#its like a very tall very large umbrella. if youre far enough away you can obviously see the sun above and to the side of her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Midnight Dances

Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Upon your first week settling into your estate as a newlywed couple, you share a moment alone.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol, fluff, kissing

(aesthetic made by the lovely @heloisedaphnebrightmore )

It has been three days since your arrival at your new estate across England, and still, you have yet to see the entirety of its beauty. It was extraordinarily perfect in every way one could imagine, and impossibly grand for two newlyweds who spent most of their time in each other’s presence. In just three days time, you felt as though maybe you’d only seen just half of your newfound home, and you were determined to change that.

You huff out a quiet sigh as you stare up at the ceiling once more, not a single bit of fatigue as you lay awake. The same could not be said about Benedict as he lay tangled with you, soft snores puffing into your skin lightly. Nothing could get you to sleep; not the warmth of his skin on yours, not the late hour of the night, not the breeze seeping in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of flowers and fresh air. Any and all efforts to be swept into a blissful sleep were rapidly proving to be futile as the minutes passed.

With an exasperated sigh, you untangle yourself from him as carefully as you can manage, a smile gracing your lips as you watch his face nuzzle into the pillow. You slip on your night robe with a fond shake of your head, tying it closed before heading towards the door. You offer one last glance at your lover, at the grand details of your bedroom and the way the curtains fluttered under the breeze blowing against them. You slip out of the room and pull the door closed quietly, making your leave down the hall.

Your footsteps go unheard on the navy colored rug, not a single tassel out of place as they lined the entirety of the hall. Warm lighting illuminated the space in a dim glow, just enough to navigate but not enough to wake those trying to sleep. You were quite sure everyone in the vicinity had been asleep, everyone in the town even, everyone except for you.

The windows you pass by overlooked the gardens, perhaps the most brilliant and extravagant you’ve had the pleasure of seeing. It was hard to believe that it was yours. Finely manicured bushes were assembled in a meticulous pattern, almost maze like. And there were as many flowers as one could possibly imagine and then some, each different in color and type, each just as beautiful as the last. The blossoming trees were what had enchanted you the most, with the way their petals rain down in a flurry of pale pinks with just the slightest gust of wind.

You descended the marble staircase, your hand sliding down the smooth and cool stone railing as you made your way down the curving steps. It felt impossible to look at any one thing at a time, for everything was too glamorous and too wondrous to do so. Even down to the candles melted at varying heights as they sit in their rightful candelabras, ready to be lit again.

Shortly you arrive at the first landing, the familiar skylight coming into view as you continue walking down the stairs. The arched glass structure tucked amongst the lavish detailings on the ceiling lit up the first floor with a natural glow, the stars glimmering just beyond it. You found you liked it better at night than in the light of day.

You pass through familiar halls, ones you’ve frequented most often since arriving there but a few days ago. You passed familiar rooms such as the library, too grand and full of books for your own excited good. You passed the kitchen, still smelling of honey and cinnamon from that night’s dessert. It was the kind of scent that carried with it warmth and the feeling of being truly at home, regardless of the fact that this estate was still very new to you and most likely would be for a little while as you adjust.

With what seemed like a daunting amount of wandering through gorgeous hallways, each just as vacant as the last, you finally reach unfamiliar territory. Maybe you’d already been there, things tended to look quite similar when you were lost. The sound of ticking clocks had been apparent just about anywhere you’d been and anywhere you will go, as was the consistent artwork adorning every other wall in small glimpses of other worlds in depictions of nature. The only noticeable difference was the navy rugs had since changed to a soft lilac, fluffy golden tassels lining the perimeter.

With a few more steps, your brow raises at the sight of the unfamiliar double doors standing tall before you, adorned with intricately carved woodwork as gold sparkled on its surface. You have yet to see what was on the other side at all, and now you were taking full advantage of the opportunity to with your newfound time.

Upon pushing open the doors, you’re met with a sight so grand and enthralling you hadn’t quite expected to be presented with such beauty. Perhaps the most wondrous ballroom was contained within your very own home. It’s cream-colored walls were lined with carved framework at every edge and every corner, a metallic bronze detailing every curve and bit of linework lacing along its perimeters. Several paintings lined them, each encased in a carved and complex frame to house each nature scene captured within them. The far end of the large room held rather tall windows, nearly floor to ceiling, the very tops arched with a matching set of mirrors to adorn the walls between the glass structures. Not a single smudge was to be found.

Ruffles of silky cream curtains frame each window, pooling on the polished wood floors. Through those very windows, the moonlight had been streaming in so brightly it illuminated the room much like any candelabra could. It’s moonbeams reflected off the several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the myriad of crystals that dangle from each one casting little flecks of light on the floor and over your skin. The ceilings were made up of several sunken ovals, the same bronze detailing encircling each one. The murals inside had made you feel as though you were standing underneath the sky itself, and it was so meticulously painted you hadn’t known how many hours it must have taken. Surely far too many to wrap your head around. The ceiling in its entirety was so impossibly detailed and intricate you could give yourself a headache thinking of the effort put into creating it. It was delightfully busy.

Your eyes fall on a grand piano sat in the corner next, sleek and pristine with its ivory keys on display and waiting to be played. And the silky upholstered seats spaced out throughout the room. It was spacious, so vast you felt as though it could house all of England if they’d been invited. Though selfishly, a part of you wanted to keep this all to yourself.

“So, this is where you’ve run off to?”

You spin on your heel, a smile pulling at your lips once you see Benedict standing in the doorway. His arms crossed over his chest, the buttons of his shirt only half done and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a haphazard attempt to look decent as he roamed the halls in search of you. His hair was a mess, however, dipping over his forehead as the corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin. A grin that never fails to uncage butterflies in your stomach. You were unaware of just how long you’d been gone.

You smile, twirling once in the grand room as your nightdress flutters at the action. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I quite like it,” he says with a shrug, pushing himself off the doorframe to make his way over to you. “Though I do believe that some things in this room are far more beautiful than others.”

You turn to face him fully, a blush staining your cheeks that had fortunately gone unseen in the lighting. His smile widened as he raised a brow at you, a laugh falling past his lips when you rolled your eyes.

“What? I was referring to the chandeliers, of course,” He quips with mischief, his eyes crinkling with his grin as you swat at his arm lightly. Your attempts to evade his grasp were futile as he grabs your hand, turning you to face him again as his lips press to your cheek. “I am only kidding, my love.”

“You really are terrible sometimes, you know that, don’t you?” You ask, a lightness in your tone as he drops a kiss to your neck.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” He says, his hands squeezing your own. “Though I suppose it’s better than being terrible all the time, is it not?”

You roll your eyes once more as you turn away from him in an effort to conceal your smile at his antics, walking over to one of the large windows. Just outside was a different angle of the garden, a view aiming straight down a long pathway of perfectly imperfect trees. Fluffy hydrangeas appeared just under the stone window ledges in varying hues of pinks and purples, vines climbing up the far wall of the building.

It hadn’t been long before you felt his arms snake around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“We must take a walk through the garden tomorrow,” you state, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his lips on the exposed skin of your shoulder. You could barely remember what you had planned to say next, until you’d forgotten altogether. “Are you listening?”

“Certainly, we must,” he responds with a soft laugh, pressing his lips to your cheek again. “And should it rain?”

“Then we shall take an umbrella,” you say as if your answer was entirely obvious as you slip from his arms with a delighted grin and a tap of your finger to his nose. You left him to look after you with parted lips and a shake of his head. He was awestruck to say the very least.

You wander about the room again with a bounce in your step, running the tips of your fingers along the soft curtains. Upon closer inspection, you discover the detailed linework you had seen moments before were in fact sculpted and carved vines and flowers spidering up the walls. Such a beauty nearly made you swoon at the very sight of it. Everything just kept getting better and better the more you gazed at it.

“What could be the need of a ballroom this grand?” You ask with a laugh, your eyes falling on Benedict.

“Perhaps to dance in,” he says with a shrug, an amusement in his features. You huff out a sigh though you can’t seem to fight your smile this time.

“You know what I meant. Of course it is made for dancing. ”

“Would you be so kind as to have this dance with me, then?” He asks, a teasing tone still weaving around his words as he offers you his hand.

“If I must,” you huff lightheartedly.

His nose scrunches at your counter and he promptly pulls you close, eliciting a squeal to echo into the room at the sudden action. His hand envelopes your own and his arm encircles your waist in the rightful position of a slow dance. Though this time, it was much less formal with the absence of watchful eyes and the need to execute every move with a flawless ease. For you were quite sure bare feet and slippers, night robes and half-tucked in, half-unbuttoned dress shirts were not of appropriate attire for such things.

No music was needed to find your own rhythm, no music was ever needed when the two of you were in your own world.

“I apologize…for waking you,” you say after a few moments, meeting his gaze once more.

“I was barely asleep, not with all your tossing and turning,” He says as you sway.

“Your snoring tells me otherwise.”

A look of faux surprise and offense crosses his face as he twirls you, wrapping his arm around you once more, “I do no such thing!”

An incredulous scoff leaves your lips as he tugs you close, your brows knit together and he continues to act as though he had entirely no idea what you had been talking about.

“I suppose I’m just hearing things then,” you state, far from being earnest as he nods along, “Perhaps it may have even been me.”

“Perhaps it might’ve,” he repeats in playful agreement, halting your frown from deepening as his lips press to yours in what surely would not be the last of many kisses that evening.

You sigh softly as your lighthearted bickering falls silent in favor of enjoying each other’s presence, enjoying the very fact that this was your home. This was your life now and you couldn’t think of anything better than that. He was ever so tender when he kissed you, when his fingers grazed up your side each time you fell out of rhythm. He claims it was just to hear you laugh, and rightfully so, but it was also in a playful payback for your sleepy dancing skills or lack thereof.

He was patient regardless, for the technicalities of the dance were not of much importance, they never were. Not even in a formal setting did he care if it was done perfectly. He cared about the fact that the most wonderful person in the world had been in his arms, and he loved you for all that you are and all that you will be. He hadn’t even needed a fancy ballroom to want to dance with you, hadn’t needed a large estate to be happy with you. He was perfectly content dancing with you in the field of flowers he’d spotted just two days before, and he made a mental note to take you there the following day.

For a while it was silent between the two of you, save for the occasional giggle when his fingers brushed over your skin. Or the patter of your slippers on the hardwood floors. Or his boisterous laughter he cannot contain when your lips ghost over that very sensitive spot just under his jaw, the fading scent of his cologne still lingering on his skin.

He twirls you before drawing you back into his arms, not without you stumbling into him, of course. It was as if your own two feet had been out to get you, and the undeniable grin on his face was telling enough that he’d been up to no good. Not after that.

“Remember that one dinner with my family?” You sigh in mild exasperation as you groan and look away from him at his words, fighting your smile nonetheless. “You had been so nervous you’d sent a spoonful of peas all over the floor. And—if I recall correctly, you proceeded to knock your wine onto my lap.”

“Am I to assume that you shall never let me live that down, Benedict?” You ask with a squint, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yes, you would assume correctly, Y/n.”

“It is only your fault, you have a dreadful habit of making me flustered after all,” you defend with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“I very well see that,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

You bite the inside of your cheek to stave off your grin, he did not deserve that satisfaction. Instead, you lean on your toes and press your lips on his, effectively kissing away the teasing smile he once had in favor of basking in the feeling of the warmth of your lips brushing over his own. In the feeling of your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck once more. His arms tighten their hold around you out of instinct, a soft hum escaping him.

“Perhaps I should bring it up more often if this is how you choose to quiet me,” he suggests against you, stealing another kiss.

“Or perhaps you shouldn’t.”

You pull away from him much to his dismay, and he finds himself chasing your lips for more. You laugh softly, your hand settling on his cheek as his once teasing smirk turns to that of a fond smile. The crystal reflections of the chandeliers above glimmer down over you, the moonlight illuminating the loving gaze that had been focused on you and only you. He couldn’t help but to capture your lips once more, for now that he had the opportunity to do so just as much as so he pleases he finds he can’t get enough.

Your hand falls from his face as your giggle brushes against his lips, his embrace sending you stumbling back a step or two.

“We’re supposed to be dancing, are we not?” You ask, breaking from his hold and spinning away from him, leaving him to smile after you in a lovestruck daze as you twirl in the glow moonlight.

He stood back to watch you for a moment, the way you seemed to beam more beautifully than any natural wonder ever could. The way you captured his attention far more than the lavish ballroom you currently resided in. Of all the luxuries he’s seen, of all the dashing estates and elegantly decorated soirée’s he’s been in attendance of in his life, there could be no greater beauty than you. There could be nothing in the world that is more enamoring, more effortlessly alluring.

He never knew the profound effects of love until it came along and grabbed hold of his heart, the feeling lancing through him with a wholehearted certainty that it was real and it was all-consuming. He knew love, of course. The Bridgerton family was large and filled with an unwavering warmth and welcoming one could surely wish for. He knew unconditional familial love amongst numerous siblings no matter the bickering that was bound to take place, serious or not. But this—this was different.

This kind of love was wonderfully and delightfully dizzying as it crashed down upon him in waves, immeasurably intoxicating with every fleeting moment that passed him by.

“Are you going to stare at me for the entirety of the night?”

Your teasing voice had stolen his attention once more, his attention that had been so distracted focused on you. It was then that he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off your feet, suddenly spinning with you in playful retaliation for noting his gawking and telling him all about such a thing. Your laughter rang out into the glorious space while his lips pressed a flurry of kisses up your neck, your hands settling on his shoulders as his breath danced across your flushed skin.

To marry your best friend, whom you truly love endlessly is but a wonder indeed, a fate many dream of but very few experience. It is a feeling most incomparable to all else.

He set you back on your feet but his kisses never cease, his lips brushing along the underside of your jaw with his laughter left to linger against your skin. They travel upwards to press tenderly across your blush stained cheeks, to the very tip of your nose, and perhaps most giddily and passionately to your already kiss swollen lips.

He doesn’t know how he manages to stop; perhaps it’s your constant yet soft laughter breaking the two of you apart, or perhaps it’s his desire to see the way your eyes sparkle in the glowing light. Or the way your face is illuminated so beautifully that it has him fighting the urge to grab his sketchbook, but he does not want to leave you not even for a second. Perhaps it’s both and it’s almost entirely too much for him to handle all in one moment.

“Why ever are you looking at me like that?” You ask, amusement in your tone.

“Because,” He says with a breathless laugh, “because I love you. I burn for you.”

A fond smile pulls at your lips immediately as you look at him, and it is impossible to ignore the warmth blossoming in your chest, lancing through you. It is impossible to ignore the insurmountable love coursing through every part of your being as you gaze into the eyes of your lover.

“I love you, Benedict,” you murmur, “I burn for you.”

He finds his smile unable to be contained as his forehead drops to rest on yours, noses brushing. His hand once again finds yours, his arm encircling your waist, and you sway. In the ridiculously large ballroom, to a melody unheard by anyone else. You sway and twirl and laugh in a slow dance all your own, a midnight dance.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @valwritesx

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction

601 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Unlikely Friends.”

Wrote this this morning and thought of my friend Nora :)

I hope you all like it.

The GA Biological Exploration team had not expected to have humans along for their expedition, but then again, they had hardly expected to have large carnivorous worms attack them the last time, so they supposed that extra protection was worth it. But the humans were really just there for protection, so the team mostly ignored them meandering around in a wide circle with their weapons ready.

Everyone knew that humans weren’t exactly the smartest species in the galaxy, somewhere above Drev and below Tesraki, so they were really only good for protection most of the time, or at least that is how many of the team saw it, none of them having ever really worked with a human closely before. The foliage on this planet happened to be a strange sort of blue violet color, and the sky above also tended more towards purple than it did towards blue.

There were plenty of large and unusual looking flowers, mostly red in color, though, when seen under UV light they glowed in many colors unseen by those who could only view on the visible spectrum.

The head scientist was just beginning to sample one of the flowers, when he noticed one of the humans out of the corner of his eye crouching next to one of the plants. His hand was completely uncovered, it turned out that humans were perfectly fine in the atmosphere, and it looked like he was preparing to touch the plant.

“What do you think you are doing!” He screeched, and the human drew back slightly. The head scientists wasn’t used to humans and so did not really understand the expression on it’s too- mobile face. This particular specimen of a human covered one of its eyes, and looked slightly familiar though he could not have placed it. All humans looked the same to him.

“I uh…. Well nothing.”

“You were going to touch that, weren't you!”

“Well I…”

“Because you better not try that again. We just landed on this planet and we have no idea what kind of affects the flora and fauna can cause.” He turned away before quickly spinning back in place glowering at the human, “Actually, on second thought, a warning isn’t enough for you, you have already proven that you cannot be trusted.” He pointed towards a little clearing not far off, “Go sit down and keep your hands to yourself until we are done here.”

The human went to protest, but he did not allow for that.

He had no time for people who could not follow proper safety protocols. The human looked about ready to argue with him, but one stern look sent the human slouching off.

He nodded rather pleased with himself. That is how you dealt with humans properly, a firm hand was what they needed. They were kind of slow so you had to repeat yourself a few times, but they responded well to a frm no nonsense hand.

***

Admiral Vir sat in time out.

His hands were neatly resting in his lap as he sat criss cross on an alien planet staring up at the sky. A few times the other marines would pass by and grin at him and he would smile sheepishly back. He had been put in time out for touching the local wildlife. Believe it or not, his mother used to hate taking him shopping as a kid because he just had to touch everything. He was also the reason that his father had forbade them from putting their hands, tongues, or feet, don’t ask, against the window.

There had even been a rule in museums that he had to be holding his dad or his mother’s hand while they walked around to avoid him embarrassing them by touching something that he wasn’t supposed to. He had always loved those interactive museums for kids.

Apparently this habit had not exactly gone away into his adult life.

And now here he was Admiral Adam Vir, Armada commander of the GA and UNSC combined forces….. And he had been put in time out so he wouldn't touch anything. He took it with good humor though. By all rights he should have learned his lesson by now…. Considering the incident….

He shook himself and leaned back in the alien flora, resting his head back on a big flat mushroom that was pleasantly spongy and acted as a great pillow so that he could stare up at the sky. At some point he accidentally took a bit of a nap, and when he woke up next the voices had faded as the scientists wandered off into the forest, and he was left alone with only the shuttle sitting and twinkling with metallic light.

He frowned, someone could have told him they were moving on, but that was ok.

He sat up legs still crossed and rested his chin against his hand in boredom.

He picked at the dirt below him, and then prodded one of the strange mushrooms.

Adam was bored.

He stood glancing around and walked to the edge of the clearing where one of those red flowers was sitting and, looking over his shoulder again reached down to touch it making a face in the direction that scientist had gone off.

It's not like he was hurting anything.

The flower petals were soft, and felt almost like velvet below his fingertips.

He sniffed a it to find that it smelled oddly like…. Bleach? Though he could completely have been wrong about that.

Walking over, to the nearest tree-like structure, which was very tall and thin with an umbrella like apparatus overhead, he found the bark of the tree to have a bunch of small berry like structures on it in a light blue color. He reached out and picked one. It came off with a sort of soft popping noise, and he rolled it around between his fingers leaving behind a purplish residue.

He squeezed it, and berry juice came out.

It smelled sweet, though even he wasn’t stupid enough to taste it.

He dropped what remained of the berry t the ground and was just rummaging through the foliage when…. A sound, the snap of one of those mushrooms, pulled him from his reverie. Like a deer in the headlights he jerked quickly upright and looked around his heart already beginning to hammer.

He turned his head, looking into the bushes where he had heard the sound, and as he did, he thought he caught a strange flicking sort of movement. It was low to the ground, and as it moved it seemed to… slither through the underbrush.

Adam lowered himself slowly to the ground reaching behind him and drawing his handgun.

There was a strange noise, like more of those berries popping off the tree, and then the slithering moved on.

He couldn’t help but be interested, and followed the sound to where it had been last, finding that all of the berries had been stripped from the trunk of the tree.

“Huh, you like berries do you.” He said to himself wandering over to the next tree and scraping off a handful into his palm. He could still hear the creature moving ahead of him through the brush, and he followed after it, tracking it’s movement with his ears more than his eyes. He would have used his thermal vision, but decided against it. It was much more fun this way. Of course a part of him knew that this was a horrible idea, but Adam had never really been known to listen to his own common sense, especially when it came to meeting new aliens.

A segment of dirt showed below him, and he bent down to examine the track.

It wasn’t a footprint, but a long drag mrk through the soil.

How interesting.

He heard more of that popping noise up ahead and followed after it.

When he got closer there was a sharp sound as if something was drawing back on itself.

The creature had noticed him.

He crouched down in the bushes eyes forward to where he knew the alien was.

He dropped some of the berries onto the ground leaving a trail back to his hand where he waited.

Of course he expected to see some sort of creature.

What he did not expect was a massive purple viper with a head as big around as a football if not bigger peeping through the bushes

He froze in place blood running cold.

It had one large eye in the middle of its face and weird protrusions along the side of it’s head which looked to act like whiskers as they trembled in the breeze.

It rose up slowly from the ground lifting its head into the air and then opening its mouth. Its face was segmented into three, so when its mouth opened its face became twice as large, opening sort of like the hood of a cobra. It didn’t have a tongue but many small undulating follicles across its mouth stained with purple juice.

Its mouth closed and its head lowered as it looked down at the berries he had let out.

He stayed stock still as the creatures slithered closer lowering its head and lapping the berries off the ground.

Its body was smooth, not completely like that of a snake but similar, ad strange protrusions stuck up from it’s back rising and falling as it slithered forward.

It followed his little trail of berries until finally it was not inches away from his hand.

I lifted his head again, and from where he crouched, he started the creature right in the face. One eye to one eye.

It made a sort of rattling noise ad opened its mouth again.

He imagined it striking at his face latching onto him and sucking his life out through his eyes.

But instead the creature closed its mouth again, and the tendrils moved forward at the side outfits head, almost like it was sniffing at him.

It lowered it’s head

And opened its mouth and he felt the hot humidity of it’s mouths. The creature sucked the berries frm his hand. Each of the little saccules felt like suction cups against his hand. It curled into a large coil against the ground and lifted its head again to look at him almost expectantly. He raised his hand slowly and it shied away.

He made no sound as he reached out and pulled some more of the berries from a nearby tree before slowly proffering them to the creature who sucked them up from his han.

He did that a few more times until, reaching out, he let the creature eat from his hand before gently stroking it along its underbelly. He had a feeling those protrusions on its back were sensory, and he didn’t want to overload it. The creature pulled back in surprise at his touch, but not entirely,and as he continued to stroke down itt’s neck, it seemed…. To enjoy it, pressing into his hand and making that strange noise again.

He smiled giddy and scared at the same time.

This was so cool!

He coaxed the creature with him as he went around pulling berries from trees and feeding it from his cupped hands.

The sake thing slithered at his side, and on one occasion even began to slither up his body.

He let it and it used him as a staging ground to lift it’s head into the trees and suck the larger berries from higher up in the tree. He rewarded the snake thing with more belly rubs with his hands now stained purple.

Eventually voices floated to him through the forest.

The snake thing rested its chin on his head sunning itself on top of him like he was a tree.

He walked back towards the shuttle pleased to show the others his new friend.

*** The head scientist was pleased with the samples he had taken. He had started with the ground plants and was likely to work his way up. He had been careful not to touch anything, and hadn’t seen any native wildlife so far. It would take some time for them to get to know the planet like they really wanted to, but that's how these things worked, science was slow an they had to be careful-”What in the FUCK is that!”

The human’s cry of alarm jolted him from his thoughts and he looked up in stunned shock to see the human from earlier, walk forward cradling a large alien creature in his arms.

“SHHH, the human hissed, Don’t scare Jeffry.”

“Who the Fuck is jeffrey.”

The alien creature lifted it’s head and opened its trihinjed mout.

He rubbed it’s chin, “it’s okay Jeffrey, they are being very rude.”

The aliens stood on in shock, as the human patted the alien creature like… like well like nothing they had ever seen. He was just sitting there, cuddling an unknown alien.

“W-what did I say about TOUCHING things he hissed with a squeak.”

The human lifted it’s shoulders, “Well…. About that. I sort of, got bored, and then I saw Jeffrey and I thought why not try to make friends.”

“You tried to make friends with a giant alien snake?”

“Well I would rather not have made enemies with him.’ He rubbed “Jeffry’s chin and the snake thing rattled.

The other humans gathered around in shock and awe.

“What are you doing!” He hissed, “That thing could be dangerous.”

The humans ignored him.

“Yeah just get some of those berries, and I bet he’d eat right out of your hand, and then maybe you can pet him.”

The humans wandered off to find berries coming back with their hands piled and their skin stained purple.

“Don’t Touch it!” he squalled, but the humans were hearing none of it. The snake thing leaned down and slurped berries from cupped hands before stretching its neck upwards to enjoy pats from the other humans.

The aliens stood there in shock as the humans gathered around.

He had ordered the human not to touch anything, but instead he had gone off into the forest and pack bonded with some unknown alien creature.

He would have to write to his superiors about this.

He would not be working with humans in the future.

Annoyingly, humans had to make friends with everyone.

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia #humans are space oddities

1K notes · View notes

shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Heartbeat

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 6.0k

[ ☀︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] bitta fluff, mostly smut oop

themes : doctor/healer!reader x pro-hero!shouto, mild temp play (quirk use), confession, dirty talk

bio : You ditch your boring dinner date to tend to your favorite coworker’s latest battle wounds... though upon healing him swiftly, you find an excuse to stay.

author’s note : this is for bnha bookclub’s bingo event, for which i can now cross off the “hero x doctor” slot ;) bingo masterlist here! special thanks to @fanfic-me-up & @savagetrickster for beta’ing! tysm lovelies <3

side note: this fic is dedicated to my special peony @shoutodoki for her birthday!! val honey i love you so much. you’re my oldest friend in this fandom and every time we talk you fill my day with sunshine. please wish this sweetpea a happy birthday!!!

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Sparkling droplets of rain run off the plastic of your umbrella and onto the marble floor in the hallway. Setting the drenched thing against the wall, you wipe the soles of your shoes against the doormat. Stretching your lungs with a fresh breath of air, you push the handle until the door opens soundlessly, allowing you entrance into the shadowy apartment. None of the lights are on; the only source of luminescence is from the soft glow of the street lamps shining through the downpour on the sidewalk far below. The silence of the seemingly empty place is only interrupted by the steady rainfall outside, and you fidget with the strap of your purse on your shoulder, suddenly feeling like you shouldn’t be here. Sure, you’ve been to Shouto’s apartment, but it’s always been daytime before, and somehow the storm outside makes you feel even jumpier than usual.

A soft groan rips you away from your overthinking, and your feet immediately slip out of their shoes, taking you toward the source of the noise without hesitation. As you round the entryway corner, you can see his figure slumped on the end of the leather sectional. He’s bathed in a gloomy grayish-yellow hue from the dim light that pours through the ceiling-tall windows, red and white locks looking tousled and hero suit plenty disheveled.

“Shouto!” you gasp his name when you register the scarlet on the front of his jacket, your body moving to kneel before him without so much as a thought.

The pro-hero Shouto coughs as he tries to sit up, a large hand clutching his ribs when he starts to sputter out a greeting. You hope he cannot see the flush that blooms in your chest and cheeks as he murmurs your name, his voice gravely and low, as if he hadn’t said a word in hours. How long has he been sitting here like this— how long has he been waiting for you? Before you can talk, he forces himself to speak. “It’s not my blood,” he says, meagerly attempting to comfort you.

His eyes are barely open, squinting at you through what must be quite some discomfort�� his face is contorted into a grimace and his hand still covers his side, his breath ragged. His fingers feel cold as your hand lands on top of his, thumb stroking across the surprisingly soft skin on his wrist. “Let me help you,” you whisper, and he nods, your locked gaze sizzling as he takes your hand in his.

Shouto bites back a whimper as he moves his other hand to burn off the material of his hero costume, head falling back onto the cushions of the sofa in pain. His palm is cool atop yours as you examine the purple and red tainting his pale skin, a frown forming on your lips.

“It’s not broken, so that’s good,” you say quietly, fingertips dragging along the tight muscle. When you prod the flesh along the top of the bone, he sucks in harshly, which only causes him to yelp, his fingers tightening around your wrist. “It is bruised, though…”

He exhales an icy breath, nodding at you when you give him a look for permission. Placing your palm on top of his battered skin, you close your eyes and concentrate. You let yourself envision his healed body, the pale muscle of his obliques rippling on his healthy physique. The image makes you feel hot, and you try your best not to let the thought of his naked body distract you from the task at hand.

Meanwhile Shouto watches you work, his gaze glued to you as your eyelashes flutter on your cheekbones, your lips a flat line in determination. There’s a soft, golden glow beneath your hand, bathing his flesh and your face in an heavenly light. Shouto wonders if you know what you look like using your quirk— if you know that you look simply angelic while illuminated in gold and tending to his wounds, taking away his pain. It’s over swiftly, and he’s not sure if he’s more relieved that the pain has stopped, or reluctant his time with you is over already.

“You could’ve gone to the hospital, you know,” you sigh, the light from your palm fading as you lean back, nails brushing against his abdomen before you take your hand away.

He frowns as your touch leaves him, sitting up and breathing deeply. His lungs stretch and empty without any pain, and his lips curl into a thankful smile. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to see you.”

You wonder if he notices the effect his choice of words has on you— if he sees how you bite your lip and turn away, too flustered to look at him in all his handsomeness. You don’t need an excuse to see me, you think, hands folding together in your lap.

It’s then that Shouto notices your appearance is even more gorgeous than ever— your earrings dangle and sparkle in the moonlight, your dress hugging your figure snug and hanging just low enough to show a stretch of cleavage. Your collar bones stand out against the thin, plum-colored straps, and your hair falls perfectly on your shoulders. Wow, is he glad he called you tonight.

“Speaking of, you look… stunning. I thought you looked cute in your white coat and everything at work, but this is really something else,” he comments, eyes trailing down your chest to stop on the gemstone pendant shining brightly between your breasts. He feels heat rise to his cheeks, tearing his stare away and instead examining your bashful expression. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your evening.”

You laugh at that, a short sigh falling from your lips. “Don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting much of anything,” you say, playing with the sparkling bracelet on your wrist. You chance a glance up at him to see him looking at you, curiosity shimmering in those captivating, mismatched orbs. “Date was a bust, the guy would not stop talking about microbrews the whole time, and then— get this— he ate my lava cake when he said he didn’t want dessert!”

Shouto laughs at your clear display of upset, a hearty, rich chuckle sounding from deep inside of him. The sound causes butterflies to flurry in your stomach, a grin conquering your pout as you watch his laughter come to an end. “That’s definitely a red flag,” he smiles, pink lips turning up and warm eyes falling on you once again. “The lady has to have her own dessert. Shame on him, screwing up his chance with you.”

“He never had much of a chance anyway,” you mumble, your gaze tracing the shadows stretched across the salt and pepper rug in faux interest. Before Shouto can ask what exactly you mean by that, you cut him off, standing up and brushing off your thighs, smoothing out your dress. “I’m glad you’re okay, though. You don’t feel any more pain, do you?”

“No I’m—” his lips part before he closes his mouth, brow furrowing before he sits upright, hand coming to land over his chest. “Actually right here is a little tight, do you think you could look at it for a second?”

You blink owlishly as he moves, lithe fingers unzipping his shirt and exposing his chiseled torso to you. Desire stirs between your legs at the sight of him, half naked and gazing up at you expectantly. If you didn’t know any better… you’d think he’s trying to make a move on you. Hesitantly you sit on the edge of the couch cushion, reaching out for him. The muscles on his chest jump when you make contact, his flesh warm and smooth beneath your skin. “Here?”

Shouto watches your eyes widen as his other hand slides around your waist, pushing your body toward his. His fingers wrapping around your wrist, he steers your stretched palm across the expanse of his pecs, stopping when it’s positioned on top of his heart. “Here,” he replies, feeling the muscle start to move rapidly underneath your caress.

“S-Shouto, I—” a part of you wants to believe he really is coming onto you, while the other side of you knows that first, you two work together, and second, he could have any woman he wants— he would never choose you. “What are you..?”

“Is it supposed to beat this fast?” He tilts his head, expression earnest, his fingers dipping into your flesh through the silky fabric of your dress. “I always feel like this when you’re near.”

You don’t know what to say— you don’t know if you can even speak at this point. It’s so hot in here, and his gaze, his touch— the frantic thumping of his heart beneath your palm— it’s all completely overwhelming you, so much to take in.

“Is something wrong with me?” Shouto asks, and his arm around your waist tightens, causing you to tumble into his chest. Your soft breasts press up against his firm chest, both your hands splayed open on the expanse of his pecs. You can feel his heart pounding underneath your hand, leaping in his chest like it’s trying its best to reach you. It’s the exact same as how your own feels at this very moment.

You start to tremble in his arms, your face so close to his. You can see each shade of blue and gray in his eyes, every freckle and scar on his skin. He’s never been so close to you before, and you can feel your composure melting away rapidly, his flames licking your body and warming you to the bone. “No, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” you answer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Then he’s leaning into you, cologne faintly wafting off his throat. His head is tilted slightly, eyes dropping to your lips— oh god, he’s going to kiss you. “So this isn’t all in my head, then, is it?” His voice is low, so low— as if he fears he’ll scare you off if he raises it even just a hair. “The lingering glances, the touches, the flirting— you want this, too, right?”

His hold on you finally breaks through the layers you’d built so carefully, your hesitance slipping away like smoke in the wind. There’s only a brief moment that the two of you stare into each other, questioning if you really want to cross this line or not. If you’re ready to drop the charade, the game of cat and mouse.

There’d be no going back once even just one toe sneaks over that threshold.

But it doesn’t matter, because just like that, you’re kissing him, a muffled moan sneaking out from between your lips and reverberating through his. Shouto kisses you back with fervor, eager hands gathering your body closer to his— fingers kneading into your flesh and rubbing over your dress. Your lips slot together perfectly, his soft and plush as they move in synchronization with yours. When you push, he pulls— and when you moan, his tongue roves over your lip before dipping inside your mouth. You’re panting, fireworks exploding underneath your skin with every caress, mind and body completely drunk off of him. Your heart is pounding furiously in your chest, any inhibitions good as gone. Todoroki Shouto is kissing you, ravaging you on his couch in his apartment— and he’s shirtless, and he’s touching you, and he’s holding you so tight and so close that you can barely even think to kiss him back.

Shouto breaks away from you, breathing slightly labored as a bright grin morphs his mouth. “I’ve wanted that for so long,” he confides, pressing his forehead to yours. One of his hands wanders up and down the curve of your spine, smoothening the fabric of your dress. His bottom lip shines with a mixture of your saliva, glistening brightly in the dimly-lit room.

“Shouto,” you whisper his name, cautious not to shatter this perfect moment. You take a second to gather your courage before you secure your arms around his neck, your thigh slipping over both of his as you position yourself above his lap. Shouto’s eyes are wide as you shyly meet his gaze, tingles zipping through your limbs when your panties brush along his muscular thigh. “I can’t… I can’t pretend that I don't want you for another second…”

You can’t bear to look at him, so you close your eyes and press your lips flush against his once more, your fingertips twirling in his messy locks of red and white. There’s a temporary pause, Shouto laying still beneath you as you kiss him, petting his chest and his hair as your legs tighten around him.

And then you’re on your back, hair fluffed out on the pillow behind you as Shouto hovers over you, his strong arms holding himself upright as his lips attack your own with ferocity. He’s in between your legs, a large hand cupping your jaw and guiding your face so your lips can dance flawlessly, tongues swirling together with ease. A wave of lust crashes over you, Shouto’s hand wandering beneath your waist, your spine curling to arch your chest into his. He groans as he feels the plushness of your breasts against him, hugging you tighter as his tongue traces the bottoms of your teeth.

“You dunno how happy I am to hear that,” he pants, tracing the wet muscle along your jaw and down your throat. He starts to suck on the sensitive skin there, and your hips jerk up into his instinctively, a strangled whine tumbling from your mouth. He kisses your neck messily, trailing down to the soft skin at the neckline of your dress. “So responsive,” he purrs, and you can feel your pussy clench tight beneath your lace thong, excitement gathering between your legs. “How long have you wanted me?”

You close your eyes, swamped with anticipation as you feel him shuffle between your legs. His hot mouth nips at more and more of your skin, shuffling the dress down so your tits spill out of the ensemble, nipples stiff and begging for his attention. “So long, Shouto,” you moan as his warm mouth engulfs the pebbled bud, the tip of his tongue rolling around it easily. He sucks gently, and your legs twitch together, your thighs desperate to create some kind of friction to relieve the wetness gathering in your panties.

Shouto smirks at you, lazily lapping at you as a hand wanders down the front of your dress. He takes your nipple between his teeth teasingly, cool breath only making the poor bud harden even further. His fingers gather the bottom of your dress at your hip, pushing the fabric up so your cunt feels the cool breeze of the air conditioning, your thong not offering much protection. “All that time, I could’ve been touching you like this,” he sighs, fingertip running along your slit through your underwear. He tugs at your nipple when he pulls his hand back, rubbing the ample, sticky evidence of your need between his fingers.

You squirm underneath him, flustered and impatient, sinful embarrassment surging through you at how slutty you must look in his eyes. “I— I’ve thought about you… l-like this, on so many nights,” you squeak out, your cheeks bursting with heat from the mortification. But you need him to know that you’re only like this for him… because of him.

He groans in response, letting your nipple free before he moves to devour the other one. His hands grow impatient, fingers looping under the sides of your panties before he slips them down the length of your thighs, flinging them off into the darkness of the apartment as soon as they’re around your ankles. Immediately he cups your dripping folds, peeling his digits apart so you’re left completely exposed to him, revealing your glistening hole and puffy clit. “You touch yourself and think of me?” he reiterates, a dangerous tone lacing his low voice.

He slips two fingers vertically between your folds, coating them in your ambrosial slick, and rubbing the pads of his fingers over your twitching entrance. His mouth suddenly turns cold, and he grins as he feels your hole quiver violently in response. “Yes,” you breathe out, the word slipping through your lips like a snake. “Oh, yes!”

Shouto slips the fingers inside, each two knuckles deep as his fingerprints rub along your shivering, slick walls. He washes the bud in his mouth with his searing tongue, his quirk tossing you left and right in the throes of pleasure. He allows you time to stretch, casually pushing his fingers out and then back in, never going deeper than that initial thrust. It’s not long before you’re gasping, your body trembling underneath his, and aching for more of his touch. Your tits fall from his face as he cranes his neck back up to look you in the eye. “And did you ever make yourself feel this good?” he queries, and before you can answer, he thrusts the digits all the way inside of you, his knuckles grinding against your quivering entrance.

Your eyes roll back as he begins to move his fingers, the tips of them reaching places you’d never been able to reach yourself. He’s so long, and thick compared to the equipment you’re accustomed to; his genetics blessing you and filling you better than your own hands ever could. “N-Never— oh, god— Shouto!” you cry, just as his lips capture yours again. You whimper and whine into his mouth, legs switching between spreading wider and tightening around his ass, trying to pull him into you. His tongue dominates yours, claiming your mouth as his own. You let him lead— too lost to try and fight him— happily submitting and allowing him to guide you through the pleasure. His fingers work diligently inside of you, alternating between pumping into you, curling to press into your spongy walls, and sliding out all the way to tease your sopping hole.

His mouth leaves yours as he moves to kneel on the floor, gathering your frame to sit upright with his free hand. His slender digits still pressed deep inside of you wiggle, and you bite your lower lip as he begins to kiss along your inner thighs. “Did this tight little pussy cum around your fingers, wishing they were mine instead?” he asks, words rumbling against your skin.

Your thighs shake as he holds them open, his wide shoulders pressing against one and the other in his white-knuckled grip. “Yes, yesyesyes,” you mewl as he ducks down, lips pressing a sweet kiss to your throbbing clit. “I imagined you between my legs, ah!— f-filling me so many times!” Your confession seems to be exactly what he was waiting for, for his mouth sucks in your clit and he starts to shower it with attention— licking and rubbing the flat of his tongue up against it for complete stimulation. You cry out, his fingers continuing their assault on your tender walls deep inside, bending to put pressure against just the right spot.

“Come on then,” he gasps for air, your clit buzzing as his cool breath washes over the aching pearl. His lips shine in the low lighting, glossed with a generous film of your essence while his dual-colored gaze burns into yours with fiery determination. “Don’t you wanna cum for the real thing?”

He attacks you again, this time less merciful than the last— his fingers pummeling into your gummy insides with determination, his tongue lashing over your clit and sucking on it so hard that his cheekbones stand out on his handsome face. The intensity of it all is too much, your body feeling electrified by another’s touch— it had been so long since you’d been satisfied by a man. And this was no ordinary man, not to mention— it’s Shouto who’s pleasuring you— the man who makes your heart race and your stomach burst with butterflies. The pressure heightening in your stomach, your walls flutter against him, attempting to suck his fingers even deeper. You’ve wanted him for so long; gazed at him from across the conference table or tended to his wounds with extra care, even spent who knows how many lunch breaks by his side. Now that you have him, here between your legs, here for you to touch and hold and kiss, your body falls apart for him. Just for him.

Shouto moans as your orgasm ripples through you, the tip of his tongue twirling your sensitive pearl as his digits press against your slick, quivering walls, only delivering more pleasure to you and intensifying your climax. His cock throbs along his thigh, wondering how heavenly you’ll feel wrapped around his length and clamping down around it instead of his fingers. You’re still entranced by your orgasm, ecstasy coursing through your veins like fire and ice combining explosively, just like the quirk of the man who had caused such a phenomenon. When your grip on his disheveled hair finally unfurls, he pulls his fingers out of you, mouth making quick work of kissing your dripping, twitching cunt all over. With one last kiss to your pulsing clit, he moves back onto the couch, hovering over your fatigued body.

Your head already clearing of the static, orgasmic fog, your fingers slide around the back of his neck, underneath the cool fabric of his hero suit and along his broad shoulders. The muscles adorning his back are firm beneath smooth skin, the heat of him radiating through and greeting your fingertips pleasantly. Shouto gets the message, sitting back and shrugging off the jacket. Just as he does so, you make your move, pushing his shoulders back just hard enough to get him off balance, falling back onto his ass with wide eyes. Instantly you take your place before him, your knees hitting the carpet as your hands travel up his slender thighs, sinew twitching beneath your caress.

He doesn’t say a word as he watches you undo the top of his pants, your lips trailing along the prominent contours of his abdomen. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the outline of his cock struggling to be freed against his inner thigh, aching to be released and touched by you. You share a heavy look with him as your hands pull down his pants, his boxer briefs going with them. His length springs out of its confines, standing thick, long, and deliciously hard against his pelvis. You can’t help but stare at it, your tongue wandering out to wet your lips as you take the sight of him in before you.

When you glance up to catch his expression, you’re shocked to find his cheeks slightly darkened, his brow furrowed as he gazes down at you. “Y/N, you don’t have to—” he gasps as your mouth envelops the head of his cock, the hot, wet suction enough to steal his breath away. “F-Fuck…” Shouto sighs as you begin to slide even more of him into your mouth, your tongue gliding against the underside of his throbbing length. You make it halfway down his length before you lean back, pressing a chaste kiss to the very tip of him, just as gently as he’d kissed your clit moments ago.

“I want to,” you murmur, your words reverberating against his hard cock, a coy smile curling the corners of your mouth as it jerks against your lips. “I wanna take care of you, Shouto,” you hum, your hand wrapping around the base of him and beginning to pump, “Let me taste you.” His head falls back onto the top of the sofa, a muffled groan trapped in his throat. It’s ripped out of him as your mouth descends onto him again, your spit allowing you to take him deeper and deeper into your throat. You do your best to keep a steady tempo, bobbing up and down on his cock as you suck in your cheeks, tongue swirling and massaging the bulging veins along his shaft. Beads of pre-cum stain your tastebuds, bittersweet and urging you to continue your ministrations. The head of his cock brushes against the back of your throat and he groans loudly, lithe fingers gripping your hair tight.

Shouto tenses beneath you, his abs straining as he holds your head flush against his pelvis, his cock sheathed deep into your throat. “You feel… so good,” he moans, pulling your head back and letting you catch a fresh breath of air. You take the opportunity gladly, wasting no time before you take his engorged length back into your mouth. Carefully you suck on the tip of him, your hand moving to jack off his length as your other hand cradles his balls, your thumb rolling them easily in your palm. The effect is immediate, Shouto’s laboured breath coming out in harsh pants as your fist slides along him flawlessly. He bites his lip, his free hand pushing his snow and scarlet locks off his forehead as he chokes out, “T-Too good— slow down, baby.”

When you don’t adhere to his instruction, he reaches down and touches your cheek, guiding your mouth off of him before he leans forward and pulls you into his arms, your knees dipping into the soft cushions of the sofa on either side of his hips. He wastes no time snagging your dress over your shoulders, leaving you completely naked on top of his lap.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he nearly whines, eyes raking over every curve, his hands coming to rest along the top of your hips before they wander around your back, cupping an ass cheek in either palm. He guides your body forward, your dripping folds dragging against his slick cock. Your hand lands on his wide chest, the other coming to rest on his cool cheek to steer his gaze unto yours. His eyes seem alive with passion, boring into you with unrestrained desire, filled with emotion as he whispers, “I want you so damn bad, Y/N.”

You smile and touch your lips to his, enjoying the moment of tenderness between the two of you, your bodies finally pressed flush against each other, with nothing to separate your skin from his. “Then take me,” you reply, voice hushed and gente, your thumb stroking against the edge of his scar, “I’m all yours, Shouto.”

A simultaneous moan overtakes the silence in the room as his cock sheathes completely inside of you, your sticky, velvet walls stretching wide around his intruding length. He’s so big, and hard— you can feel every single inch of him, all the way to his swollen tip that nearly brushes against your womb. Your pussy struggles to accommodate him, pulsing and clutching onto him as every time you think you’re adjusting to his size, more pleasure flows through you and you clench onto him again.

“H-Hot,” Shouto groans, face buried in your shoulder as his fingers dig into the plush of your ass. “So hot, and wet… and you— you’re so fucking tight.” He takes a few deep breaths before his biceps flex, and he pulls your body up slowly before he allows gravity to take it back down, your sweltering cunt swallowing him inside again.

His length pushing into you elicits a loud moan from you, the feeling of your walls stretching so deliciously around his width only causing further bliss. Not to mention how the head of his cock prods into a sacred spot as your ass meets the top of his thighs, his length disappearing completely inside of you as your toes curl behind you. Your body tingles, electricity zipping through your veins as you strain your thighs, pushing yourself back up so his cock slips mostly out of you before you fall back down, spearing yourself onto his waiting length. “S-Shouto,” you gasp, trying to find a tempo as you repeat the action, your slick dribbling out to coat his cock even further, “you’re so big, I— your cock, it—aha nnn— it feels so good!”

Shouto’s hands stray from your ass, traveling up your spine, your waist, your thighs, your tits. He’s examining your body, his lips parted as heavy pants tumble out between them, eyes soaking in every part of you and committing it to memory. A hand cups your breast, squeezing and flicking a nipple back and forth with his thumb. He notices how your cunt squeezes around his cock when he does that, and he licks his lips as he continues to toy with it, pinching and rolling the hard bud between his fingertips.

Meanwhile you can barely keep your eyes open, your jaw fighting the opposite battle and losing, quite frankly, as it hangs unhinged, choked moans tumbling out from the bottom of your lungs. Your hips fire relentlessly, his cock pushing in and out of your slippery walls as easily as a hot knife slipping through butter. With every meeting of your hips against his, his cock drills into your sweet spot, stars dotting along the corners of your vision. You’ve never been so full, your body nor your heart, certainly not both at the same time— nothing like this.

This is something else— incredible, ethereal.

You’re with Shouto, and he’s with you.

The lewd, wet slapping of your pussy against his pelvis fills his living room with noise, the sofa wheezing ever so slightly with every roll of your hips. You cry out when Shouto takes your other nipple into his mouth, sucking and tongue writhing against the perky bud mercilessly. Your fingers curl into his two-toned locks, securing a harsh grip while your other hand stays on his shoulder for balance, your body rocking itself onto his hard cock like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. You want to reach down and rub your clit, the pleasure already beginning to build up in your stomach.

Shouto can feel your cunt fluttering, your desperation to cum clear as day. You squeak as his arms envelop you, one curling around your waist and the other up your back as he plants a firm grasp around the bend of your shoulder. With his grip secured on you, he starts to thrust upwards, his cock slamming into your trembling pussy with vigor.

You cry out, his hips drilling into you from below faster, harder than you’d been able to provide. The brutal onslaught catches you off guard, leaving you breathless for a moment as you allow the sheer pleasure to take over. “Shouto! You shouldn’t— ohh, god yes!— fuck, y-you should— your ribs!” you try to say, but he doesn’t give you a second to think, nor to catch your breath. He just keeps hurling your body down onto his waiting cock, spreading your walls with his thick length and driving into your pussy without relent.

“That’s okay Doc,” he chuckles, sucking in a short breath through his bared teeth, his lips tracing along the column of your throat, “You fixed me up, so— hah, fuck— just… let me make you feel good t-too.” He begins to sloppily kiss your neck, marking your skin and stating his claim on you for all to see. His cock easily glides into you, despite your tightening walls as your impending orgasm draws closer and closer. The bouncing of your body onto his allows your clit to be stimulated too, rolling against the firm muscle of his pelvis as he thrusts up, meeting you halfway.

The inferno in your belly only grows more powerful as his cock continues to plunge into you, your pussy sinking down onto him willingly while your excess slick drips down onto his lap. You’re so turned on that the only thing you can focus on is Shouto, hammering away underneath you as he sucks on the fragile skin on your neck. Surely there’ll be hickeys there tomorrow morning, but you can’t find a single fuck to give, too occupied with the thought of being his and everyone knowing it. You find your pussy gripping onto him tightly at that, desperate for you to seal the deal, your months of yearning coming to an end as his hips stutter against yours, his fingers digging into you as he clutches onto you. You want to feel him finish inside of you, for him to coat your walls in his essence and claim your body as his.

Shouto seems to be on the same page, for his arms lock around your waist now, pressing your chest flush against his. Your eyes find his for a brief moment, all that pent-up longing shattering as you look at him and he looks at you. He closes his eyes as your lips meet, ragged breath mixing as your tongues ravel, and it’s then that you let out a sinful moan, the rubber band in your stomach snapping.

Euphoria floods through your system, every nerve in your body lighting up like the night sky on the fourth of july. Tidal waves of pleasure crash through you, your body trembling in his arms as your cunt wrings snug around his cock like a vise. Shouto groans against your mouth as your walls clamp and flutter, milking him for everything he’s worth. His own orgasm hits him too, his seed spurting into your womb as thick, white ribbons spray deep inside of you. Your fingers nestled in his hair, you keep your lips on his— the only anchor you can keep ahold of as your body is cast out to a sea of ecstasy. His hands slide down to cup your ass again, leisurely rocking your body against his as you both ride out your highs and cling to each other.

As you catch your breath, you lean into his strong frame, nose buried in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His palms trace your spine up and down, one cool and one warm. When you finally lean back to look at him, you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your lips, tired laughter bubbling up in your throat. Shouto smiles back at you, a large hand coming to cup your jaw and bring your lips to his once more.

You sigh into the kiss, content blooming in your chest as bliss from your orgasm still lingers, simmering on the backburner gently while you bask in his embrace. This kiss is sweet and short, unlike the ones from earlier that were all-consuming and overflowing with passion.

“Can I take you to that restaurant you went to tonight sometime?” Shouto whispers, words barely loud enough for your ears to catch, even though you’re right before him.

Blinking at him curiously, one side of your mouth quirks upwards at his proposal, your eyebrow following its lead. “What? Does it have to be the same one?”

Shouto frowns. “Yes. So I can order you your lava cake,” he states nonchalantly, expression completely serious. His biceps flex on either side of you, chest puffing out slightly. “I promise you can have every bite to yourself.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at his bluntness, unable to stop yourself from absolutely beaming at him, and shooting him your gooiest heart eyes. He feels his heart skip a beat, his cheeks flushed with pink at being the target of your affectionate gaze.

“If it means you’re taking me out… I guess I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

as always, thank you for reading <3 villain!denki coming tomorrow~

➥ masterlist

➥ BINGO masterlist

#todoroki shouto smut #todoroki shoto smut #bnha smut #mha smut #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki shouto fic #todoroki shoto fic #bnha fic #mha fic #my fics

1K notes · View notes

onmykneesforhotdilfs · 3 years

Note

Oooh i'm gonna with #3 please! And Valtor as a bartender.

He truly loathed his job.

The disgusting smell of cheap drinks spilled on the bar mixed with the stench of sweat and cheap perfume, from grinding bodies on the dancefloor and humping barely-legals in the corner, made him nauseous. The music was loud to the point his heartbeat developed arrhythmia whenever a bass boosted song played through the obnoxious sound system. To make matters worse, one of the speakers was set directly above the bar and Valtor was sick of buying earplugs every week, because if he didn’t use any protection, he’s pretty sure he would go deaf before he hit 40 and he once again cursed himself for forgetting them at home.

A particularly high note came on, and the crowd cheered while Valtor cringed as he felt the microscopic hairs in his ears, sensitive to high notes, shrivel up and die. He rolled his eyes as he spotted a tall blonde dragging taller brunette towards the restroom. Apparently, couples basically dry humping each other on the dancefloor and sucking their faces off in the corners wasn’t enough, so universe also decided to throw in a couple about to commit an indecent act in a public bathroom?

He was just about to call one of the bouncers when it hit him – he doesn’t care. Oh well. What can you do?

A woman, wearing something Valtor could only describe as lingerie, came to the bar and ordered a fruity cocktail and for the umpteenth time, he wondered how his life turned into this? How did he go from graduating on a prestigious college, having a stable job and a fiancée, to wiping down spit from the counter top on a Saturday night.

He used to be a successful attorney, his yearly salary reaching up to five-zero figure, a stable relationships, loving girlfriend and more, and yet, all of that collapsed under the enormous weight couple of words held.

His hands worked on autopilot, mixing the necessary drinks while his thoughts were miles away.

Now, whatever’s left of his past life lives in a small condo across the town and Valtor chuckled at the irony of life giving him lemons while he chopped one to mix it into the cocktail. He squeezed the juice out of the poor fruit, with probably more force than was necessary, getting some of it on his shirt in the process.

“What are you chuckling about?” The woman was leaning over the counter, her chest basically spilling out of her dress as she played with the ends of her dark hair.

Valtor raised an eyebrow as he bent down to retrieve one of the decorative umbrellas. “Nothing that would be of interest to you.” He saw her flinch in surprise at the rather sharp tone he unintentionally used. “Miss.” He added as an afterthought, hoping it would make him look less abrasive. Unhappy customers don’t tip well after all.

“Oh. Well maybe it does interest me. You’ll never know unless you try.” The woman smiled flirtatiously while her fingers continued twirling the strands of her hair. “I’m Mitzi, by the way.” She offered her hand to him.

Valtor only quirked an unamused eyebrow. “I don’t remember asking for your name.” The smile was quick to disappear from her face and she snatched her hand back like it’s been burned.

He closed his eyes as his tongue, once again, proved to be faster than his brain. It’s what got him into trouble a lot of times and this one might’ve just taken a cake because if the girl went to complain to his boss, he’d be in a world of shit. “I was trying to be nice, but it seems to me you’re too much of an asshole to appreciate it.” Mitzi gritted out with obvious false confidence because a fierce blush was very much present on her face. This obviously didn’t happen to her a lot.

First time for everything, Valtor thought.

“What I would really appreciate, Mitzi,” Don’t do it, “is if you could stop your 36C's, that you stuffed into a 34B bra, from spilling all over my counter.” You absolute moron! “I have to wipe it.”

Now you’ve done it.

Mitzi turned even reader, and Valtor wondered if he should start dialing an ambulance just in case, but she only snatched the drink he placed in front of her and threw a 5$ bill in his face. “Jerk!” And just like that, she was gone.

“Have a nice evening!” Drop dead.

He rolled his eyes and took a glass that needed wiping just to occupy his hands for a minute because he felt like a coiled string, just about to snap and burn everything in its path.

“I have to say,” girl’s voice reached him, “you just fixed my evening.” Valtor lowered the glass to the solid surface and turned to face the owner.

His brain short circuited.

Though her body was mostly obstructed by the counter, he could see that the navy blue slip dress she wore draped beautifully across her slender figure. She was also incredibly short that even standing up straight, in what Valtor assumed were ridiculously high heels, she was at least head and a half shorten than him. But the most obvious, and striking thing about her, was her red hair. Valtor never even thought that hair could be as vibrant as hers.

In his almost 35 years of life, Valtor has never seen someone as interesting as the girl standing in front of him.

When he finally shook himself out of his stupor, and when it became painfully obvious he was making her uncomfortable with his gawking (really, there was no other word for it), he smiled and spoke. “Well, I’m pleased to hear that because it will undoubtedly ruin my life.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her reporting you.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Her ego is too big for her to accept she just got rejected.”

“You know her?”

There was something nostalgic in her smile. “I used to know her… or maybe I just thought I know her.”

Valtor observed the unusual girl in front of him. In his several years as a bartender and even before, he developed quite a knack for reading people. She seemed, to him at least, like one of those lost souls that recently had their world turned upside down but tried despite to appear normal. You and me both. “Would you like something to drink?”

Her head snapped up and her electric blue eyes met his. “Oh! Yes, um,” she fidgeted slightly, her hands wringing together and picking at her nails, “anything with vodka.”

He nodded and turned his back on her to find a bottle of the best vodka the club had to offer. He didn’t know why he suddenly paid so much attention to what he’s mixing into drinks but something pulled him towards this girl like gravity and he was too weak to resist it. “Straight?” He asked without turning around.

“Ummm, that’s a bit personal don’t you think? I mean, I just met you.” Valtor stopped what he was doing and turned his head so she could see the confused frown on his face. “I don’t even know your name. As far as I know you could be a serial killer.”

It downed on Valtor what she was talking about and he chuckled at her adorable rant. “I meant the Vodka.”

Her lips shaped into a silent “O" and he saw how her neck and face turned red from embarrassed. She moaned and buried her face into her hands. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He picked the bottle and turned back around so he was facing her. He extended his unoccupied hand across the counter top. “I’m Valtor.”

She shook his hand, her hand incredibly small in his huge one, blush still present on her cheeks. “Bloom. And yes, straight vodka is fine.”

“I’ve only seen Russians drink vodka by itself.”

“I’m quarter Russian. My mom’s dad is from Russia.” Valtor nodded along as he fixed her a drink.

“Impressive.”

“it’s really not. It only made me the laughing stock of the entire class.” She took the glass filled with clear liquid, their fingers brushing together on accident, and Valtor felt a spark rushing up his nerve endings. “But, I can drink most people under the table so I guess I should be grateful.”

Humor was obviously one of the things she used to deflect the pain and trauma bullying inevitably caused. “Your hair is very… unusual. Natural?”

She nodded. “Yup. This is one of the things I inherited from grandpa.”

“Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t my intention.”

“No no, don’t worry.” Her lips wrapped around the edge of the glass as she took a sip and closed her eyes to savor the feeling of burning liquid sliding down her throat. “It’s actually one of the nicest things someone has said to me about my hair.”

Valtor looked at her with a small smirk on his face. “That bad, huh?”

“You don’t want to know.” Bloom tilted the glass and took a large swing of the drink, only a small amount remaining at the bottom. “What about you?”

Valtor shrugged. “What about me?”

“You have an unusual hair too.”

Indeed. His long strawberry blond hair was tied in a ponytail, but unlike herself, he loved his hair and didn’t particularly give a damn what anybody else thought about it. “I don’t really care about somebody else’s opinion and neither should you.”

“I’ve stopped that long time ago.” Valtor nodded towards her almost empty glass and she slid it towards him for a refill. “But you know, scars remain.”

He nodded. “That I do know.” Valtor saw another guy coming up to the bar so he excused himself. As soon as he moved away from her, the unpleasant sensations that accompany prolonged presence in a loud room came rushing back like a rogue train and Valtor felt the onsets of a headache forming. He served the guy and returned to Bloom who was now nursing her drink instead of knocking it back like the first time.

“So what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She quirked one eyebrow. “A girl like me?”

“Not to be rude, but this doesn’t seem like your cup of tea.”

She laughed. “It’s my friend’s birthday. She dragged me here against my will while promising she’ll stay with me the entire time. It took me turning around for her to vanish without a trace with her boyfriend.”

“That friend of yours,” he started, “wouldn’t happen to be a tall blonde dragging a brunette with her?”

“That’s her.”

Valtor made a face. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing a lot of her tonight.” His eyes slid to the direction of the restroom.

Bloom followed his gaze and she groaned when she saw where her friend went to. “Not this again.”

“Again? This happens a lot?”

“Unfortunately, it happens more than I would like to.” She rubbed her forehead.

“Right,” he drawled, “because who doesn’t like seeing their friends going at it.” Sarcasm was dripping from his words.

“How long have they been in there?” She asked while looking at her wrist watch.

“Fifteen minutes or so.”

“Damn animals. I’m never coming to the club with her again.”

An amused chuckle escaped him. “That’s not the first time you’ve said that, am I right?”

She smiled and took a sip of vodka. “Nope.”

Just as he opened his mouth to ask her another question, her blonde friend wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Valtor’s eyebrow did a backflip. How she managed to avoid detection while leaving the bathroom was beyond him.

“Damn Bloom, I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already seducing hot bartenders!”

“Stella! First of all, I am not seducing anybody,” Maybe not intentionally, “secondly, it’s been almost twenty minutes and thirdly, what happened to your promise of not ditching me? And the moment I turn around, you’re already gone?”

Stella, if Valtor heeard correctly, giggled. “Oh live a little Bloom. Besides, it’s not like you were in a bad company.” Her eyes ran over Valtor’s form. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of that.” She ogled Valtor like a piece of chocolate cake.

“I’m standing right here.”

“Okay, that’s enough for today! We’re going home.” Bloom grabbed her purse and was about to pull out her wallet when Valtor raised his arm to stop her.

“It’s on the house.”

“But Blooooom,” There was really no words to describe the sound that exited blonde’s mouth, “we just got here.”

“The fact that you're talking about having a threesome with a stranger says enough about your state.”

“I’m pretty sure Brandon wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, time out. Let’s go.” She turned towards Valtor, a small card between her fingers. She leaned over the counter while one of her arms stayed behind, supporting her friend. “Thank you.” She slipped the card into his hand. “Call me if you wanna talk sometimes.” And with that, she spun on her heel and dragged Stella towards the exit.

Valtor stood in shock, not knowing how to react for a few minutes, staring at the business card in his hands.

Bloom Peters MD.

He shook his head, hand safely pocketing the precious cargo before he picked up the glass she’s been drinking from and turning around to wash it. The sound of retching caused him to turn around in time to see some wasted man empty the content of his stomach on an obnoxious red carpet. The stench of vomit mixed with other delightful aromas and Valtor was once again reminded how much he hated his job.

#winx club #baltor x bloom #bloom x baltor #bloom x valtor #sparxshipping #valtor x bloom #bloom #valtor #winx #sparxshipping questions #sparxshipping requests #sparxshipping prompts #sparxshipping au

65 notes · View notes

buddyfromearth · 3 years

Text

Object of Affection

For @gothamsworst because your entire penguin tag has put into me a great fire to write a sheepish significant other for him. Mind you, I haven’t written fanfiction since high school so forgive me if I get something wrong (I’m still getting into DC and my parents think it’s embarrassing because I had a lobo phase out of high school.)

Notes: confessions of love; sfw (some slight implications at the end but it cuts off because that’s not going on this blog here); aw, gee, he brought a bouquet of flowers; hey who ordered flirting because here’s some; several headcanons in one go let’s go people; I can write pretty words I just mostly refuse to in favor of making it all comics instead; idea of flirting is just walking up with a bouquet and going “marry me”; I don’t know what I’m doing I’ve never written this guy before.

EDIT: fixed some things.

Stuck between yearning for love and the fear of rejection was a difficult place to be. It was at least easier to know rejection than it was to have yearning for love going totally unanswered. Oh, what pain it was.

Oswald Cobblepot, that troublesome Penguin known about Gotham as one hell of a man to cross, was madly in love. Yes, an unfortunate feeling to have. But he couldn’t help it. Not this time, at least.

It was someone he’d seen around the lounge, lurking nearby where he’d watch the penguins. When he saw them around and was able to not make it awkward, he couldn’t help but stare at those eyes all green and deep like some dark thicket. And those venomous eyes did plenty of staring back: he could feel their gaze fixated on him whenever he was working at the lounge.

Really, though, what did he know about this crush that had taken his entire heart by a single blow? Well, he knew enough. His eyes about Gotham told him that they weren’t much of anything besides a total hermit: mostly stayed home at a ground-floor apartment in a low-rent yet slightly decent part of town (as decent as the city could be, anyway), and had everything that was needed for living delivered to their door. No car: only ever ventured out on a trike with a headlight on the front and a trunk on the back. He wasn’t even sure what they did for a living.

At the very least Oswald knew he could find them lurking around the lounge. So, that’s exactly where he went.

Of course, such an event was not something to go into completely unprepared. He pulled out a nice suit, as usual, with all the fine accoutrements he was well-known for. An umbrella in one hand and a large bouquet of bloody red roses in the other. Even went out of the way to pick out cologne, albeit he preferred not to. He wanted to make the best impression he could.

It was just that odd hour before the post-work rush. Oswald hoped he’d not come in on a wrong night. Trying not to draw too much attention, he made a long sort of awkward path over to where they usually were.

There they were, right at that surprisingly bare table he got used to passing by. There was a pencil case pushed to one side, and it sat next to a tall glass of what he thought might be soda (of course, he wasn’t about to just try it: that would be a bit too much). They were hunched over something in front of them, and their hands moved quickly with a pencil and a brush.

“Excuse me, my dear,” started Oswald, with a soft tone so as to not scare this beloved mystery away, “but is this table taking guests?”

They jumped. Oswald feared he’d gone too fast. Oh, wonderful, now he’d scared them off!

They looked up and met his eyes. What was once a terrified look behind thick glasses quickly melted into something tender and rather curious. “Oh.” Their voice had an astoundingly flat affect, hinting at an origin out in midland farming country with the slight tint to it. They cleared their throat, and moved their bag to the other side. “S-sure thing, sir, sure. Wasn’t expecting anyone to be over here tonight. Normally people only ever come over to ask for free work from me.” Their voice was soft and quiet as they spoke: an absolutely adorable sound that hit just right in his ears. He could listen to it talk forever.

“Excellent.” Oswald sat down directly next to them, putting the umbrella to rest on the seat beside him.

Their face quickly changed colors. It went from a sickly pale in the lowlight to being absolutely taken over with blush. “R-right, s-sure. Please, forgive me for asking, but haven’t I seen you around here before?”

“Of course you would have seen me here before,” said Oswald, rolling his eyes slightly. “I own this lounge, after all.”

“Oh, I…” They stopped for a moment, and their mouth was slightly agape as they appeared to slowly mentally register the weight of the situation. Then their eyes shot wide open and they gave up a nervous smile with chattering teeth. “M-Mr. Cobblepot, sir. I-I-I didn’t think I was something you’d… well, y’know, actually come over to see?”

“Quite the contrary,” said Oswald, moving in closer and putting an arm around their shoulder. “You’ve captured my attention with how much you care about my darlings. I see you in here and I can’t help but wonder if you’re some kindred soul.” He gestured just slightly over at the centerpiece of the lounge, the namesake iceberg with a whole group of penguins he often spent hours watching on his days off.

They looked over to where he gestured, and then they nodded quickly. The nervousness quickly got itself out of that smile, and their entire posture melted into one of repose. “Your penguins, right. Right, the penguins! Of course! They’re so cute: little communal flipper birds that just waddle around and honk and preen all day.” They sighed and smiled, leaning forward and putting their head to rest in their hand. “What I wouldn’t give for a life so carefree.”

Oswald immediately had a few ideas come to mind. Oh, he could take care of that: he could just bring them into his life and get them out of that awful apartment, pamper them with anything and everything they could ever want. Ask them to move in with you. Ask them for a date. Ask them to share a drink. No, no, no, that’s all too fast! Play it slowly: perhaps they’ll melt into your arms if you go ahead just right.

“How often are you around here, hm?” Oswald looked over from behind his monocle at this mystery figure that had caught his attention and proceeded to hold it in a vice-like grip, taking a moment to look at what he was dealing with. Their figure was mostly obscured by big, bulky articles of clothing, but what could be made out was all thick and rolled together like some haphazard cake stacked up far too high for its own good. It was very easy to look at. “You seem to know enough about my precious little birds.” “Perhaps a bit too much” was a phrase he wanted to add, but he wasn’t about to murder this feeling.

“I don’t really drink alcohol. I only really come here to draw the iceberg and all the penguins,” said the mystery crush. “They’re so fun to smush together with their little shapes. Their little flippers are so cute. And their little feet are surprisingly complex once you get past all the flub and feathers.”

Oh, one of those artist types. Wait, artist type. Artist. Oh, this could be good: this could actually be really good for several different reasons! Not just the romantic pursuit reason, either: perhaps their passion for the arts would include, somewhere in there, a passion for him.

“I see.” Oswald reached for the pad of paper they were so vigilantly guarding and said, “I can’t help but have a look at someone’s work regarding my darlings.”

A sickly pale hand with chewed-down nails shot over and clamped in on Oswald’s wrist. “Just a second there, Mr. Cobblepot. You have to promise me something first.”

“Anything, my sweet, anything.”

“Don’t tell anyone what you see in this book. It’s a lot of… well, it’s… bad.”

“Oh, I will most certainly be the judge of that.” Oswald picked up the book, and then handed them the bouquet in return. “Here, something for you to hold in the meantime.”

Noting their shocked expression as they carefully took the bouquet in their arms, Oswald began to slowly browse through the contents of the book.

What they had said was indeed true: there were a lot of penguins in there. They were doing all sorts of things: preening their coats, honking, spread out on their stomachs staring at each other, ambling across the ice. They were all partway realistic, but there was some sort of fantastical flair to them. It was cute: just like them.

While flipping through the pages, though, he couldn’t help but notice other pieces. Things like the name of the lounge written out in poster type pieces with his penguins and their little iceberg on it. There was, undeniably, a unique work of a penguin in a suit like his. Curious, he turned the page.

And what he saw there surprised him greatly.

It was not only drawings of patrons with little notes about time scrawled around them that occupied the pages, but there were drawings of him as well. Little notes here and there about the things he’d wear, the way he’d talk, and the way he moved. Around one particular piece underlaid with purple markings was a portrait of him smiling: the note around this piece said “Handsome guy but who?” It was surrounded by little scribbled hearts.

Oswald, in his stroke of peacock vanity that got to him every now and again, turned his head slightly as he was gently urged by these things. “I see that you draw more than birds.”

The mystery crush looked over. They caught a look of what pages he’d come to and they grimaced before sighing and hiding their face in their hands. “Sorry about that. I-I draw people a lot, just to stay aware of how to do it.”

“It seems you’ve become quite taken with me in these intimate studies,” said Oswald, casting a rather tempered gaze and a matching grin over at the object of his affections as he handed back the book. “I must admit, I came here tonight thinking you wouldn’t reciprocate the feelings that brought me to you in the first place.”

“Oh, wow, feelings?” The mystery crush smiled and chuckled ever so softly, rubbing their hand along the back of their neck as they took the book and put it back on the table. “Goodness gracious, Mr. Cobblepot, I didn’t expect a gentlemanly type like yourself to be the romantic type.”

“Oh, but isn’t a gentleman always the romantic type?” Oswald, emboldened by such a soft response, couldn’t help but to pull them in closer. When they began to blush again, he grinned and pressed a gloved finger to their nose. “I can’t exactly help it. And please, just call me Oswald.” He then picked up one of their hands and pressed a single, fervent kiss to it.

“Ah, uh, I guess so,” said the mystery crush, “mister… oh, right, Oswald. Right, first name basis now.” Their face was getting hotter by the minute, and they began to stammer over all their words as they put the bouquet on the table. “I, uh… would, would you be offended if I asked you something kinda personal?”

Oswald could already picture several personal questions and perfect little answers to go along with them. He nodded and held their hands in his. “Oh, but of course, my dear: anything you ask for, you’ll get it from me.”

“Oh.” The mystery crush nodded, their glasses falling down their face in the meantime. When Oswald reached up and pushed them back to their previous position, they cleared their throat and quickly stammered out, “If you feel so strongly about me, would you mind if I moved in? I, uh… they hiked the rent on my place again and I have to find a new one before the end of the month. Don’t make enough.”

“Would I mind? Of course not, dearest bird, of course not. I have far too many places that need a colorful touch like yours. You can come with me tonight, if it pleases you, my dear.”

“You don’t have to be so heavy-handed with all the compliments.”

“Oh, but I believe you deserve every last one of them.”

“You’re far too kind.” The mystery crush sighed. “I hate to tell you this now, after all those compliments and affectionate talk, but I’m kind of a handful, I’m… look, I’m trans and if you’re not into a guy like me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m- I’m sorry. We can just go away from this table and never speak about this again. It… it’ll be fine if we do that.”

“Oh, now you just listen to me.” Oswald put his hands to the mystery crush’s face and leaned it over so they were looking at him. “I don’t rightly care about whether you’re trans or not, and I’ll fund that for you so you can be happy. You’re just far too pretty of a kindred spirit to be left so alone in such a big city.”

“I…” The mystery crush looked baffled. They froze for a moment or two, and Oswald wondered if he had said too much. After a long silence, they sighed and smiled so big and soft that it couldn’t help but bring him to smile as well. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Oh, you’re ever so welcome, my dear.” Oswald pressed his face up to theirs and quickly asked, “May I?”

“May you… oh, right. Right! Yes, you may, Oswald. You most certainly may!”

With that, Oswald couldn’t help but press a kiss to their lips. Their lips were slightly chapped, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle his face just slightly against theirs in some affectionate attempt to bring intimacy to such a moment. This move, while unexpected at first, was quickly reciprocated as their hands took hold of his shoulders.

Oswald pulled away with a troublesome little grin spread across his lips, and the object of all those affections smiled like this sort of intimacy was brand new to them. “I can’t help but wonder what your name is.”

“Look, my name is…” They stopped for a moment, but then they smiled and just said, “Call me Lou for now. I can’t think of a name that belongs to me.”

“Then let’s find that out together.” Oswald took his umbrella up and moved to stand, offering his hand to Lou. “Come, I can have a crew bring your things to our home tomorrow. Tonight, we shall simply be enamored little lovebirds.”

Lou laughed. Their laugh sounded like the call of a bird, with its dragged-out syllables and its pitch. They snorted just slightly as they packed up their things. “You’re very honest, Oswald. I like that. I like that a lot.”

“What’s a little honesty between significant others?” Oswald smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

Lou put their bag back on their shoulders and put their hand in Oswald’s as they stood up. They weren’t much taller than him, and those assumptions he had made about their figure were correct. “It’s a lot. Let’s go.”

Oswald only put his arm around them as the two gently went hand-in-hand to where his driver waited.

“What are the plans for this evening, Oswald?”

“Oh, I do believe I have a few ideas beginning to come to be. Just you be patient, my sweet, I’ll tell you when we’re alone.”

#writing #gothamsworst #not going into the tags #too embarrassing and self-inserty for the tags #gave the guy a different name too #just so it's not too self-inserty #I don't like getting rude comments about self-inserting #my writing

21 notes · View notes

thereisnochillinsideme · 3 years

Text

The Rain, Akaashi Keiji

Akaashi didn’t really mind the rain.

It was just nature doing its job and providing Earth with water.

Rain was rain.

But as he stood in the doorway of the tall glass building where he worked, he couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed at the occurrence of this weather because he needed to get home and contrary to his usually meticulous nature, he didn’t bring an umbrella.

He leaned against the door, trying to formulate a route to his apartment that would leave his clothes slightly dry, but came up with absolutely nothing.

He waved to his coworkers as they left under their umbrellas, having foreseen this crude weather on the news, which Akaashi didn’t see that morning.

He stayed at the entrance of the office building, under the shelter of the small ledge over his head, and just watched the sea of people with their black and navy blue umbrellas, hoping maybe the rain would stop. Alas, he knew his prayers wouldn’t be answered as the clouds didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon. He sighed, glazed-over eyes scanning the street again. At this moment, all he wanted was Nanohana no Karashiae. It was quite inconvenient that his favorite food was one that in season during spring and was accompanied by large downpours and storms.

As his observant eyes took in the environment around him, something caught Akaashi’s attention. Amid the dark blue and black of the umbrellas, he spotted one that stuck out like a sore thumb. It was an umbrella, like the others, but it was an obnoxiously bright neon yellow that hurt the eye to look at. It reminded him of the jackets that the Itachiyama Institute’s volleyball team wore to their matches, but much more bright and obnoxious. Beneath the umbrella was a young woman in a hoodie and sweatpants holding a grocery bag with the logo from the family-owned shop across the street. She seemed to feel the eyes on her and looked around wildly until she spotted Akaashi in front of the glass building, face stoic and eyes unwavering. She gave a wave and smile far too bright for a day like this. The smile held such good intentions that it almost tempted Akaashi to smile himself, but remembering his circumstances, his face stayed the same. The woman began pushing through the sea of umbrellas until she made her way to Akaashi, the sound of the water hitting her umbrella like a drum. She finally pushed through the last few people and stood in front of Akaashi, panting from the effort.

“Hi,” She breathed.

“Can I help you?” Akaashi asked, confused.

“I noticed you didn’t bring an umbrella.”

She took Akaashi’s hand and put the cane of the umbrella right into it before turning around, putting her grocery bag on her head.

“I’m not too far from here, I can make a run for it.”

And then she started running, the grocery bag bearing the beat of the rain as her legs carried her fast through the street…

…only for her to collapse by the curb after 7 feet.

Akaashi was instantly worried about her and quickly made his way over with the umbrella to check on her. He found her looking happily at the grocery bag.

“That’s a relief! I thought my cake got wet, but it’s completely dry!”

Akaashi took a couple seconds to process what she had said before humor overtook him and he doubled over and started laughing.

The woman stared at him in amazement. “So you can smile, Stoneface-san!”

He wiped a couple of stray tears from the corners of his eyes before looking back at her, holding the umbrella over the both of them, moving to let others pass.

“Stoneface-san? What kind of a name is that?”

“You looked so stoic that I thought someone carved your face into stone.”

“Anyone would be annoyed to be stuck without an umbrella in this weather.”

“True, true. But I did give you my umbrella.”

“And look where that got you. You know we could have shared.”

“That would be such a cliche.”

“No, that would be efficient. Get up, you’re getting wet.”

Akaashi lent her a hand to lift her off the pavement as she picked up her grocery bag.

“Where do you live?”

When she said her address, Akaashi’s eyes went wide.

“What the hell? That’s on the other side of the city! You’d have to take two taxis and a train to get there! You said you weren’t very far! Were you planning to keep that grocery bag on your head the whole way back?! Why are you even here on this side of the city?”

She shrugged, holding up the grocery bag. “There’s good cake here.”

“You came here to get cake in this weather?”

“Weather doesn’t really impact the quality of cake, Stoneface-san.”

“The trains are shut down too due to a railway issue so you can’t get home!”

Akaashi started fiddling with his fingers, as he usually did when he was anxious. He couldn’t just leave this woman in the street.

She began to look concerned, so Akaashi regained his composure. "Do you have friends here who you can stay with or something?”

“Uh, yeah, I have a friend who lives at xxx-xxx, apartment 17.”

The address sounded familiar to Akaashi and he faltered for a moment before realizing that it was his neighbor, Takahashi Yoriko, the museum curator. They had a casual friendship, not really speaking unless she needed Akaashi to take care of her cat or he needed her to water his plants.

“That’s my neighbor, I’ll get you there.”

As they walked to the building, the woman regaled Akaashi with descriptions of all the different cakes in the shop. Akashi began to wonder how she could remember every detail of the white frosting flowers piped onto a chocolate cake, but be enough of an idiot to come to the other side of the city in this weather and then giving her umbrella to a stranger.

Upon reaching the apartment building, Akaashi entered the code for his neighbors apartment and let the woman speak into the intercom.

“Yo-chan It’s me!”

Akaashi heard the woman gasp on the other side of the intercom.

“[Name], what are you doing here? You live so far away! And the trains are down!”

“Funny story, I took a train here and got stuck. Then I met Stoneface-san!”

“Stoneface-san?”

Akaashi awkwardly cleared his throat before speaking into the intercom.

“Hello Takahashi-san, i was getting home from work before I found your friend here.”

“Akaashi-kun I’m so sorry you had to take responsibility for her. Let me buzz you up.”

After taking an elevator up to Akaashi and Takahashi’s floor, [Name] bounced over and knocked three times on the door right next to Akaashi’s. It was opened by an obviously irked woman, but [Name] didn’t seem to care about the clear annoyance on her face, jumping towards her with a bright smile, arms outstretched for a hug.

“Yo-chan-“

She stepped quickly to the side, causing [Name] to clumsily fall on the Welcome mat in the doorway. Takahashi ignored her and instead looked to Akaashi, clear worry and remorse on her face.

“I’m so sorry. Did she bother you?”

“Not at all, happy to help.”

“Well, I need to repay you in some way. I have some hot chocolate on the stove.”

“Yay! Hot chocolate!” [Name] happily exclaimed from the floor.

Takahashi turned back towards her briefly. “Not for you. You were the one stupid enough to get stuck in the rain and make Akaashi-san help you.”

[Name] groaned, lifting herself off the Welcome mat and stalked off towards the bathroom. Takahashi turned back to Akaashi.

“It really was no problem. It was actually her who helped me. I hadn’t carried an umbrella and she tried to give me hers. She ended up falling down and I suggested we share the umbrella and I brought her here since she can’t get home in this weather.”

“That’s [Name] for you. Kind, but stupid. I always wonder how she managed to make it to adulthood.”

“Well, with such good friends, i imagine she always had someone to watch her back.”

Yoriko smiled. “I’m just here to dissuade her from eating too much cake.”

She then looked down at Akaashi’s dripping clothes and briefcase and the neon yellow umbrella that was now soaking the floor.

“I’ll let you drop off your stuff at your apartment and you can come right back for dinner. I have to thank you some way for taking care of my overgrown child of a friend.”

She closed the door behind her, walking off to help [Name].

As Akaashi walked to his apartment, he felt the small urge to smile. He felt a small sense of gratitude that he hadn’t seen the news that morning, as he suspected that the routine events of his day wouldn’t be as entertaining as [Name].

Part 2 or no Part 2? What a dilemma we have.

#akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq akaashi #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

50 notes · View notes

mxvladdy · 4 years

Text

Lucifer- True Form

Went ham. Had fun. Here is some angst (minor) and fluff and stuff.

Next up: Plot twist! Diavolo

He wears the heaviest glamour out of all of the brothers. The rage and pain from being cast from heaven has warped his angelic body. Turning him into a husk of his former divine glory. He is massive. His body is tall and gaunt. His large form towers over the oak trees of the Devildom forest, each step of his gnarled feet leaving chard prints in their wake. Lucifer is deceptively strong for as emaciated as he looks.

After the war his body is in a constant state of trying to heal itself. His skin hardens into a thick scab before flaking off, only to reform moments later. His body trying to reform to its old self, even after he had fallen. It gives him an almost dripping look. When larger pieces flack off you can see stark white bones underneath for the briefest of moments before the darkness swallows it whole again. It is a continuous breaking and mending, a maddening itch and perpetual soul deep ache.

The halo that once sat righteously atop his crown is now embedded in it. It is buried deep into his skull and shattered after his fall to the Devildom. In a vain attempt to make it look better he filed and broke pieces away styling them the best his broken pride could. They resemble large branching antlers now, sharp and lethal. Ancient hymns lost to time that were engraved by his father when he was young are now worn and dingy, the text indistinguishable in part. It was a tarnished holy relic that only the foolish would try to take (And many souls from all three realms have tried). A few centuries ago he got the jagged edges capped and adorned with gold. Bright red garnet and jewels are interwoven in thin, but strong, gold chains drape over the distorted halo. It was a gift from Diavolo, as the prince somehow finds this form beautiful.

Like Mammon, he is littered with scars from battle not even his healing magic can mend. They have made him slower, the constant mending of his tattered flesh has made it grow stiff and subsequently stunts his range and movement. Scars layer upon scars across his body. Twisting in on themselves like bark. His own personal chains. The holes where he discarded his wings in an act of defiance are now blackened craters in his back. He is unable to heal those that are self inflicted.

You can hypothesize his inability to heal this form as a battle of will. His own mind and body in inner-turmoil, parts of him wanting to continue a torture he doesn’t deserve.

It is fine, it is his burden to bear.

On the rare rainy days you can hear his joints creak and groan as his skin tears and reform. His bones grind together chillingly. He believes it is symbolic. His body groaning under the strain over-encumbered by the weight of his sins. All the brothers know to give him space on those days.

Even in his human glamour he wears stiff fabrics and corsets to help brace his body and give him an air of dignity even when he just wants to crumple at his desk.

He knew his actions in the celestial realm would have severe repercussions; but he never could have imagined it to be this abhorrent. This was truly the cruelest punishment his father could have ever bestowed on him. A form he can find no pride in.

Mini fic

Ugh. Everything hurt.

If the knot in your neck got any bigger you doubt you’d be about to move out of your chair. You close your textbook with a quick snap, done for the day. Any more drawn out paragraphs from magicians long since dead and you were going to scream. The hours in the school study hall had been beneficial but draining. The tutor on duty that day, a low-level demon named Drath, had taken a shine to your eagerness to learn and was more than willing to sit with you to talk out some of the more advanced runes you were struggling with. They had moved on to help a few more students after a while, pleased with your new understanding of Devildom magic. You stretch out in your seat, grunting softly as your spine pops. Tired of your studies you rise to perch at the window of the large room. The large windowsill overlooked the courtyard of the campus. A few students and professors run out in the courtyard trying to find shelter from the rain.

The sudden downpour had hit during lunch. The torrential downpour hammers at the windows and roof of the school. Trees and bushes tossed about in the high winds, flattened by the rain. Bright flashes of lighting blinding your eyes every so often making you blink the spots from your eyes to see the white board. Truthfully, the storm looked like it had settled on the school, happy to howl and pelt any unlocky souls with oversized raindrops. Shoot, you had hoped it would have waned by the end of classes. You hadn’t grabbed your raincoat or umbrella that morning. Cloudy days were common enough here, but rain? Has it ever rained while you were here? You peak at your phone, debating if you should text one of the brothers to come bring you an umbrella. Hmmm- you still had thirty minutes left before your study time was officially over. Maybe you’d get lucky and it would lighten up before you were forced to head back to the dorms.

You had made plans to go to the new outdoor cafe with Asmo and Beel after dinner. A little something to take you collective minds off the daunting midterms looming over you all. Lucifer’s warnings had been very clear. All residents of the house had to get good grades, no exceptions. His sharp eyes had lingered on Mammon and Asmodeus a little longer than the rest. You could feel the heat of his dark eyes even from your chair across the table. You weren’t a horrible study, but somethings just weren’t clicking like they should. It was a little stressful (a lot stressful). After a few nights of stress sobbing with Beel you had finally gone with Solomon to his study group. A few weeks of lessons and you felt much better. Good enough to celebrate. If the damn weather would take the hint.

As if the weather was attuned to your thoughts a huge flash of bright orange lightning cracked across the sky. It rattled the stained glass window, the light blinding you. Great. Blinking the white dots from your vision you turn back to your desk. Looks like you were just going to have to make a run for it.

“Forgot something?”

“Lucifer!” You smile accepting the large umbrella from his gloved hand. “Thanks! I didn’t know you were still on campus.”

“Yes. I had a few errands and meetings with Diavolo cramped in.” He looks down at you with a tight-lipped smile. In the bright light of the room you noticed beads of sweat forming on his smooth brow trailing down his temples. His eyelid pulsed, fluttering with his heart beat. If you hadn’t been staring you probably wouldn’t have noticed. You look at him, noticing how despondent his normal ridged prideful aura was. He stares blankly down at one of your large tomes struggling with the large clasps.

“Are you well?” Lucifer blinks, dropping the metal bindings as if burned. He licks his pale lips for a moment in contemplation. Something just on the verge of slipping out. But, it is quickly lost shuttered away behind his normal lofty expression.

“What makes you say that?” He asks. Lucifer turns away from you to collect your things. “Come, We’ll be taking the back way to the house. It has better coverage and the storm has yet to reach it.” You follow behind quietly, waving a quick goodbye to Solomon and Drath.

The silence around Lucifer was different today. Normally he hid his agitation from you, only bringing it out if it was directed towards you. You’d only seen him like this when Mammon had done something foolish. “Lucifer, what’s wrong.” You try again catching his sleeve to pull him back. It all happened so fast. A sharp inhalation of breath, his arm jerked from yours. His whole being repelled by your touch. He rounds on you, eyes flashing dangerously. He never minded when you touched him before. “Luci?”

“Please,” He cuts you off with a trembling hand. “I am fine. Let’s get home before the storm worsens.” He drops you off at the front stairs and excuses himself, muttering about other business to attend to. You stare after him deeply perturbed. He was never the most touchy-feely of the seven, but he was always straight with you after what happened with Belphie. To be so physically distant worried you.

He wasn’t at dinner. The head of the table was devoid of his strong presence. The other brothers seemed to be making an unusually strong effort not to look at the vacant spot. Even Satan, who you thought would be smirking at the fact the eldest had broken his own rules, sat eyes glued to a book perched in his lap. His golden spoon paused midway to his mouth. It was almost like nothing was amiss. “Is Lucifer o.k?” You turn to Levi, his head buried in his handheld, food halfway eaten. His fingers pause for a moment over his screen.

“Ye, he’s fine. Just doesn’t like the rain is all.” Oh. It doesn’t settle your worries but if no one else was stressing…

The storm lasted well into the night. The rolling thunder keeps you up well past when you should be sleeping. That and the annoying creaking that echoed out from your unlit fireplace. Or was it your window? The groaning and grinding sounds permeated the air of your room, picking up intensity at odd intervals. It reminded you of a swaying tree caught in a hurricane. Limbs twisting and snapping in the wind as it is battered from all angles, its thick trunk losing the fight to stay upright. The low grinding of it all resonating in your chest, deep and palpable. It was so loud, and the forest was so far away. Irritated, you push yourself out of bed, determined to find a place where the noise couldn’t reach you.

Pacing the long desolate hallways you try to retrace your steps to a lesser used room. Maybe steal one of Belphie’s favorite sleeping nooks. As you make your way down the hallways you begin to notice the sounds of the trees getting louder. Like you had suddenly found yourself in a grove of winding and dancing trees. You take a sharp left determined to find the cause of the noise and put an end to it. In your frustration you almost missed the door left ajar. Mid stride you stop. Who would be up at this hour? Coming closer you recognize the door.

It was Lilith’s room. The warm glow of firelight pulsing on the velvet of the hallway rug. The groaning sound of trees comes from behind the ornate door. You bristle, if one of the brothers was setting up stupid prank this late at night you’d kill them.

The eldest of the brothers stood staring into the pits of the roaring hearth. His dark eyes were glassy. The reds of his iris reflect the dancing flames. He was completely obvious to your intrusion. Clothes lay scattered about the floor haphazardly, his shirt, vest and overcoat were thrown across the floor, pants hanging low on his narrow waist. Lucifer moves closer to the roaring flames with less then his usual grace. His left leg seems stiff, the knee unwilling to bend fully as he walks. In the magically created sunlight of the room you notice his alabaster skin shift and flicker, like a TV with a bad connection. One second it was smooth, the next chard rough patches litter his skin. The black welts and molting flesh flash before you then disappear. He croons deep in the back of his throat as the flames lick at his outstretched hand. Again the sounds of tree limbs snap assault your ears as he flexes his fingers.

You stand rooted to the spot unsure of what to do. This was a very vulnerable moment for him you were sure. When was the last time you saw him with his body fully uncovered? Never. You really should give him some privacy. This was clearly not something he wished for anyone to see. Yet your heart wept for him. Lucifer was clearly in pain. Bare fingers digging large groves into the stone of the fireplace. His jaw twitching as sharp pains rack his body. “I know you're there.” He pins you in place with his husky voice. “It’s rude to stare.”

You stumble in, legs trembling. You could feel the rant coming. Bracing yourself you squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the torrent. Whatever he was going to say was cut short, a hitched breath making you look up. He is gripping at his side, unable to look at you. “Lucifer?” He raises his free hand to you, ignoring you to limp to the overstuffed armchair. He hunches over shielding his face in his large palms.

“It’s best if you forget you saw this. Please leave.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Leave.” He repeats again more firmly. “I wish to be alone.” He waves you off. You hear the creaking again. It moves with him.

“Is that you?” You ask. Watching him adjust himself in his seat. The sound of twigs bending to their max before snapping answer your question.

“Astute observation as always.” He grunts rubbing at his knee. “One would think Mammon is rubbing off on you.” His biting jab is dry. His eyes dart to the rainfall outside. His insult completely lacks his usual sting. But then again his barbs were always softened with you.

“It’s the rain isn’t it?” You ignore his blatant want for solitude, feed up with his stupid broodiness and unwilling to let a friend hurt. “My granddad was that same way. His joints would just ache and pop during really bad weather.” He puffs up for a second, comparing him to an old man twisted sourly in his gut. “Let me help?”

“How?” He whispers beyond tired suddenly. He had talked to Barbatos earlier that day. The storm was here to stay for the time being. A day or two at most. To him it would be an eternity. You approach, hands raised as if to a cornered animal. In a way he felt like it. He sits still, allowing you to approach. Lucifer chokes back a small whimper of bliss as you touch him. Your palms were so warm, resting and rubbing on his aching shoulder. He could feel his old bones settle; a brief moment of bliss.

“What do you need?”

He leads you to his quarters, letting you stop by your room to grab a few things on the way. You reappear from your room, shaking your rucksack at him with a smile. “I think some of these things might help!” Lucifer appreciated the sentiment but doubted it highly.

You were used to nights spent in his office, and a few rare occasions that he invited you to his bed chambers. That is where he led you now. His hand is large and warm on your back as he shuffles you past his bed and towards his walk in closet. You look about, confused at his vast collection of historical clothes and why you were in his closet to begin with. He smiles weary at your question but stays silent coming to stop at his wardrobe. He takes you through to another hidden room. The magic of the vast space making your skin tingle. Goosebumps blossoming on your arms and neck.

It was an unused part of the catacombs. Eons ago Lucifer had stumbled upon it in his explorations of his new home. It had long since become a mini sanctuary from when the odd storm got to his bones, or a brother had gotten under his skin. Large orbs float lazily across the vaulted ceiling. Knocking into each other with a soft tinkle of chimes. Their warmth was reminiscent of spring time back in the celestial realm. Already his old bones felt better. His mind unclouding.

His stride falters for a moment, polished dress shoes squeaking on the opulent marble. What was he going to do? Show you himself? “Lucifer?” He feels you turn to him, sliding his arm away from your back to grip it in your small hands. “Let me help you? Please?” You make eye contact and smile reassuringly.

His resolve breaks. Damn, when had he gotten so soft? “Help me with my jacket.” His words were muddled but clear. It was getting hard to rotate his right shoulder again. The storm was raging right over the house now and his body protested. He had redressed hastily in Lilith’s room. You may have seen him at his most vulnerable, but he would never let the brothers. If Satan saw, he’d never hear the end of it. You nod and walk behind him. Standing on tiptoes you help him shrug off his coat and fold it neatly to side with your belongings. The corset beneath was a little trickier for you. It was an ingeniously designed brace that doubled as a designer corset. You never noticed, but up close the silk of his corset was brocade. The black of the fabric was decorated with a subtle shiny black thread. To the naked eye one couldn’t see it. But you could feel it as you brushed your fingers along his waist. In the bright light of the room the thread shimmered in all of its intricacies.

“They are runes.” He answers your silent question refusing to look at you as you worked, hyper aware of your fingers tracing the stitching. “It helps with-” the pain, the humiliation, my pride? “Everything.” You nod accepting his words and unlace it gently. He shivers at the soft caress, it was like his body gravitated towards your touch. His actual skin buzzing with want.

“Does this happen a lot?” You come to his front and begin on the buttons of his dress shirt.

“No, rainstorms like this are rare. Once every couple of centuries it gets- bad.” Lucifer leans some of his massive weight on you while you lift his arm out of the sleeve. “You are good at this.” He eyes you skeptically. How many people had the luxury of your undivided attention?

You chuckle turning to fold his shirt neatly. “Why thanks, I guess? Like I said my granddad had bad bones. I used to help him on the bad days.” You eye his pants and flush. “I won’t help with those though.”

“Pity. Give me a moment would you?” The demon chuckles turning to give himself an illusion of privacy. Already being out of the cold and drafty halls made him feel better already. This room had been meticulously built to help him. Artificial sun, warm, and not too humid. A light draft in the rafters getting the air circulating. Spending the night down here, and he’d be able to function for tomorrow's numerous meetings. Closing his eyes he releases his glamour.

Shifting felt like breaching water. A slight resistance then a cool wave of relief as he breaches the surface. Resting on his hunches his rumbles low, feeling his broken halo scrap the vaulted ceiling. His little human gasps looking up, and up, and up till they meet his hollow skull like face. He holds his breath, gut and hearts clenching in fear. What must you think of him? He watches with trepidation knowing this body was a lot to comprehend. “Wow. I thought you were tall before.” You grab at your satchel digging into the depths. “I’m afraid my little jar won’t go far now, but I’d still like to try.” He leans down looking at the jar posed at the tips of your fingers.

“Tiger balm?” His voice was abrasive and jagged. The multilayered lilt scrapped your eardrums like metal on bone. You flinch. A slight twinge of your shoulders barely noticeable, but it makes him recoil nonetheless. It's jarring, but not as scary as you originally thought.

“Sorry,sorry.” You placate the giant beast. “Took me by surprise.” You creak a reassuring grin. “This whole day has. But that’s ok.” You meet his gaze, his oblong head cocked to the side to stare at you. Up close you could see that his eye sockets weren’t hollow as they originally appeared. Deep within the bone and flaking flesh you could see a faint pure white glow, a little pinprick in the abyss flickering like a candle. Taking his stillness as permission you wonder back over to his large taloned feet. The constant healing and chaffing of his skin creates a foul vapor around him. The plumes of it blocking out the sunning orbs in waves. It smelled awful, like burning hair, skin and sulfur. But you push through taking small breaths through your mouth till your body adjusted. You glance at the tiny jar in your hand feeling stupid. “I’ll have to order some more but I hope this helps.” Lucifer looks at your outstretched hand at a complete loss of what you expected him to do. “Well,” You gestate at him to come closer. “Where does it hurt the most?” He laughs. A dry clicking in the back of his many vocal chords. His back hurt the most, it always did. A consistent little reminder of what his past actions cost him. Though, there were some things he wasn’t ready to divulge to you.Yet.

“That little jar will do nothing. But-” He continues trying to cover for his snappishness. He hated the frown drawing tight on your lips. “I will be signing a lot of paperwork tomorrow.” He brings a massive hand down and places it on the cool marble in front of you. The joints were bare to you, the flesh unable to encompass the swelling. His phalanges felt cold and hot all at once. Sudden spasms making the exposed nerves light up and twitch. “If you could?”

Clambering up his table sized finger with his approval you straddle it and rub some of your ointment on your palms to warm it. “Let me know if I hurt you.” With that you sink your hands through the mist and begin to work at his tender joints. The great beast rumbles in enjoyment. His keen nose picking up the spicy scent of the balm and your naturally pleasant musk. Within minutes the warming ointment began to soothe him. Leaving you to your ministrations Lucifer arches his neck up to the sky and begins to sun himself. The tension of the rain storm rolling off his body as the sun globs begin to orbit around his massive frame. Your little hums of happiness as you worked made this almost worth the humiliation of you seeing him at his lowest.

#obey me lucifer #obey me fandom #obey me #obey me headcanons

354 notes · View notes

min-youngis · 4 years

Text

Blue Drapes

gif not mine

when the sun found the moon, she was drinking tea in the garden under the green umbrella trees in the middle of summer - When The Day Met The Night, Panic! At The Disco

~ Pairing : Kim Yugyeom x Reader (Royalty AU)

~ Genre : Fluff, Humour, Some Spicy Romantical Times

~ Summary/Excerpt : He can’t let it be at that, can’t do anything without some roguish form of teasing, and you vaguely wonder why you’re surprised when he gives you a quick and taunting close lipped nip on the skin that he had so softly brushed his lips across just moments ago.

Established Relationship

~ Word Count : 2,024

~ Warnings : uhhh lil suggestiveness i think.

~ A/N : in case u missed the memo, yugyeom best boy and jinyoung Sassy McSasserpants.

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

~~~

You look out onto the green lake shimmering in the bright sunlight, reflecting the willow trees that are growing all around its banks. With a fifth sigh in as many minutes, you bring your gaze back to the empty table in front of you, chair opposite conspicuously unoccupied. Behind, you hear Jinyoung swat an errant fly.

You’re sure that if you ask again, your bodyguard is going to tell you to jump into the large water body that’s so close by, but you can’t help yourself from enquiring, “Jinyoung, are you absolutely certain he got the message?”

Predictably, you get a huff in a response before he says in his characteristic deadpan voice, tone deceptively courteous, “Will you tip yourself over, or would you like me to push you in?”

Ignoring him, you’re about to sigh again, because that always seems to get things moving right along, when at the distance, from the direction of the palace, you see a lone figure rounding the corner, walking rapidly. They’re too far away for you to make out the person's face, but their long legs, tall frame and the excited bound in their step makes it amply clear.

Slowly, he comes into focus, his face becoming clearer, smile wide. His joyful expression seems indecently expressive coupled with his fitted royal blue tunic, a constant symbol of powerful restraint and control. Nevertheless, you can’t stop yourself from cracking a grin in return as he makes his way towards you, slowing down as he nears.

You resist the urge to jump to your feet and throw your arms around his neck, wanting nothing more than to nestle in his warmth, but you hold yourself back, eyes twinkling in barely concealed mirth as Yugyeom wordlessly and exaggeratedly bows in front of your primly seated form, gently taking one of your hands in his and pressing a tender kiss to the back of your palm.

He can’t let it be at that, can’t do anything without some roguish form of teasing, and you vaguely wonder why you’re surprised when he gives you a quick and taunting close lipped nip on the skin that he had so softly brushed his lips across just moments ago. At your tiny yelp, you feel him smile against your hand for a second before he straightens up, elegantly walking over to the empty chair opposite, satisfied grin still plastered on his face, leaving you breathing a bit more rapidly than before the exchange.

“Your Highness,” he nods in greeting with faux-solemnity, eyes twinkling in mirth.

“And yours,” you reply a bit stupidly, your heart still in the process of returning to its normal pace.

Behind you, Jinyoung snorts.

Feeling vindictive, you unostentatiously slip off your Lady Jane shoes and let your socked foot move forward underneath the table until it lightly but insistently brushes against Yugyeom’s shin, your above-table manner dripping innocence.

He startles, immediately realising what’s going on, and after a jokingly scandalised expression at your illusively nonchalant frame, he sets his face determinedly, smile still threatening to tug at the corners of his lips.

You feel your just calmed down heart slowly picking up pace once again as you take in the challenging cock of his eyebrow and a thrill runs down your spine in anticipation of his next move. Eagerly you wait, any moment now, he’s preparing to spring it, in just a second –

“Ahem.”

Surprised, you nearly jump, feeling like somebody’s just poured a barrel of cold water on you. Opposite you, Yugyeom yelps in sudden fright, immediately moving back in his chair from the forward bend towards you he had slowly, subconsciously moved into.

You whip your head around to face Jinyoung, who, for all intents and purposes, seems like a statue, steadfastly looking forward into the distance. The effect is mildly ruined by the tiny smile on his face, the only indication that he had just broken up a very intense, eye contact filled, social decency sanctioned form of foreplay.

Grateful that at least one person here has some presence of mind, you turn back around to look at Yugyeom, who’s now sitting languidly in his chair, careless grin on, shoulders drooped just right so nobody can tell him off for looking shabby, all casual elegance and suaveness once again. The slow breeze only serves to heighten the image, smoothly running through his hair and rumpling it, making it hit that perfect line between roguishly untidy and dirtily shabby.

It doesn’t fool you one bit. He may be all charm and sophistication on the outside, but you know what really makes him tick. And maybe more importantly, you know what makes him fall apart.

Impatiently shooing away the thoughts and feelings and bodily reactions that resurface as you take in his lazily poised frame and twinkling eyes, you softly clear your throat and collect your thoughts before getting straight to the matter at hand. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you here?”

Somehow, his grin expands a tiny bit, and looking perfectly content, eyes not leaving yours so you’ll understand exactly what he’s referring to, he replies, “I was. And then I found out. Really, out here in the open?”

Letting out an undignified snort that your mother would most definitely disapprove of, you calm yourself down before fixing him with a proper glare. With a little shake of the head to clear it, you once again begin the process of trying to convey what you had wanted to.

“I only wanted to know what you thought about blue drapes.”

Confusion clouds his features, head tilting to the side in befuddlement as he slowly asks, “Blue...drapes?”

Rapidly feeling like this may not have been the best idea, you nod and repeat, now in a less confident tone, “Yes, the – uh, drapes for the parlour. In our new home. When we move. After the wedding. In a week.”

By the end of the confused spiel, your voice is a barely there squeak, certain that this was a stupid, stupid plan. Yugyeom doesn’t make it any easier on you, as his face clears in understanding, bemusement morphing into first a revelatory smile, then a teasing grin, before settling in a smug smirk. He knows you couldn’t care less about drapes, that you’d rather spend your time deciding which authors to host in the library if you were thinking about home decor at all, that this meeting is just one big, convoluted excuse to meet him and talk to him without inviting the scrutiny and judgement of both royal families.

It’s all well and good during the courting stage to spend time alone, to stay in each other’s company for extended periods, the two of you even managing to get away with thoroughly enjoying a couple of nights together without either of your families finding out. But once the engagement is done, this close to the wedding, it’s considered most improper to meet like this. So you had to come up with an excuse. In hindsight, you probably should have spent a bit more time making it at least a little believable.

With a wide smile, Yugyeom mischievously says to your sheepish face, “I think I’d prefer something lighter, yes? Purple perhaps?”

Flustered at being found out, unable to meet his eyes, you reply, “Uh, yes. Purple drapes are fine. Good – uh, choice.”

The laugh that he’s obviously been trying very hard to hold in for the last few minutes bursts out in a chortle, and in moments, he’s out of his seat and making his way towards you.

Immediately on alert, you hold up a firm hand to halt him mid-step. Your entire being cries for him to cross those last few feet, to finally hug him, feel him solid and warm and comforting against you, but the protocol for sneaking around is tricky.

Not taking your eyes off of Yugyeom’s so he knows you’re only delaying what you both want out of absolute necessity, you slowly utter, “Jinyoung?”

In your head, you can practically see him scanning first the immediate surroundings around the lake, eyes peeled for anybody who might be passing by, and then carefully scrutinising every window of the palace that’s facing the lawn you’re all on, ensuring that nobody from the family is looking this way or, as both of your meddling relatives are wont to do, purposely spying.

A couple of agonising moments later, you hear him shortly say from behind you, “Clear,” and now you’re up on your feet as well, standing just as Yugyeom reaches you in two quick, long strides, gentle arms winding around your waist as your hands do the same to his, your head burrowing into the crook of his neck as you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“I think it’s absolutely adorable that you tried coming up with an excuse to meet me,” he mutters into your hair, chest rumbling as he giggles.

“Don't laugh at me,” you whine, noting with satisfaction as his arms almost imperceptibly tighten around your waist, filling you with smugness that even if you had gone to ridiculous, badly thought out lengths to arrange this, he’s hardly complaining.

Confirming your suspicions, slightly pulling away but only enough so he can tip your chin up and look you in the eye, he mumbles, “I was moments away from sending you a letter of my own when I received yours.”

Glowing at the revelation, you ask, “What was your excuse going to be, then?”

“Kitchen cabinets,” he says shortly, letting you have your three seconds of amused laughter before he’s kissing you, one hand cupping the side of your jaw and the other still delicately placed on the small of your back. Gently squeezing his waist, you melt into the comfort, joy, love that you’re finally receiving after craving it for days.

From somewhere outside your little bubble, through the cloudy haze that your mind is in, you hear a throat clearing and a softly but urgently muttered ‘We have company.’

With great effort, you pull away, hurriedly stepping backwards to a respectable distance as Yugyeom does the same, both of you breathing deep and slow in an effort to look like you haven’t just committed what is considered as veritable sin by your families. You can’t stop yourself from shooting a baleful look at Jinyoung, though, but he’s unbothered, simply shrugging as he says, “Just doing my job,” his eyes not leaving the undergrowth of a willow on the far side of the bank from where he had seen the offending subtle movement.

You and Yugyeom follow his lead, nervously putting a bit more distance between yourselves as you wait for something to happen, somebody to appear.

“Must've been an animal,” Jinyoung mutters after a couple of pregnant minutes of silent waiting and watching. “But just in case, we should head back in, Your Highness.”

You know he’s right, that it’s the most logical action to take, and you push away the irrational disappointment, turning to Yugyeom with reluctantly accepting eyes.

“Write to me,” you softly say, holding your left hand out.

Gently taking it in his own, he bows deep at the waist and presses an uncharacteristically chaste kiss, stopping at that. No frills or extras this time, only the obedient niceties of social norm. And yet, your dress suddenly feels too tight.

You give his fingers a tight squeeze, not letting go immediately as he straightens up while saying, “I’m sure we have more important matters to discuss, like the colour of the drapes in the other rooms.”

With a giggle, you release his hand, watching as he turns around and walks away, your pleased and satisfied gaze on the slightly red flush on his ears.

Gaze still fixed on his retreating form, you absentmindedly tell Jinyoung, “I can’t wait for next week.”

Drily, you get the reply. “No, really? I could hardly tell.”

59 notes · View notes

limewrites-archive · 4 years

Text

Disguise | Bruno Bucciarati x Leone Abbacchio ( Bruabba )

Warnings: mild NSFW (light smut)

Word count: 1,742

(Also on a03! )

Masquerades, so wondrous, graceful and bewitching. Leone Abbacchio was a hired assassin, to kill one of the last vampire nobles in all of the continent. Bruno Bucciarati was at times merciless when it came to hunting down his prey. The public eye had no idea such creatures exist, though of course there were always the skeptics and believers. His parties or masquerades if you will, were grand and had a very high guest count. Abbacchio knew that there were plenty of humans that would be going but his job was to find out who and where the vampire was going to kill and to end him.

The first order of Leone's business was to sneak into the ballroom. It was easy enough, but the moment he was able to walk freely in plain sight, he was asked to dance by many women. Of course, to not be suspicious, he danced with a few here and there. He knew the moment he saw the masked man, his dark hair was what gave Bruno Bucciarati away; he distinct bob cut and the piercing blue eyes of his. Abbacchio wore an all-black outfit with a white mask as well as a large hat to hide his lavender hair to its best. The more he danced with the fine women that attended, the more whispers from them afterward spread across the room. 'Who is he?' 'Why is he so mysterious?' 'My god- the way his eyes looked into mine for the moment..' Sure, most was gossip and women were swooning for someone that hadn't even seen their face or had a long conversation with. He wasn't as nearly as wealthy as the women here, but he sure dressed like it. Bruno from across the room was viewing the man that had such an exquisite body. A healthy, strong body that he could sink his teeth into and drain of all life. His mind wandered to how he would get the tall glass of blood into his chambers or how to get him into the garden where he could easily bury his body. The women on his side pouted, realizing that their man of interest wasn't paying any attention to them. They pushed up their corsets, raising their breasts to give Bruno a better view, some touching his arms and thighs, rubbing gently to get any reaction out of him. These ladies were all competing with each other, their fathers or uncles wanted them to marry a man of high class and wealth, they wanted to see who he would choose to be his bride. With the time of life, it's 1842. Bruno had been alive for much more than that, but this day and age, he had to tell lies to everyone. He wasn't interested in women but a man interested in a man was frowned upon. Though he had to woo women, to not be suspected as anything less of the man he was.

Time glided by, Abbacchio was fully aware of the time slipping, the possible window to eliminate Bruno Bucciarati was closing. He didn't have to watch Bruno as much as he thought he would if he had to. The group of girls fanning themselves stuck to his side to where Bruno was just sitting on a chair all night. One of the more grand waltzes played, and he was asked to dance by his most wealthy following women. He nodded, taking her hand as she scuttled in her tiny shoes onto the marble dance floor. There had been a girl that was dancing with Abbacchio the most, resting her head on his shoulder as the two gently swayed. Out of courtesy, Abbacchio asked if she could do the honor of gracing him with her name, but she refused and didn't care for his name either. As the waltz sped up to a new one, she lifted her head and partners were switching around. This continued, and eventually, the assassin got his next partner. The creature he was out to kill. They danced, but as they were going to switch again, Bruno was set on staying with Abbacchio. Now was the time for both of them to strike. Bruno spoke first, "Enjoying the party? Such a shame you had to spend it with all of the boring women. I must say, Lady Cordelia, is one of the few women I can tolerate. She seemed quite fond of you. She's not one for dancing long or with one dancing partner for so long. What did you think of her?" Abbacchio didn't say much, just sighed. "Cordelia, huh? She didn't give me the honor of knowing her name." Bruno chuckled, "Oh, of course, she didn't. she wanted to see if you would follow her tonight, to see if you were unlike the other noblemen that only go after her looks. She is different the most. She has a brain. A pity, that you couldn't have the chance to eat the food my servants prepared, or to take a look at my prize-winning rose bushes in the garden." Bruno had a half black, half white mask with almost angelic wings on the side, his black and white outfit did have lots of feathers on the shoulder pads. 'Not like he needs all of this...food...roses.. it all dies and rots, he outlives them...'

There was a small smirk that initiated a small laugh, "You know, you may be wondering why on earth I have such things, but I assure you it's well worth a spare moment of your time tonight. Come, get some fresh air." The two exited the ballroom, down to a corridor that Bruno swore wasn't far from the garden. Bruno could hear any new thoughts that Abbacchio had. With the comment Bruno had made, Leone was wary of what he was thinking. The vampire's plan already started. Luring this healthy, young, handsome nobleman into the secluded corridor using a power of his to see how he would kill this man walking behind him.

Bruno's power was to release pheromones, heightening his preys sex drive. Some would call it witchcraft, seducing who he wanted by just releasing just the slightest scent from his body. Vampires have to get willing food somehow, right? Though, it only heightens what's already there. He bit his lip, he wanted to have a bit more fun with this prey more than usual. Leone couldn't see anything, Bruno reassured it was close, apologizing for the long walk across his mansion. At last, he turned, smiled and opened a door for Leone. "A stop through the green room where my fresh tea leaves are from if you don't mind." Leone nodded, following and acting as oblivious as he could in his own mind. His eyes ventured to Bruno's, there was something about his figure that was just right, but he entered through the door. The room was completely dark, and he knew it wasn't the green room as promised. His heart was racing, and Bruno pounced on his 'weak' prey. Bruno couldn't take it anymore, he pushed Leone down on the bed, fast to straddle him and have a strong grip on him. "Sir, I know I'm being forward, but please...let me take off your mask." Abbacchio felt his worries fade, and his pants became tighter. There was no way he would let this happen, but he wanted to melt under Bruno's touch. He shouldn't, but he still granted Bruno permission, and he took off his mask and hat. Bruno did the same, revealing his hungry expression. The smaller, but stronger male leaned to Leone's ear, nibbling gently before whispering. "I know this is taboo, but I thought you looked to be the type of man to be fond of other men. I watched the way Cordelia tried to get your attention, but you only looked out, completely uninterested in her and her figure. I could feel your eyes scan my body, oh how perfect this is." With Bruno being on top, he ground gently against the noticeable bulge in the male's pants." Abbacchio shuddered, his body was wanting, but his mind kept screaming no. Bruno was gentle, despite his hold on Leone, kissing his neck in the best spots, even blessing him with a short make-out session, both hungry. Abbacchio completely forgot what he was supposed to do, until he felt his skin break and teeth sink into him. Abbacchio panicked, and tried sitting up, but couldn't move. "Oh no, love. You're not going anywhere." Bruno sunk his teeth into Abbacchio once more, sucking the blood, draining him.

It was all blurry, the pain and pleasure caused by the vampire he was set out to kill. He enjoyed it, and his senses were not returning. At least not any time soon. When he woke, he was astonished to not be dead. He was in the same bedroom as he was led into. The sunshine peeking in from the curtains, the masquerade was over. He stood, rushing to the curtain and opening them viciously. Bruno hadn't entirely lied, there was the rose garden, and Bruno watering his white roses. He held a large umbrella, black and white clothing similar to last night, but small spectacles that were very dark. His skin was a greyish pale, unlike his own fleshy pale complexion. The large window was tall, larger than Leone from head to toe. Bruno sensed his gaze and met his eyes with Leone. Leone looked around, this couldn't possibly be real, and it wasn't until then, he realized his human body was completely exposed, and he retreated back to the bed. He looked around for any sign of anything, and on the dresser, there was a sealed letter, next to a neatly folded pile of clothes. He opened it, and read the page. 'Let's keep this between us. I'd enjoy it if you'd come to visit me, Leone Abbacchio. I know you were sent to kill me, but it seems that you couldn't bring yourself to do it. The way your body took control last night, you enjoyed me, too much.' All in the moment blur now came back to him vividly, and his face reddened. 'You could stay with me too, for all eternity. The choice is yours, Leone.' It was signed with elegant penmanship. Leone set the paper down on the bed, thinking. He would have to think a long time before making a choice.

il finale.

26 notes · View notes

kibleedibleedoo · 4 years

Text

Hero of your own fate

Thorinxreader

No warnings slow burn.

Chapter 1/?

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

INTRODUCTION

It had been less that a year since you first met Gandalf or Mithrandir or whatever he called himself on that dreary night you first met him. The wizard by many names had disguised himself as a poor man looking for aid, which unfortunately was not an uncommon sight on the city streets.

Whether for better or for worse you had shown him kindness and understanding, offering a hot meal and making sure he had everything he needed, afterall not all those on the streets want a night in a hostel if it means losing a location that sustains them. He gladly accepted your offer and you both warmed up in a coffee shop as he told you tales of battles between men,dwarves,elves, and orcs from a world nothing like your own. They sounded like the tales your mother used to read to you when you were little, princes and princesses, dragons and warriors, good trumping evil but one story he left unfinished. The tale of Erebor, home of Durin's folk and the terrible dragon Smaug. He leaned closer, his voice grew serious and all background noise faded

"would you join a quest to reclaim a stronghold from evil?"

His tone made you slightly uneasy, this was hypothetical after all surely. You let out an awkward chuckle

"who doesn't want to be the hero of their own story"

Your answer seemed to please the strange man as he sat back in his chair with a smirk plastered on his face. You went to take another sip of your drink when suddenly he stood up, thanked you for your company, and left. His drink was only partially drunk and he had not touched the food you had bought for him.

"wait, at least take these ...." you trailed off as you turned to where he had just been but he had vanished into thin air.

As you left the café the rain, that had only been a fine mist up until this point started to hammer down as the heavens opened up around you. Thankfully you had remembered to put your umbrella in your bag so didnt feel the need to seek shelter as others did. You knew the buses would be rammed and the wait for the next just wouldn't be worth the few minutes in the dry until the bus reached your stop, so you decided to walk home afterall it was relatively close only about a 20 minutes walk. But the further you walked the heavier the rain got. Soon it was so heavy that you could barely see anything outside the safety of your umbrella, you let out a sigh wishing you had followed everyone else and chosen to take the bus. The sky was lit up briefly then back to the dull grey of heavy rain that you could barely see through.One. Two. Three. A rumble of thunder rattled your bones. Okay that was far to close for comfort. Flash. One. Two. Bang! Oh no its getting closer. You had nowhere to turn for safety. Flash. One. Then boom!

The noise was deafening, completely and utterly overwhelming, and left a high pitch ringing in your ears. You didnt notice it initally but the sounds of the city had changed, replaced with chirping birds and a calmness that could only be found in the countryside. The feel under your feet was different, it squelched more like mud than a foot path. Still clutching your umbrella you noticed as the rain eased you could see more and you definitely werent in the city anymore. This had to be a dream, you must've been hit by that blast of lightening you thought to yourself as you tried to pull out your phone without dropping the umbrella. You had heard somewhere that your brain can't process clocks while you are dreaming. You were hoping this was a dream so you could calm down but no the clock read clear as day 18:53. So not a dream. Next course of action was to find somewhere to collect your thoughs and get out of the cold, for while it was now the middle of spring the wind still had a bite to it especially since the umbrella had only protected your torso from tge torrential downpour. You put your phone back in your pocket. Since the rain had decided to stop you also shook your umbrella before putting it away. Not far from the hill you seemed to be on was a cobblestone path which you hoped led to a house or some structure as you could not see a single piece of architecture above ground. Thankfully the path did lead somewhere, a small garden with a cute letter box and a huge green circular door.

"Surely that door must lead somewhere, maybe wherever I am the people choose to live underground" you thought outloud. it was a strange though but no stranger than your current circumstances were. From behind the door you could hear singing and merryment and you hoped you would not disurb the party by knocking. Tap.Tap.Tap. You knocked on the door barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the party. A few moments passed and the door creaked open to reveal the same desheveled man you had had coffee with earlier only this time he appreaed to be twice the size of you and crouching in what you would otherwise consider a very large room.

"ah another guest is here" one of the men behind him hollered and the others cheered.

"We only await one more then we can finalise preparations" the tall man ushered you inside and closed the door behind you. "it would be polite to introduce yourself to the company".

You were shocked and only managed to splutter out your name.

"I am Gandalf the grey" he watched you as you continued to stare at this impossibly tall man "a wizard" he turned to face the other shorter men in the room "and these are the dwarves who are about to set off on a quest along with our host, master Bilbo Bagins a hobbit" your gaze fell from the wizard, scanned the dwarves, and finally settled on Bilbo and his large hairy naked feet. "now let me continue inteoducing everyone, these are Dori,Nori, and Ori"

"at your service" the three bowed in unison. The wizard quickly continued.

"Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur" as before they greeted you with a bow. "we have Oin and Gloin" All of these strange names and so many new faces. you had no doubt you were going to forget as soon as the conversation was over. "and Dwalin and Balin* this wizard continued "our final pair is Fili and Kili" They had all only just finished bowing and pledging their service, which you found entirely too formal what a knock sounded at the door. In walked a gentleman, your gaze instantly locking on the gorgeous raven haired man with stunning blue eyes.

"Gandalf" his baritone was so smooth and you longed to hear gim talk all day "I thought you said this place was easy to find. I lost my way twice"

"and here we have the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield" it sounded like tge wizard was telling someone other than just you who this new dwarf was. Thorin locked eyes with you for a second, smirking as you quickly averted your eyes.

"so these are our burglars"

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

A/N- this is my first fic hopefully it's not too bad, if you can spare a moment please leave some feedback DSO I can improve future chapters. I do not own any GIFs posted

#thorin x reader #king under the mountain #thorin oakenshield #thorin durin #fan fiction #Kilby writes

51 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Crime Scene.”

WARNING: Relatively graphic depictions of a dead alien, and discussion about a horrific crime scene, so read at your own discretion.

This idea was taken from a suggestion by some of the readers and then adapted a little bit, so I hope you all like it.

Rain drummed down in great sheets from above, falling like curtains from the uppermost spires of the city skyscrapers and lofty towers. Rain collected on open wires and came dripping down in trickling runnels of water, only to collect in great puddles on the pavement gurgling away into the gutter to vanish down storm drains.

Massive, colorful, neon signs hung above in the driving rain, casting reflection down onto the sodden pavement giving an eerie sort of light to the darkness. There were few people on the street at this time, though figures could be seen flitting from the shadow of one overhang to another. Despite their efforts, the soaking cold was nearly impossible to avoid.

As unoccupied as the street was, it gave more than enough room for a dark figure hurriedly splashing through puddles as his long leather coat whipped behind him, collar pulled up against the rain.

Massive television screens running with rivulets of water rose up on all sides boasting advertisements ranging from fur care to skin cream to casino resorts. The voices of these advertisements babbled through the rain, impossible to understand with a background of white noise.

The echoes rose upwards, following the trail of advertisement screens as they rose ever higher into the night, taking up every available surface until the very peaks of the skyscrapers high above in the rainy mist.

The darkly clad figure was joined a moment later as two other figures hurried from the shadows, one no more than two feet tall, and another that towered over the first figure by nearly a foot.

Little eruptions of water leapt up from where their feet splashed through the puddles.

A delicate silver halo outlined the figures as rain bounced off their bodies and back into the air.

With a motion of his hand, the first figure motioned his companions sideways, and into a long-dark alley. The stream of water that ran down it’s middle was nearly ankle deep, and the three figures made to avoid the worst of it, walking along the side of the alley, though sometimes they were made to choose between ankle deep water or refuse.

The rain grew harder, drumming down against their backs as they hurried across another cross street, down another alley and towards their final destination.

Foot traffic had picked up now, though it happened to be as a direct result of the bright neon caution holograms blocking off an area of buildings just to the right of their alley.

A dark furred Tesraki, posted out under an umbrella-like energy field waved them through without bothering to check their ID.

The three of them stepped through the cation hologram and towards the shopfront passing under a curtain of water, and into the little shop beyond where they stopped.

They waited there for a few moments, until a figure appeared from the long line of shelves: A Tesraki wearing a large hat, with holes cut in it for the ears.

“Admiral, I’m glad you could make it.”

Admiral Vir shook water from his coat, and undid the belt that held the front together, allowing it to hang open. He then removed his hat, shaking it out beside the door.

To his right, Sunny shook runnels of water from her carapace, while Dr. Krill cleared droplets from his prismatic orange eyes.

Admiral Vir adjusted the collar of his shirt, absent of a tie, “We came as soon as we heard.” He said fitting the hat back onto his head. His face was slick with humidity, though the protruding brim of his hat had kept the worst of the rain from his face.

“We do appreciate it.” The Tesraki lifted a hand, “Follow me, but don’t touch anything.”

Admiral Vir held up his hands to show the mostly-dry leather gloves he wore, “Not a problem.”

The Tesraki nodded it’s head and led them further into the shop past lines and displays of cheap touristy trinkets likely manufactured for a quarter of the price on Noctopolis. Just to their right a refrigeration unit hummed. Peering past the glass Admiral Vir was surprised to see cans of human soda preserved behind the glass.

They passed through the side of the shop, and were stopped outside the opening to the back room, where another Tesraki insisted they put plastic covers over their shoes and feet.

Everyone was supplied with gloves, before they were allowed in.

Sunny flexed her hands against the strange rubber synthetic, though Dr. Krill seemed right at home.

Admiral Vir was the first to step through, passing into the dim back room to immediately be met by the sharp tang of blood. He paused as if he had hit a wall face screwing up in response to the smell. It wasn’t human blood, of course, it was Tesraki blood, a smell that had been all too common during the Drev war.

He blinked hard, allowing his eyes to adjust to the room, which was dark, mostly, except for the flickering holovision on the wall across. A couple of technicians were busy setting up flood lights on the side of the room. His vision was mostly obscured, by a large sofa just to his front, but slowly, and with direction from the Tesraki, he inched around the side until he was finally able to get a good view of the scene before him.

He crushed immediately and turned his head away fighting down a sudden and surprising bout of nausea, though it passed within moments.

He turned his head back inch by inch grimacing slightly as he did.

Rosy blue light from the holovision glittered down on the scene before him glittering lightly off a coagulating green pool that appeared almost black in this lighting. The figure was stiff and still having not been moved since it was found.

The dead Tesraki lay sprawled on its side in a pool of his own blood, an expression of fear and horror frozen on his face. Admiral Vir had to force himself to look closely at the body, which he could see was missing it’s tail, a leg, and one arm. Looking around he could find no sign of where the missing limbs might have gone.

“We’ve never seen anything like it before.” The Tesraki said, walking up to stand beside him.

Admiral Vir grimaced, “Never?”

“No, never, which is why we called you.”

He turned to look at the Tesraki, long leather coat brushing against his pants just above the knees, “Why? I’m no detective.”

The Tesraki nodded, “We know, but you have to understand, we have NEVER seen anything like this… not EVER.” He leaned into his emphasis, turning to look at the Admiral, “Tesraki don’t commit crimes like this. If we want someone dead, there are always traffic accidents and poisoning.”

Admiral Vir raised an eyebrow, “I wasn’t aware Tesraki were even capable of committing murder.”

“Not directly, no.”

He paused staring at the body as the implication set in, “You don’t think a Tesraki did this.”

Off to the side of the room, the technicians had managed to rig up the lights, and the room was suddenly filled by double beams of blinding white light illuminated the scene before them with sharp contrast. The black blood became green, the shadowy mound, which had been the body was suddenly brought into sharp relief, each hair visible in excruciating detail on it’s dismembered body.

“Sweet Jupiter.” He muttered

His oversvation from before had been correct. The Tesraki was missing three of his five limbs. The blood pool in which he lay was a good four foot circle around him. The eyes were open and glassy, staring up into nothing. His face and lips were twisted into an expression of pure horror. Coagulated blood matted the fur along his back and sides. His remaining arm was covered in a line of deep and shallow defensive wounds while the fur about his chest was matted with green icor.

“What do you know so far?”

“Nothing much, we’ve been waiting for them to set up the lights.”

Admiral Vir motioned Dr. krill forward, “Think you can take a look?”

The doctor nodded his head, “I believe I can.”

At his announcement one of the Tesraki walked forward offering up a floating platform for the Dr. to stand on. He looked as if he was about to reject the offer, but took it, using it to keep off the floor around the crime scene as he floated closer to the body.

Admiral Vir rested his hands on his hips as he watched.

“Who is he?”

“His name was Inenor, the owner of the shop you came through on your way in. Admittedly he was no one of great renown, mostly profited in selling high priced and cheaply manufactured trinkets to tourists, a practice that might be frowned upon, but not one that generally gets you killed.”

“Or dismembered.” Admiral Vir added, reaching down a hand to rub absently as the junction where his stump met his prosthetic.

The Tesraki nodded, “Yes, by all rights he was your average shopkeeper in the tourist district. None of his wares are particularly expensive, he had no more enemies than his average shop rivals, no family, and, based on our cursory glance through his online history, no involvement in any other nefarious groups, plots, schemes or otherwise.”

“Shop rivals?”

“The other shopkeepers in the area selling the same thing.”

“And you don’t think it could be one of them.”

The Tesraki shook his head, “No, they may not like each other, but Tesraki business owners rely on competition to keep the economy working in each district. Prices fluctuate between shops creating a constant cycling of where the tourist goes for the least expensive or highest quality goods. It avoids stagnation, and allows for a dynamic environment where money is always trickling in. They may hate each other, but they understand how to work a balanced system between each other.”

Admiral Vir glanced over at Kril, who was busily scrutinizing one of the Tesraki’s stumps

“So you think a human did this.”

The tesraki held up his hands, “I didn’t say that.”

“It’s alright. I can see where you are coming from.” again, he looked away from the body, “A nobody who works a shop in the tourist district on an alien planet is brutally murdered and then dismembered. There is not history of such a crime ever being committed by Tesraki in living memory. The Rundi couldn’t do it as the water content in Tesraki blood could hurt them, not to mention they aren’t known to be tourists. We can rule out the Gromm, Celzex, Bran and Iotins for similar reasons.” He took a few steps forward, “Gibb and Vrul are completely off the table as they aren’t nearly strong enough or vicious enough to do something like that.”

The Tesraki was nodding in agreement.

“So you must have come to the conclusion that there are really only three options. Burg, Drev…. Or humans.” He walked around to the other side of the couch to get a better look at the missing tail. Though the stump was matted with congealing green and black blood, he could still see a small spike of bone protruding from the flesh, “And the Burg have been withdrawn from GA airspace since the burg war, and are only now starting to return, so it couldn't be one of them. That leaves Drev and humans. Drev have a history of dismembering their victims but…..”

Sunny stepped up beside him just then, resting a hand on his shoulder. He felt her squeeze lightly, though to everyone else it wouldn't have been noticeable.

“But generally they do not take the limbs with them.” She added before pointing to the body, “Those cuts are too clean. A drev would rely on power first cutting into the leg, breaking the bone and then ripping through. IT would be a much messier process.”

Admiral Vir nodded, allowing her hand to linger on his shoulder longer than was absolutely necessary before stepping away.

Dr krill leaned back from his work and looked over at them, “I tend to agree with Sunny’s oversaviton. These cuts were very clean, probably cone by a sharp knife or scalpel of some kind. The bone itself has been sawed through. Now whoever did this were no medical professionals as the cuts were half hazzard and mostly center on the middle of the bone.” He turned to look at them more intensely, “Besides, whoever came here came for his limbs specifically.”

There was a shocked pause.

“You mean.”

“I mean the Tesraki was dismembered postmortem. Cause of death was likely strangulation.”

Admiral Vir shook his head in disbelief, “You mean they came here…. Specifically for his limbs.”

Krill nodded, “it would seem so.” He glanced over at the Tesraki, “Nothing else is missing.”

The Tesraki shook his head, “Credits are still there, and the manifest is showing that all his wares are here as well.”

“Why would someone take the limbs?” Sunny asked, incredulity coloring her voice as she stared down at the gory scene before them.

Krill sat up “How about the prodigum, they are known to feast on decaying flesh.”

Admiral vir shook his head, “No, if it was a prodigum they would have taken the whole body, not just the limbs, besides, they have connections with the slave trade and get most of their exotic feeding there. This entire thing doesn't make sense for them.”

“Does that mean, Admiral, that you are suggesting….”

“Suggesting that humans did it?” He finished, and the Tesraki nodded.

Admiral vir paused for a moment before sighing, “It would seem so as much as I hate to admit it. Humans are more than capable of doing something like this, and brutal murder is not somethng we are strangers to.” He walked around to the other side of the body again, holding onto the lapels of his jacket, which were now mostly dry, though he couldn't feel sure past the leather gloves he wore, “We have a brutal human-like murder on the edge of a major human tourist district. No cash or credits are missing, none of his wares (which don't seem worth thieving anyway) and whoever they are they likely went after his limbs for…. Some reason.”

From the corner of her eye, Sunny saw a flash of guilt on the man’s face, and knew he was withholding something.

“How long ago did this happen.” He asked

“Not more than a few hours.”

Admiral Vir tapped his foot on the floor, “Than they couldn’t have left planet just yet. It wasn’t a military installation as I know where all of those are located, and none of the fleet were here during the time of the murder. It would have to be a civilian.” He pulled up his sleeve to check his implant, “i will call in and order all civilian transport grounded. That should give us enough time to investigate if you find anything, don’t send any of your men in, but call me.”

The Tesraki nodded in agreement, “Thank you Admiral.”

“Let me step out to make the call.”

The Tesraki let him go, and he stepped out the door, pulling the now soggy plastic covers off his boots as he made his way to the front of the stoor. Sunny listened patiently as he called a halt to all civilian transports, smiling a little when he ordered the man to stop complaining and do as he was ordered by power of the combined UNSC and GA.

Eventually, he cut the call and turned to look at her.

She could tell by the pained expression on his face, that his original thought had only gotten worse.

“What are you thinking?” She mumbled softly, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening.

He paused before answering, “I think I know why they took his limbs.”

Sunny paused, “What! Why?”

The human grimaced, his face shot through with pain and shame, though that seemed odd as he hadn’t done anything.

“I think…. I…”

A horn blasted from outside making the two of them jump before it faded into the distance.

Admiral Vir hung his head, “I think they are going to….”

She put a hand on his shoulder, “spit it out.”

“Eat him!”

Sunny froze, and the two of the locked eyes, one horrified, the other ashamed.

“No….”

“Yes….”

256 notes · View notes

tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【夏彦拜访剧情】 Xia Yan’s Personal Story 2-5 Translation

Translated parts: Xia Yan’s Personal Story Chapter 2: 2-1 / 2-2 / 2-4 / 2-5 / 2-7 / 2-8 / 2-9 / 2-10 / 2-11 / 2-13 / 2-14 Translation Masterlist: here

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1xV411m79T?p=4

A quick explanation of how this feature works is that each boy has their own section that you can “Visit”! Part of it is like MLQC’s GSH feature, where you can talk to the boys (with Live2D!) and raise intimacy by interacting with them. The other part of it is a storyline that centers on the MC running around with the respective boy to deal with a certain case or situation.

Escape Room Place

The moment Xia Yan and I walked to the front counter, the owner gave a thumbs-up towards us.

Owner: Amazing! You two were so quick in deciding to come out and get clues! The guests from before all stayed in there for over an hour!

MC: So we really were supposed to come out the riddle room to look for clues…

Xia Yan: Looking from the contents of the commission letter, answering the riddle doesn’t necessarily need to be confined in the riddle room.

Xia Yan: But are there any special implications to doing this?

Owner: Haha, this – you’ll know after playing! Hurry off!

The owner feigned a mysterious laugh, hastening Xia Yan and me to act quick.

Ball Pit Park

The amusement park was right beside the escape room place – they were very close together.

Xia Yan and I arrived very quickly to the amusement park. After walking for a bit in the park, we arrived at the “Jade Sea, White Sands” ball pit themed area.

Xia Yan: Hey, we’re here.

As one of the themed carnival projects of the amusement park, a ton of attention had been paid to the layout of this place.

Just the area that had been encircled by a white fence was nearly 1000 square meters. Inside, they had even subdivided “coast” and “sea” areas.

The “coast” on the two sides of the entrance was dotted with deck chairs and beach umbrellas on the ground. One could leisurely read books and drink beverages there.

Behind the “coast”, innumerable alternating white-and-blue balls showed a vast “sea”. Among those, there were even various entertainment installations.

Xia Yan: Really spectacular – how many balls must there be here?

MC: The posters said that there are a full two million!

MC: Ah! Xia Yan, look quick! There’s someone jumping in!

MC: He’s so much taller than me, yet his legs are fully buried. Do you think that if it were me, could I be completely covered in there?

Xia Yan: Sure enough, you still really like ball pits.

Xia Yan: Just like just now – with just the corner in the picture, you immediately recognized that it was here.

Xia Yan: Now that we talk about this, every time we came to the amusement park when we were little, you would always impatiently run here.

Xia Yan: Hey! Look! There’s a slide over there, want to play on it?

MC: How, how could that be alright! That’s for little kids to play with – I’m an adult now!

As we spoke, “whoosh-” a little kid slid down quickly down the slide.

“Boom” – he splashed into a large area filled with the balls, laughing cheerfully.

MC: (Although… sliding down the slide into the balls must feel super great…)

Xia Yan: Aren’t there adults there too?

MC: They’re all there to look after the kids. Where are there adults themselves playing!

Xia Yan: Then it should be fine if us two adults “walk around”, right?

Xia Yan: After all, the clue to solve the riddle is in here.

MC: Then… then let’s go inside and walk around, looking for clues.

I followed Xia Yan, walking into that vast, white-and-blue ball pit sea.

We only noticed when we stepped in that the balls here were spread thicker than I had thought. There were some places that could even pile past my waist.

As we walked, swathes of balls swept away from my feet in a rush, colliding to make bouncing sounds that would make anyone happy.

There were a few times when I almost slipped. I had an impulse – to jump into this “sea” and happily roll around.

MC: (Resist it…you are an adult… don’t be so childish…)

MC: (You need to know how to overcome your primitive desires…)

Xia Yan: …

To avoid the internal war going on in my heart, I forced myself to concentrate all my drive together to look for the location that had appeared in the photo.

Finally, after making half a round in the ball pit, I noticed something.

MC: Xia Yan, look at the inflatable slide over there!

I pointed out a three-person-tall inflatable slide that wasn’t far away for Xia Yan to see.

Painted on the side of the slide were a few cartoon pictures, models, colours, lines – all identical to the background in the picture from the escape room.

Xia Yan: Yeah, should be that one!

Xia Yan and I quickly walked over to the side of the slide. We only saw that there was Velcro stuck on the cartoon pictures on the side.

It seemed like there was something written on the Velcro, but its position was so high – even Xia Yan wouldn’t be able to reach it.

MC: The thing in the Velcro is most likely to be the clue, right? But how do we get it…

Xia Yan: I have an idea! Wait a bit!

As Xia Yan said this, he ran off. Soon, he pushed an inflatable trampoline back.

MC: A trampoline? Could you mean…?

Xia Yan: That’s right! Let’s try bouncing on it – maybe we can rip off the Velcro!

Xia Yan: Though you said that adults couldn’t play, this has to do with Sphinx, so you can reluctantly try it.

MC: Alright then…

I climbed on the inflatable trampoline. The feeling of fully-inflated bounciness under my feet made me feel restless immediately.

I unconsciously squatted, then couldn’t help starting to jump up and down.

MC: (Ah… I forgot to look at the Velcro’s spot!)

I promptly turned my gaze to the Velcro up there and jumped up with force.

MC: It’s not enough, I keep missing it slightly when I jump like this!

Xia Yan: Try jumping with more force. How come I feel like you aren’t jumping any higher than you did when you were little?

MC: How could that be!

As if to prove it to Xia Yan, I bounced with more force a few more times. Finally—

MC: Touched it!

But the Velcro was like it had grown on the side of the slide. I couldn’t rip it off at all with just the strength from this moment of bouncing.

Xia Yan: Don’t give up, try again! You’ll definitely get it next time!

Under Xia Yan’s encouragement, I bounced again, then again, then again…

Five minutes later… I collapsed, lying in the ball pit.

Innumerable balls held me up, making bouncing noises beside me. I felt a sort of yearning feeling for this thing that I hadn’t done in a long while. I didn’t want to move anymore.

MC: I feel like this method isn’t right…

MC: Plus, in addition to being too stamina-taxing, relying on the trampoline to get the Velcro requires height, long arms, hand speed, and strength.

MC: A escape room riddle game shouldn’t have such harsh and chance-reliant solving requirements.

Xia Yan: What you say makes a lot of sense. Hmm, let me think…

Xia Yan: Ah, I got it! The method might be in the picture!

MC: The picture? What other contents are in that picture? Isn’t it just a little girl sitting on Zero’s shoulder – ah?!

I didn’t even finish talking when Xia Yan hoisted me up with his hands.

In a moment of panic, I held on to Xia Yan’s neck.

MC: What are you doing!

Xia Yan: Letting you sit on my shoulder. Don’t grab my neck, hold onto my right shoulder.

As Xia Yan said this, he carried me to sit on his left shoulder, then started walking while holding my legs.

His palms were large and strong, stably supporting my legs.

The heat of his hands directly pressed onto my skin. I unconsciously held tight on his shoulder.

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, you won’t fall off.

MC: …Mm.

Xia Yan: Look at it now, can you rip off the Velcro?

I looked at the location of the Velcro. Sure enough, it was very easy to rip off now.

MC: I ripped it off. There’s a trapezoidal picture in here… wait, it seems like there are numbers on the edge of the picture?

The side of the trapezoid picture seemed to have parts of numerical symbols printed on the edge. I suddenly had a thought.

MC: Xia Yan! This trapezoidal picture should be able to be placed together with the three pictures in the commission letter!

I excitedly gave the picture I’d just gotten to Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: I know! Don’t sway around! I’ll lose my balance!

MC: I, I can’t stay stable anymore!

I unconsciously went to grab the inflatable slide in front of me, wanting to use it to restore balance again.

But the inflatable slide was both soft and elastic. When I grabbed on it, not only did I not stabilize myself, but I instead got knocked askew by the slide.

Xia Yan & MC: Aaaahhhhh—

Bam – Xia Yan and I together fell askew into the ball pit’s “sea”.

MC: Joy turns into sorrow…

I poked my head out of the ball pit, and heard a burst of laughter.

Xia Yan: Hahaha…

Xia Yan: I feel like occasionally revisiting our youth is pretty fun!

Xia Yan looked at me, his coral-coloured eyes full of light and laughter.

Xia Yan… must have deliberately let me play around.

Xia Yan: How about we try some other ones?

Xia Yan: Look over there – we can have a pillow fight in the ball pit!

MC: Hm… let’s not for now.

Xia Yan: What’s wrong, are you tired?

MC: Not really. It’s just that we don’t have much time now, so we should head back first and solve the riddle.

Compared to the ball pit, helping Xia Yan find his treasures is more important.

MC: Your treasure box is still in his hands, after all! We have to get it back quick!

Xia Yan: …

#weiding shijian bu #tot translation #tears of themis #xia yan #未定事件簿 #夏彦拜访剧情 #夏彦

3 notes · View notes

moonbeambucky · 5 years

Text

Baby

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 5860 Warnings: fluff, angst

Summary: A bad date turns around when you find love in the last place you expected.

A/N: This is my submission for @interestedbystanderwrites 2k MCUxDirty Dancing Follower Milestone Challenge My prompt was “Go back to your playpen… baby.” Thank you as always to Sam @buckyofthemyscira for beta reading 💕 gif not mine

Terrible weather began a terrible day but it all turned around when he walked in…

Winter’s icy grip still held on firmly despite it technically being Spring. The temperature was barely climbing higher each day as thick grey clouds settled themselves in the sky making you wonder if you’ll ever feel the sun’s warmth again. It was cold and being near the banks of the Erie made it colder.

Rain beat against the window of your office from steady flows to heavy downpours that rattled you in your chair. You gave a quick glance at your umbrella at the foot of your desk, thankful for its companionship on a day like this when the clouds can’t make up their minds about whether or not today would be when they decide to unleash an apocalyptic flood upon the world.

The end of the work day was nearing and you were looking forward to going home so you could get ready for the first date you’ve been on in a while. After your previous relationship ended it took you a while to get back on your feet and put yourself out there.

It had been about a month since you matched with Danny. He was a junior partner at a law firm not far from your own office making you wonder if you’ve ever unknowingly crossed paths before. After all the talking and texting you decided to go on a date. You were down for a more casual meeting at a coffee shop but he insisted on a traditional first date dinner.

That wouldn’t have been so bad except his choice of restaurant, the most upscale and expensive place in the heart of Cleveland, made you extremely nervous. You weren’t going to disagree with his suggestion, even though you’d be a lot more relaxed getting to know him over tapas and drinks. Danny seemed really excited to go there making you think maybe he was trying to impress you.

A chill had set in the air causing you to shiver and regret not wearing pants. Your navy dress was form fitting and a modest length, and any remaining skin was covered by dark tights and tall boots. Tiny pebbles of gravel crunched underneath your footsteps along the soaked brick of the paved road. Large puddles reflected the lights of the bars and restaurants flanking both sides of the street covered in a sea of pedestrians enjoying their weekend despite the day’s weather.

You spotted Danny under the sign outside the restaurant, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone. As you approached him you called out his name and were greeted with a bright smile as he looked up to see you. His arms wrapped around you for a welcoming hug bringing you in close.

“I’m so glad you look like your picture,” he said, pulling back to look you over again. “It’s such a turn off to meet someone that looks nothing like their picture.”

Your head quirked to the side thinking that was a very awkward statement to make especially to someone you’re first meeting. Still, you brushed it off thinking maybe he’s had a few experiences where people tried to present a version of themselves they no longer are.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I’m a little nervous and you’re… so beautiful,” he continued, a wide smile plastered on his face.

Danny held the door open for you and when you were led to your table he helped you out of your coat and pulled out your chair.

He peered over his menu to smile your way and when you caught his gaze you smiled back.

“That’s a beautiful dress.”

“Oh thank you I– ”

“I’m so happy you dress classy. Men don’t actually want their girls to show off a lot of skin in public, some things are meant for their eyes only.”

What… the fuck. Your classy dress was hiding the steam that was rising from the blood boiling beneath your skin.

“Well it’s not up to men or anyone to tell someone how to dress,” you sneered.

Danny’s smile turned sour on his face. “Comments like that are probably the reason you’ve been single for so long. Now that I’m here I can teach you how to act like a lady.”

“What you need to do is learn manners and respect,” you said, placing the menu on the table.

Pushing out your chair you grabbed your things and headed for the door. There was a bit of commotion behind you with Danny calling you a bitch but you held your head high, with pride strengthening your stride as you walked out of the restaurant without turning back.

Deliberate heavy footsteps carried you down the block and away from your disaster date. So much for putting yourself out there again. If Danny was able to fool you so easily by hiding his true nature it didn’t give you a lot of hope for the future. You were tired of being alone and were really hoping that Danny could have been the connection you were looking for.

Playful laughter of a couple walking hand in hand passed you only twisted the knife in your broken heart. You felt like shit and truthfully didn’t want to feel anything at all for the rest of the night. There were plenty of bars along the street you could have chosen to drown your woes in but they were filled with too many happy people that you could not be around for fear of bursting into tears. You wanted– no, needed to go somewhere quiet; a place where you could disappear.

Thunder loomed in the distance making you walk faster, hugging your coat closer to yourself with your hands shrugged together in the pockets, distancing yourself from the lively streets, walking quickly so you could get to the outskirts of the trendy neighborhood.

The journey to your unknown destination ended when you stumbled upon a bar that called you like a moth to the flame. Dingy, black exterior with peeling paint and no discernible name. The weather had fogged up the bottom half of the windows with mostly-working neon signs advertising name brand beers, blocking the rest of your view into the place.

Flashes of red peered through the soot black door, also peeling, covering up the former bright entryway for one shrouded in mystery. It seemed like a place you expected would offer moonshine from a questionable barrel and considering your current state of emotions you wouldn’t be surprised if you took up the offer.

Silver numbers of the address were drilled into the heavy door you pushed open revealing everything you expected. Rock music from decades past drowning out the groans of people that want to escape the world outside. It was loud but not blaring, just enough to fill the void of empty space in the room.

The long bar glows like whiskey in the sun. An older woman with dark hair shows off defined arms in a black muscle tank top, popping the cap off a beer she slides to a man at the end. There are only a few patrons sitting far enough apart from each other so they don’t have to make conversation. This place doesn’t look like it gets much traffic but what it does have seems to be familiar faces; a home for those who don’t fit in anywhere else, and right now that included you.

Boisterous laughter roared over the guitar riffs and you look to see a group of denim clad men crowding around the only pool table in the back. Dry, dusty hands chalk the pool stick as dry, dusty men make the best of their evening, just as you planned on doing.

Cracked peanut shells that litter the floor crack even more as you walk towards the bar. The old stool squeaks as you settle on it, slipping your arms out of your coat you hang over the back. Twisting forward again you see the bartender walking towards you. A friendly smile wrinkled the corners of her thin lips set against leathery skin as her smoke graveled voice asked what you’ll be drinking, because she knows you’re not there for the nuts.

“Jack and Coke,” you replied, not bothering to force a smile back.

It’s understood in the downward slope of your eyebrows and the corners of your lips that feel too heavy to ever lift again. A worn coaster is set in front of you with the mixed drink followed quickly behind it and soon you find one corner of your mouth twitching with gratitude for her haste.

“Name’s Sally. Let me know if you need anything else,” she offered before settling back towards the middle of the bar to get another round for those playing pool.

The glass is cold, the drink is strong and instantly you feel relief along with the urge to hiccup and burp at the same time. Your hand covers your mouth as you try to do both silently as your other hand digs out your phone so you could delete your dating app.

For now this is what you needed, to delete the memory of Danny whose name burned your mouth worse than the strongest liquor. You didn’t want to deal with any other potential matches either, not tonight, not for a while. With another gulp of your drink you confirmed your decision, to delete men (temporarily) from your life, and that’s when you saw him.

Tall, tan, toned… he was… making your brain stutter or maybe that was the alcohol? Possibly both considering he was the most good looking man you had ever seen. He was photoshopped perfection in real life, an actual god. But what the hell was he doing in this place?

Sex on legs strutted out from the back, looking unfairly handsome in black jeans, a simple white t-shirt and a blue track jacket. He reclaimed his spot at the bar, the corner seat at the end leaving only a chair between you.

The glow of the bar bathes him in honey and his voice was just as sweet as you overheard him order a drink, flashing Sally a megawatt smile, the slightest crinkles surrounding his smoldering blue eyes. That’s when you recognized him. He was certainly a god made flesh, the god of gymnastics Lance Tucker. A gold and silver medalist that somehow ended up in some shit hole bar in Cleveland.

Blue eyes shifted your way making your face burn under the realization he caught you staring. Your lips pulled to a half smile before taking another gulp of your drink and grab your phone, highlighting with a notification. It was an automated text reminding you of your hair appointment tomorrow but it served as the perfect distraction to keep your nose down at your phone and not at the face of the man whose eyes you felt were burning through you.

A smooth voice pulled your attention away from your fake distraction. “What brings you here?”

Looking up you see Lance, elbow propped up on the counter and leaning his dimpled chin into his hand while the other was loosely splayed out beside his drink.

“You don’t look like someone that comes here a lot,” he continued, since you were in a slight state of shock by the fact that he was speaking to you in the first place.

You swallowed a smile, noting the way his body angled towards you now, awaiting your answer. There was no sign of impatience anywhere, but a genuinely curious smile slowly stretching across his face.

“I could ask you the same,” you said, lifting your drink to your lips to mask the surprise you felt by replying in such a bold manner.

“So ask me.”

The bubbly drink lifted up a burst of laughter with equal parts shock. You were surprised enough by your own response to him, never expecting him to reply this way. With no expectations from him you decided to roll with this conversation, knowing it would serve as a better distraction than dwelling on your bad date.

“Okay,” you began, shifting in your seat to face him. Shifting your eyes towards his hand you watched as he played with the condensation on his glass, dragging the wetness in slow circles as he anticipated what you might say next. “What brings Lance Tucker to a no-name bar in Cleveland?”

His face scrunched together as he held in a mixture of pride and embarrassment, licking his lips before swallowing back the rest of his drink. “So you know who I am,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded and broke the slightest bit of tension that hung in the air, remarking how you didn’t think anyone else had recognized him. He seemed to relax under that notion, hoping it was true. Lance has had a good portion of his life publicized but now things were different.

“Well that’s not fair, I don’t know your name,” he smirked.

After telling Lance your name you watched his lips whisper it back slowly, as if it was a secret he wanted to keep all for himself.

He leaned in closer and you felt compelled to do the same, bringing you inches away from his enticing features. “So, you want to know why I’m here?” he said, dragging the suspense out of every syllable.

“Yes!” you shouted.

Lance smiled and chewed on his bottom lip as he watched you laugh as a result of enthusiastically shouting. Your laughter washed over him in calming waves that lifted his heart. A year ago he would have rattled off some line that would guarantee him getting laid but a lot has happened in that time and he was a new man, trying to make the best of his new life in a new city.

“I’m here because of my daughter,” he said low and soft, with happiness lighting up his face like a sunrise over the horizon.

You couldn’t help the smile that formed, regardless of knowing the details he was about to explain, it was sweet to see the love he had for his child. Lance continued filling in parts of his story you had heard bits and pieces about. To be honest before meeting Lance you didn’t care about celebrity gossip, learning most news involuntarily through social media posts or the occasional office buzz.

Lance’s story in his own words was more fleshed out from what you knew and strikingly honest. He began coaching Maggie Townsend after her win in Toronto, he slept with her because she was “young and hot” and for nine months they tried to be in a relationship for the baby but that ultimately failed due to countless fights with Maggie screaming at him for ruining her career.

“To be fair, I kinda did,” he admitted.

Lance left Los Angeles for Ohio to be near his daughter Olivia who was now nine months old. He had an apartment in the city because “Cleveland is better than that shit town Amherst” and also because he needed space from Maggie. He hates it here but it’s a sacrifice he’s making to be there for his kid.

“Your turn,” Lance said, nudging a glass your way from the next round Sally poured.

Whether it was Lance’s candor or the Jack Daniels you felt comfortable in opening up to Lance as well, telling him how excited you were to go on this date, the first one since your breakup with your ex.

“It felt like I had been talking to one person this whole time and then he sent his evil twin to go on the date.”

“What an asshole,” Lance said, swallowing back his drink. He was thankful you walked on out that idiot because it lead you here with him.

Lance was easy to get along with as you slowly empted your glasses discussing this new city he moved to, finding out as many tips as he could about the best places to go while you listened to all of his complaints.

“It’s not that bad,” you joked. “Wait until winter though. That’s the worst.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely not looking forward to that. Maybe I could take Livi to LA for a few months…” he wondered out loud, knowing he was lucky enough to have her for a few days a week. “You ever been?”

“Once when I was a kid. My family went to California and did all the touristy stuff, Hollywood Boulevard, Disneyland.”

“Well LA’s a lot better as an adult,” Lance playfully chuckled. “Plus it’s got everything, except winter.”

Lance winked and you burst out laughing, watching as his own eyes crinkled with delight as he joined you.

“Another round?” Sally asked, clinking the empty glasses together as she grabbed them.

Mischief simmered in Lance’s eyes as he asked you, “Want to have some fun?” Your brows knitted with confusion until you heard him ask Sally for two shots of tequila. Ahhh, fun.

She came back with three glasses, one filled with lime wedges and two empties, setting a salt shaker down beside them. You thanked her as she filled the shot glasses as Lance picked up the salt.

Your cheeks were already burning from the drinks you had but now it felt like every part of your skin was scorching under Lance’s gaze as he watched your tongue dart out to lick the back of your hand. With a smirk plastered on his face he poured out the salt to cover the wetness on your skin. It was difficult to not look at him do the same, watching his bright pink tongue expertly swipe at his hand sent an ache straight to your core.

He lifted the shot glass waiting for you to do the same, and with a nod to show you were ready you both licked the salt from your hands, swallowed the burning liquid in one gulp and sought out the lime for relief.

The glasses slammed on the table with vigor, a bit sloppily in your case as you realize a shot after two drinks and no dinner might not have been the best idea. The music has faded to a loud hum as you sit as still as possible, trying to reign in your head that felt like it was floating like a balloon through a storm.

Lance’s tongue darted out once more to swipe over his lips. That shot hit the spot in helping to erase the memory of an earlier fight with Maggie that had him seeking out a bar to begin with. Meeting you certainly kept his mind off things. You were easy to talk to, funny, beautiful and as he looked over towards you now, spacing out hard.

“You okay?” he leaned in to ask, as you felt his hot breath against your ear.

Your head felt miles away while your eyes, glossed over with a haze, were focused on seemingly nothing straight ahead of you. “Yes,” you lied at first, “No. Can we maybe get something to eat?”

You didn’t hear Lance’s answer but saw him leave money on the counter to cover the tab for both of you. You stumbled a bit to get off the stool but he was there to hold you steady. With your coat slung over his arm, Lance helped guide you to the door.

The rain had stopped, leaving the air cool enough to feel amazing against your heated skin and instantly you felt a little bit better. With Lance’s arm around you tightly you walked a few short blocks to small plaza with a lineup of food trucks. There was a variety to choose from, some with just desserts that looked so good but you knew you needed something a bit more substantial.

“Burgers?” you suggested, looking at Lance for any objection, not that he would; you were his top priority now and he made sure you got whatever you needed to feel better.

The line for the truck was long but it seemed to go by quickly and once you had the food in your hands you could not wait to dig in. Your mouth opened wide to take a large bite of the burger, loving the way the juicy meat mixed with the melted cheese and buttery bun.

“This is so good,” you attempted to say with a mouth full of food, chewing as much as you could while trying not to spit anything out.

Lance smiled at the way your face glowed under the fairy lights strung throughout the tree branches above you. He was happy to see you smiling, knowing he had a small hand in turning your night around.

“Feelin better?” Lance asked as you both threw away your trash and began to lazily stroll down the sidewalk.

“Much, thank you. And thank you for paying back there.” Your steps were small and deliberate, unsure of where you were walking with him but it felt like the end of the night and truthfully you didn’t want to say goodbye.

“It’s nothing,” Lance said, smiling as his fingers accidentally brushed against yours. He wanted to take your hand, lace your fingers with his and see where the night would take you.

Reaching the corner of the sidewalk you waited to cross as cars zoomed by, not paying attention to the car that drove through the giant puddle of water by the overflowing sewer. Dirty water splashed and rained down on you and Lance as you shrieked out of surprise by the freezing cold wetness.

“Oh my god!” you shouted, wiping water from your eyes.

Lance stood there in shock, his white t-shirt now see through and clinging to the sculptured muscles of his stomach. You couldn’t help but laugh some more at his face, his wide gasp turning into a wider smile as he saw your drenched hair and clothes. He remembered a time with Maggie before they had gotten together, screaming at the top of her lungs when a teammate threw a water balloon at her. But here, drenched in disgusting water that’s been pooling on the dirty street you were laughing your ass off.

Lance cupped your face and crashed his lips to yours, abruptly stopping your laughter that quickly turned into moans he was desperate to swallow. His lips were soft against yours though his tongue was rough, on a mission to taste every part of your mouth. Your hands ran through his damp locks in an effort to grab hold of anything that could confirm this was real.

Reluctantly you broke away for air but kept your forehead pressed against his as you panted heavily, desperate to feel his lips against yours again. The blue of Lance’s eyes retreated fully, revealing a deep lustful gaze that spoke volumes for how you both felt. Your tongue glided over your lips as before you closed this distance this time, kissing him with no intention of stopping.

Lance’s apartment wasn’t far and you found yourselves there, removing sodden clothes from your bodies in a frantic haze. His body was burning hot with desire and your lips traveled all over his chiseled form. Skin to skin, slapping against each other in the throes of passion. Sweaty, hungry, eager kisses chasing after your swollen lips.

“Baby,” he grunts, gruff and needy with every thrust inside you. “Baby,” he whispers, soft and sweet like a prayer as you soar to the heavens together.

Every inch of the room is coated in a primal musk as two sweaty, sticky bodies rested together under the cool thin sheet, with sleep overtaking you both.

Warm light filtered in through windows gently stirring you awake, making you wish you remembered to shut the blinds like you normally would. Your fingers dug at crust from your eyes as your head pounded against the pillow that felt too soft. Looking over to the nightstand you searched for your alarm clock, instead finding an unfamiliar lamp. This morning seemed… off.

The bright light was too painful so you turned your back to it, coming face to face with the reason why everything felt different.

Lance Tucker was fast asleep, his face smushed into the pillows; his pillows in his apartment where, judging by the clothes strewn across the floor and delicious ache between your legs, you had sex.

Your hand rubbed behind your neck, feeling a sore trail of love bites left from the night’s activities. Now you remember, and quite frankly you don’t know how you could have ever forgotten your mind blowing time.

If the Sex Olympics were a thing Lance should win the gold in every category. He was a generous and skilled lover, who brought you tumbling over the edge several times. But now with the sheet wrapped closer to your chest and your head feeling like it’s in the middle of a construction zone, you worried about what he might say with a more clear headed mind.

Would he regret taking you home? Should you slip out while he’s sleeping and forget this ever happened?

It was too late to make any decision, Lance groaned sleepily, opening his eyes to find you beside him.

“Mornin’ baby,” his parched mouth groaned out, his lips pulling slightly into a smile.

Baby. The pet name you apparently earned last night, falling sweetly off his lips. Lance pulled you close to him so your head could rest on his shoulder. You were both exhausted and hungover, but spending a lazy morning tangled in each other’s arms didn’t seem so bad.

A few hours later you woke up for real, with a splitting headache you wish wasn’t real. Lance made coffee that helped a little bit, though when he pressed his lips against your temple for a soft kiss you definitely felt something. Not cured of your hangover but the stirring of butterflies in your stomach. You left shortly after with his number in your phone, a wrinkled dress and sex hair that was worth missing your salon appointment over.

You hadn’t expected to hear from Lance, in fact you convinced yourself he wasn’t going to text, making each day you hadn’t heard from him a lot easier to deal with but as your phone buzzed with an alert a big smile overtook your face and instantly you felt relief.

Lance had apologized for not being in contact, he had Olivia for the past few days and he was focused on her. Of course he had nothing to apologize for, you really enjoyed hearing about the mess she made while eating or how he played with her.

“If you’re free tonight I’d like to see you again.” He held his breath hopefully letting out a sigh as he beamed widely at your answer.

Seeing Lance became a regular thing except on the days he had Olivia. You respected the time he spent with his daughter and didn’t dare intrude. Other times you were together, back at the food trucks trying a bit of everything, exploring the city hand in hand with Lance slowly coming around to other positives about living there aside from you.

Most nights were spent at his place, cuddled up together on the couch binge watching the latest series or in bed where your body trembled with aftershocks of the Earth shaking, hot white pleasure you had experienced. Above all, Lance had found a way into your heart as if he was always meant to be there.

Lance’s handsome face appeared on your phone and you quickly swiped to answer the call.

“Hey baby,” Lance greeted through a yawn. “Livi had me up all night, I’m exhausted,” he continued, trying to talk above the noise of traffic around him but not too loud to wake up Olivia in the car seat.

“I’m sorry about that babe. I could have driven if you wanted,” you offered.

“I’ll be alright, plus…” he sighed, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to bring someone new around Maggie. I don’t need the headache, I’m sorry baby, but I appreciate it.”

After driving back and forth Lance came over for dinner since he was too tired to make something himself. Above the sizzle of the frying pan you heard his groans, looking up to find his shoulders slouched, head in his hands on the table.

Adjusting the knobs on the stove you stepped away briefly and walked towards Lance. Your hands skimmed across the hard planes of his back up to his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles as he groaned appreciatively under your touch.

Maggie had fought with him again, this time about Olivia’s first birthday. She wanted to plan an extravagant party and got angry that the children’s party venue, that she had months to book in advance, would not squeeze her in.

“She’s so frustrating. She got it in her head that LA was bad and things would be better back here but clearly she forgot that Amherst hates her.”

“Why?” you asked, applying more pressure as he you felt his muscles tense up the more he spoke about her.

Lance reached his hand back to cover yours. “It’s my fault. It always is,” he sighed.

The sizzling grew louder so you placed a kiss to his cheek before going back to tend to the cooking. “Don’t say that Lance.”

“It’s partially true. She abandoned this town for me, to train, and then…” he gestured with his hands. “She hates me because of everything that happened.”

The opportunity to talk about Maggie seldom appeared. You had a lot of opinions about her that you kept to yourself. It wasn’t your business and you didn’t need to add fuel to the fire they were trying to curb for Olivia’s sake but something inside was itching for you to find out.

You and Lance had been seeing each other for a few months and you loved him though you hadn’t said it out loud yet. You hoped he knew it in your actions, just like you felt it from him in the gentle ways he held you at night, the longing looks, the bright smiles. You wouldn’t push him to say the words to you but part of you needed to know how he felt about her.

“Do you hate her?”

Lance straightened up in the chair, staring contemplatively before answering. “No. She’s the mother of my child, I don’t hate her.” But do you love her?

Lance’s warm scent invaded your senses as your lips were pressed together. He would be leaving for Olivia’s birthday party, with your colorfully wrapped gift in hand. You wished you could go with him, hoping that one day everyone would be able to get along.

That night Lance was supposed to call but you didn’t hear from him. Before bed you said goodnight via text, figuring he was tired after such a long day. He didn’t return your text until the following day, apologizing for the delay. He had caught a stomach bug and didn’t want to trouble you with anything.

Two days later you finally heard his voice. “I’m sorry baby,” he weakly groaned. He was cancelling your weekend plans again, needing more time to recuperate.

Lance didn’t sound like himself, but you attributed that to all the vomiting. He was a nightmare when he caught a cold last month so you can’t imagine how he’s been handling everything a stomach bug entails.

A week had passed and each day without him felt like an eternity. Lance was surely better now so you decided to surprise him, hoping he regained enough of his strength to go for a stroll with you on this beautiful day.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to his floor you wished they hadn’t. At the end of the hallway was Lance, his hand cupped around Maggie’s cheek, his tongue going further and further down her throat.

The ding of the elevator alerted them to your shocked presence. You wanted to run, to go back home, to somehow wake yourself up from this nightmare because that’s what this had to be. Instead, your shaky legs carried you towards them against your will in search of answers.

“Lance, I…I don’t understand…” you began.

A sharp laugh pierced your heart like a million arrows, each one tipped with poison in the form of lies and betrayal.

“Is this who you’ve been wasting your time with Lance?” Maggie asked incredulously, still laughing as she looked you up and down.

The ability to speak had left, your voice abandoning you when you needed it most. Your mouth hung open, trembling as you looked at Lance wondering why.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said softly with regret. “Maggie and I are… we’ve been…”

“We’re together,” she smirked, lacing her arm through his as if she was claiming her prize. Maggie won the gold, again, this time in the form of Lance.

Lance couldn’t meet your gaze. He stared at the floor, lifting his eyes to your trembling hands. He felt terrible lying to you and even worse now with you standing in front of him, deserving of a better explanation than what he could give.

“We thought it would be best to try… for Olivia. After her birthday we…”

It made sense now why he hadn’t called when he came home that night, he hadn’t; and he had been lying ever since. You broke at the realization.

“How could you do this to me?” your voice cracked as tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

“I thought we had something… I lo…” The word died on your tongue, you couldn’t say it. It wouldn’t change what happened and you couldn’t forgive him.

Maggie rolled her eyes hard, “Pfft, this girl whines worse than Olivia. Go back to your playpen… baby.”

Baby. The nickname that rose from the flames of lust now turned to ash.

Muffled cries from inside the apartment draw everyone’s attention towards the door.

“Great, now you woke up our daughter,” Maggie huffed, stomping off into Lance’s place.

Silence drowned the hallway as you stared at each other. With every tear that fell Lance felt worse He fucked up, big time, and there was nothing he could do to fix this.

“Y/N.”

He whispered your name like the first time he said it, the night you found each other in the last place anyone would think they could find happiness. Lance took your hand and you wanted to pull it away but you couldn’t. You were pathetic, still desperate for his touch, one last time.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffed back a tear before it could drop, letting go of your hand and going back inside his apartment.

You were paralyzed, crying like the baby you truly were, moving only when you heard their voices through the wall. Slowly you turned back to the elevator, descending to the lobby and back out onto the street with nowhere to go.

Beautiful weather began a beautiful day but it all turned around when he walked out…

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

Perm. Tags (open): @all1e23 / @asphalt-cocktail / @badassbaker / @bibibucky / @breezy1415 / @bucky-smiles / @buckybabybaby / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @buckyofthemyscira / @california-grown / @chameerah / @chrevastan / @crazyfreaker / @crazyinspiration / @driftingtonystark / @fandom-addict-aesthetics / @hana1379 / @his-paradox / @holland-stan-posts / @jaamesbbarnes / @jamesbvck / @jbuckbrnes / @kentuckybarnes / @kenzieam / @mcu-avengers / @mizzzpink / @notimetoblog / @palaiasaurus64 / @prettyyoungtragedy / @royallylazy / @sgtjbuccky / @stanclub / @stevehesaidabadlanguageword / @supernaturaldean67 / @survivalistflowers / @suz-123 / @teamcap4bucky / @theassetseyeliner / @toongtii / @tropicalcap / @undyingart / @valhalla-ally / @wintersxsoul / @wonderlandmind4 / @wonderless-screwup / @yourpal-yourbuddy-yourbuckyy

#interestedbystander2kmilestone #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker imagine

913 notes · View notes

marcuspedersen-nz · 3 years

Text

1- Time Crime

(by Christopher Jones)

The year was 2040, nine years after the bust. They had called it the new El Dorado during the boom, but what could they call it now? Greymouth: the open orifice of a corpse humming to the tune of its own death rattle. It was a city trying to hold onto, yet somehow forget, the glory of years gone by; to settle at last to humble death, while the last of its flesh was consumed by collectors, as debtors made a hasty exit, and all those who had come to ride the wave were gone, leaving an overweight economy and too many high-rise buildings to sustain its rotting core.

I arrived during the tumult of a spring storm. There was quite some turbulence but the air hostesses didn’t seem very worried, and that was good enough for me. The one on my aisle was very made up, with tight blonde hair, a sweet chubby face and her skirt came down to just below her knees. They say that when it rains here it really rains, but they also say you get used to it. The pilot had to circle three times waiting for a window of visibility before finally bringing the DC-20 down to land.

I met my rental car agents outside the terminal building. I had ordered a manual four-wheel drive, apparently the only one in town. The mainstream companies which crowded the interior dealt only in the new generation of foolproof automatics, and besides there was a limited supply of large vehicles without prior notice. I knew what I would need, so I looked around on the internet until I hooked up with these guys, Smack Car Rentals, and at the last minute arranged for them to meet me at the airport. Before going outside into the din of the weather I let my local contact, Police Inspector Jack Martin, know that I had arrived. He gave me the address of where to meet him.

The dark day was just coming onto dusk, and I waited there for a moment sheltered from the rain by the large overhead canopy until a small silver Suzuki Swift drove up. A tall, handsome man of about 30 got out, quite a flashy type with black hair and dark brown eyes. He introduced himself as Paul Bartley, “We spoke on the phone, Mr Jones. Sorry about the delay,” he said, putting my cases into the back and opening the passenger’s door for me to enter, “Your Range Rover is at the office. I need to check you in.” It was here that I felt the first inexplicable glitch, like a shudder through my reality that showed I wasn’t there by accident. This was no false alarm.

I got in and he said as the car drove towards the CBD, “I’d apologise for the weather, Mr Jones, but it’s beyond the powers of my control. This is the West Coast, after all.”

“Yes,” I nodded, “It’s a narrow strip of land between the coast and the Southern Alps. When the prevailing westerly comes off the ocean loaded with water, it hits the mountains and dumps its load, leaving the east in drought while the west has more rain than it can handle.” He laughed as though I had told some kind of joke, so I added, “Call me Chris.”

The office on Mackay Street was one of several on the second floor of an old two storey building standing between taller, shakier buildings built during the 2020s. It was accessed by a narrow flight of steps which took us up to a shabby lobby with several doors to various offices. The sign above the door we entered read, “PPS Bartley Real Estate, Smack Car Rentals and P. Bartley Detective Agency”. He indicated for me to stand at a counter which was obviously used for the car rental side of the business, “Would you like tea or coffee?” he offered, and I shook my head.

Looking at the real estate display board, I noticed one property stand out from the others. It had a note saying, “Serious Viewers Only. No Tourists!” which piqued my curiosity. I then recognised the red shed on the photo from my research files as being the location of one of the Blondino murders. The thought of that recognition gave me a second inexplicable glitch; a feeling like déjà vu. I asked, “How is the real estate business doing these days?”

“It’s a good time to buy,” he said, “People shy away from a market in a slump, but think about it. You wouldn’t buy your groceries like that, would you? You wouldn’t wait till prices rocketed before you rushed down to the supermarket. No, you’d grab what you could while everything’s on sale. So why treat real estate any different? There are plenty of good bargains to be had around here.”

“What about this one?” I asked.

“That’s the Thompson property; a real bargain. If you’re interested, come back tomorrow when the office is open and we’ll talk business. You honestly could not go wrong.”

He entered my details into the computer, such as driver’s licence and credit card numbers, and printed off some papers for me to sign just in time for a second, younger man to enter. “It’s all fuelled and ready to go. I’ve put your cases on the back seat,” he said, he looked so similar to Paul Bartley that he was obviously his younger brother. He wasn’t quite so flashy and he wore a wedding band. He handed me the key attached to a bright orange key-ring with the Smack logo on it and said, “Diesel only. It’s just outside.” So I looked nonchalantly at the window as the rain came crashing down even harder, and bade them farewell.

I set the navigator to Power Road and pulled out from the curb. The good thing about cars of the era before everything became self-driving was that you felt like you were actually driving, and not simply a passenger in the driver’s seat. Even by 2040 the majority of cars practically drove themselves, but they weren’t fully driverless so it kind of made you feel like you were there but not there. Of course they already had the technology for self-driving but public suspicion had pushed for legislation that prevented its general implementation. Only vehicles that used special lanes such as freight and taxi were permitted to be driverless.

I took a left on Tainui Street, up past the traffic lights at the railway crossing, and turned right at the roundabout. After a few kilometres Tainui Street became High Street, and the rain eased off to a trickle. It was already full night. I passed the Oasis Hotel on my left, which I was booked into but would check in later, and proceeded for another 3.2 kilometres before turning left onto Power Road as the navigator directed. I drove up a steep hill to the house at number 32, where there was a police cordon in place. A modified white Camry and a standard patrol car with flashing lights awaited there for my arrival.

Reaching into my case for the gaga meter I noticed an umbrella on the back seat, so I decided to make use of it. There were four men, two in uniform and two detectives, standing beside the Camry. They took notice of me as I got out, clutching the meter, fumbling about with the umbrella which didn’t seem to want to open. It came up all of a sudden and almost sent me tripping over my own feet. The detectives walked over to greet me, putting out their hands and the older, obviously more senior of the two said, “I’m Police Inspector Jack Martin, this is Police Inspector David Walton. You must be Special Agent Christopher Jones.” I gave him and his partner the firm handshakes they wanted, showed them my badge, and Jack indicated towards the house, “We didn’t expect you would arrive tonight.”

He wore a thick coat and the water ran off his head but he acted as though it was nothing more than a slight inconvenience, which it probably was. He was a well built man of about 40 years, with a trimmed black moustache and a very friendly manner. David Walton was much thinner and younger, with brown hair and ginger moustache. Jack said, “Forensics were here this afternoon. So far, despite the blood being human, there’s no indication that the murder took place here. The bodies of the residents, Janine Hoffstad and her daughter Susan, were found in bush about 20 minutes out of town, and the blood isn’t theirs. They were strangled, and there’s every indication that they were murdered there. Personally, I wouldn’t have alerted you, even if it does look occult. It’s the computer that does it. It’s an algorithm. I hope you haven’t wasted your time. She’s the daughter of a crime boss.”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” I said, “And call me Chris,” but I could tell just by looking at the exterior of the yellow weatherboard house that I had already been there. It’s like the glitches. It’s what we call the ripple effect, and you develop a sense for it when you’ve been in the job for long enough. Think of it like a stone being dropped into a pool of water, and the ripples radiate out from the epicentre, repeating the trauma, which brings about the sensation of repetition. Some call it déjà vu, but for most people only the very strong pulses are felt, where they feel the ongoing effect of a great surge through the fabric of their lives.

Inside the house I switched on the meter and took a reading of the hallway with immediate indication of gaga. Jack Martin pointed to a door at the end of the hallway, “The interesting stuff is this way.” I nodded. “What does that thing do exactly?” he asked.

I said, “It measures gaga.” He nodded.

The lounge room at the end of the hallway came up with very strong readings. The light was dim, but at the turn of a dial Jack made it very bright. There was a pentagram painted from blood on the cream carpet of an otherwise fairly ordinary lounge. A black leather sofa and two matching lazy-boy armchairs were set facing a plasma television screen which took up most of the wall they faced. There was a strong scent of very sweet perfume like an overture to the senses with an undertone of musty dampness, and the rancid stench-like odour of rotting meat barely perceptible. At each point of the pentagram were two items, which mostly looked like they belonged to a woman, or a young girl, or both. “What exactly is gaga?” asked Jack as the meter hissed, almost off the scale.

At the closest point of the pentagram were a Barbie doll and a deck of cards with the golden pick logo of Inangahua Resort Casino at Reefton. The next point in a clockwise direction had a red badge with the picture of Daffy Duck on it, and a lady’s smart-watch with a blue strap. The third point had a postcard of a snowy mountain with three serrated peaks, that is, Mt Owen, and a brown felt hat with splotches of mud and a red flowery band. At the end of the fourth point was a CD album Sugar Sweet Candy Water by the Aloe Veras, and a small plastic daffodil of the type they sell to raise money for cancer research. At the final point was a Lenovo tablet with star and flower stickers on it, and a bottle of Le Frais perfume, with the lid not pressed on properly and so most of its contents had spilled onto the carpet.

I said, “To put it simply, gaga measures the difference between what is real and what is unreal. Think of it as the difference between matter and antimatter. The action of matter normally flows in nominal resistance to the reaction of antimatter, like a wave held in balance. When the wave becomes discordant, shadow waves appear, which is what we call a ripple effect, measured in units of gaga. You follow me?” He raised his eyebrows. “Okay, just think of it as telling me that something illegal has taken place here and the sooner that I deal with it the better it will be for everybody, so it’s good I got here when I did.”

“How bad is it? Should we be worried?”

“It’s bad, as bad as it gets. I need to bag these items.”

“What are they for? It is occult then?”

I nodded, and picked up the brown felt hat. There were strands of long blonde hair on the inside. Turning over the postcard there was, “Dear Mummy,” but nothing else written on it. I turned on the tablet and the screen saver was the same photo of Mt Owen as on the postcard. It asked for a pin and I tried a few basic combinations but they didn’t work.

I said, “Certain items become charged with gaga. We call them talismans. It’s occult in as much as ritualistic procedure was used to create the talismans, but occult is just a layman’s term for the process of manipulating the fabric of the space-time continuum, that is, the normal flow of matter and antimatter. Of course it’s highly illegal, but we have our methods. This crime took place here, but not the here as we see it, the here that exists somewhere else. All we see is the exhaust of an event and the only way to fix it is to find the source of the tear and stitch it up.”

“But should we be worried?”

I shrugged, “No, I think we’ve caught it in time. Good work.”

We came away and to my surprise the night had cleared. Everything looked washed, serene, and clean, with a starry sky and the near full moon glowing high above the ranges to the east. To the north the seven towers of Greymouth’s CBD were sparkling like they were something beautiful, to be proud of, but dread filled me because I knew they were more like the embers of a fire that had not quite been extinguished, and just the slightest wind would bring up the flame to consume it all like a dragon’s breath.

The city had been born of gold, and gold had destroyed the city, with a hundred and seventy years between to grow, to languish, and hope for better times. Their motto, “Our time will come again,” seemed like presentiment during the 2020s boom as many believed their time had finally arrived, but the problem with gold is that too much happens all at once, and when the gold is gone everything must collapse back into itself. Back in the 1860s it hadn’t mattered so much because there was only a limited amount that a town could grow with such means as steam ships and sailboats. But it was a different story during the 2020s, as the 2030s proved and the year 2040 was about to conclude; the devastation to be visited upon this city would be more than the sum of its components.

That was “Chapter One” of The Woman in the Brown Hat, a sci-fi fantasy detective novel by Marcus Pedersen.

Available on Amazon as an e-book and paper book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08RW59M7G

For more information see: https://www.facebook.com/ToroPopularFiction

For reviews see: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56531729-the-woman-in-the-brown-hat

1 note · View note

saltandburn-ilovesamwinchester · 4 years

Text

Break Down Here

"I'd sure hate to break down here,

Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror.

Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin'.

I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin'.

So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow.

Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now.

I made it this far without cryin' a single tear.

I'd sure hate to break down here."

You sat up straighter behind the wheel of your '69 Camero. The slim road was winding down to nothing but trees and wild animals, and as night was falling you hoped there was at least one motel around the next corner. The last sign you passed was three miles back and worry had started to scatter through your brain.

Rain had started drizzling and your gas tank was on its way to empty. You pulled into a little curb and stared at the building before you. The grey cement had aged from 50 years or more which made it look like something out of a horror film. There was a door at the very bottom, large enough to lead to a garage you had assumed.

Looking into the back seat for your raincoat and umbrella, you gathered the courage to walk to the front door. You took your time walking to the door, your feet walking in front of the other.

Swaying back and forth on your two feet you decided to knock. You took one last nervous glance at your cherry red car sitting by the greenest trees you had ever seen and back to the door where two tall men where staring you down.

The tall stranger with shaggy hair, dressed in a black v-neck and jeans, was holding a stack of papers so old they were forming into different colors. His height was the first thing you noticed. He was so tall he nearly had to duck before walking in the door. Definitely not the type you wanted to run into late at night in the woods somewhere.

Although the frame of his body was huge and he towered over you, his face held delicate features. "Hi, is there anything I can help you with," his voice was smooth and formal, like he had been a lawyer at some point. "I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean," he pointed over his right shoulder at the man behind him.

The man on his heels was just a head shorter, with short cropped hair and eyes that were as dark as the bottom of evergreen trees. He was simply in grey sweats and an old Zeppelin tshirt, and he was holding a messy plate with a small bite of pie left around the edge. He was easily caught off guard when he noticed the car behind you. "Whoa, is that yours," his excitement spread into a breathtaking smile.

You turned to meet his gaze and followed it to your car and back to him. Glancing one more time at him and his, what you agreed was his younger brother, you began. "Hi, I'm Y/N. Uh, I hate stopping at this random moment but a store clerk, miles back, told me there was an old hotel around the corner and my gas tank is almost empty..." you cut your explanation short when a small smile spread on Sam's lips.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "A lot of people confuse this place for something else. It's just a big home." Sam seemed so easy to talk to. You had only been there a total of five minutes and it felt like the two of you were lost in conversation about the old building they called home while glancing down at your sneakers that was beginning to flood with rain water. "Hey, if you want to come in for the night I'm sure Dean wouldn't mind," he stopped to look at his brother admiring the new wheels that had just rolled in.

"Of course," Dean yelled from behind the car before walking up beside you. "Then, in the morning we can take my ride and go and get you some fuel." His smile was friendly and comforting. "Come on, Sammy. Let's show Y/N her room for the night," he said to his little brother and stepped past him through the open door.

“Mi casa es tu casa,” Dean held his arms out and welcomed as you stepped over the threshold to the gigantic house.

You followed Dean down the long staircase with Sam following close behind you, and stared in wonder at the huge room you were standing in. “I know, right,” Sam smiled when he saw your face light up. “Do you like to read, Y/N,” he asked and raised his eyebrows.

“Yea, actually. I have a box back in the car full of old books,” you laughed and felt your cheeks burning from the small smile Sam and his brother wore. “What? Don’t tell me you have a library too,” you giggled and looked between the two guys.

“Show her,” Dean looked at his brother before winking at you.

It was your turn to follow in Sam’s footsteps, walking past a large table with a map on the counter top. “What is this place,” you whispered and looked at Dean, not shocked to see him staring at you.

“We call it our war room,” Dean said. “It looks like someone who had served in a war or some sort would have lived here before us,” he shrugged his shoulders. “You should have seen all the other stuff we found when we came upon this place.”

“Hence the name,” you cracked a smile and Sam and Dean laughed. “Oh wow,” you sighed when you stopped in a room with two large wooden tables lined in the middle and books shelves on either side full of dusty books. The lights in the room gave a small glow and a warm and cozy place to find peace.

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” Sam asked when you ran your fingertips along one of the book shelves. “It’s like everything is worn down and outdated, but so new to you.”

Dean watched his baby brother show you around the library while he tidied up the papers that occupied one of the tables. No way, was he ready for you to see their research papers for the new case in town. “Sam,” Dean cleared his throat and the two of turned to face him. “Maybe Y/N would like to settle in and then we could cook dinner,” he suggested and nodded yes.

...

Later that night you layed in one of the extra beds the Winchester’s had to offer. Your body and mind sat in that comfortable, lazy state after eating one of Dean’s bacon cheeseburgers. “Man, could he cook,” you thought.

You picked up a book you found in library and turned the first page. That’s when Sam knocked on the open door. “How’s the book,” he smiled and stood in the doorway.

“I literally just picked it up to read,” you laughed and placed it back on the nightstand. You sat up against the wooden headboard and tapped the bed, welcoming him to sit. He smiled, finally finding the opportunity to ask questions that had been on his mind since you arrived.

Sam made his way to the foot of the bed and the mattress dipped when he sat across from you. “Y/N, can I ask you something,” he said and looked from his hands that were on his knees to your eyes that were watching him. You smiled and waited for him to ask his question. “Out of all the places you could have ended in, why Kansas?”

“I.. I don’t know, Sam,” you sighed, feeling defeated. “I knew I was in a place I didn’t want to stay in. I just knew I had to leave if I was going to be happy again.”

Somewhere behind Sam’s eyes he knew what you were feeling. He had asked himself a long time ago when he would settle down, who he would settle down with. “I understand,” he smiled after a long silence. “I guess for people like us, it just takes longer to find out.”

The two of you talked for an hour before both of you were a yawing mess. “I guess I should let you sleep if you are going to be on the road all day tomorrow,” Sam sighed and stood from the bed. “Y/N, I want you to know that you can stop by any time. Dean and I would like to see you again.”

You nodded once and wished Sam a good night, watching him leave the room. Rolling to face the opposite wall, you tucked the blankets in around yourself.

...

“And this bird you can not change,” you and Dean sang along to the radio as the Impala pulled into a gas station the next morning.

“So where do you go from here,” Dean asked while the gas can was filling up. “Any family around here?”

You shrugged and shook your head, “Not really. I’m not sure what I’ll do. I just know I have to keep moving right now.” Leaning against the car, or ‘Baby’ you come to know her as, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun to finding Dean’s eyes staring back at you.

“I understand,” Dean nodded and put the nozzle back on the can. “For a while it was like that for me and Sammy.”

“And then,” you asked, wondering how long it would take you to settle down. You and Dean slid back into the car, the gas can in the trunk.

Baby roared to life as you pulled away from the store. “And then,” Dean said, “We came across the bunker and it was too good to pass up.” Dean glanced at you to see if you were understanding. “It just felt right.”

Dean focused on the road in front of him and you sat beside him, fiddling your thumbs and reliving the last conversation. “It just felt right.” That’s what Dean said. Well, what if things won’t ever feel right for you?

You stored your thoughts in the back of your head as Baby stopped in front of the bunker. Thank God your things were still inside because you were not ready to say goodbye. Goodbye to the that amazing library where Sam showed you first generation books. Goodbye to that lovely kitchen where Dean fixed those awesome burgers. Dean told you to go ahead and go inside while he filled your car up and you listened.

Your feet hit the threshold of the bunker for what would feel like the last time and you turned the knob, walking in. “Hey,” Sam welcomed from the bottom of the stairs. “I thought I heard you two pull in.

“Yea,” you exhaled. “I was just coming to get my bag and I was going to get on the road. Dean’s filling up my car.” You watched the younger Winchester’s expression, knowing this would be the last time he would see you.

...

Your eyes fixed on the blacktop ahead of you and your hands tightened around the wheel. Sam and Dean, you thought. The nooks and crannies of the bunker, the smell of food cooking and wafting throughout the large house, and the sight of Sam and Dean reading their old, dusty books came back in a flood of memory. You could still smell Sam and Dean when you embraced them for the first time, making you wonder, will there be a next time?

… … …

So, I’ve had this thing hidden away for a while now. All mistakes are mine. I hope y’all like it. Let me know what you think. ❤️

@waywardbaby @imperiusimpala @leatherandapplepies @idreamofplaid @plaid-lover-bay25 @waywardnerd67 @maddiepants @sammyimpala-67 @oldfreakything @idabbleincrazy @tumbler-tidbits @shatteredabby @destielhoneybee @cosicas-cuquis @heycasbutt @flamencodiva @coffee-obsessed-writer @thoughtslikeaminefield

20 notes · View notes