he lifted her off from the ledge, interrupting her plan.

“No. Like this,” he growled, turning her around and pushing her hips against the edge of the counter, bending her over it. She muttered a “Fuck,” under her breath as he pressed his cock against her backside, knowing he preferred this angle because he could get deeper.

His lips trailed down her neck as he tugged the skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties to the side, running his cock along her folds to gather the wetness that had been pooling there.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

He quickly inserted his thumb into her mouth to stop any sounds from escaping before lining himself up. Her moans vibrated against the digit as he slowly pushed in, stretching her out and letting her adjust before starting to move. Slowly and deliberately, at first, then quickly gaining speed.

She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts until he pinned them against the ledge with his own, holding them still so he could set his pace faster.

The hand that was resting on her waist came up to her chest, groping at the flesh over her blouse. Her spine arched into his palm, bending forward to give him more leverage to get deeper to that spot inside her repeatedly.

He alternated between a few quick thrusts followed by a deep one, holding himself there for a moment before repeating.

Her cunt tightened around him as he held still against her, applying firm pressure to her spot with the head of his cock.

“Fuck, do that again, please,” he grunted against her neck, pushing his hips into her ass with bruising force to get impossibly closer. A loud whine nearly escaped her lips as he did so, the motion sending her over the edge.

She sucked harder around his thumb, using it to keep her cries at bay as she reached her climax. Her walls fluttered around him as she did, giving him exactly what he needed.

“Remember what you said before, baby?” he hummed in her ear, “Do you still want me to cum inside you?”

“Please.”

Immediately his thrusts became erratic, hips snapping forward a handful of times before he spilled into her in hot spurts, biting down on her shoulder to stifle his moan as he came.

Still heaving from the comedown, he pulled her panties back on, using the fabric to keep his cum from spilling out.

She turned to feverishly attach her lips to his, panting into the open mouthed kiss. When they finally broke apart, both looked completely wrecked with swollen lips, flushed skin, bruised necks. Still, they tried their best to fix themselves, straightening out their rustled clothes and smoothing knotted hair.

Before Spencer turned the door handle, he pulled her side into him, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “We should make another list.”

taglist: @suburban--gothic @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @ssa-m-187 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @s1utformgg @you-sunshine @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds self insert

1K notes · View notes

littlefreya · 3 years

Text

Santa Baby

Summary: For over a decade, detective Walter Marshall kept a dirty little secret, thinking no one would ever find out about his past. Sadly for him, you are somewhat of a detective yourself.

Challenge prompt: the song Santa Baby.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Some sexy themes but mostly fluffy floof fluff.

A/N: This is for @toomanystoriessolittletime Christmas challenge, which I am sadly a day late with. Remind me to never sign up to challenges. I stumbled upon erotic book covers that looked a lot like Walter (this and this) so decided it’s a funny idea. I never read these books, so I am not mocking it or the artist who drew it. Many thanks to @wondersofdreaming for helping me out. Not beta’d, I own my mistakes.

Please feedback, comment, reblog if you enjoyed reading. 💖

Title: Santa Baby

It’s not that Detective Marshall was the Grinch or anything, it’s just that he couldn’t afford to be merry. With crime levels peaking during that time of the year, and sunlight being scarce, his body ran strictly on caffeine and stale doughnuts.

The temptation to spend Christmas eve sprawled on the worn-out leather sofa in his office was quite strong tonight. But even big hulking bears had their weaknesses, and as exhausted as he was, he dreaded every morning he woke up without your warm body curled up beside him.

With his energy level blinking red, he finally decided to call it a night and drive home. Heavy growling and thundering drums roared within his truck, the extreme Scandinavian black-metal he listened to served as a complete contrast to the soft snow that fell from the sky and quietly piled up on the sides of the road. Pausing at the street-light, he watched the little crystals striving to form on his windshield and melting just as quickly against the heat of the car.

For a single moment, all the terrors of the night diminished by the little flame that was the reminiscent of you - his little firefly who led him through the darkness, tender as snow and wild as fire. Accelerating just a tad, he imagined you’d be asleep by the time he’d get there, and if not, Walter hoped to at least be in your good graces.

Luckily, ther warm orange hues beaming through the windows assured him that you were still very much awake, and he couldn’t help but spare one of his rare smiles.

Muffled tunes of a familiar song played beyond the door, the bass vibrating through the polished wooden flooring and the walls. Slow and sensual like honey rolling off one’s finger, the jazzy beats filled the spacious house along with the sweetest scent of crushed peppercorn and red berries. Smiling wider, he held onto the doorframe and kicked off his heavy boots.

“Pet?” he called and followed into the living room, hearing you humming along with the lyrics.

“Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me.”

Oh, he was indeed in your good graces.

Sitting on your knees with your ankles hunched below your ass, you wore a velvety Santa hat and a sheer, red nighty finished by fake white fur that outlined your breasts. Your hands held a shiny green present over your thighs, and you gave him one of those coy looks that made him want to fall before you and pledge himself as your servant.

Instead, he crooked an eyebrow and unzipped his thick winter coat, carelessly discarding it on the floor and making his way toward you.

“Have you been an awful good girl?”

Sleeves rolled up; he crossed his muscular arms together while towering over you. His cobalt eyes drank in your sight, trying to decide what to do with you first. The scent of musky sweat mingled with dark cologne wafted over you within seconds, making your chest rise and sink in a primal instinct.

“Oh, I’m definitely going down your chimney tonight,” he growled upon your reaction to his presence and sucked in his bottom lip with growing hunger.

“At least three times,” you dared him in return and then casually lowered your gaze to the box perched on your lap.

The large man caught on the hint and carefully knelt before you. One of his hands reached to stroke his beard while his mind rummaged to figure out what surprise hid behind the shiny package.

“Got something for me over there?” he wondered with a playful beam, “I thought we’re not doing presents until tomorrow morning.”

“Just a little teaser,” you answered. Your eyes shone brighter than the large decorated tree that stood at the corner of the living room.

Being a detective, Walter could practically smell the mischief that drenched every teeny hair on your body. As usual, his naughty vixen was up to no good. It always made him laugh how bad you were in trying to surprise him, which worked in his favour. Walter hated surprises.

Intrigued, he snatched the gift from your hands and shook it against his ear for shy second before beginning to unwrap it. His eyes briefly scrutinised yours, darkening, smokey with lust while he tore at the chrome paper and absentmindedly threw pieces of green wrapping all over the living room.

You watched carefully, your cheeks rounding and filling, your teeth flashing with wickedness upon seeing the colour drain from his rugged face.

“Where…”

Walter paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. Fingers oily with sweat and knuckles turning white, dug into the object held in his hand.

“How did you find this?!”

The snort you’ve been trying to hold back for the last couple of minutes finally made its way out, followed by a fit of uncontrollable giggles that made you fall to your back with your hand held over your torso.

Walter, on the other hand, was anything but amused. He always feared the day someone would dig up his dirtiest secret.

It was more than a decade ago when he was struggling to pay his tuition to the police academy that Walter found an easy and quick way to make money. As a British immigrant who barely had friends and blended with the crowd, he made the mistake of thinking no one will ever know about his short-lived modelling career for cheesy erotic novels.

He should have known better. He might have been a professional police detective, but you had a skill for uncovering the truth.

“Where did you find this?” Walter repeated with a frown, clenching his jaw and waving the colorful book in the air.

Pausing your giggles merely for a second, you took a gander at the cover, focusing on the image of your dear husband’s open white shirt. There he was, the man you knew as a brooding, black-sweater wearing grump, lost in some green meadow with a half-naked chick. A deep dramatic gaze crisped his younger face, his nose inhaling the scent of her hair, and his hand laid flat upon her juicy rump.

Oh the drama!

You tried to speak, but all that came out of your mouth was an uncontrollable peal of chuckles. The corny title of the book didn’t help either; his fiery love rod.

Walter sulked and suddenly shuffled to hover above you, one hand snapped at your wrist before the other discarded the book onto your sternum and joined in restraining your other arm. Led purely by instinct, your legs spread to straddle his wide waist and wrapped around his muscular ass.

Staring at your strong, intimidating husband, the laughter rolling from your lips slowly died down, yet the smile was still smeared between your cheeks, especially once you felt his groin pressing into yours.

“Woman!” the big bear growled at you, “I am not going to ask you more than once, where on earth did you bloody find this?”

“The second-hand bookstore,” you answered and glanced at the book lying upon your chest, “was looking for something raunchy to read when suddenly I noticed a familiar face.” You explained and then swallowed the dryness in your throat.

“At first I thought I was hallucinating with all them Christmas carols eating into my brain, but then when I took a closer peek, I recognised my husband’s ‘fuck me’ stare.”

Walter felt a burn rising in his throat and swerving to tingle at his bristly cheeks. If there ever was a moment when he regretted a life decision, that moment was now. He knew he’d never hear the end of it from you. You were dauntless and unyielding as the ocean, one of the reasons why he was utterly in love with you.

Nostrils flaring, he tightened the grasp around your wrists and rolled his hips into yours, eliciting a small moan from your quivering lips. The thick bulge in his groin hardened at the calling of the hot, wet patch in your panties.

“Name your terms, woman.”

“You are going to read it to me,” you answered without even overthinking and gestured toward the book with your chin. “Every. night. before. bedtime. I want you to hold me in your big strong arms and read me a chapter from ‘his fiery love rod’, or else…”

“Or else?...”

The fire from the mental suddenly illuminated your face, causing dark shadows to form over your irises and the hollows below your brows. “Your friends at the MPD are going to find out about this one,” you paused, “and the 12 others that you made.”

Taken back by your words, Walter gulped, his fingers became moist around your wrists as sheer horror seeped into his mind.

“You... you know about the others?”

You nodded at him and then snaked your legs around the back of his thighs to cage him in your grasp like a fickle dryad growing her roots around a helpless wanderer. With his attention faltering, you twisted your hips and rolled the two of you so you were on top. Fingers lacing into his, you pinned him down and leered over him with cascading triumph.

“12 books, all under our Christmas tree, detective, so you better be good to me tonight and satisfy all my needs.”

Adam apple bobbing up and down, Walter watched you with a mixture of awe and agitation. There was nothing he hated more than losing control, but damn if he didn’t adore his wicked queen, especially when you were in a joyous mood, which, as he found, tended to be contagious. The moments in which the grouchy detective felt at peace were rare to non-existent. It was only in the embrace of your thighs that he thought that for a minute, everything is going to be okay.

Noticing the muscles of his jaw somewhat relax, you reached for the Christmas hat and slipped it off your head, placing it atop of his curly mess instead. Your hands held firmly onto Walter’s shoulders, and with a careful twist, you flipped the two of you over once again and shoved him down your torso while blissfully chanting.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight, hurry down the chimney tonight, hurry toniiiiiiiiiiight.”

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Disclaimer: I don’t own Night Hunter/Nomis or Walter Marshall

#henry cavill #StephsChristmasWritingChallenge #walter marshall x reader #henry cavill x reader #walter marshall

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imissjoongsmullet · 3 years

Text

My Prince (5)

Pairing: Minghao x reader

Genre: fluff/(angst)

Summary: Life is not exactly easy being the royal gardeners’ daughter but at least it’s simple. When you’re suddenly called upon to serve as the prince’s personal servant, things get a little more than complicated, especially considering the secret history you and the prince share.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Warnings: general angstiness, a bit of a slow burn, very romantic, very soft, the fact that this will most likely become a long series cause I have no chill

Word Count: 7K

Author’s Note: this is long overdue but also, this is just long! I just couldn’t stop writing and so now this chapter is 7K so yeah ENJOY!! ✌️

Let me know what you think, good or bad, I love the feedback ♥

►

Fine.

Those last words he'd said to you kept playing in your mind the following days. Technically he'd said other words since but they'd been cloaked in formalities; commands from a prince to a servant, nothing more. You'd really screwed up this time, you'd lost him forever. It was a thing you'd known would happen from the start but that didn't soften the pain now festering in your chest.

Minghao had met with Zhong Mei, as he had supposed to that day. He'd been a perfect picture of royalty, graceful and pleasant; and she'd been lovely as she always was, smiling all the way through the meal. Meanwhile you had stood flanking the wall with Tou Ma, trying to keep your tears from spilling over. You'd kept your eyes down, counting the colorful mosaics that threaded the shiny black flooring until the whole thing was over.

Not that any of it was over of course.

After the prince and his bride's first official meeting, the two were ushered out into the gardens to "spend some time alone" while you helped Tou Ma with a another seemingly endless string of wedding-related tasks.

Slowly but surely your body reverted to autopilot, working your hands raw and your legs sore. You barely realized you were spacing out until at last, you lied down in your sheets on the floor of the maid's quarters and cried. You cried and cried in stuttered silence, praying the sun would not come up again. You didn't know how you'd face another day. You thought about feigning illness but knew Tou Ma would not be so easily fooled.

“You’ll be out in the gardens today,” the head maid explained with a weary expression. This whole wedding business seemed to have taken a toll on the old woman as well. “Floral arrangements need to be decided on and I need you to oversee the whole thing gets done in time. Can I trust you with that?”

Your head bobbed up and down faster than was polite. A rush charged through your chest at the idea of spending time with the flowers. Despite your frequent complaining as a gardener, you’d always enjoyed taking care of the vivid, fragrant plants that grew in the royal gardens. But more than that, you knew what this request must mean.

“Mother!” you cried, breaking out into a run. She looked older and shorter somehow, but her embrace was as tight as ever.

Of course, your parents would be working on the flower arrangements as well.

“Look at you!” she said, holding your face in her dirt-stained hands, “my daughter, a real part of the castle.”

Overwhelmed with grief for the life you’d left behind, a sob welled up from the back of your throat but before it could break free into the morning air, Tou Ma interrupted.

“There is lots of work to be done so we better start at once,” she said matter-of-factly, unrolling a long piece of parchment, “I have sat down with both the royal family and the Zhong family respectively and decided on a theme and color scheme for the celebration. I have listed all requirements specifically. The types, the arrangements, the placements, all of it has been meticulously planned.” She then turned her head your way. “I’m leaving you in charge of making sure everything is accounted for on the day. This is a big task, but regrettably, I am far too busy taking care of everything else to take this on as well. And you are the gardener’s daughter, after all. Do not disappoint me.” With another one of her stern looks, she handed you the scroll, gave a curt bow to your parents and walked away.

Now this was a task you were up for. You gazed around you, at the stretches of colorful flowers that ran as far as the eye could see. There were rows and rows of chrysanthemums that spawned in colorful formations, bushes of peonies flanking cobbled pathways, a whole field of the most delicious-smelling lavender, lilies and azaleas and roses and narcissus flowers and you felt all at once, at home. For a moment you seemed to forget the prince and your feelings. It was like a giant slimy toad had just slipped right off of your shoulders, leaving you feeling light as air.

Looking over the list, you were up for quite the challenge. The sheer amount of flowers that would need to be harvested for this event, on such short notice, was startling. But with the help of your parents and their staff, you were confident you’d be able to pull it off. You spent the whole morning and most of the afternoon rushing from one end of the garden to the other, figuring out which plants would be needed, when they’d need to be cut and who would craft what particular piece. It was a little strange, being in charge when all the gardeners were quite a bit older and definitely more experienced than you, but your parents kept encouraging you whenever you stuttered.

“I’m so proud of you,” your mother said as you both sat down for a rest underneath a pine tree on a hill overlooking the garden. She pulled out a packed lunch for the both of you: rice wrapped in bamboo leaves with plum fillings.

“Mother,” you sighed, not knowing how to react. You felt like a fraud. You weren’t what she thought you’d become at the castle. You weren’t some high-standing servant, near and dear to the king and queen. You were a screwup. You’d caused so much trouble since your arrival at the castle you were quite frankly surprised you hadn’t been banished yet.

You could see most of the royal gardens from here; well, the most beautiful parts anyways. There was almost no one out there today. Everyone was most likely busy preparing for the wedding except—

Minghao was strolling through the rose garden ways away from the hill you were sitting. You could see him clearly, his upper body sticking out over the bushes. Zhong Mei was beside him, wearing a white robe with some sort of lilac pattern on it. You couldn’t see the expression on their faces but the close vicinity with which they walked by each other made your stomach turn upside down. Your eyes followed the two figures until their path ventured right and a large chestnut tree obscured your view.

“Let’s just keep working,” you said, getting up as you folded your lunch back closed and slid it in your pocket.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, child.” Your mother’s voice hadn’t changed at all, croaky like a frog but filled with warmth.

You kept your back turned to her, hugging yourself close.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“My little flower,” her voice came from behind and you felt a hand land on your shoulder, “something is bothering you.”

“I’m fine.”

She chuckled at that. “Liar. I can tell by the way your shoulders hunch,” she said, turning you around to face her, “and look, your eyebrows are all droopy.”

You shook your head. “First of all, that doesn’t make any sense and besides, I don’t want to talk about it.” You knew at once it had been a vain attempt to fend off the stubborn woman. You watched her heave a deep sigh. She was shorter than you but somehow always managed to make you feel like a baby. Her wrinkled eyes scanned your face quizzically for a few seconds before her lips curled into a knowing grin.

“You need to let go, flower,” she said, poking you in the chest with a dirty finger.

You stared at her incredulously. “Let what go?”

The old woman rolled her eyes, smiling still. “Whatever it is that’s causing all of this good-for-nothing heartache!” She patted you on both shoulders. “Go on, away with it!”

A tiny smile crept its way onto your face. “It’s not that easy.”

Your mother sighed deeply once more and turned to look out over the gardens and the castle.

“I know, dear,” she said, “the castle comes with complications these gardens could never carry. That’s why me and your father stay out here, between the fruits and the flowers. You on the other hand,” she went on, turning back to you and taking your hand, “you have some reason for staying at the castle, no?”

Your face burned at the words. You didn’t know what exactly your mother was implying but the way her deep eyes bore into yours now made you feel awfully exposed.

“You can always come back to us, of course,” your mother explained further, squeezing your hand, “but if your heart lies no longer here—”

“It doesn’t matter where my heart lies,” you cut in, taking a step back, “how I feel doesn’t matter.”

Your mother’s eyes creased as they filled with something you hated to see. Was it pity? Understanding? Whatever, you didn’t need any of it. For the smallest of moments you’d thought your problems might be solved with some wise parental advice but that had clearly been a child’s thinking. This problem didn’t have solving. You just had to learn to live with the fact that Minghao was gone forever and he’d never look at you the way he had that night under the orange trees. He’d never smile at you the way he had when he taught you how to read, he’d never touch you the way he had that evening in his chambers— or even— you couldn’t bear remembering his kiss. It was too much. It should haver have happened.

“Let’s just keep going, please,” you said at last, keeping your eyes on the grass between your feet.

The rest of the day went by like a tidal wave. In a matter of hours, you’d crossed the whole of the gardens at least half a dozen times, hauling around heavy equipment, making lists, delegating tasks and making stupid amounts of mini mock-ups of the flower pieces Tou Ma had asked for. By the time you entered the castle, you were so exhausted you thought you might just crash in a closet on the way to your room. The hustle and bustle inside the castle walls had died down as well. Aside from the occasional servant, the dark hallways were deserted and quiet. Yawning freely, you shuffled your way through them, only to get startled by the sudden noise not so far away.

“Silence, son,” a voice whispered irritably, “the castle is asleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hao.

Without thinking, you approached a door you’d passed before. You didn’t know what lay behind it, only that, right now, it was being occupied by the emperor and his son, prince Minghao.

“You’ve heard by now the protests haven’t seized I assume. We’re losing not only the Shingmin people but all the highlands. I have tried to protect you from your destiny for far too long I’m afraid.”

There was a long pause. You felt the pain of it right through the wood of the door.

“My son,” the emperor added wearily, “I did not want to leave this country to you on the brink of war. But the season of peace has run out. You are young and overly frivolous at times but we must believe you are capable. It is time to stop thinking about yourself and take on the responsibility you’ve always known was yours to take on. You have the power to free us all. Your legend will be told for centuries to come.”

“My legend,” Minghao spoke at last. His voice was dry and void of emotion. You wanted to go to him. You wanted to help but you didn’t know how.

Krrrr

The floorboard creaked under your feet as you’d subconsciously leaned in closer to the door. There was no way they hadn’t heard that. You pushed away from the door and set off at a run, heart racing, all the way to the maid’s quarters.

Your covers were warm and your eyelids heavy but regardless, you couldn’t seem to find your way to sleep. You tossed and turned until you were sure your hair would be a rat’s nest the following morning. Your body was lying on the floor, between dozens of happily snoozing servants, but your mind was still at that door, listening in. You knew Minghao wouldn’t appreciate it but you felt sorry for him. The weight resting on his shoulders was colossal compared to the slimy toad that tended to bother yours. His legend was beyond famous. Every person in Namin knew it like they knew the color of the sky. Every person in Namin was counting on him. You could tell by the way they looked at him. He was a savior to them. But he was just a boy. You knew that. He knew that. He was a boy, desperately trying to figure out how to live up to a legend that was born with him; a boy trying to solve an impossible riddle, trying to unlock some big secret, trying to somehow heal an entire nation.

All these thoughts floated haphazardly through your head, bouncing and clashing within the walls of your skull until, sudden as a bolt of lightning, they clicked together.

A Vast Unfathomable Secret.

That’s what the book must have been for all along. You shot up from the floor, wide awake now, and set off towards the prince’s library.

It made so much sense you cursed yourself for not seeing it before. You burst through the heavy oak doors and went to light a candle. The room looked beautiful at night, moonlight shining through the circular windows, casting hazy glows on the walls of books.

You had no idea how to start. You’d searched for this book so many times. Then again, you hadn’t been able to make your way through the entire room yet. Filled with stubborn determination, you grabbed your candle tightly and climbed up to a section you hadn’t explored yet. You could read the spines now, thanks to Minghao. In this particular section alone were books about geography, fortune telling, animals and plants you’d never even heard of, as well as poetry. You were tempted to open some of them but knew you had a more important goal. You made the mental note of reading as many books as you possibly could when all of this was over; if Minghao would continue allowing you to come here, at least.

When the first section revealed nothing, you moved on to another, and then another. You’d finish off the whole room before you’d give up. You had to help the prince in any way you could; if you couldn’t be with him, at least you could still be of use to him.

When you woke up, bright sunlight was already streaming into the room generously and your body ached in all kinds of places. You immediately knew you were in trouble. You’d fallen asleep slumped against a bookcase and were now most likely extremely late for your appointment in the gardens.

Tripping over your tunic, you burst through the library doors and onto the long deck. It was a humid and hot day. Up ahead in the distance, like tiny brown specs against the vibrant green grass, were the gardeners’ huts, where you were supposed to meet with everyone to start harvesting and putting together the flower pieces for the wedding.

Oh shoot, the wedding. The wedding was tomorrow. It was actually tomorrow. Not wanting to waste any more time than you already had, you jumped over the railing and tumbled into the grass below. One of your feet landed in something wet but that didn’t matter now. You ran to the huts, not caring about how the long grass and prickly bushes dirtied your clothes, but when you finally arrived, panting like a dog, there was no one there. Instead, a note hung lifelessly on your parents’ door.

Flower We’ve gone ahead and started harvesting See you soon

A huge wave of gratitude coursed through you at those words.

Thanks mother

You raced through the gardens, catching up with everything that was going on.

Thanks to your parents, you were still somewhat on schedule. Aside from delegating tasks, you helped in creating bouquets and garlands and wreaths in rich oranges and reds, as well as deep pinks and purples. The air was sticky and dense. Sweat crawled down your temples as you worked beside your parents, but you were glad for the hard labor; it distracted you. Your nails blackened and your hair filled with twigs and pollen. It felt good. You were surprised when the sun had only just started going down as the last of the decorations got finished.

“Don’t underestimate us,” you dad said with a grand smile, “I don’t know how you fancy people do it at the castle, but we work fast.”

You smiled back at him, glad to have made it in time.

You moved the decorations to a safe place they could be preserved until the morning, which took another hour or so but after that, you were all done. Tou Ma hadn’t even given you any other tasks for the day, which meant, you were free.

All at once, an unavoidable exhaustion took over you. The hot sun and humid air had drained your body that had grown unaccustomed to the life of a gardener. Another reason was probably the fact that you’d slept propped up against a bookcase the night before. A hot bath sounded amazing right about now. And after you might even be able to take a nap? Yes, that sounded good. You needed sleep.

Sighing and panting, you dragged yourself back to the castle. Instead of the main entrance, you chose a smaller door on the left wall that was meant for servants mostly. Coming around the corner you let out a sudden gasp, finding the door blocked by a broad-shouldered man with a long scar across his cheek.

“Identify yourself,” he said sternly, looking your muddy form up and down. The side door had never been guarded before. You supposed it was another wedding-related thing.

After explaining who you were and what you’d been doing outside, the man stepped aside, grunting something inaudible as you passed. Whatever, you thought, entering a modest-looking corridor. At least you’d be able to reach the maid’s quarters without running into—

“WHAT IS THIS MESS?!”

Tou Ma.

The tall lady strode towards you, looking like an underfed but furious bull.

“Look at the floors, they have been polished just this morning and now!” her voice reached a crescendo, “look at this! You want me to seizure!?”

"I'm sorry," you blurted out, "I've been preparing the flowers and—"

"Are they done?"

"They are—"

"So something has gone right today at least! Honestly it's suffocating, all this work in so little time I swear the emperor wants me to lose my marbles I've still got so much to do, this whole thing is ridiculous! Could they move the wedding to next week so the castle can prepare to its fullest abilities? Probably but will they? No, no of course they won't that would make my job too easy, wouldn't it?!"

You were staring into the face of a deranged woman. Tou Ma was sweating the white powder right off her face, fanning herself for dear life.

"Um," you tried, once the woman seemed to be taking a break to catch her breath, "is there anything I can help with?" You regretted the offer the moment the words left your lips but you couldn't stand seeing her this way. No matter how much the vile old woman tormented you, seeing her usually strong personality weakened like this made you feel sort of bad.

Tou Ma eyed you suspiciously for a few moments before she caved.

"Very well," she said, "you will run an errand for me. In my haste I forgot to bring the empress' scarf out with the rest of her robes for the celebration. They need to bask in the moonlight tonight."

"Of course," you replied, though you had no idea what she was talking about. Wealthy people really did have all kinds of strange rituals.

"They will be in her private chambers," she went on, "I'd fetch them myself but I'm on my way to a meeting with the chef and I've yet to go over the guest list with security and her majesty will need her bath before nightfall and I haven't had a scrap to eat since sunrise and—"

"That's alright," you cut in, for the head maid was panting again, "I'll grab her scarf and bring it to the deck, I guess?"

"The south east deck on the top floor, child, that's where we're leaving them out," Tou Ma explained, clutching her chest.

"Got it," you said, turning on your heels.

"It is a scarlet thing," Tou Ma call after you, "silk with gold-thread details."

"Okay," you called back as you made your way down the corridor.

"Child!" her screechy voice cried before you could round a corner, "I beg of you, wash up first will you?"

You did as you were told and had your bath. It was not the long, relaxing bath you'd hoped for but it did manage to wash away some of the exhaustion from your body. You allowed your muscles to relax for a few minutes, hopped out and hurried towards the royal quarters. You'd only ever visited Minghao's chambers; his parent's area was completely new territory. The place was guarded heavily by men who only let you in after a thorough interrogation and once inside, you realized you had no idea of where to look for the scarf.

You were in a rectangular room with shiny, red-toned walls and floors. It was completely bare save for the golden candelabras that lined the walls. Two black and gold doors that faced each other waited for you.

Clueless, you tried the first door. You knocked twice and waited until you were sure you weren’t disrupting something. When nothing happened, you opened it. You were met with complete darkness. With a bit of a struggle, you pulled free one of the candelabras from the hallway and entered the dark room.

It was extremely minimal. There were no windows. Only a simple bookcase and a large writing desk. Scrolls of parchment and bottles of ink lay spread out across it. Seeing them made you feel suddenly feel as though you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. This was the emperor’s private study.

Backing away fast, you found yourself in the hallway once more. You tried the room opposite the study, entering after knocking. This room was anything but dark. The whole west wall was non-existent, giving sight to stretches of grassland and the mountains up in the far distance. As the sun set, it cast a breathtaking pink veil over the master bedroom. The bed, sitting on a raised platform was impeccably made. You could just envision Tou Ma arranging the perfectly white pillows by size, making sure not a single crinkle was left in sight. The room was so clean though, you couldn’t imagine the scarf would be here. There was no closet or dresser for it to hide in either, however, there was a small doorway in the corner of the room, half-covered by a silk curtain. As you approached you smelled the sweet aroma of incense. Gently pulling back the curtain, you peered inside, finding a room that was more or less the same size as the bedroom, but which felt smaller due to the abundance of stuff that was in it.

The walls were virtually covered with dressers, all identical, ornate and black lacquered. There were ottomans in various jewel tones on which piles of discarded robes lay, and in the corner stood a intricately carved wooden vanity with a mirror that reached the ceiling.

This must be it, you thought as you entered. You carefully went through the clothes on the stools. You wished you had time to admire their craftsmanship but Tou Ma’s exasperated expression kept your mind on the mission at hand. The vanity was cluttered with all kinds of trinkets you’d never seen before. You supposed there were the creams and powders used for beauty purposes. There were a couple of small drawers that opened to reveal more beauty products and a couple of scarves that clearly weren’t the one you were looking for. You began to feel tired again. Gingerly, you sat down in front of the vanity. Gazing at yourself in the mirror it occurred to you how much you didn’t belong in a room like this. You let your eyes drift over the the reflection of the cluttered space, until they landed on something they hadn’t noticed before. There was an unlocked chest sitting in a corner by the entrance. Multiple colored fabrics were spilling out from its mouth. You rose up and hurried over. There were so many scarves it was hard to make out where one piece of fabric ended and the next began. Getting impatient, you started pulling out the contents of the chest, keeping a lookout for anything scarlet and gold. Your heart sank however as you were reaching the bottom without having found something that even remotely looked like the empress’ wedding scarf. Not before long, the chest was empty, except for something dark and solid that lay all the way at the bottom, and bunches of fabric lay all around you on the floor.

What were you going to do? You’d promised Tou Ma.

Sighing, you peered into the chest. You now noticed the leftover item was a small book. You knew you should leave it alone; this was clearly an item the empress liked to keep to herself, but your curiosity got the better of you. You pulled the book out of the chest and held it up to the light. It was a small book, the brown leather cover a bit tethered and the gold writing on the front slightly faded. The golden lily, however, was still unmistakable.

You heart lurched as the title registered in your mind.

A Vast Unfathomable Secret.

It was right here in your hands; exactly as Minghao had described it. What wisdom was inside this little, brown book? And why was it here, in the empress’ wardrobe of all places? Nevermind. You forced your questions behind closed doors. None of those things mattered right now.

This was it: your chance to help Minghao.

You were at his door in no time and in your haste, you didn't even pause to knock before coming in.

"Minghao, I found it! I f—" you gasped as something warm crashed into you, sending you to the floor.

Minghao stood over you with a blank stare on his face. The coldness in his eyes sent a pang of doubt through your system. You shouldn’t have barged in like this. What were you thinking? Just as you were about to apologize and leave however, his eyes landed on the book clutched tightly in your hand. They widened, his eyebrows crinkling slightly, his lips opening in stunned silence.

"I found your book," you tried again, barely able to look at him.

Nothing happened for a good few seconds in which you wondered whether Minghao had fallen in some sort of trance, but then he knelt down beside you and took your hand. Your heart leapt as he pulled you up. His hand was so warm.

“You—” he said, staring from you, to the book held between you and then right back up to you. You noticed his eyes start to burn with intense emotion. He looked happy at first but you soon realized there was much more than joy behind his expression. He stared at you unblinkingly, standing perfectly still as a statue, but clearly waging a violent war within himself. You thought for a moment he might cry, his eyes turning sadder and sadder until, to your surprise, his lips formed the tiniest smile and he let out a sigh. You had not a moment to react to this strange turn of events because the next thing he did was grab tight hold of both your arms and kiss you.

This was nothing like the kiss you’d shared in the gardens. This kiss was the unleashing of desire. He held you close as his lips claimed yours with desperation. He did not let go when you thought he would and neither did you want him to. The book lay forgotten on the floor as, at last, you were all his. You felt his hand move up to your face, brushing a bit of your hair back, then cupping you by the back of the neck, begging you to stay close for those few last moments before, inevitably, reality struck.

He pulled back abruptly, looking completely stunned.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said, his face swiftly filling with hurt again.

“Hao,” you replied, out of breath yourself, “wait,” because the prince was already pushing past you.

“I have the final wedding rehearsal,” he said, hurrying out the room before you could do anything to stop him.

You stood with yourself in quiet for quite some time, staring at the door.

Emotions were starting to bubble up inside you but you were so sick and tired of crying you forced your tears at bay by focusing on the only thing that could possibly distract you right now.

The book was still on the floor and now, it was begging to be read.

You sat down on the floor and picked it up. It didn’t feel heavy at all. You always imagined the book Minghao had been looking for would be huge; some grand exposition of wisdom. Maybe battle techniques? Or secret information on dragons, perhaps? But what could a tiny book like this one do to save an empire, or in the least, its prince? Heart pounding, you opened it, only to stare in confusion at something that made no sense to you at all.

Once upon a time, it read.

Once upon a time, there was a mountain. On that mountain stood a castle so tall it could reach the clouds in the sky and in it lived the great ruler. The ruler was very proud of his castle, because it stood taller than any other castle. The inhabitants of the castle sometimes complained about the cold winds that blew through the windows. They muddled up their long hair and blew away their paperwork. But of course this was all worth the magnificent views they got when they looked outside, according to the ruler. At the bottom of the mountain was a cave that lead to a whole underground town. In that town lived many people. Their days were clouded in darkness but the earth around them kept them warm and safe. One night, the ruler’s son was asleep when the wind whooshed right into his bedroom. It picked him up like a newborn baby and took him out through the window. The son shouted and cried for help but no one could hear him over the raging wind. The little boy shrieked all the way down until the wind plopped him down unto the grass. There he continued to cry in the darkness, helplessly, for no one would be able to hear him so far down. Little did the boy know, someone did hear him cry. All the way down in the cave town, a girl was sitting up in bed, wondering what that whining noise was. Curious, she crawled through the tunnels of her town, following the strange sound until she was at the mouth of the cave and saw the boy sitting in the grass. “What’s wrong?” she asked the boy. The boy jumped up at the sight of the girl, his cheeks flushing. “I fell down,” he answered. “From all the way up there?” the girl asked with big eyes. “Of course,” the boy said, “where else would I come from?” “I live in the ground,” the girl said, “how strange is this?” The boy and girl sat together in the grass, talking about their homes all night. The boy explained how cold his room was, and how the wind took his toys away from him, tales to which the girl hollered in disbelief. She then told him that she couldn’t even see her toys because it was so dark in her house and the boy laughed at how silly that was. When the sun came up the boy and the girl noticed a black dot in the sky. They watched as the dot grew bigger and bigger until the boy recognized his father. He was hanging from a big balloon that was slowly letting him down to the ground. “What is this?!” he bellowed when he noticed the girl. “She is my new friend,” replied the boy with a big smile, “she lives in a cave.” Just then, murmurings roused from the mouth of the cave. People emerged from it, chattering to one another until they set their eyes upon the scene in the grass. “What is this?!” they all cried at once. “He is my friend from the mountain,” said the girl, eyes sparkling, “the wind brought him to me.” The ruler and the cave people were outraged. It was plain as day that people from the castle shouldn’t get along with people who lived underground. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” shouted the ruler. “It’s a disgrace!” the cavetowners roared. The ruler grabbed his son by the arm and tied him to his big balloon, just as the cave dwellers took hold of the girl, dragging her back into the dark. Days and weeks and months passed and the boy and the girl didn’t meet, at least, that was the people around them thought. Every night, the boy crawled onto his father’s balloon while everyone else was asleep and drifted down below, where the girl would greet him with a smile and they would spend a wonderful time. Over time, the boy felt something grow within him; it was a secret. It started small as a little firefly, hovering around his empty chest. But by the time the boy was as tall as his father, the secret had become so vast and unfathomable, it was like a fiery blaze that enveloped him entirely. At any moment, he felt the secret might burst free. He could not let that happen. It frightened the boy so much, he began to keep his lips shut tight. When people around him spoke, he just stood by and watched. When his father asked him a question he simply nodded or shrugged. Only at night, when he ran free with the girl, did he open his mouth. The most beautiful sounds spilled out, laughter and song and shouts of glee. As he did so, he felt the secret grow and grow but he did not care in the night; he did not care how the inferno within him swelled against the confines of his body, how it roared on inside, begging to break free. As much as the boy ignored these happenings, like all secrets, break free, it did. He felt it rumble in his stomach first, then move up towards his throat, just as he’d sat down for breakfast. He clasped his neck in surprise. He wanted to shout at the people around him to hide, for the secret was surely coming, but not a second later, it exploded from his lips like a flaming tornado. It took over the room in an instant. Soon, the whole castle was set aflame. People cried for help but they were too far up for anyone to hear. They crawled up on the roof, shouting to the clouds in desperation but no one called back. Trapped by the flames, the boy knew only one thing to do. He heaved himself over the ledge of the dining room window and looked down. In a voice as loud as he could muster, he called for the girl. His ears picked up something of a reply but he couldn’t be sure; after all, the fire around him crackled obnoxiously loud. But she must be there, he thought, she would never abandon him. Gathering all his courage he leaned over the edge and let go, falling away from the castle and his father and the people who didn’t understand, towards the arms of freedom, where there was no need for secrets, where he was alright, just the way he was.

The book trembled in your hands as you finished the story. This was nothing like you’d imagined A Vast Unfathomable Secret to be about. So many things ran through your mind but right at the forefront was, overwhelmingly, Minghao. Minghao, Minghao, Minghao. All this time, you thought the book would reveal some kind of clever solution to help him save Namin. In the end, the book had revealed nothing more than his heart.

You knew you weren’t supposed to be here. You were probably supposed to check in with Tou Ma and help prepare for the celebration but you couldn’t do that. You had to see him, even if it meant watching him from the sidelines as he ran through his final wedding rehearsal. You were half hidden behind a wooden pillar, feeling as if your knees might give out. Minghao walked aside his mother to the front of the room, where a tall monk waited on a raised platform. The room wasn’t decorated properly yet but it had been filled with so much candlelight, the whole thing looked enchanting nonetheless. Zhong Mei came out as well, skin glowing in the warm firelight. She joined Minghao on the platform, facing him. There was a bit of a pause as Mei’s parents did some fervent explaining to the monk. The spectators in the room began murmuring amongst themselves. Your eyes never left Minghao though. He looked nervous. His cool mask wasn’t sliding on as easy as usual. He looked down for a long time before starting to scan the room. A shiver ran up your spine when his eyes suddenly met yours. He was quick to look away though. It seemed like Mei was saying something to him then because he nodded awkwardly at her in reply, though he couldn’t look at her.

Finally, Mei’s parents stepped aside and the monk stepped forward. He cleared his throat as he straightened out his robe, ready to start his speech.

BANG

A thunderous crashing sound broke the silence and the whole room shook.

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confetti-cupcake · 3 years

Text

As promised, here’s an unedited sneak peek into Chapter 1 of my in-progress 9-1-1/Lone Star Survivor AU, Thirty-Nine Days, the video trailer of which can be found here. For anyone who doesn’t know, Survivor is a reality TV show where everyday people are stranded on a remote island. They’re divided into teams called “tribes” and have to work together to survive in the wilderness, compete in challenges and vote each other out. It requires a lot of strategy and duplicity, but it also bonds people in a pretty amazing way, and the winner gets awarded a million dollars. The fic bounces around to all the characters’ POVs at one point or another throughout the game, and this specific snippet is from Buck’s POV. Buddie is the fic’s main pairing, but Madney, Bathena, Tarlos and Judd/Grace are also featured.

For context, this scene takes place at the start of Day 1 during the marooning. This is the opening challenge where the contestants run around on a boat, gathering supplies to help them survive, then get on their tribe’s raft and race the other tribe to shore or to another boat for a reward (in this case, a bag of rice). Here’s an example from the actual show, to get a sense of what it looks like. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is always welcome!

“Get on the raft! Get on the raft! Come on!”

The first words Buck heard as he surfaced were ones of urgency. The last minute had been one of the most chaotic in his life — and that was saying a lot, considering the career he’d made out of running into burning buildings.

He had stayed on the boat much longer than he had initially planned, having picked up a saw, a hammer, and a packet of nails, before turning back to retrieve an armful of watermelons. He had promptly tossed them each overboard as he found them, moving too fast to care if anyone down below was in the line of fire. It was a race after all, and one for food, at that. But as he glanced around the deck after launching the final melon into the water, it was clear most of his tribe had already abandoned ship. Not wanting to be left behind, he had thrown himself — some might say recklessly — over the starboard side of the ship. But he didn’t have time to think about his own safety, not with sustenance for his team on the line. And so he soon found himself splashing forcefully into the Fijian sea, completely submerged before coming up for air.

Disoriented from the impact, Buck swam toward the first raft he saw, only to stop when he noticed the outfits of the castaways climbing aboard. Yellow tank tops, yellow flannels, a yellow hoodie. Yellow buffs around their necks and wrists and foreheads. He whirled around, desperate to find the right color over his competition cannonballing themselves overboard. Purple, purple… where are you, purple?

"Hey!"

“Over here!”

Buck lifted his head and peered to the right, struggling to tread water as the waves of the sea rolled toward him. A timber raft about eighty feet away on the other side of the ship floated in the water, and he could make out several figures standing up, waving their arms, flashes of purple fabric standing out against the horizon. Buck swam over, managing to dodge the battered fruit bobbing in the water. As he approached the raft, the figures came into focus.

A woman in a purple track suit with wide-rimmed glasses and big hoop earrings stood on the edge of the raft, and Buck reached out for her, hoping to get a lift aboard. She leaned down extending her hand, but toward another woman on their tribe, an entire water jug on the shoulder of her small frame as she struggled to stay afloat. He swam around her, reaching for the next person, a tall redhead, but she seemed more concerned with keeping the supplies balanced than lifting anybody up.

Frustration setting in, he made a beeline to the tribe member next to her, desperate for any kind of help. The tribe member turned around, and Buck was suddenly face to face with a young guy, probably no more than a couple years older than Buck.

The man locked eyes with him, and suddenly everything became hazy. The exhaustion was, of course, the most likely culprit. Time seemed to slow down, the havoc faded into the background and his teeming desperation melted away. His eyes were immediately drawn to the cursive tattoo inked around the man’s left forearm as he knelt down, reaching for Buck, and something about the action unleashed a ripple of familiarity and relief. His tribemate’s fingertips padded against the double ring tattoo similarly wrapped just above Buck’s elbow, and when he felt himself slipping, Buck felt no shame in holding on tighter. “I got you. I got you,” the man affirmed as he pulled Buck’s entire 6’2” frame up onto the raft.

“Thanks,” Buck said breathlessly when he was finally out of the water, crawling around the stack of supplies growing taller by the second.

“Don’t sweat it.” The man ran a hand through his dark brown hair as he looked around the raft, eyes widening when they landed on the object he was searching for amongst the mess. “Here,” he said, pushing a paddle into his hands. “Get ready, I think we’re about to take off.”

Buck nodded, but, either out of a weird sense of gratitude or the desire to experience this peace for just a bit longer, felt a sudden urge to prolong the interaction. “What’s your name?”

The man paused, eyebrows knit together, as if the question took him off guard. After a brief hesitation: “Eddie.”

“Buck.”

The look of intensity flickering in his soft brown eyes morphed briefly into an inquisitive expression before settling into a faint smile. His lips parted, as if to say something else, when another purple buff-wearer emerged from under the water. Eddie punched him on the shoulder lightly before turning around to pull the person out. Buck’s momentary bubble of repose had popped, leaving him at the mercy of his frenzied surroundings once again.

Most notable was a physical-looking, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, who brushed by him on the way to the back of the raft. Buck immediately noticed the machete in hand, and the all-too-familiar LAFD shirt on his back.

The man grabbed the rope holding the raft to the boat, turning back around to scan the structure. “How many do we have?” he called out.

Buck surveyed his tribemates, finding it difficult to track the absolute mayhem happening around him. He spotted a stocky blonde woman in front, sliding back in to grab a cooking pot that had begun to float away. One. Eddie — two — who had probably served in the military if the shirt he was wearing was any indication, pulled another young woman dressed for a day at the office out of the water, making it a tighter squeeze aboard. Three. A bundle of firewood rolled off their pile of supplies back into the water, and a woman treading water nearby snatched it up. Four. Buck reached down to grab the bundle from her — wait, nope, that person was on the other tribe, judging by the yellow buff wrapped around her tight, curly hair. And… he had already lost count. It was too early for his brain to do math, he concluded.

“We have nine by my count,” the woman with the hoop earrings piped up. The man grimaced and began scanning the water for their missing tribemate, prompting Buck and the others to do the same, until a shrill voice traveled over the chaos.

“Wait for me, guys!”

Buck whipped his head toward the barge, just in time to see a shorter, Korean man jump from the ship, bushel of coconuts in hand, resulting in a violent splash that rocked the raft.

“Get up here, man! Nice of you to finally join us!” firefighter number two yelled jokingly, still holding onto the rope. The way he naturally seemed to take charge combined with his jovial attitude reminded him of his fire captain back home, so he decided he’d call this guy “Cap” in his head until he learnt his name.

Buck grabbed the floating coconuts before they could be pilfered and set them down on top of their stack of loot, while Eddie once again lifted up their man overboard. Before he knew it, Cap had already chopped through the rope and set sail toward the barge.

As Cap started a rhythmic “Row!” chant, which made him feel like he was less on Survivor and more on the college crew team, Buck glanced toward the yellow tribe’s raft in curiosity. They had just found their machete and were also on the verge of breaking away. He squinted at the women, who were slowly fading out of view, and thought back to the brief chat they had with Jeff before the marooning. He wracked his memory, suddenly unable to tell if his eyes were deceiving him. Was it her? Nah, couldn’t be…

A large hand suddenly clasped his shoulder. He turned around to see Cap wearing a stern expression, no doubt reserved for him. A look that was also not unlike his fire captain’s back home.

“Kid, I need you to row. You can look at the other tribe later. We can’t have them catching up.”

Buck narrowed his eyes, but submerged the oar into the water and rowed with all his might, keeping time with his tribemates. But as coordinated as they seemed, the yellow tribe was gaining… and gaining… and gaining, until they were suddenly within ten yards.

One glance at his own raft was enough to understand why. The precariously-stacked mountain of supplies in the center of the raft was slowly losing its integrity, with coconuts and fish traps and Buck’s watermelons — which were looking rough at this point — rolling off the top toward the ocean, forcing his tribemates on the other side to forgo their paddles to keep everything aboard. A collapse was imminent, and to make matters worse, the raft was beginning to stray off-course.

The poor woman with shoulder-length blonde hair sitting in front of Eddie was taking the brunt of it, struggling to fend off the falling objects and row at the same time. Buck pitied her for more reasons than one. She had probably done something to piss off production, given she was thrown into the game wearing a power suit, instead of the more camping-appropriate attire the rest of them had been assigned to wear. She stuck out, but she was sure as hell making it work for her, and Buck had to scold himself to focus on the task at hand.

“We’re tilting guys, we’re tilting!” Cap called out to the tribe. “Let’s straighten out.”

Everybody stopped paddling all at once. Buck wasn’t sure if it was due to the abrupt absence of movement or a current that had come out of nowhere, but their tower of supplies suddenly gave way with an ugly snap, sending the rest of the heavy crates tumbling down and knocking Power Suit Girl straight into the water.

It had never been clearer that the cast was rife with seasoned first responders, as not a moment was lost to panic. Like a well-oiled machine, half of the tribe leant over the water’s edge in an attempt to pull her back up, while the other half scrambled to salvage as many of the lost objects as they could. But as quickly as the rescue mission was set into motion, the raft’s pursuit of the barge came to a screeching halt.

Another violent splash cut through the commotion, and Buck whipped his head in the direction of the Matagi raft. The woman wearing a hijab on the other tribe had jumped in, tearing through the water toward the barge, egged on by the cheers of her tribemates.

Buck didn’t take a second to think. He threw the paddle aside, staggered to his feet, and dove in. Head first.

Tagging my fellow Survivor fans: @ashavahishta @wolvesofinnistrad @loveyourownsmiilee @halsteadsass @browney3dgirl6 @phonotactless @no-moremusic @pennykent

#9-1-1 fic #911fic #911lsfic #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #9-1-1 au #wip #thirty-nine days snippet #thirty-nine days feed #reality tv au

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

memory-bound: a revival one-shot

Set between Rm9sbG93ZXJz & My Struggle IV, Scully moves back into the Unremarkable House after her smart home burns down and returns to an age-old ritual: coloring her hair.

T, 1.8k, fluff/domestic fluff, read on ao3 here.

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Lamp light casts shadows on the wall as Scully unpacks in a place she never thought she’d find herself again: the master bedroom she and Mulder shared for almost a decade. She lays her remaining clothes on the tribal-patterned bedspread and smirks at how little the room has changed. She expected to be put up in the guest room and was perfectly fine with that. They had rarely gotten any use out of it--she figured an inhabitant would do it some good. Imagine her shock, then, when Mulder told her he hadn’t slept in “their” room since she left. That the room was all hers.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that after a decade of a bed, he returned to what he knew upon losing what he had known. He swapped the couch he slept on for seven years for a Barcalounger. An old man needs his amenities, he joked while showing her its heat and massage functions. And she felt a gnawing in the pit of her stomach, the mark of a fool.

She salvaged what she could from the fire, but most of her Bethesda things were ruined. That soulless smart house was never worth its automated thermostat system, let alone any of its other data mines disguised as gizmos. Mulder hated it--hated it, like, wouldn’t step foot in it, and if she’s being honest, that was the only selling point for her: the shelter it offered from his incessant search for truth & his unsatisfiable conscience. This was back when she felt like that was something she needed to get away from, of course. She had wanted to settle somewhere and mean it. Now, she realizes they were settled all along.

She rests a pile of folded clothes in the crook of her arm and pulls open her old dresser. She envisioned cobwebs--maybe even a whole family of spiders--in there, but instead, a ratty New York Knicks t-shirt greets her. And a Spaceship Earth one under that, and a Wile E. Coyote one under that. Her holy trinity of Mulder t-shirts. She refused to take them when she left, though he insisted. And in protest, he hadn’t worn them. She knows this instinctively, though the lack of laundry scent confirms it. They’ve been waiting in this drawer all along, captives to Mulder’s fantasy that one day she would open it again.

Scully squeezes her eyes shut, slips the pile in next to the shirts, slams the drawer, and grabs her toiletries bag off the bed, striding into the bathroom. She can’t dwell...she can’t. She’s learned by now that regret is a state of mind that freezes her up, and there’s no being frozen, not any more.

Unzipping the bag, she lines her various products along the counter. Age-defying this, anti-aging that...sunscreen is really the only thing that’s done her any good. That, and hair dye. She keeps the others around for show.

Speaking of...she pokes at her roots, scouring the mirror for signs that yes, she could theoretically be a grandma--and she can’t say for certain that she isn’t--but to her knowledge, she’s not, and as long as no one calls her Grandma, she won’t accept the title.

She won’t accept the gray hairs, either. One day, sure, but not yet. Mulder’s not even gone gray yet, and he has years on her. She’s told him that he would look great, and that the silver fox nickname would be nothing short of perfection, but he swears that he just hasn’t lost his “natural luster” yet, that he’ll embrace the gray when (if!) it comes.

Scully’s not been so lucky, though it doesn’t show. She’s been coloring her hair every three weeks since she was twenty-eight to keep the ravishing red. She’ll never forget when Mulder realized it wasn’t her natural color...the way his eyes widened as he moved between her legs…

It’s not as if he didn’t know; her mousy auburn had been on full display when they first met, and yet he’d gotten so used to seeing her as she is that it slipped his mind that she hadn’t always been that way. And once they moved in together--in this very bathroom, actually--he loved to help her with the coloring process, was as fascinated by it as the prospect of alien-human hybrids.

She chooses the tube of Rock it Like a Redhead dye from her product line-up, looks at her reflection. It’s been five--no, six--nearing seven--years since she performed this ritual in this room. She glances down, and sure enough, the tile still bears a rust-colored stain from one of her sessions gone wrong. It makes her smile...she has a history here. They have a history here.

She sighs. For old time’s sake, she might as well...she’s found herself thinking that a lot lately.

Her old robe--her usual attire for the occasion--fell victim to the fire, but she’s got a good substitute in mind. She pads back into the bedroom and plucks the Wile E. Coyote shirt from the drawer. It’s black, hopefully that will hide any stains. Her slacks are too damn expensive to risk an accident, so she briefly considers stripping to her panties before settling on a pair of gym shorts.

Her get-up in place, she grabs a few clips from her bag and pins her hair up in four sections. This is one of the reasons she got her chop; her long hair was sexy, but it was a bitch trying to cover all those layers. Plus, Mulder is fond of “the Scully shag” as he calls it, though she corrects him every time (it’s not a shag Mulder, it’s a bob!). It reminds him of their firsts, she imagines. It’s almost as if the longer her hair got, the further apart they drifted. And once they were okay again, it was imperative that she bear her neck to him...show him the place where his lips should land.

She decides to stand in the shower (water off, of course) so any mess can be rinsed away. She wonders, suddenly, if the square mirror they used to keep is still suctioned to the glass interior. It’ll be hard to do this alone if it’s not.

She peeks in, and it’s not there, and that must be the only thing in this house Mulder has moved. Figures. She slips off her shoes and grabs the applicator and dye tube. She’ll do the best she can, then use the bathroom mirror to make any touch-ups.

Scully steps into the shower. Its characteristic lemon scent is gone, and that makes her sad. It used to be a welcome change from the antiseptic hospital smell she dealt with all day. Wielding her tools, she starts at her roots, spreading the dye along her scalp with expert precision. Surely this counts as a workout--it takes a lot of energy to hold your arms over your head for this long. Will her Fitbit calculate how many calories she’s burning, she wonders?

She’s just started a new strand when a gentle rap echoes through the wall.

“Scully?” Mulder’s voice rings from outside the bedroom. She pulled the door slightly shut when she entered.

“Come in!” she calls. “In the bathroom.”

She hears footsteps in the adjacent room, then a hesitant breath as Mulder pauses at the doorway. “Are you decent?”

Scully looks down at herself. What a picture. “I’m in a Wile E. Coyote t-shirt and gym shorts. Does that answer your question?”

Mulder shuffles in, smirking at the sight of her through the open shower door. “What are you doing?”

She points to the crown of her head--which is already well within his field of vision--so she’s not sure why he needed to ask the question.

“Well, I see that,” Mulder concedes, “but I mean, why are you hunched over in here like you’re hoping to grow a third arm?”

Scully shrugs. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“That’s just as lame as ‘boys will be boys,’ and you know it,” he counters, remembering a spirited lecture she once gave him on the misogynist undertones of the phrase. Scully smirks. They had that conversation years ago...post-William, pre-Bahamas. She’s surprised that it stuck with him.

She tilts her chin in a way that makes Mulder certain she’d have her hands on her hips if they weren’t occupied. “What do you suggest?” she challenges.

“Let me help you,” he proposes before she can launch a protest. His sneaker’s rubber sole meets the shower tile as he slips in beside her. The wall is cold against her elbow as she scoots back to make room for him.

“I’m fine. I’ve been doing this on my own for years, and I was long before you.”

“But now you have me,” he professes. “Here. Right now,” he clarifies, not meaning to label their as-yet undefined relationship status.

Their eyes meet, and Scully’s hit with the last time the two of them were in here--her legs around his waist, his hands sliding through her hair, droplets that couldn’t be placed as shower water, sweat, or tears. Her spine straightens against the very wall where she was pinned. Times change, yet they don’t. History repeats itself in a slightly different key.

“When I was younger, I did this because I liked the color,” she tells him, finishing a section and lowering her hands. “Now, I do it out of necessity. It’s sad, Mulder.” She juts her lower lip out in a faux pout. “We’re getting old.”

He would hug her, but he’d mess up her hair and it would be a whole thing. “Hey, I’ll be pushing your wheelchair with my wheelchair, remember?” he says, taking her slip into sentimentality as permission.

Scully nods, the delicate memories of years past bringing a slight frown to her face.

“Can you do me a favor?” she asks, raising to her tiptoes, then lowering again. Her eyes twinkle.

“Of course.”

She offers him the tube of dye, looks up at him with a smile.

“Can you get right here?” She points to a spot right above her temple, one she could definitely reach herself if she wanted to.

Mulder admires her. His woman, back in his old t-shirt and all. He plants his lips on her temple, breathing her in. No matter what she says about aging or being old, he’ll never believe her. She is as she was back then: the only semblance of peace he’s ever known.

He pulls away to meet her gaze, his voice warm and smooth. “Is that about where you want it?”

Scully grins. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

#this might be the only revival fic i ever write & i really enjoyed it #a chance to reflect and take a trip down memory lane <3 #the x-files #txf #txf fic #mine #todayinfic

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Happy Halloween

Summary: It’s Daddy’s favorite holiday. So what’s a good girl gonna do, but let him blow off some steam after a successful hunt?

Warnings: Daddy kink, hair pulling, consensual name calling, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader, spanking, light edging, orgasm control, language, rough sex, oral (male receiving), mouth fucking, hint of a pain kink maybe? I think that’s about it. This is just porn with a crack ass plot. I’m not sorry lol.

Word Count: 3092

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: You guys ask for some Daddy!Dean for Kinktober? Well, who can say no to that? This fic was beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much hun! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my Mastlist. Not enough? Become a Patreon, and make special request, as well as get access to exclusive fics, and one shots!

**MASTERLIST** **BECOME A PATREON**

Dean had always been the aggressive sort. He didn’t take shit from very many people, and if you were one of those who he did take it from, you counted yourself as lucky. He’d even gone off on Sam more than once, and Sam could get away with more than most.

It was one of the side effects of dealing with the life that you all were thrust into when you were just children. Your father had been hunting partners with John for years, off and on, when you were children, so you had known the Winchesters for a very long time, long enough to know you did NOT push your luck with the eldest Winchester.

Even though Dean was always hard in a sense, there was a time when he wasn’t as hard as he is today. Back then, the hardest thing he had to do in his life was impress John Winchester, and that had been more challenging than any monster he’d ever faced.

Life was as simple then. A vamps nest, the occasional Djinn.You killed the monsters, you saved a few lives. That time was long gone for the both of you. John's death had opened up a whole new world of monsters, demons and dick angels. Things that you weren’t prepared for, and neither was Dean. Dean spent what was only four months to you, but was forty years to him in Hell. Literal Hell. Sam jumped in the cage with Lucifer. Life became a downward spiral that just went on and on, until you found yourselves here today.

God had it in for you.The son of Lucifer was dressed as the Devil, courtesy of Dean’s twisted amusement, in the backseat of the Impala he’d deemed “Baby” years ago. You were on your way to a Halloween party that was expected to go south thanks to one of those rare simple vamps nest your unconventional group had been investigating.

“Dean, I don’t know about this,” Jack said, looking at his own reflection in the rearview mirror where he caught the look of Dean's amused gaze. The red paint on the boys face was a little much in your opinion, but hey, you weren’t in charge of this shitshow, so you decided to keep your trap fucking shut.

“It’s simple Jack,” Dean said.You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, and you were determined to look dead ahead of you, and not in the backseat where you would probably die laughing. “You go to the party, just stand back, watch, find a chick maybe. I don’t give a fuck, but just make sure that no vamp gets inside that fucking house until Y/N and I can take care of the mother fuckers. If one does show itself, lure it out to us, and we will take care of it.”

Dean made it sound so simple, and you could only imagine how nervous Jack was. He didn’t have the conventional upbringing of most people as it was. Technically, he wasn’t even 12 yet, he was just advanced because of his race, and somethings just didn’t come quite so naturally to Jack as Dean had thought that it should. That, or Dean just didn’t give a shit, because he was never really going to forgive him for Mary’s death. He just wasn’t.

“You will be fine Jack. Just keep a low profile, and watch out for vamps. Dean and I can take care of the rest,” you told him in what you hoped was an encouraging tone. “This will be a piece of cake, and we will be back at the hotel before you know it.”

Jack fell quiet as he looked at the landscape flying past the backseat window, and your eyes trailed Dean's still amused face as he drove down the farm road to the old ranch house the teenagers were attending for tonight's festivities.

Dean loved Halloween. It was one of the only holidays that he really did enjoy. Sam, on the other hand? Well, Sam hated it, and when Dean found this case, Sam decided to stay behind with Eileen while you, Dean, Jack took care of this small little case that was only three states over.

Dean had tried to convince you to dress up for the occasion, but quickly changed his mind when you told him that there was not a chance in hell you could hide a machete in the slutty nurse costume he’d picked out for you. That’s how the plan to dress Jack up , and place him in the party watching the party goers was born.

You and Dean had a history.That history had started when he’d taken your virginity when you were only 18 years old. Every time you got a chance after that, you found yourselves between the sheets, in the back seat, and against the walls of bars in dark alleyways. Dean had a “healthy appetite”, and even in his forties he still carried the stamina of a horny teenage boy. You weren’t complaining either.

Somewhere around thirty, he’d discovered his Dom fetish, and that literally fucking ruined all other men for you. You should have known Dean’s “take no shit” attitude would have translated over into the bedroom eventually. It was the one place he could have complete control, and the one place he could let off steam with someone he trusted.That someone was you.

Since tonight was his favorite holiday, you had decided when this small little hunt was over, Dean would get to see you in that slutty nurse costume he’d wanted you to wear so bad. After all, daddy always gets what he wants, and that’s why you had jumped up and suggested the kid get his own room.

You watched the sky turn dark as Dean speed towards the party and the hunt, your mind on just what Dean was going to say when he discovered you had kept the costume.

Three hours later, you found yourself standing in the hotel room that you and Dean would be sharing for the night, staring down at the nurse’s outfit on the bed before quickly sliding the towel that was covering your body to the floor, and picking up the costume. You only had a few minutes before Dean would be done with his shower, and he’d already ordered you to be in position when he returned to the room. He just didn’t know about the costume.

Dean was usually in a good mood after a good hunt, and this hunt was the first easy thing they’d done in a long time, so therefore Dean was in a very good mood.

You had just slipped the last strap over your shoulder, and got into the kneeling position on the bed that he required you to be in when waiting for him, when you heard the shower cut off, and the door to the bathroom open.

The room was dark.The only light that came into the room was coming from the bathroom and it flooded the small room as Dean rounded the corner to see his prize. Judging from the predatory growling sound he made when he saw you waiting for him, he was very pleased, but you knew better than to look up from your submissive stance and make eye contact without permission. Dean wasn’t going to take your shit, and you wanted to cum tonight. Slick already gathered itself between your spread thighs in anticipation of what was to come, and Dean hadn’t even laid a hand on you yet.

Dean’s eyes shamelessly raked over you as he made his way towards the bed.You could feel his piercing gaze, even though you couldn’t see it, and you waited with bated breath for Dean’s approval, which came in the form of the Dean’s rough thumb reaching out, and running across your red painted lips. You reached your tongue out and swept over the tip of his thumb, twirling it around this thick digit as if it were his cock before sucking it into your mouth, and letting it go with a pop.

Dean groaned at the sensation as he watched your lips around his thumb, and his dick twitched in interest as his eyes roamed the barely there costume that you were wearing for him.

“Such a good little slut, waiting for Daddy, all dressed up so pretty,” Dean said, his rough voice causing a shiver to visibly roll through your body, and land in your already aching cunt.

Dean chuckled at the reaction and he brushed his fingers through your hair, tucking it behind your ear to get a better view of your face. It was a move that was almost too intimate for what was to come, but it was his way of asking you if you trusted him and you did.You trusted Dean with your life.

When he noticed you lean into his touch, it was the only permission he seemed to need. That and the high adrenaline made him more impatient than what he would have normally been . His large hand fisted your hair almost painfully as he jerked your eyes up to meet his darkened gaze. His bare chest and body was on display for you, as his hard length twitched on its own from it’s proud position. A bead of precum was already forming at the tip, and you licked your lips as you watched it bob there. He needed this. He needed this just as much as you did tonight, and damn, you wanted to taste him so bad.

His eyes followed your gaze, and if you would have not forgone the underwear you were sure that the smirk he gave you would have melted them clean off your already overly heated body.

“What is it, sweetheart? Daddy’s little cock slut wants to have a taste before I ruin that pretty little pussy of yours tonight?”

The needy wine that left you lips wasn’t the answer Dean was looking for, so he gripped your hair impossibly tighter, and growled as he looked down at your form as you all but squirmed underneath him.

“Use your words. I want to hear you beg for it,’ Dean said, lowering his face so close to your own that his lips brushed yours with every word, and his whiskey kissed breath fanned warm over your skin.

“Please Daddy, please let me suck your cock, I’ll be a good girl, please let me taste you,” you begged him in a small voice that surprised even you. Dean’s mouth meet yours in a clash of lips, tongue and teeth that ended with his perfectly straight teeth sinking into your lower lips before he pulled away to soon, leaving you breathless and at his mercy, his grip still tight in your hair as he guided you to his impressive length before tapping your mouth with his swollen tip.

Reaching out with your tongue you lick softly at his dripping slit. The salty taste of his precome filled your mouth, and you moaned as he gave your hair a sharp jerk, sending the jolt from your scalp to your pussy, that was literally dripping down your leg onto the already stained bed sheets under you.

“No teasing, Bitch,” Dean spat, his teeth gritted against the shiver of anticipation that rolled through his own spine. “Hands behind your back, you know the rules. No touching yourself. I’m gonna fuck that filthy little mouth, and then I’m going to split open that pretty little cunt.”

As ordered, you opened your mouth and Dean pressed himself into your waiting lips. You sucked at him as he slowly pressed himself into your open mouth. Your tongue ran along the vein under this shaft as he adjusted to the feeling of your mouth around him, stopping when the tip touched the back of your throat with a grunt, his teeth biting into his own lip.

Your fingers dug into your palms as arousal coursed through your body with renewed fervor. Dean’s cock laying heavy on your tongue as you gulped in oxygen. You knew that would be the last easy breath until he was satisfied with your mouth as his eyes locked with your own.

“Eyes on me pretty girl,” he commanded as he started to thrust himself slowly in and out of your mouth. “I want to see the look on your face when you choke on my dick.”

Giving him a hard suck in response, Dean started to fuck your mouth with harsh thurst as you tired desperately to relax your throat and hollow out your checks to take all that he was giving you. Your cunt pulsed with every thrust of his hardness into your mouth, and it was all you could do to keep your hands behind your back, and not give yourself the relief you so desperately needed. The only balance you were able to maintain was on your knees, and Dean’s hand still pulled your hair tight as he fucked himself into your mouth over and over again.

You did all you could to keep your eyes on him as your throat contracted around his tip as it assaulted you over and over again. Tears were streaming down your face, and your lipstick was ruined as drool dripped from your mouth, but you dared not break eye contact with Dean.

He was beautiful when he lost control like this. His green eyes rolled in pleasure every so often. The vein he loved to let you bite showing in his throat as he strained to keep from spilling into your mouth.

“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself. Taking my cock so good baby girl.”

You moaned desperately around his length at his praises and he shivered above you, his pace faltering as he pulled himself from your mouth just before he could fall over the edge.You gasped desperately for air as he let go of your hair, and you fell down to your hands and knees on the mattress and he positioned himself behind you.

A hard smack to your ass caused you to whimper as you felt him slide his thick cock through your slick, not entering you, just teasing your throbbing clit with his tip, his fingers leaving delicious little bruises as his large hands held you in place.

“Look at you,” he moaned as your warmth edged around him just enough to make him nearly lose it right there on the bed sheets. “So wet, so needy.” Another harsh smack to the other cheek made you jump and a scream left your lips as frustration and arousal created the needful ache between your legs. Dean’s slow thrusts against your clit pulled you to the edge, but never let you fall over. “What do you want? Tell me.Tell Daddy what you need.”

“Please Daddy, please, I need you, need your cock, please,” you begged him, and he moaned behind you as his hand ran up your back, over your barely there costume, and into your hair again, giving it a hard jerk as his tip breached you, waiting for heat. “Then take it, slut.”

That was all the warning you got before Dean was pounding you almost flat on your stomach, each thrust hitting your G-spot with mapped out precision.You were a screaming, moaning mess as he pounded you into oblivion.

“That’s it, baby,” Dean said, smacking your ass and never losing pace as each swat of his large hand made you moan, and your pussy spasm around his length. “You better not cum yet bitch! If you do, you know it will be the last time for a week. Do you understand?”

You moaned as you fought against the orgasm that had you shaking on the edge of delirium, and Dean gave your hair a hard pull, bring your back up to his chest, ripping your top down so that your tits flopped freely as he continued to pound into your ruined pussy, giving your exposed tits a harsh twist to get your attention. “Use your words Y/N, or I’m stopping, and I’ll finish myself off while you watch.”

You knew he’d do it. He’d done it before, and Dean didn’t take shit from you, or anyone else, and he wasn’t afraid to take care of himself, and leave you waiting.

“Yes Daddy, I understand,” you squealed as his fingers dug into your hips, his hand never letting go of your hair.

“Good girl, such a good girl for Daddy,” he said as he picked up pace, until his hips started to stutter after what felt like an eternity, your own body buzzing as the orgasm you’d been holding off was becoming almost painful.

“Touch yourself baby, I want to feel you come on my cock,” Dean said, his voice strained as he raced to his own end.

Your hand traveled down your still costume clad body, and to your swollen aching clit, matching his pace in rough circles.

It didn’t even take a full minute before your pussy clamped down around his pulsing cock, and your orgasm rocketed through your body as he spilled deep inside of you. Dean pulled you both up as your bodies seized around one another, until he was able to remove his softening length from your body, and lay you gently down on the bed.

Your body was still quaking slightly when you finally came back to yourself, as Dean cleaned the mess up between your legs before helping you out of your costume in silence. You watched as Dean crawled over you body, and pressed a sweet kiss to your swollen lips before cleaning the lipstick off your face.

“You okay?” he asked as your eyes met his. There was your Dean again, always worried, always concerned for someone else above himself. Even in this aspect of your relationship, he was always the nurturer that you had fallen in love with under that rough exterior so long ago.

“I’m good Dean,” you tell him as his lips pecked at your own again, and he lay down next to you to pull your exhausted body against his own, tucking the covers in around you.

Maybe one day you’d tell each other you loved each other, but not today, for now this would be enough.

“Happy Halloween Daddy,” you told him, feeling him chuckle behind you, before his teeth bit playfully into your shoulder, leaving his mark on your skin.

“Happy Halloween Baby Girl.”

Forever Tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @rain-dance-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6

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preciouspeterbparker · 3 years

Text

i wish i were, part 2

link to part 1

summary: it’s tony’s 18th birthday

warnings: non-con voyeurism, underage masturbation, underage sex, step-sibling inc*st, angst, fluff (can you believe it???)

word count: 3.3k

feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

enjoy!!

-bloo

The sharp sound of knuckles on a wooden door, accompanied by a sweet, loving voice he’s known his whole life. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Peter rouses from his sleep, grumbling at the soft yet incessant knocking on his door. He blinks blearily in the direction of the voice before burying his face in the warm spot on his pillow. "'M up," he croaks, clutching the comforter closer to his chest. "Just...just four...mmm...four more minutes…"

"Peter," comes Mom's soft chuckle as she enters the room. Her slippered feet shuffle along the floor as she makes her way over to the bed. Her fingers card gently through Peter's slightly sweaty sleep-mussed curls. "You wanted me to wake you up a bit early this morning, remember?" Maria laughs again at the grumbling that leaves the teen's mouth in response. She leans down to press her lips to the side of his head in a kiss. “You wanted to help make Tony’s birthday breakfast,” she reminds him gently.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter yawns, wriggling under the covers for a minute before pushing himself up into a sitting position. The comforter falls to his lap as he stretches, extending his arms in the air above his head and rolling his bare shoulders. “Did we decide what we were making? Chocolate chip waffles? Or blueberry?”

“Well, I was thinking chocolate chip. But your father,” she says pointedly, as if Richard can hear her from where Peter knows he’s sitting in his armchair with a mug of coffee and staring blankly into space, “forgot to get them when he was at the store. So, how about we go a little crazy and use M&M’s, hmmm?” Her hands go out in front of her in a ‘ta-da’ motion, hazel eyes twinkling playfully.

Snorting, the teenager climbs out of bed, adjusting the black joggers slung along his hips. He snags a random t-shirt from his dresser and pulls it down over his head. “Sounds good, Mama.” Peter gently bumps up against her affectionately as they leave his room, heading down the hallway and taking the stairs down to the kitchen.

“Hey Dad,” Peter grins at his father, who is indeed zoned out in the living room and jumps a bit at the sound of his voice. Typical.

Richard rolls his eyes at Peter’s giggling and sends him a smile. “Morning, Pete. Morning, honey,” he adds on when he sees Maria descending the stairs behind his son. He gets up to follow them into the kitchen, standing behind his wife and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And where’s our legal adult? Already out buying lottery tickets and cigarettes?” He gulps down a sip of his coffee and takes a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

“Hush, Richie,” Maria chides, pulling her blonde hair up into a bun and grabbing her apron from its hook by the pantry. “You know Tony’s never up before ten on a Saturday, at least not of his own volition.” Reaching into the cabinet above the stove, she pulls down the flour and baking powder. “Punkin, can you get the eggs and vanilla, please?”

The teen hums in assent, pulling the carton out of the fridge and sidestepping to the pantry where he narrows his eyes at the racks on the back of the door that are filled with bottles of different spices and seasonings. “I don’t see vanilla,” Peter mutters under his breath. There’s almond extract, peppermint extract, lemon... “Mom, I don’t- Oh, nevermind, found it,” he exclaims with a flourish, brandishing the small red and white box in the air.

Warm conversation and the sounds of cooking fill the kitchen as Peter and Maria make breakfast, Richard chiming in from his perch at the island. Soon, there’s a large stack of rainbow-spotted waffles on a platter, laid out on the table with whipped cream, dishes of cut up cut up bananas and strawberries, and a bottle of chocolate syrup.

Richard gets up to pull some plates out of a cabinet and brings them over to the dining room table along with four sets of silverware. “Peter, will you go wake up your brother? Bring him down so we can sing. And eat, these waffles look amazing.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Dad.” Peter heads upstairs, passing his room and the bathroom before stopping in front of the door that’s across from his. “Tony?” He taps his knuckles on the wood a few times and waits until he hears Tony’s mumbled greeting. Smiling softly, he twists the knob and pushes the door open, leaning on the jamb as he does so. “Wake up, T,” he sing-songs, “it’s time for your birthday breakfast.” He curses the butterflies that have become active and hopes that he looks more casual and less obvious than he feels.

Peter’s breath catches in his throat once the door is fully open and Tony’s in his line of vision. The now-eighteen year old is sitting up in his bed, lit up by the morning sun shining in through the window on the opposite wall, comforter pooled around his waist. His dark hair is rumpled and wild. Peter fleetingly wonders if that’s what it would look like if he were to run his fingers through it, if he were to pull at it while-

“Mmm, g’mornin Pete-squeak. I was getting ready to come down. Smells so good it woke me up.” Tony raises his arms above his head, stretching, and thrusts his hips up a bit as he curls his bare back. Heat blooms in Peter’s gut at the way his older brother’s muscles shift under his tanned skin, at the thatch of hair under his arms, and it intensifies when Tony’s legs shift as he changes his posture to an arch, dislodging the covers.

Peter tries his best not to stare at the line of dark hair that goes from Tony’s belly button down into the front of his gray sweats. He’s- fuck, he can see the thickness of Tony’s cock pressed up against the fabric. Fuck, Tony's gotta be at least half hard… Or, God, is he that big soft?

He concludes that the latter must be the case, because Tony slides right out of the bed and shuffles towards him without an ounce of shame. His hand lands on the top of Peter's head, ruffling the already messy curls in his signature move. Peter wrinkles his nose, and almost ducks away from the touch before remembering to take what he can get when it comes to the feeling of his brother’s hands on his body.

"Let's go Pete-squeak, 'm starving." Tony lumbers through the door after grabbing a black t-shirt shirt off the floor and yanking it down over his head, and Peter follows dutifully behind him, the two making their way down the stairs. So what if his eyes are on Tony’s ass the whole way down.

Maria and Richard must have been listening for them, because it seems that the two immediately start singing from their places at the dining room table when they hear the boys reach the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

Tony promptly rolls his eyes at their parents, but Peter feels himself go a little hot when he notices the pink tinge that spreads over his brother's cheeks. There's a shimmer in Tony's eyes and Peter thinks, not for the first time, that his brother is kind of sickeningly beautiful. He takes a seat across from Mom at the table, Dad to his right and an empty chair to his left.

“Oh, Tony,” Maria coos once they've concluded their slightly off-pitch rendition of happy birthday, her own eyes shimmering with tears. She wipes them away with a sniffle. “My baby, I can’t believe you’re eighteen! Feels like just yesterday I was bringing you home, all eight and a half pounds of you!"

Tony makes eye contact with Peter before sitting down next to Mom and Peter, across from Dad. “Relax, Mama,” he chuckles, already reaching to stab three waffles with his fork and pile them onto his plate. Once he’s made his (nearly overflowing) plate, everyone else follows suit. “Thanks for making breakfast Mama, you too Pete. Thanks for...offering moral support while they cooked, Pop,” he grins at Richard, making Peter snort.

“Got any big plans today, sweetheart?”

“Not really,” Tony says around a mouth full of waffle, chocolate, banana, and whipped cream. The groan he lets out is absolutely indecent- or maybe that’s just the way it sounds to Peter as he tries to inconspicuously shift in his seat. “Fuck, these are so good, Momma.” Tony’s eyes are closed, so he definitely doesn’t notice the way Peter’s pupils are blown, nor does he see the long-suffering side-eye he knows both parents are throwing at him for his language.

“Well,” Maria continues, taking a bite of her own waffle, “I’m sorry Dad and I are busy, but we’ll all go out for dinner tomorrow night, how’s that sound?”

Richard nods in agreement, taking another sip of his coffee. “We can go to that Mexican place downtown you guys love so much.”

Tony bobs his head as he chews, reaching over to flick Peter’s ear. “No problemo, I was thinking maybe me and Pete-squeak can hang out today, anyway. And yes on dinner.”

Peter squawks around a mouth full of waffles, swinging his leg out to kick the brunette in the shin, ignoring Dad’s muttered “No violence at the table please, boys”. He screws his face up in mock indignation. “What makes you think I’m not busy today?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Are you?” The he says it and the twinkle in his eyes feel like a challenge but-

Taking another bite, Peter shakes his head. There’s no use trying to deny it when he purposefully kept his schedule clear for the day in hopes of spending it with Tony. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

Tony notices the way that Peter looks at him sometimes, he's not stupid. He just chooses not to acknowledge it. (Well, admittedly, first he noticed the way Peter was around Pepper. His little brother has never been particularly comfortable around people who weren’t family, but this is different. He’s noticed the way that Peter makes himself scarce whenever he invites his girlfriend over (which, to be honest, he usually appreciates because who wants their sibling around when they’re trying to make out with their partner??), or the way he goes quiet whenever she’s brought up in conversation.) If Tony doesn’t acknowledge it, then he doesn’t have to think about the way it makes him feel, the things it makes him think.

And it works, for the most part. They spent the day binge-watching superhero movies on the couch, dozing off and on. Mom and Dad still weren’t home at dinner time, so Tony had suggested they make spaghetti, for no specific reason other than it’s the only thing he knows how to make. It was nice, jamming to 70s rock and singing along with Peter, talking about everything and nothing at all. They parked themselves back on the couch to eat dinner, choosing some random slapstick comedy on Netflix.

The movie’s over now and Peter just headed into the kitchen with their plates, claiming he had a surprise for Tony. The older teen leans back on the couch, stretching. He notices how dark it is; they’d turned the lights off once they finished eating in order to get rid of the glare on the TV. He debates getting up to turn on one of the lamps when he hears footsteps approaching.

Peter comes out from the kitchen and walks towards the couch. He’s holding a cupcake in his hands, a red single red candle placed in the center of the blue frosting. There’s a square red-wrapped box tucked up under one of his arms. In the dim lighting that shines in from the kitchen, the small flame reflects in the depths of his brown eyes, face illuminated in the glow. “Happy birthday to you,” he sings softly, eyes trained on the cupcake rather than Tony himself.

Tony’s suddenly struck with just how beautiful Peter is. He’s never really noticed it before (he has, but he’s been in denial for so long that he’s started to believe the lies he tells himself). His chestnut curls are strewn haphazardly on his head, and though he can’t quite make them out right now, Tony thinks of the freckles scattered over his cheeks and nose.

“...Happy birthday, dear Tony, happy birthday to you,” Peter finishes, sitting down on the couch beside him. He holds the cupcake out towards his older brother. “Make a wish,” he smiles, shifting the present that’s fallen into his lap.

“Hmmm,” Tony breathes, carefully taking the cupcake into his own hands. “What to wish for,” he mutters playfully, smiling back at Peter. He thinks for a moment before closing his eyes. He blows the candle out without making a wish, but what Peter doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He sits the cupcake down on the coffee table before making grabby hands at the box Peter’s now holding in his hands. “What’s that, Petey?”

“It’s uh,” Peter starts, swallowing. “A camera?” It comes out sounding like a question. “I know you’re leaving soon, for college, and I just- For memories- I don’t want you to...forget me,” he finishes quietly.

...Tony doesn’t know what to say to that yet he opens his mouth anyway. But before he can get the words out, Peter seems to catch himself and brightens up.

“And I want you to take pictures of everything at MIT so you can show me when you come back to visit- I’ve never been away from home before, I want to see what it’s like, what kind of fun stuff you get to do. Get some ideas for when I leave, next year.”

Tony tries not to let his feelings show on his face, choosing to let Peter’s first comment go. He gently takes the box from his brother’s hands and unwraps it, pulling out the polaroid camera. “This is so cool,” he grins. “Thanks so much, Peter.” Bumping their shoulders together, he starts to fiddle with the settings. “Help me get it set up so we can take some pics.”

Peter’s grin lights up the room.

***

Peter knew it was too good to be true, that something wasn’t adding up. He didn’t get good things like this. He didn’t get to be happy like he was today. And he had been so happy, happier than he’s felt in months.

He had deluded himself into thinking that Tony choosing to spend the day with him meant something special...now Peter knows better. He knows that he was just something to pass the time until Tony got to see who he really wanted to spend his big day with. He’d been caught off guard but honestly not surprised when the doorbell rang this evening, followed by Tony’s footsteps rushing down the hall and down the stairs, and he’d quietly closed his door at the sound of Tony’s breathy, excited, “Hey, Pep. Come on in, baby. Nobody’s home, just Peter.”

Just Peter. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s all he would ever be, just Peter.

Now Peter’s laying in bed, facing the wall that his room shares with Tony’s. His eyes are red and sore from crying, and his lips taste like salt from the snot and tears. There’s a pile of cold, wet crumpled up tissues touching his elbow, tucked up close to his body. He’s bothered by the sensation but not enough to do something about it. He doesn’t have the energy.

Blinking slowly and wincing, Peter unlocks his phone and squints at the bright light in the darkness of the bedroom. 10:47pm. He was crying longer than he thought, almost two hours. No wonder he feels so worn out. He can no longer hear the sounds of whatever movie Tony and Pepper were watching downstairs. He briefly wonders if she went home-

But then two pairs of footsteps are making their way down the hall, and one keeps going towards what he presumes is Tony’s room while the other stops briefly in front of his door. Peter quickly fumbles with his phone to lock it and make the screen go dark, jerkily pulling the covers up over himself to hide his body, leaving only the top of his head exposed on the pillows as he feigns sleep. He just barely makes it before his door creaks open slowly.

“Pete? You up?” Tony’s voice is a whisper, and Peter desperately tries to control his breathing despite the way his heart is racing unsteadily in his chest. His performance must be convincing because a moment later his door closes softly and he can hear Tony’s footsteps leaving and then the sound of another door shutting.

"Fuck." It's Tony's voice that Peter hears first. “Been missing you all day, Pep. Kept wishing you were here.” Though muffled, the words are pretty easy for him to make out; they must be on Tony’s bed. (For the first time, Peter wishes that their beds weren’t sharing a wall. He regrets rearranging his room last summer. The sounds he’s heard over the past months no longer seem worth it. He doesn’t want to hear this, whatever it is.)

A feminine chuckle is what he hears next. “I just wanted you to be able to celebrate with your family. We’ll have plenty of time together in Boston.” Oh yeah. Pepper’s going to Boston too, attending Harvard rather than the engineering school. Peter tries really hard not to think about it, the amount of time they’re going to have alone together. “You’re leaving soon, and I know they’re going to miss you, especially Peter. He thinks you hung the moon, babe, it’s so cute.”

Peter tenses, and if he had hackles they’d definitely be up right now. He feels angry and attacked and seen in a way that makes him want to claw the skin off his body. His fists clench, nails digging into his palms and leaving crescent-shaped indentations in the flesh.

“...Know what else is cute? You.” He can almost imagine Tony’s saying the words to him, instead.

It’s quiet for a few moments and he foolishly thinks maybe they’ve gone to bed but then he hears the faint yet distinct sound of wet kisses, accompanied by choked off moans and whimpers. It feels like he’s gotten ice water dumped over him. He picks up on the quiet creaking of the mattress.

Pepper, high pitched and breathy, trying to keep her voice down. "Tony, yes, yes, right there." More whining and groaning, then-

Then Tony. "Yeah, honey? Like the way I fuck so deep in your pussy? Can you feel me all the way back there?" Peter can’t help but get hard at the sound of Tony’s voice saying the words, even though his heart feels like a stone in his chest. He feels like he’s lost feeling in most of his body, only registering the throbbing in his groin and the tightness in his ribcage. He distantly thinks that he must be dissociating but, maybe not because he’s aware, he- "Love how you're so wet on my cock- so tight, baby, fuck."

Peter shudders as he spits into his palm and shifts on the bed to turn onto his side. One hand snakes its way under the covers and into his boxers where his cock is rapidly filling out. He strokes himself to the quickening rhythm of the creaking and closes his eyes, trying not to picture what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It doesn’t work, but he doesn’t wipe away the tears that start to spill out from his eyelids. He’s close already, he’s so pathetic-

“Oh, fuck, Tony, please, gimme-”

“Mmmm, yeah baby- God, shit, I’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up- Fuuuck, fuck-”

With a sob, he cums into his fist at the sound of his brother’s release, burying his face into the pillow to muffle his cries. Peter takes a shaky breath and shakes his head against the fabric to wipe the tears away as the sobs intensify, wracking his body. He's gasping for air that will never come.

It’ll never be better than this.

#starker #starkercest #tony x peter #bloo writes bad things (tm)

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starryeyes2000 · 3 years

Text

An Unexpected Love - Part 4

Part 3 | Part 5

Second story in the Very Long Distance series.

Pairing: Christopher Pike x OC

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Can there be a future for an Earth-based civilian and a Starfleet Captain?

ooooo

“When did Sarah and Phil clear you to work?” Chris asks as he enters Lilly’s quarters two days later.

“Hmmm. They didn’t … not exactly. Bob sneaked these files in. Though I think that was more about getting Sarah riled so they could make up rather than concern over things getting behind.”

“Sarah misses nothing. If she hasn’t confiscated it, she agrees you are strong enough. Therefore I won’t intercede if you promise not to overdo.”

“There’s that bossy tone again,” Lilly replies trying to sound annoyed but failing. Her smile is a clue.

“I won’t take chances, you’re too …” Chris pauses and thinks, no, too soon, don’t scare her away. His thoughts take a melancholy turn, besides there is no possible future, she deserves more than you have to give. He switches to the point of his visit, or at least one of them. “Your brother requested a live comm link, I’ve schedule it for 6:00pm. I can give you ten minutes.”

Lilly’s brow creases and there is a tinge of worry in her tone of voice. “Is he OK?”

“Yes. As far as I know that is. He is listed as your emergency contact. We gave him a full update.”

“Oh. Great. Yet another doctor micromanaging my life,” Lilly grumbles before thinking. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, being confined within these four walls is getting to me. Thank you, I realize live communications are limited and rare on a heavy cruiser. Your arrangement is generous. Nick is … well, being the youngest, our parents’ sudden accident hit him hardest. He’s very protective.”

“Of which I approve.”

Lilly feels warmth flood her cheeks. I love his little reminders he cares for me; their subtlety speaks more loudly than flowery words.

Chris holds out his hand which she clasps in hers. Taking a seat at the table, he continues keeping her hand firmly in his. “We’ll be passing close to the Sagan nebula soon. Have you seen it?”

“No. Well, in pictures but never in person.”

Chris smiles. “It is truly a marvel …” He rubs his chin, thinking, there may be just enough time. He inclines his head at the table littered with PADDs. “What are you working on?”

“Comparing Federation civil rights laws with N’Shara’s. Respecting a society’s unique culture, staying on the right side of the prime directive, and ensuring a basic level of civil liberties exist for every being in the Federation is a delicate balance. I’m looking for any local statutes that automatically disqualify their entry petition. That will give Bob time to plan his response and recommendations. If there is a problem, I’ll draft an addendum to the initial treaty detailing the changes required in order for provisional membership to be granted.”

“My science officer says the prime directive is morally indefensible,” Chris remarks.

“It is. Nor could I successfully defend it in a civil court. But no one legally challenges it because the alternative is worse. Without time and its hindsight, how can we decide which is truly the correct choice, the compassionate choice? Even then does it require divine insight and wisdom to assess the complexities and definitively point to the so-called right path? Or are we taking the easy way out, by dodging the hard calls and letting the universe roll the dice? How much suffering do we avoid and how much do we only postpone and possibly create at a later date because we choose not to get involved? I wrote my doctoral thesis on President Archer’s Valakian experience, the planet with the technologically advanced species falling into extinction and the Menk rising. His CMO found a cure for the disease threatening the Valakians requiring Archer’s decision whether to share it or withhold it. Our current prime directive can be traced to that decision.”

“As a Captain, my job is to answer those very questions on a case-by-case basis.”

“I don’t envy you that responsibility. And I am glad someone like you is entrusted with it.”

Chris reaches over and hooks behind an ear the lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes. “Having you to talk with when those dilemmas arise would be welcome, a gift. And heighten my certainty in my choices. Bob is fortunate.”

“I am continually blushing when I am with you …”

“Yeah, it’s good for my ego. I very much want to kiss you right now.”

Lilly meets his gaze, her lips parting slightly. “I’d very much like to be kissed by you right now.”

“But we shall follow the rules, taking no chances that may make you ill. Phil reports you are expected to be released from quarantine in two days. Pencil me into your calendar. Then, once and for all, we will break your bad date karma.”

Lilly casts her eyes up at him, unabashedly flirting. “Others have tried. Do you think you are up for the challenge?

His voice is soft. “Perhaps I was born for it.”

She looks away. When Lilly meets his eyes again her expression is overflowing with affection; her eyes are soft with tenderness and slightly dilated, and the corners of her mouth are curled upward in a fond smile. “Are you going to tell me another bedtime story too?”

“Yes. In person. With you in my arms and in my bed,” Chris informs with a dimpled smile. He blows a kiss to her as he leaves.

ooooo

“How are you feeling?” Nick asks as soon as the link unscrambles.

“Better. Good. The first few days were rough though. Isn’t it two a.m. on Vega?”

“I’m on Ariel Prime. Have been for three weeks. There wasn’t time to message you before leaving and … well … things are bad here. They had an outbreak of Rigelian fever. It’s spreading fast and the local resources can’t keep up. The entire planet is under quarantine. Otherwise I would have caught the first transport to Enterprise. Acute warp sickness shouldn’t be downplayed. It can turn serious and in rare cases deadly in the blink of an eye.”

“It never became as severe as you describe. And I am on a state-of-the-art starship with an excellent medical staff,” Lilly assures in a soothing tone.

“Chris said the same thing. And promises to keep Enterprise’s speed at warp 5 or below until you are fully recovered. He must be catching hell for that since there is no accepted clinical evidence reducing speed aids recovery after the condition manifests. Though I disagree. Your immune system continually gathers data and reacts accordingly.”

“Wait, you talked to Captain Pike? Directly?”

“He called me the night it happened and has been sending daily updates. Personally. As in himself, not his Yeoman, not one of his junior officers, not his CMO, not his XO. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he never mentioned it, well he did today, but I assumed that Dr. Boyce or Sarah sent you the message.”

“Nope. You have captured the good Captain’s attention. Do you realize how many favors he must have called in to arrange a live personal conversation on a quarantined planet in the middle of a crisis? I am grateful. He recognized I needed to see and hear you for myself in order to believe you will be OK.” Nick flashes a knowing grin. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t use his title when you two are alone?”

“Why would you assume we are ever alone? He’s busy running a complicated ship with an important mission; I am a passenger.”

Nick points and laughs. “There it is, your tell. You are avoiding the question by trying to change the subject. Don’t try your lawyer tricks on me, I’m immune. Admit it. I can read you like a book.”

“I’ve missed you. When does this deployment end?”

“In six months. Talk to me.”

Lilly sighs. “Talking about it over subspace on his ship feels inappropriate. Chris is nice. He’s funny. I like him. We met unexpectedly a few days ago, before the negotiations on N’Shara were advanced two months. The fact that Enterprise is our transport is coincidental.”

“You know what they say about coincidences…”

“What?”

“They take a lot of planning,” Nick deadpans.

“You are a hopeless romantic.”

“Perhaps.”

“How’s Sam?” Lilly asks.

“There’s that subject change tactic again, but I’ll let you get away with it this time. He’s good. Working with a hospital in Ariel’s capital city rather than in the rural areas, but we manage to see one another once or twice a week. We … we are talking about getting married.”

Lilly smiles and places a hand over her heart. “That is the best news. I like the two of you together. They don’t come better than Sam. Or you.”

“You look tired, and our allotted time is almost done. You need rest. I know it feels like that instruction is on an endlessly repeating loop, but it’s important for your recovery. Hearing about what happened … it was … I was very concerned … please take care.”

“I will. You do the same. Give Sam my love.” As the screen goes dark, Lilly traces the fading image of her much loved brother with her fingertip and says silently, “Thank you, Chris.”

8 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Night Dream Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Disney Dates Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Lucien

The date begins with MC in another city to attend a Film and Television Culture Summit

She hasn’t had the time to look around the city

A random woman who got along pretty well with MC during the Summit starts advertising for Disney:

Woman: Want to go to the famous amusement park? No matter who you are, you can find your own form of happiness there.

MC refuses because she finds it too lonesome to go on her own

The woman responds by pointing at Victor who's standing at a corner

Woman: Don’t you have someone with you?

After the meeting has ended, Victor finally has a rare moment of leisure.

MC: Would Victor really be willing to accompany me?

I lower my head and mutter softly, not noticing that Victor has already walked over to my side.

Victor: What are you mumbling about again?

While I was originally hesitant to ask, I decide to give it a try after meeting his eyes.

MC: Victor, do you want to...

Victor: Do you want to go to the amusement park?

MC: Eh?

Victor: I guessed you would be interested.

MC: Mm! I’m going, I’m going!

I hurriedly nod, as though afraid he would change his mind. I pull him and we leave the venue.

Victor: What’s the rush?

MC: This is such a rare chance, of course we have to grasp it. Also, we don’t know how long we’d get to play since a lot of the incredible attractions would have pretty lengthy queues at this time. Basically - every second counts! Let’s go, let’s go!

By the time they reach the amusement park, it’s already sunset

It’s completely empty apart from a few staff members

MC wonders if the park has already closed, but Victor just holds her hand and walks to the entrance

Ticketing staff: Welcome! This is an amusement park handbook specially created for you. We hope you can enjoy today’s dream journey to your heart’s content!

Upon seeing us, the ticketing staff enthusiastically greets us and allows us to enter the park. He also gives me an amusement park handbook.

Before I can make sense of what’s happening, a line of staff members walk towards us with an enthusiastic welcome.

Before the last staff member leaves, he even helps me put on a delicate necklace with a heart-shaped pendant.

As far as I can tell, the two of us are the only visitors in the entire park.

The attractions, which always have long queues of visitors, are now waiting for us to enter and experience.

MC: Am I dreaming?!

With a bend of his finger, Victor flicks my forehead gently.

Victor: Does it hurt?

I cover my forehead and give it a rub.

MC: So it isn’t a dream! But there isn’t a single person here at this time... is there a special activity today?

Victor: I rented the park.

The way Victor casually mentions this fact leaves me with no idea how to react. I’m frozen to the spot.

Victor: Didn’t you say that the amusement park is very interesting, and that you wanted to play? Since we’re already here, why not ride your favourite attractions instead of standing dumbfounded? Who was the one who just said that every second counts?

MC: You’re not wrong to say that... but this is too sudden, and since we don’t have to queue, I really don’t know where to start...

Victor: Dummy. There’s still a lot of time, so you can decide slowly.

My mind still blank, I open the amusement park handbook to decide on a route.

The handbook has meticulously marked out a suggested route. There is a strange sentence on the title page --

“The key to entering the dream is in the hand of the dragon. Adventurers who dare to embark on this journey may even find the dragon’s lost treasure.”

MC: Eh? Did you plan this?

Victor leans over to look at the handbook in my hands, then thinks for a moment.

Victor: No. But the staff confirmed the prize for this small game with me beforehand.

Hearing this, my interest is piqued.

MC: Does this mean you’re the “dragon” in the handbook?

Even though the “evil dragon” is Victor, I, as the “Adventurer”, will do my best to see what exactly awaits.

MC: I won’t be soft-handed. I’ll definitely find that treasure!

Victor: ...

Victor looks at me resignedly, as though he wants to say something. In the end, he actually doesn’t call me “childish”.

Victor: Since I've already brought you here, you can do what you want.

The first place marked on the handbook is the Fountain Square

The hint: “Touch the stars and follow the river of light to take the first step.”

MC decides to walk through the water columns (the ones that spray water from the ground every few seconds) since they reflect light

MC finds a box

When she tries to go back, she realises the water columns have become more difficult to avoid

She almost gets hit by a water column and Victor steps in, taking her wrist and leading her out of the Fountain Square

Victor: Where else have you gotten wet?

Victor helps me tuck damp hair behind my hair, then signals to me to take off my drenched coat.

He’s always so prepared and at ease.

Since this is an amusement park, can I do things that I wouldn't normally do?

Emboldened for some unknown reason, I shake my head with force. As expected, water droplets splash onto Victor.

Victor: You...?

MC: This is an amusement park. You’re not allowed to say that I’m childish. You’re also not allowed to say that I'm a dummy after I've been serious with my work and learnt a lot over the past few days. Rest and relaxation are necessities for a human.

Without waiting for Victor to speak, I’ve already spouted a ton of odd logic in a single breath.

He watches me with knitted brows. After a long time, his expression smoothens slightly.

Victor: Sophistry.

Even though he says this, the corners of his mouth are curled upwards more than usual.

Opening the box, MC finds the next hint: “To ensure your safety, bring a present to meet the dragon.”

While MC is wondering where to get the gift, she spots a smaller hint: “I’m definitely not telling you that the present is in the souvenir shop at the next spot!”

In the souvenir shop, MC is struggling to figure out what she should get

She suddenly recalls the Donald Duck doll she bought a few days ago - she has been bringing it around because his expression looks exactly the same as Victor’s -

Eyebrows furrowed, but with an incredibly tender gaze and touch.

MC is about to hand the doll over to him but hesitates.

MC: I predict that you’re going to call me childish again...

I mutter softly, wanting to retract my hand.

With a gentle laugh, Victor takes the doll from me.

Victor: It suits you more.

He hooks the doll onto my bag. Even though he didn’t directly accept the gift, the smile on his lips is obvious.

Perhaps due to the unique magic of the amusement park, everyone is able to immerse in its gentle, lively atmosphere.

Come to think of it, even though Victor doesn’t look like he suits an amusement park, he has already cooperated with my “childishness” from the start.

Victor: Look around more carefully?

He points to the merchandise shelf at the side. With this, I realise that next to the dolls, there is a card, as well as a box the shape of a golden apple.

MC retrieves the card. In the golden apple box, there’s:

MC: Pudding?

Whether it was intentional or unintentional by the staff, this “meeting gift” is the thing that best hooks the sweetness in my heart.

Victor: If you like it, eat it. It’s fine with me.

Guessing my thoughts, Victor releases an amused breath.

MC: What about the gift for the dragon?

He points at the doll from just now.

Victor: This is enough.

I relax, using the spoon to give it a try.

The pudding is silky and tender, drizzled with just the right amount of sweet caramel. Coupled with the unique golden apple packaging, it is very delicious.

MC: Even though your pudding is number one in my heart, this one is not bad... it tastes very good! Do you want to try?

I ask with a smile, taking another scoop.

Victor holds my wrist lightly, leans over, and brings the spoon into his mouth.

Before the sudden heat from my wrist dissipates, the spoon trembles slightly.

Eyes half-lidded, his eyelashes cast a faint shadow.

I watch as he opens his mouth slightly, holding onto the spoon.

For some reason, watching his bobbing Adam’s apple makes my face turn red involuntarily.

Even though we aren’t standing very close, the surrounding air turns hot and dry.

I tear my eyes away and force myself to think about something else.

MC suddenly has a realisation

If I’m the “Adventurer” who is supposed to challenge the dragon, why has Victor been by my side all this time, even giving me hints from time to time?

Aside from containing a new clue, the small words on the card in my hand seem to be giving me a hint.

“The mighty black dragon’s most prized possession is perhaps not the golden treasure, but the thing he cherishes the most in life.”

Victor: What’s wrong? Have you thought of something?

I can only blink, continuing to share the pudding in my hand with him.

MC: Shall we go to the next location?

Even though I have a rough guess, I decide to wait till I’m more certain before telling him.

This guess makes me feel as though the temperature has risen by several degrees.

The final location is the Ferris wheel, which is lit up but not moving

The hint is: “Under the rotation of time is the treasure trove of the immortal black dragon.”

There’s a locked fence separating them from the Ferris wheel, but MC is unable to find the key

MC: I’ve lost this time, Mr Evil Dragon. Looks like I won’t be getting your treasure.

I pretend to pat Victor “magnanimously”, a sense of disappointment in my heart.

It’s so rare that we get to come to the amusement park together. I wanted to have a complete experience with him.

Victor laughs softly.

Victor: Dummy.

Victor comes closer to me, His forefinger, which has a temperature slightly higher than mine, trails along my collarbone and hooks the necklace the staff member had helped me put on just now.

He flicks the pendant gently. With a soft click, the pendant opens.

In it, there’s a small golden key.

MC: This is...

He hands the key to me.

Victor: To make things equal, I should give this to you.

The doll he hooked onto my bag earlier swings along with our movements, as though expressing its excitement and blessings in its own way.

The small golden key glistens faintly in my hand.

“The key to entering the dream is in the hand of the dragon.”

So this is what the handbook means.

With the final obstruction removed by the small golden key, the treasure is closer than ever before.

The Ferris wheel plays lively music and begins moving.

Victor: Not bad.

Victor pulls the door to the Ferris wheel open, and does a gesture of invitation.

The lights that are more beautiful than a dream, the gradually ascending Ferris wheel, and the final treasure box paint a full-stop on today.

MC: Is this the treasure?

I look at Victor. He simply lifts his chin, signalling that I should open the box.

An adorable doll sits obediently inside it. There’s also an invitation card which reads: This is an invitation to Miss MC to enjoy tonight’s firework display, specially customised for you.

The small font at the bottom leaves me feeling slightly confused.

“The Brave One has not yet appeared. The treasure is once again under the dragon’s wing: The end of the dream is a new beginning.”

MC: “The Brave One has not yet appeared”?

These two short sentences are the answers to the guess I had before.

If I’m not the Adventurer...

If my appearance has made the treasure return to the dragon’s nest once again...

And since the key has always been with me from the start...

MC: If I’m not overthinking all of this, could the dragon’s treasure be...?

I hold onto the invitation card, unsure if I should ask.

Victor doesn’t say a word, and seems to be waiting for me.

MC: Did someone tell you about this game?

Victor: Yes.

MC: You also know the final prize.

Victor: You’re right.

MC: So the “treasure”...

Victor: Is the dummy who walked right into the trap.

In a moment, his breath invades my senses.

The Ferris wheel gradually makes its ascent, and the firework display is about to begin.

The steady movement of the capsule brings us to the border between reality and fantasy, and we enter a most magnificent dream.

At the highest point, we don’t welcome the descent.

The Ferris wheel halts where the scenery is the most vast, and is facing the nearby castle.

Our eyes soak in the night colours of the entire amusement park.

The fireworks are like shooting stars, blooming around us, dyeing the sky in dazzling colours.

I hold the doll up, putting it close to Victor’s ear.

MC: I’ve been found by the two of you! Thank you~ MC wants me to tell you that she hopes you can find eternal happiness!

Victor: That’s all you want to say to me?

I put the doll down. Although I feel slightly shy, I try my best to look at him seriously.

The night colours in his eyes are a hundred times deeper and more magnificent.

MC: Thank you. I’m really very happy today. I hope I never have to wake up from this dream.

He releases a light breath. He shifts the doll away slightly, and hugs me more tightly.

Victor: Didn’t you already confirm earlier that this isn’t a dream?

MC: I want to do something for you, and hope that today is a very happy day for you too.

I give my entire focus to Victor, wrapping my arms around his neck.

MC: Even if it’s just by a little bit, I want to increase your happiness meter.

My voice is very soft, and I’m not even sure if he can hear me.

Victor: I already have everything I want.

His silhouette looks especially tender under the sparkling lights.

The midnight bell sounds, but the magic does not disappear. Everything in our surroundings halt.

We’re the only ones left in the entire world.

Victor tugs my hand lightly towards him, and plants a kiss on the back of it.

This light touch is akin to a burning seal.

I seem to have forgotten how to breathe.

Victor: You’re really a dummy.

He laughs, his warm breath brushing my fingers.

In the next second, the soft touch is on my joints, between my fingers.

The only thing I can see and think of are his eyes - they are calm, yet contain a faint flow of emotions.

The black dragon protecting its treasure since the beginning of time, and who has left a mark on my soul, is the most important person to me.

This amusement park, where all fantasies are allowed and fulfilled, weave the most romantic magic to all who visit.

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park.

MC: You were very happy too!

Victor: I don’t deny that.

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park.

MC: If there’s a chance next time, we have to come back again!

Victor: There will be many chances - it depends on your performance.

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park.

MC: Satisfied! Very satisfied! What about you?

Victor: Seeing you running here and there was quite interesting.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #my favourite from the collection

292 notes · View notes

taetaespeaches · 4 years

Text

“Aren’t they supposed to be happy little clouds, Mr. Ross?”

jungkook x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.5K

a/n: Ok, so this isn’t much and I don’t know how good it is, but it’s just a small little moment in time while Guk is painting and him and Holly start flirting, as per I kind of wanted to end Jungkook’s two-weeks of uploads with a simple drabble that shows Guk/Holly at their easy-going finest. Oh! And I mention Holly’s dog again for the first in ages because I kind of forgot I made her have a dog in a past drabble. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy! :))

ILLUMINATED in the golden rays through the living room window, Jungkook sat back in his chair as he scrutinized the shapes on the canvas propped up on the easel. From your spot in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, you watched your boyfriend as he adorably squinted at the painting, which was still in its early stages. Flicking the paintbrush in quick motions, he filled in the outer edge of the soon to be cloud against a light blue sky.

Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, you started toward Jungkook, your form in his peripheral making him snap his head toward you. You took a bite from the apple just before flashing him a close-mouthed smile.

“Hi baby,” he smiled, turning in his chair to offer you his lap. Happily taking the seat across his thighs, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Directing your eyes to the canvas, you appreciated his talent for the newly adopted hobby.

“You’re good at this,” you told him, Jungkook wrapping his hand around yours that held the apple, bringing the fruit to his own mouth to bite a chunk out of it. You shot him a small glare, though his cheeky grin immediately made your lips curve upward.

“I’m alright,” he told you, “I’m still learning for sure.”

“You’re a fast learner,” you mumbled, leaning closer to look at his use of color. He had a patch of light blue sky next to the cloud, which was only partially painted, just one white color being used so far.

Jungkook watched you for a moment, admiring the way you always supported him, even in his array of hobbies. Whether he was editing videos, drawing, or playing video games, you could be found nearby ready to watch any clip, compliment his shading, or cheer him on as he killed opponents on the screen.

“Wanna try?” He asked you, you shrugging.

“I wouldn’t mind brushing up on my 13-year-old painting skills,” you joked, Jungkook chuckling at your terrible pun.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Jin-hyung,” he shook his head. “No more ice cream dates.” You giggled at the comment, Jungkook nudging a paintbrush in your direction. “Here.”

“Wait, what? You want me to paint on your painting?” You asked, your eyes wide and concerned.

“Yeah, show me what you got,” he grinned, taking the apple out of your hand and replacing it with a paintbrush.

“I’ll ruin it,” you told him, looking from the paintbrush to the canvas and back to your boyfriend.

“No, you won’t,” he insisted. “What are you talking about? You’re literally an artist, you’re amazing at drawing.”

“Painting is a totally different medium though,” you pointed out, Jungkook rolling his eyes making you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You’ve painted before,” he reminded you, as if that meant you could readily jump right into an already started painting successfully.

“Yeah in an extracurricular class when I was 13,” you giggled. “Jungkook, I am going to ruin this.”

“Just try,” he nodded to the canvas, dismissing your self-doubt as he took another bite from your apple.

Scoffing at him, you looked at the half-eaten apple. “You know, I was eating that.”

“Mhmm,” he grinned. “Get to painting, Holly.”

Sighing dramatically, you turned to the canvas. Looking at the cloud you decided it needed more coloring and shading. Cocking your head at his palette, you mixed some of the white with a gray, creating a lighter shade of gray.

Moving the paintbrush to the canvas, you applied some of the paint, immediately pulling your hand away quickly with a small gasp. “I already ruined it.”

“What? No you didn’t,” Jungkook chuckled, kissing the side of your neck before he took a closer look at the painting. “What’s wrong with it?”

“The gray is too dark,” you pouted, Jungkook smiling as he leaned toward you, pressing a sweet kiss to your pouted lips. “I fucked up,” you whined, the air from Jungkook’s giggling fanning across your face.

“Hey, we don’t make mistakes, we have happy accidents,” Jungkook quoted Bob Ross to you, you giggling as you wrapped an arm around his head, pulling him into a hug.

“Ok, stop being so cute,” you mumbled into his hair, leaving a kiss to the top of his head.

“We’ll just turn them into storm clouds. Darken the sky a bit, it’ll look great,” he told you, you pulling away from his body to look at his adorable doe-eyed expression.

“Aren’t they supposed to be happy little clouds, Mr. Ross?” Jungkook smiled at the question before resting his chin on your shoulder and looking at the canvas once again.

“Who says storm clouds can’t be happy? I like storms,” he noted cutely, you watching him fondly as his honey brown orbs sparkled.

Nodding, you leaned your head on top of his. “I do too.”

A crunch of the apple, Jungkook jaws chomping on the piece of fruit ruined the cute moment, you giggling as you lifted your head, shoving against him, Jungkook cackling at himself. Taking the brush, you dabbed it on the tip of his nose, your boyfriend’s eyes widening comically.

The man gasped in complaint, though he was smiling widely, beyond amused by your action. “How could you?”

“Here,” you giggled, grabbing a rag off the table as he set the apple down. Jungkook had other plans for paint removal.

Grabbing the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks, he told you, “nah, I got it,” before rubbing his nose against yours, you squealing as you tried to move your face away to no avail.

“Jungkook,” you whined, dragging his name out.

“What?” He asked, feigning innocence

Pouting at him, he pulled away to see the paint spread all around your nose, giggling fondly at your feigned saddened expression. He leaned in, kissing your lips tenderly. “What’s wrong, baby?” He asked teasingly in the small series of seconds that he pulled his lips from yours, you giggling against his mouth just before deepening the kiss.

Jungkook easily fell into accordance with your move to further the intimate moment, his hands dropping from your face to your waist, your arm curling around the back of his neck as your other hand cradled his jaw.

“You taste like apples,” you whispered against his lips, Jungkook smiling into the kiss. He was very clearly trying to deepen it, getting worked up and wanting more of you. However, that just made you want to tease him. “Wait, are these acrylics or oil paints?” You questioned suddenly.

“Shhh,” Jungkook silenced you, accompanied with a small giggle as he tried to deepen the kiss once again. He lowered one hand down your hip and onto your thigh, soothing it over your flesh, giving you silent hints that he wanted things to progress. Of course you wanted him too, but sometimes messing with his patience was just too fun.

“They’re oil right?” You asked, Jungkook pushing his mouth to yours harder in an effort to silence you. “Kookie,” you mumbled into the kiss, “I don’t want oil paint on my face.”

The man mumbled, “Just kiss me you brat,” against your lips, you smiling as you allowed him to deepen it just for a moment. A small moment.

“Did you feed the munchkin?” you asked, nearly incoherently, into the kiss suddenly. You were referring to the dog you adopted just a few weeks ago, who was currently sleeping on the sofa a few feet away from you both. Jungkook groaned against your mouth before pulling away and resting his forehead on your chin, you giggling as you placed a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re impossible,” he chuckled lightly, you pressing a few more quick kisses to his forehead. “I did feed the dog by the way,” he mumbled before looking up at you, you giggling as you ran your fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“I know, I saw,” you teased, Jungkook poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

“Stop being such a brat,” he warned you, making you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Why? What are you gonna do about it, Fred?” You challenged him, knowing you were close to making him snap.

Shooting you a warning glare, he asked, “really?” his tone pointed.

“I thought we were painting,” you smirked, Jungkook scoffing before smacking your ass lightly, you feigning a gasp.

“Not anymore.”

Even the most wholesome of hobbies could end up corrupted when you and Jungkook were together. Not that you were complaining. You could always paint some storm clouds later, but in that moment, Jungkook’s darkened gaze and the feeling of his hands running along your body was all that mattered to you.

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