#need me some emotionally curious nines
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This Is Not A Date
Upgraded Connor (RK900) | Nines/ Reader fanfic
Rating: Mature
Wordcount: 5560
Tags: Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, emotionally curious nines, groping, smut, p in v sex, rough, kinda soft kinda not lil boi
Link to AO3 here or continue below cut:
You envied him, really.
Holding down a forefinger, the imprint fogging your phone screen, the victim of your poking quite literally quivered under your fingertips; a damn bloody dating app. Its cornered ‘x’ be the only good idea it gave you since its offered romantic prospects surely weren’t.
It shakes a violent plead of mercy, like the castle clown prancing joyously, a jingle bell on its neck collar shaking its head desperate no’s where you snapped two fingers for its forthcoming executions. Disappointing. As per usual.
But punishing the joker meant nothing if its replacement came from the same circus. You downloaded another app, pinky peach hearts pictured on a mobile symbol, your expectations had sunk passed the depths of hell.
You were no less given the attention, a text ping except for a joker's bell. Despite Detroit’s ever-growing gene pool with the doubling population of both humans and androids, your huddle of situationships barely satisfied you, lacking a spark you so craved. Matches appeased your eyes, descriptions void of icky pick-up lines, but with every other text you were sent, something scrunched up your face worse than the last.
“Why are people so boring?” you vented to the brioche-scented air, very much aware that fine-tuned android ears had spaced out. You’d grown to suffer alone.
He didn’t have to worry about bearing the weight of carried conversations, he was perfect. Bloody hell looked it too.
Nines envied you equally, but for the opposite reasons.
There hadn’t been a day's rest of his HUD, notifications running haywire like sugar-induced children running laps in a playground. But even little humans collapsed in exhaustion — you did a lot of that — and energy was spent, Nines’ string of leeching matches never tired.
“How tall are you?”
“Glad we matched! My place or yours?”
“How big did they make you?”
“Boring indeed,” silencing the utter mess of thirsty texts, he turned his attention back onto you, a croissant half-stuffed in a stun where you hadn’t expected an answer. Flakes stuck to your lip as you chewed, fluttering eyelashes moaning for you at the fill of French delectables. Your reactions amused him. People were boring, indeed.
You, however, were quite interesting.
Many months of a developed friendship had the both of you puzzlingly closer. Intending to better work efficiency, Nines fed into your friendly advances, but he hadn’t expected to actually enjoy your company. You two had clicked like polar forces, self-fashioned laws of physics in your own little world together.
Nines, surprisingly, was a pretty handsome wall to talk to. You enjoyed every little teenage-like whisper of gossip you shared, to which the android’s sharp ears picked up on the latest in the DPD. You’d grown accustomed to his partially stiff persona as he did to your free-spirited one. The moon to your sun, and he surely brightened in your gifted happiness. Kindred souls hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder, you were there for him, and he was there for you.
Nines scoffed at deleting another chat thread with a persistent match mate.
It started as a joke. ‘I can get more bitches than you,’ though you knew you were speaking out of your ass. You did not, dare you say could not get more bitches than a man who mastered being a man, despite being made plastic and steel.
Eyes blue like arctic winds, soft but intimidatingly focused in burning through flesh, his face sculpted unfairly to turn heads his way. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist that looked good in anything, even you could admit that. You were no stranger to getting asked about his romantic status.
The sheer size of him shifted uncomfortably in the little bakery’s equally little seats, shoulders swallowing the back of his chair as if his steel spine served a replacement. Discomfort, albeit making him stir again to lean forward with a frustrating twitch of brows, was still foreign to him; a bitterness that squirmed deep in his chassis. It had taken a while to identify and label the feeling.
Experience was the tutor in the study of emotional understanding. Experience was his guide to an emotionally coloured world and discomfort was by far the dullest, sluggish and unattractive hue he’d come across.
Nines heard an audible moan deep from your chest, satisfaction making you lick buttered fingers clean. Your palate cleansed except for pastry bits on your plate, following a trail to your lap, above your chest and still on your bottom lip. You, however, were that bit of colour that sagged his shoulders, the bit of colour that made him agree to silently accompany your weekly brunch ravishment.
His chest shook in a chuckle at seeing you no less a mammal in its habitat, wild and careless, waving away thrown looks at your poor table etiquettes. Hair frenzied in a mess, your posture slouched as if you owned the ground around you, you had a flair of contentment with everything you did. Interesting human, indeed.
“I wasn’t aware wearing your afternoon brunch was socially acceptable,” he quipped and your eyes widened, patting hands rubbing away crumbs that doubled his laughter. Croissant bits projectile in his direction, ultimately landing on the table and his lap.
Your phone announced itself, a text ping waking up your screen with the surprising icon of a newly downloaded dating app. Flat on the table, Nines perked in out of curiosity. Your spread grin was better at drawing his attention.
It could only mean one thing.
“I’ve got a date on Friday.”
-.—.-
It just happened.
Somehow in some weirdly fated way, you and Nines had your dates aligned. When you’d dress up for a dinner evening, he’d be suited up for one couple of roads down. The forgotten competition falling into a routine of complimenting each other’s outfits, you pointlessly fixing his collar and escorting either into another’s hands.
As expected, you’d gasp at the sight of his fitted dress shirt, threaded buttons pulled taunt to the rise and fall of his chest. Bigger biceps smoothed into the arms of his blazer, an icy pair of eyes that’d drop anyone to their knees; you watched appreciatively, blessing your eyes with what his dates would be so lucky to sit across.
Dang, he looked good. Who needed dinner if desert sat inches away?
And he’d eye you similarly, following the curves and dips of your dresses, a taunting hug of fabric an extension of your skin leaving little to the imagination, not that he had any. Loose silk that hung low, embraced your thighs just right, it was enough to have you smiling at your reflection. You liked to look like this, beautifully sexy, earning heart eyes from victims you’d never contact again.
Nines was effortlessly attractive, but you sure believed you were too, and confidence was already half the charm. There was a reason your dating race lingered neck-and-neck, people wanted him and people wanted you.
Still, you didn’t understand why serial dating was so damn hard.
Nines excused his admiring as a friendly reciprocal to yours and then you interlinked arms, trotting in pretty shoes to leave some date awestruck.
Struck, definitely, so much so they didn’t show.
“Fucking flunked on me,” all of your hours getting ready wasted for nothing. A dangling table light held you in spotlight, the universe laughing at your misery. The waiter dared to make a brief visit, scurrying away when you shot daggers, Phone glued to your ear, you lined a fork with distracted fingers, “I went through all that effort, for what?”
“He dodged a bullet,” Nines teased, a smirk leaking into your speakers. You groaned annoyingly, a tad bit hurt though you’d never mention it. Nines only chuckled, “are you not hungry?”
“Of course, I am,” your volume had diners eavesdropping, you lowered it, “but I’m not gonna sit here and eat alone like some… loner .”
An elderly woman leaned into your line of sight, doing little to mask her judgement.
“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, straightening up subconsciously. Nines remained silent, a little something nagged you, “tell me you have better luck than me.”
He did. Unlike you, Nines was glad his date didn’t show.
“Unfortunately, detective, I have been cancelled on too.”
“No. Way.”
So, obviously, the next step pretty much carved itself out. You were both in need of a nice dinner, dressed to impress, and without your respective dates. Nines took no longer than necessary to join you, filling in the void of an empty seat as you did for him.
This happened again, from your silk dress to a casual getup, and again, from fancy dining to amusement parks. From black tie gallery visits to turtleneck picnic dates. You found it harder to believe Nines was getting cancelled on when he kept miraculously showing up.
It wasn’t a date, even if it always looked like it and you’d get ready as such. Painted lips smiled at him rather than some other guy, and neither of you was complaining about it.
Upon reaching the front of the queue to an ice cream cart, did someone first state the obvious.
“Here’s one for you and a drink for your partner.”
You stilled, “oh, we’re not- he’s not-"
“Thank you,” Nines took your waffle cone, giving it a tasteful lick before handing it to you. He walked away before you could protest.
“What was that?” You fell behind his longer strides struggling, Nines always found it amusing.
“What was what?” Pale flickers of his eyes were a tell of his naivety, “are we not partners?”
Work ones, sure. “Pretty sure she was calling you my date.”
For his advanced prototype kinks, he hadn’t preconstructed that theory. It was his turn to freeze, the ice of his irises solidifying the rest of his body, the only tell that he hadn’t fallen stasis being an amber spin on his temple. His abrupt halt had you bumping into his back with a grunt.
Though your complaints died into laughter at seeing him so… off guard.
“It’s not so bad,” you nudged him, elbow meeting his midriff, its proximity to his thirium pump regulator pulled a heavy huff through his voice. You winked, “you’d be lucky to score with me.”
Park attendees walked in their chatter, dogs let off their leashes, rolling in the glass with both furry flesh and synthetic plastic alike. Families shared inside jokes, children playfully screaming on the lake’s perimeter. Information coded everywhere in his scans, the broken grid of his deviancy reminding him of his freedom.
But he grew overwhelmed around you.
The past few mutual flunks hadn’t exactly been… mutual. The moment you’d text him your date was boring, or the guy left you hanging again, he’d be the one to disappear mid-mingling and scurry away to accompany you. Surely, that’s what it meant to be a good friend, right?
He wasn’t looking to replace your flings. He just merely wanted to be there for you. Be a light of colour as you had been for him so many times before.
Nines blinked erratically, warning ambers giving him away.
“Jeez, I’m not that bad,” you joked but he caught wrinkled brows of concern, following another lighter playful nudge on his arm. The contact teetered on the edge of overwhelming his processors.
Neither of you talked about it.
On came another Friday evening, a ping reminding you of a ‘Tomas’ looking forward to seeing you. Your dressing table mirror applauded the artistry of makeup whilst you merrily shoed up, throwing a text back via that dating app 2.0.
“I’m so sorry! Can we reschedule?”
“No show again,” you sighed, lying out of your ass, “how’s that android with the green hair doing for you?”
“I’m afraid she does not feel interested anymore,” also a lie, Nines had pretty much blocked the persistent woman.
Getting comfortable in the back row of your local cinema, which was supposed to be Nines escapade for the day, he passed you a popcorn bag, one he’d already bought for you. Lights dimmed at the title screen, Nines sneaked a glance at you, silently admiring the palette of your makeup. Nines liked it when you played with pigments, orange and purples finely painted on eyelids, bringing out the colour of your eyes. It pleasantly stimulated him.
“What?” Curving in a half-smile, you caught his ogling.
“You look lovely, detective,” it was pretty much routine at this point, to compliment you. Though this time, the air hung heavier, the smile never making it to his lips, his thirium pump straining for a beat when your vitals jolted the slightest.
He said it so sincerely; why did he sound so different? Your retort wasn’t given voice, a prickle of shivers meeting your extremities in a blush, you were glad the darkness covered for you.
You swallowed down. He cleared his throat. The movie went on. But the heat of your body, the subconscious leaning on his arm, close enough he could decode the product in your hair, the movie wasn’t plenty distraction.
And as if rA9 evilly taunted him, a couple cornered in the cinema audibly moaned, latched onto each like horny teenagers. You bobbed your brows at him, ‘kids these days’, but your skin grew hotter, ultimately arising a glitch or two in his system.
“The movie was great,” you gulped a smile when he walked you home, kicking lone rocks, eyes weighed to the pavement, “I guess, I’ll- I’ll see you.”
“Yes-,” he spoke too quickly, nodding, “I wish you a good night, detective.”
You blinked, “you too. Goodnight to you too.”
“Thank you.” His feet shuffled, “I shall go now.”
“Get home safe, alright? Goodnight, Nines.”
“Take care, detective.”
Awkward couldn’t even begin to describe it.
-.—.-
The competition was long gone, dating threads snipped weeks ago when you decided to delete the apps once and for all. Nines had pulled from the single scene even before you did, gulping down excuses as to why he decided to bail on all his prospects.
“No, we’re friends,” you’d say. Friends that helped each other down a couple drinks. Friends that slow-danced at New Jericho’s fancy dress party, to which Connor had invited you both. Friends that publicly teased each other with a flutter of eyelashes and hot heavy breaths.
“Since when were you two dating?”
“This is not a date!”
Said you at a party where Nines was your plus one, glued to your side like your extension.
It was getting ridiculous.
Eventually, neither of you spoke about seeing other people, just assuming the other would turn up. On paper, and even in person, you both looked pretty stupid in denial.
But one night, clinking afters with your department crew, did the dusted line between friendship and something more sharpen, something that made sense in the entanglement of your not-dates with Nines.
Officer Wesley was clear in the intention to woo you and have you in bed, playfully raking his gaze and hissing out a compliment. He leaned in closer, elbow atop the bar front with a daring smile. Admittedly, you missed the thrill of being a tease, slipping your tongue out to wrap around the straw but not enough to give him a show. Wesley caught on your game, and for the officer he was, he’d happily play cat and mouse.
But this time, things felt different and flirting with the dirty-blonde man felt wrong. Flirting with anyone felt wrong. And you couldn’t understand why.
You flickered in the RK900’s direction, only to find him already watching Wesley talk you up at the bar. A heartbeat thumped particularly loudly when he held your eye contact, leaning back in his booth whilst tonguing his straw similarly to how you had done it.
Fucking hell.
“So, how about that drink?” The officer reminded, thumbing at the display of bottles behind the counter.
Holy shit. You didn’t want to be like every other victim to the reeling of those darkened blue eyes, you weren’t like that.
With a double take, you caught that damn triumph smirk on his face, as if he could see exactly what that tongue did to you, being on the receiving end of it. Fuck him, you wouldn’t let him win.
Nines’ smirk faded as soon as you gave the officer your undivided attention, edging your barstool. Your touch crawling up his arm, soft lips leaning closer to his ear and speaking just out of earshot. It had the android inexplicably grinding teeth.
That was another thing about deviancy it had taken him a while to calibrate; urges. The urge to partake in conversation, or flee from it even, the urge to tease you to the point your cheeks were coloured tomatoes. It was this urge that had an added darkness looming over you, two icicles boring into the back of your head.
Sixth sense tied a thick knot in your throat.
Wesley cleared his throat too, sitting up straighter, “Nines, you ah - you good?”
The android didn’t look it, stalking over your shoulder like he’d no less bite into your neck and suck you dry in one go. But if this officer be a conquest you wanted to take to home, Nines would personally help you put on a show.
That’s what good friends did, right? Help each other?
He slitted fingers between chunks of your hair, pulling your head aside abruptly, the contact freezing you in place. You gasped as he lowered his mouth, speaking to the shell of your ear but loud enough for Wesley to pick it up, “we know you want to fuck our little detective, officer.”
Nines dragged his lips against heated skin, tongue peeking out to taste you. And just as he expected, his HUD blasted with paintballs of colour at the encoding, his pump fluttering when your lashes did so.
His other hand dragged up your waist, curving at the shape of your breasts and ghosting over your nipples. Lips replaced his tongue, and a trail of android saliva burned into your skin in his venturing down your throat. You took a staggering breath, forcing your eyes open, not realising they had closed.
“Your advances could use some work,” Nines spoke to Wesley, the man’s larynx bobbing at the sight of you melting.
Large palms curled inwards on your thighs, pushing them apart on display and kneading flesh through fabric. You held back a moan, biting down on the feeling of leaking arousal. God, when did Nines feel so good?
Nines smiled against your skin, lipsing down the expanse of your neck whilst you pretty much leaned to give him more room. His tongue prodded and lined the length of your passing artery, tasting your fastening pulse, you shivered under him. Even if rendered speechless, your body did the talking.
Wesley couldn’t decide where to look, Nines prompted further.
“You just need a little push.”
Fingers roughly pressing between your legs, one push of a massage that forced a moan deep from your chest, and Nines retreated, taking a large step back. Wesley looked half as shocked as you did, your jaw clenching in the realisation of what just happened.
Nines leaned carelessly on the bar, unbothered in leaving you aroused. That was his intention, no? To give you and your prospect a push in getting things going? Which is why he blinked confusingly when you shoved him, a frustrated scowl leaving your lips before you stomped out. Wesley sat glued to his chair, still recovering. Nines ran out after you.
Light patters of rain met his scalp upon catching up to you. You groaned when he called your name.
“You can’t just- do that!” You yelled, frustration grating your throat, showers dampening your hair, “you can’t just-“
The android remained still, attempting to understand you with a series of yellow circles.
“You can’t just touch me like that, Nines!”
But his touch had arisen positive responses, his brow furrowed in confusion, “why?”
You stumbled, eyes widening, “why- why? What do you mean why? You can’t go around touching up random people! It’s- it’s wrong!”
You weren’t random people. Nines processed for a moment, rain splatters snugging the fabric of his sweater against his skin. His scanners quickly caught your gulp, “did you not enjoy it, detective? I assumed he needed a little push.”
You blinked again, dumbfounded. Who gave him the right to put on a show for Wesley? What on Earth goes on in that metal brain of his?
“That’s not- I wasn’t going to go home with him,” water collected on your lashes, “I don’t want him.”
A wave of understanding struck him. He had misunderstood you and his ‘help’ stood void of reason. And recalling the way he stalked over you, no reconstruction software helped in justifying what he did, because the urge didn’t do it for you, it did it for himself.
The warmth of your chest invited him, kisses digging into the valley of your neck whilst he continually decoded the electrolyte contents of your sweat. It quite literally fuelled him.
Deviancy was a strange thing, though the only explanation for why Nines wanted to taste you again; he wanted to hear you breathe out his name, shaking with need, begging for more.
You shivered under water pellets, the silence weighing down each of your breaths. And hidden in the muddle of conflicted feelings, you craved Nines to touch you again, give you a warmth in frozen winds. Neither of you moved, and the ghostly burn of his lips longed for his return.
“I’m going home,” you muttered, straying away from his scanners.
He wasn’t your date. You weren’t together. But hell, if the assumptions of such didn’t make your heart flutter, you didn’t know what will. Besides, Nines was the embodiment of allurement, poised and perfect, what would he do with the likes of you?
Arms wrapped around to wade off the cold, teeth chattering, you blinked a few before turning away to walk to your car, the gusts of wind trying to push you back. Nines wouldn’t see you as anything more than a friend, you were sure of it, but your disappointment was cut short when a firm grip latched around your wrist.
He twisted you, swallowing a squeak with a collided kiss. The colours returned, blinding him tenfold in pretty pinks and bubbly yellows, prompting him to press a hand firmly on the base of your skull and keep you there.
The tension in your spine remained, but you quickly came out of shock and fervently returned the moulding of your lips with his, hand trailing the flex of his pecs, damp fabric squelching under fingertips.
The hand on your wrist migrated to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His tongue poked into your mouth, making you gasp at the added anatomy whilst he curled around ravishingly, wet sounds amidst the ambient splashes of rain. Both of your minds dazed, Nines blinking ambers at devouring you and you suddenly patting his chest with a light push.
He pulled back to let you breathe but returned mid-inhale, this time eagerly tilting his head to see what better fit. He made out the whisper of his name between kisses, responding with an approving groan.
“Nines,” you tried again, water running streams down your back as it poured heavier. You wondered if hypothermia was worth it, “nines, wait-”
He kissed you passionately, hoping to swallow the colour of lips and paint his innards as such. Though he eased, slowing to a stop and you panted onto his jaw. He took in the sight, mimicked tears streaking your blue eyeshadow and mascara under the rain, he fought the urge to prod his tongue in your mouth again.
He awaited your rejection. As you loved to remind everyone, Nines wasn’t your date, always the friend accompanying you instead. He’d be lying if he said watching you with other people didn’t bother him.
But you didn’t scold him, nor push him away in a fury. You smiled, a toothy grin that you failed to bite away and broke into a soft giggle, “we’re in the middle of a street,” you shook your head, leaning a fraction of an inch closer, “and I’m soaking wet.”
Nines pulled into a smirk, “you’re welcome.”
There, the cherry rouge of your cheeks, that was another part of you he wished to consume wholly, preferably with his tongue.
Everyone else felt wrong, but Nines felt right.
And upon passing the threshold of your home, Nines proved the feeling to be mutual by meeting your lips again, vocally praising you when your arms wrapped around his neck. Kicking the door shut, his biceps wrapped you tight, squeezing the air in your lungs and suctioning it straight into his chassis.
He stepped you back, tongue dancing with yours, his fingers tucking away wet hair from your face. You gasped as you hit the wall behind you, his hip bucking into yours with a noticeable erection.
Hands rummaged under clothing, your damp shirt peeling off your skin with a gust of cold, leaving your hairs on end. The foyer’s air, however, grew dense when Nines hungrily eyed your body. Calm blue of his LED blinked an amber and he suddenly threw you over his shoulder.
“Nines!” You shrieked, your protests dying as he caressed the back of your thigh. He carried you to your bedroom, bouncing you onto the mattress with a look that kept you frozen. You gulped in anticipation as he undressed whilst you were only stripped of your shirt.
“Your body temperature has dropped to lower ranges,” he knelt between your legs, clasping your wrists immobile and kissing you into the sheets. You arched into him, gasping at the skin-to-synthetic contact. His lips ghosted to tongue at your jaw, a wet pad of the plastic muscle running up just below your ear.
“I must heat you.”
“You’re as cold as they come,” he pulled back to meet your remark, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. Nines kissed your collar, the sound of compensatory breaths prompting him to lower to your bra, unclasp it and swirl a perked nipple with his tongue.
The moon slitted through blinds, painting him a blue that matched his temple. A warm breath breezed over your lower abdomen, fingers gripping the hem of your pants and shimmying them off. Wet skin made you sensitive to his touch, a tingling working overtime where he wrapped around your thighs, his lips hovering over your remaining underwear.
Of all your dating partners, specifically those you had slept with, only a handful of them had been androids, and it never made it passed foreplay. Whether that be inexperience or hesitance, flings would be done after a touch-up.
Nines had his fair share of sexual partners, learning what got people going and what fed his desires. But your unfiltered storytelling exposed you of kinks and likes that a curious android like Nines couldn’t help fantasising about.
What would you look like under him? How did you sound when forced a rolling orgasm to ripple through you?
A devilish smile made his lips before he took your undergarments in his teeth, lust-blown eyes watching how you shivered at the sight of him dragging them off. Wrapping around you twice as tight, he gave you a flat lick from slit to bud, pushing down your hips to stop your squirming. He was glad to find you were, indeed, soaking wet.
Having him right there, head of brown bobbing up and down, experimentally sliding his tongue in places you didn’t know existed, the sight of him had you biting your lower lip, trying to chew down an embarrassing whimper.
His tongue made circles around your clit, flickering left and right at a gasping pace. Your hands found his scalp, splitting his hair into sizeable chunks, holding on like the handlebars of a rollercoaster; and the way he looked at you, pupils swallowing icy blue into a predatory black, a shiver ran down your back, clenching your thighs against his biceps.
Wet muscle prodded into your slit, eliciting a moan. You almost squealed when his thumb continued to press patterns on your clit whilst tongue-fucking you into the sheets. You pulled at the root of soft, chestnut hair, and he only picked up the pace, having you pant in line with his pace.
You tipped over unexpectedly, crying out your orgasm with an abrupt push against his mouth. Nines crawled above you again, making you taste yourself with a deep, sharp kiss.
To see you like this, body quivering for his touch, an undertone of pink blushing your skin, his field of vision saturated in the colour of you. He wanted more. He wanted to see you come undone again, paint you an orgasm that would stain him for the rest of his android existence. Maybe he understood why Markus created art so often, maybe abstract understanding was closer than he realised. Nines wished for nothing more than to place you high on a pedestal or pin you against the wall for reasons other than framing you a painting.
“Every date you were bailed on,” he whispered confessions on your skin, gently lipsing your shoulders, “I cancelled mine to join you.” You stiffened under him, muscles taunt under his lips, he clarified, “I’d much rather have you than anyone else, detective.”
Of course. You were right. Nines wouldn’t get bailed on that often, it was impossible. You mustered up enough air to speak, “if we’re confessing, I deleted the apps weeks ago.”
Like the robot he was, he halted mid-kiss, a shifting yellow giving him away as it did back at the ice cream cart. You were both lying to each other, simply to be in each other’s company.
You added with a tease, “you don’t have to lie to score a date with me, Nines.”
“I thought I was ‘not a date’,” blue-greys accused you.
“Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty stupid then.”
Your smile brightened the room, despite moonlight barely filtering through your windows, corners bordering darkness. Nines mirrored the grin, dipping down to kiss you with a newfound heaviness in his chest. He pulled off his briefs, lips never leaving yours, and lined himself between spread thighs.
Your breath hitched at the stretch of muscle when he pushed in, barely giving you time to adjust and pushing in further until he bottomed out. Or at least you hoped he did, you weren’t sure if you could take any more of him.
Breathing in each other's pants, he rocked slowly, fingers bruising your wrists, lips bruising your neck. Nines grew desperate to see you in the colour of his lips, turning purples in broken blood vessels. His pelvis smacked again your clitoris, grinding an added stimulation, your head rolling back, moaning his name right into his ear.
Setting a brutal pace abruptly, swallowing squeals in messy lip-locking, Nines stretched you to the teetering line of pain and pleasure, the head of his cock driving into a sensitive spot that jolted your nerves in bliss. He rutted like an animal, resting his forehead on yours, fucking you with a harsh snap of hips, your legs could only hold on for dear life. He loved to see the dip between your brows, raccoon-faced from messy makeup. It made him twitch inside of you.
“You feel so good. You look perfect,” he praised, bringing two fingers under your jaw to prompt eye contact. You met his darkened expression, his rouge curl tickling your forehead. Thumb shaping your lips, he pushed in knuckle-deep, pressing down on your tongue. You gave an instinctive suck as he growled, “you’re mine.”
Every thrust brought about a new sound from your throat, and with your mouth forced half-open, there was little you could do to stop them. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling at a rolling orgasm, the sounds of sex driving you to buck into him as he did you.
You were desperate, needy, and what was left of Nines’ restraint was snapped. He fucked hard, muttering profanities as he edged closer, seeing you at the mercy of everything he gave you flipping him inside out.
He wanted to see you like this, again and again. His thumb subconsciously retracted his simulated skin, a ripple in your mouth that diverted your attention, and a glowing blue lit up from below the whites of his hand. An interface, the both of you realised. You moaned at his display of intimacy.
Nines staggered into you, losing his rhythm.
You looked good in blue.
“Come for me.”
And with sharp thrusts, you arched into a mind-blowing orgasm, limbs shaking as he continually dragged in and out to chase his own. He spilled with a throb, panting at the chance of painting you inwards as you did to him, and watched the slowed pumping of where the both of you connected.
Though upon spotting a trail of blueish white leaking out of you, his hips bucked involuntarily, eager for another round.
You moaned in euphoria, and that was enough for him to keep going.
It was no surprise Nines adored the sight of you decorated in his markings, growling in every painted colour you presented. So, the next steps carved themselves, and you had a great idea for your next date.
Painting.
#dbh fanfic#nines x reader#nines rk900#rk900#dbh smut#dates#detroit become human#dbh#need me some emotionally curious nines
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Writing Prompt Masterlist, Part Nine
Masterlist of Writing Prompt Masterlists
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CS AU: Pan Says... (9/?)
Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.
A/N: Check it out, y'all! Another update from me! Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!
Rated E / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight
Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism / voyeurism. role play.
Part Nine
“I don’t know who you are, or what sort of game you’re playing at, but this isn’t funny!”
Emma glanced at the monitor overhead, the timer quickly counting down the minutes she had left to try and convince David that she was really Emma, that she was alive, and in need of his help.
“David Robert Nolan, shut the fuck up and listen to me!” she yelled over the receiver.
“What did you just call me?”
“I called you by your full government name,” she said. “David Robert, after your father, Nolan. Or would you prefer I call you Charming like Mary Margaret does?”
“How do you know--”
“Because it’s me, David! It’s Emma! I’m alive and I need your help!”
“Emma?” he questioned over the line, the hope she knew he wasn’t sure he should dare to feel leaking into his tone. “Is it really you? How? Where are you? Where have you been? Who did they pull out of the--”
“Just listen, okay?” she interrupted as the time rapidly dwindled. “I don’t know who that woman was or how he faked my death, but I was abducted three weeks ago by someone who calls himself Pan. I was taken from outside the police station after dropping off a skip. I was tasered. I’m here with a man named Captain Killian Jones. He has a brother named Liam, who also was led to believe that Killian was missing for reasons other than kidnapping. I need you to find him. He’ll be trying to get a hold of you, because Killian just called him, too, and let him know what’s been going on.”
She flicked her gaze to Killian, still looking shell-shocked from the emotionally charged conversation he’d had with his brother. He’d wanted to stay by her side whilst she made her call, but she’d told him to go sit and take a moment. They’d be there for one another later. It was why they’d chosen to wait and make these calls before turning in for the night. So they could just lay in bed and hold each other in the aftermath.
“What has been going on?” David demanded, bringing Emma’s focus back to her brother. “Why would this Pan person take you? What has he… are you alright? Has he hurt you? Did you escape, is that why you’re calling now? Do I need to come get--”
“No, we haven’t escaped. We… we sort of… earned a reward. Look. It’s too much to explain right now. I’m going to give you some specs of the place we’re being held in. Write them down so you can give them to the police.”
Emma waited as David searched for a pen and paper, her heart thudding wildly in her chest as the timer continued to draw closer to zero.
“Okay. Go.”
Emma rattled off the information Killian had put together for them; the estimated size of the facility, features he’d been able to make out that might make the building distinguishable, and details about the different rooms (though she hadn’t told Killian about the medical suite she’d been in, and hated that she couldn’t tell him or David about the doctor, for fear of Pan’s threat against Killian’s pound of flesh) that might aid in their search. She also mentioned that there were others here, so perhaps they could find a link between their missing person cases and others with similar details.
“Got it,” David said. “What… what else can I do?”
“Nothing,” she said, her throat tightening and tears welling in her eyes. The carefully constructed fortifications she’d put in place in order to get through the call were crumbling fast, but she couldn’t fall to pieces just yet. “Just… Just know that I’m alive and that Killian and I need you to get the police looking for us again. And…”
“And?”
10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5…
“And that I love you! I love you both!”
0… dial tone.
The receiver slipped from her hand and clattered against the concrete floor. She was pretty sure Killian returned it to the base before sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. Laying her down gently, he crawled onto the bed beside her and gathered her in his arms. With the last of her strength, Emma pressed closer to him, molding their chests together and tucking her head beneath his chin. Long, quiet minutes stretched out with only their unified heartbeats filling the void, neither of them capable of saying much of anything until Killian broke the silence.
“He sounded destroyed,” he murmured, his tone flat and watery from the tears he’d shed after hanging up with his brother, and again as he’d held Emma while she spent hers into the front of his shirt. “Your brother sounded as though he’d been given a noble quest, while mine…”
“You told him not to beat himself up over it,” she reminded him. “To not dwell on the fact that he’d believed the lie Pan sent him from your email address.”
“Aye,” he sighed.
She knew he was running the conversation over in his mind. The way Liam had sounded ecstatic to hear from him, asking about his travels and when he thought he might return home. The way the line had gone silent after Killian had revealed the truth. The way his brother had sounded broken and utterly ashamed that he’d fallen for the trick, too eager to believe things had turned a corner for his brother, blinding him from seeing the cracks in the story that might have caused him to be suspicious enough to follow up.
Killian had spent most of the call comforting his brother and apologizing for the things he’d said when last they spoke, breaking open old wounds they had not the time to properly dress so they might begin to heal. Their time had gone so fast. He’d barely been able to convey the necessary details to him so that further action could be taken beyond the call before time ran out. She wasn’t even sure Liam had heard Killian tell him he loved him before the line had gone dead.
While her call to David had played out almost exactly as she thought it would, she knew Killian’s had not gone the way he’d wanted it to.
“At least they know now,” she said. “The truth is out there, and they’ll be looking for us again. That’s something at least.”
“Aye,” he agreed, though a bit hollowly. “That’s better than the alternative.”
“Hey,” she said, pulling back and lifting her gaze. When he didn’t meet hers right away she reached up and scratched her fingers through the stubble at his jawline. A huff left his chest and his eyes fell to hers.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to really clear the air with him. I know there were things you had to leave unsaid in order to get our message out, but…” She swallowed hard, willing back the fresh sob working its way up her throat. “Please don’t give up hope.” His eyes softened at the sound of her words catching and he buried his hand in the back of her hair. “I need you to help me stay optimistic here. I need you to tell me that we’ll still be able to tell them everything we didn’t get a chance to say to them today, because they’ll find us and we can say those words to their faces. Okay?”
“Emma, I…”
She could see his heart breaking in his expression and she chastised herself for guilt-tripping him, but… she meant what she said. She needed him to be strong with her right now.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said, holding her close to his chest once more. “Of course we’ll get that chance. We’ll have an entire lifetime to say all the things that need to be said. They’ll find us. Of that I’m certain. They’ll never stop fighting for us. And neither will I.”
“Good.”
~/~
Emma twisted and turned her torso in an attempt to find comfort, something that seemed to be an impossibility in the damned corset Pan had provided.
A corset that accompanied the wench costume she was expected to wear for tonight’s festivities. Festivities that made her stomach roll, or would have if the blasted corset hadn’t been cinched so tightly.
After a fitful night’s sleep and late morning meal, she and Killian had been escorted to different areas so they could prepare themselves as the evening’s entertainment. Per usual, her anxiety spiked when it became clear they were to be separated, and the spa-like environment where she would spend the day being pampered and prepped did little to calm her nerves.
The host of ladies who assisted in the waxing, facial, manicure, pedicure, massage, hair, and make-up services wore masks to obscure their identities and spoke in a language Emma could not identify. Although she attempted to question them individually, they either did not understand her, or had been instructed to pretend as such. The latter seemed more plausible given the furtive glances the ladies occasionally made towards the Lost One standing guard.
After a light meal, Emma was dressed in the wench costume; a more upscale version of the cheap, slutty knock-off one might find at a Halloween store. The women were dismissed and she’d been instructed to follow the Lost One, her trepidations spiking again as she padded down the corridor behind him. There were many twists and turns before they finally rounded a corner, revealing Killian standing in front of a set of double doors. Emma’s heart leapt at the sight of him and relief flooded her body.
Well, first relief, then… something else.
He was decked out in head to toe leather, his jawline manicured with an alluring amount of scruff and his eyes lined in a deep, rich kohl. His hair had been artfully tousled and his skin bronzed. Beneath the layers of black leather, he wore a smoke-like linen shirt, unbuttoned down to the v of his waistcoat, exposing a tantalizing amount of chest hair. The leather trousers were tight, but not so much as to appear painted on, leaving just a hint to the imagination of what lay beneath their laces.
“Swan?” he said, in an amused and sinfully deep tone. “See something you like, love?”
Now aware that her mouth had been hanging open, Emma closed it and swallowed hard before answering, “You look…”
“I know,” he quipped with a cheeky smirk and smugly lifted brow, earning him an eye roll before his gaze raked over her once more. “You cut quite the figure in that get up, I must say.”
“Cutting is right,” Emma groused, struggling against the tight confines of her outfit. “I can only imagine the impression this corset is leaving on my spleen.”
“Your discomfort is a cross I am more than willing to bear… especially after my earlier one.”
Emma raised her brows in response to his cryptic words and put-out tone.
Scratching behind his ear, the tip of which was becoming quite red, he confessed under his breath in a low mumble, “I’ve been manscaped.”
Her eyes widened, and although she knew better from her earlier perusal, they fell to his chest, ensuring herself that the thick blanket of hair remained untouched.
“Not there,” he said, exasperatedly. “Lower.”
Emma tucked her lips between her teeth to try and stifle her laugh. His disgruntled tone and expression were absolutely priceless, despite the circumstances.
“Well,” she said, placing her hand on his arm in commiseration. “That makes two of us.”
They shared a moment of joint amusement, until the sound of the doors opening pulled them back into reality, sobering their demeanors.
A Lost One waved them forward. This one, like the one who had stood guard over her throughout the day, was not either of the men who had been assigned to them previously. The ones who seemed to be connected to her and Killian, respectively, in some way.
With shoulders back and heads held high, they entered the theatre, hand-in-hand. The Lost One directed them to the platform and they were both caught off guard at the emptiness of the room.
“My guests will arrive in due course,” Pan’s voice echoed. “First, a few pre-performance instructions. Pan says…”
He started by pointing out the furnishings upon the platform: a leather chair, an antique writing desk, a chaise with several cushions, and a small side table with various toys, lubricants, restraints, and other items atop it, including a pair of domino masks and earbuds.
“Go ahead,” he insisted, “Pan says, each of you take a mask and an earbud. The mask will help obscure your identities and the earbud is how you’ll hear conversations and suggestions made by my guests.” After affixing their masks, they placed a bud in their ear. Pan’s voice was now, eerily, inside their heads. “You will only act on the suggestions that are accompanied by a green light that will illuminate along the back of the upper tier.”
Green light splashed against the back walls as an example before Pan continued. “Pan says you shall not speak unless instructed otherwise, and should only do so in character. I expect you to comply with the approved requests and show my guests a good time. Understood?”
“Aye,” Killian managed to utter. All Emma could do was nod, too choked with impending dread to speak.
“Good,” Pan crowed in their ear. “Pan says, get into character and have a good show.”
Before the doors could open, Killian swung Emma around to face him and pressed their foreheads together. “You and me,” he whispered, so low she barely heard him. “Just you and me, love.”
Emma closed her eyes and nodded, her forehead rubbing against his as she inhaled deeply. Opening her eyes, she connected her gaze with his, both of them silently giving the other permission to get into character and play out the charade: him, a fearsome pirate captain and her, his defiant wench captive.
Their audience finally filed in, initially paying them little attention, while greeting one another as they took their seats behind their screens. Emma took a seat of her own in the leather chair at the center of the platform as Killian casually leaned against the front of the desk with his arms and ankles crossed. It wasn’t until the stage began to spin, allowing all of the guests an opportunity to see the show from every vantage point, that the audience really took notice of them.
It was unnerving to hear their actual voices, and the comments being made as they assessed tonight’s entertainment. Emma kept her eyes squarely focused on Killian’s, attempting to block it all out, and had therefore almost missed the way his bejeweled finger was drumming against his arm, tapping out a rhythm against the leather.
You and me. You and me. You and me.
A greeting of welcome sounded out from the speakers and Pan took a moment to remind his guests to don their own earbuds and microphones, as well as set the stage for that evening’s entertainment.
As soon as the greenlight - literally - was given, a cacophony of voices flooded Emma’s ear as each of the guests threw out suggestions. Her stomach turned and tremors of dread rippled down her spine at the thought of what they would make her and Killian do, of the intimacies they’d witness, of the images they’d take away with them.
Reaching up, Emma adjusted her mask, assuring it was firmly in place. Closing her eyes, she tried to drown out the voices so she could collect herself. She wasn’t Emma Swan right now. She was a wench. A wench being held by a fearsome pirate captain. They weren’t seeing Emma. They wouldn’t be able to take anything from Emma Swan. All they would get from her tonight was a wench. A character. A fantasy. Nothing more.
The sharp tip of cold metal digging into the underside of her chin jolted her back to the here and now. Her eyes snapped open and Killian - no. Not Killian. The pirate captain - was standing before her with a dagger held to her throat. The room was flooded with green light, and Emma realized the first command had been issued. Swallowing against the pressure of the blade, Emma wet her lips, set her features, then lifted her chin in defiance.
“Seems she needs some convincing,” a guest said in her earbud. “I say we give the Captain free rein to order his wench about. Agreed?”
Others murmured their agreement and the green light illuminated once more. A wide, sinister smile lifted the corners of her Captain's lips and he twisted the dagger so the flat part of the blade rested beneath her chin.
“On your feet, wench,” he commanded, the blade prompting her to stand as he applied subtle pressure upward.
With a predatory gaze he followed the tip of the blade as it dragged across her skin, over the swell of each breast before dipping into the valley between. A shiver of desire coursed through her causing his lust-filled, darkened depths to flick up and meet her own.
He slipped the dagger beneath the laces of her corset and with several firm tugs cut her free from the restrictive garment. A relieved and rapturous exhale left her lungs, her breasts heaving from the joyous release.
“My, my,” Killian purred in his Captain’s voice. “Aren’t you a sightly bit of plunder.”
The tip of the dagger continued to tease and taunt her breasts, the tip swirling around and over each nipple until they were painfully erect and clearly visible through the thin fabric of her blouse. A few more tugs, slashes, and artfully placed cuts left her top in tatters, her breasts fully exposed to their audience and her pirate captor’s eyes. Eyes she chose to remain focused on as more suggestions were bandied about among the crowd.
A new suggestion was green lit, and the Captain stepped forward, closing what little space there had been between them. Trading their positions on the platform, he then pressed down on her shoulders and ordered, “On your knees for the Captain, wench.”
Emma lowered herself in front of him, a defiant, in-character, glare staring up at the smirk he gave her.
Sinking into the chair she had occupied a moment ago, he leaned back and crooked his finger at her. As she shuffled forward on her knees, his gaze hungrily taking her in, he commanded in a low and sultry tone, “Make good use of those hands and undo me laces.”
Her core clenched and she tried to remain in character as she reached up and loosened the laces of his leather trousers as though it were the last thing she wished to do.
“Good girl,” he praised. Slipping his hand into his trousers he pulled out his cock, not quite fully engorged yet, and began stroking it in her face.
“Now then.” She flinched when he tapped her lips with the head of his cock, hard. Taken aback momentarily by the action because she’d been distracted by her earbud, trying to decipher what the crowd was telling them to do next… not that it was a big leap. Reaching down he placed his thumb against her chin and applied a bit of downward force as he told her, “Open that whore’s mouth of yours and take my cock, wench. Let’s see how deft you are at shivering me timber.”
Her eyes watered and she choked against the assault of his member being forcibly shoved down her throat. Flicking her gaze upward, she saw the concern and apology in his eyes before he shut them tight and let his head fall back, an expression of arrogant dominance and self-satisfaction gloating from his features.
The laughter and jeers of the crowd filled her ears, as did the vulgar chant of suck his dick, applied in a rhythm that her Captain made her keep pace with from where he had her hair gripped in his hand at the back of her head.
“That’s it, love,” he praised, tapping out another rhythm behind her ear with his finger as she bobbed against his length. You and me, you and me, you and me.
She’d almost managed to tune out the mob when a woman’s voice grated in her ear.
“Well, hello there, sailor.”
Looking up, Emma saw a woman, decked out ostentatiously in hues of green, arriving late and making her way down the steps. In her hand was the microphone attached to the ear piece she wore. She paused, giving Killian a once over before slinking behind her screen and taking her seat.
Before she disappeared behind the thin veil of fabric, Emma recognized her by the mask she wore. It was the woman who had paused by the two-way mirror the night before to check her flaming red tresses.
“Do us a favor and flick those kohl-lined eyes this way,” she cat-called into her microphone.
The green light signaled from above and another light shone down over her screen. Emma stared up Killian’s body to look at his face and saw the muscle in his jaw clench and spasm before he flicked his eyes away from her and towards the screen, then held his gaze there as the platform continued to turn.
“Mmmm,” the woman hummed provocatively. “Yes, I think I’m going to enjoy tonight’s entertainment very much indeed.”
When the platform circled round again, Emma glanced over at the woman’s screen and could see the silhouette of her reclined back with her legs splayed wide, clearly pleasuring herself under the Captain’s gaze. A jolt of jealous anger ignited down Emma’s spine. Relaxing her jaw, she let Killian slip further down her throat until she could brush the tip of her nose against his torso. A cursing moan slipped over his lips and his hips bucked from the unexpected action.
“Nice!” a guest praised. “Make her take all of it, Captain!”
“No, you fool,” another guest chastised. “We don’t want him blowing his load too soon. Not when the wench has other holes for him to use.”
“I wanna see the wench take control. Let her have the reins for a bit.”
“Maybe next time,” someone countered. “I’m enjoying this too much.”
Next time!? Emma responded internally in a near panic. What the hell do they mean, next time?
“I think her breasts need some attention, too,” another chimed in. “Look how those nipples are just begging for attention.”
“I wanna see her cunny. I bet it is just dripping. Would love to see our Captain’s face glistening from her juices, wouldn’t you?”
All during their debate Emma continued to work her Captain over. She delighted in the way his chest hitched and heaved, the way the chords of his neck tightened, the rosy blush that developed high on his cheeks, the micro spasms twitching through his torso and down his legs, and the sounds… dear god, the sounds this man made.
Green flashed again and Emma was astounded at the way Killian managed to keep track of what was expected of them, given the distraction she’d been providing. Pulling himself from her mouth with a pained sounding grunt, he hauled her onto her feet then shoved her back onto the nearby chaise. She’d barely registered what was happening when he lifted her skirts up over her legs and grabbed her hips, pulling her body towards the edge of the cushion and lining her sex up with his eager mouth.
The exquisite torment lasted for what felt like hours. Time and again he brought her to the brink with his tongue, teeth, and hands, deftly assaulting her clit as he probed, scissored, and thrust his fingers into her holes. When his mouth tired he switched to one of the many toys, holding her on edge until tears streamed down her face and pathetic whimpers escaped her lips. Her back ached from the repeated arch his actions provoked and her legs quivered uncontrollably. A few times, he gave her cunt a rest, turning his attention to her breasts and laving them with his tongue while his slick-coated fingers rolled her nipples into taut peaks that he then sucked clean with his mouth.
The sound of their joint moans were echoed by those from the crowd. A symphony of zippers being undone, fabric being moved, skin being slapped, and groans being uttered filled her ears, making the torture all the more erotic. When she was finally given leave to speak, it was only so she could beg. Beg for mercy. Beg for release. Beg for him to fuck her.
And beg she did.
“Please, Captain,” she whimpered, choking on a sob that had caught in her throat from the fresh assault he was applying to her clit.
“Please what, wench?” he commanded in a strained gruff. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Please let me come,” she pleaded. “Please, please, plea--!”
She didn’t get the third please out before a scream tore past her lips, her body convulsing from the pleasure the vibrating toy at her clit was finally granting her. Wave after wave of release crashed over her until she was so spent she wasn’t certain she hadn’t blacked out. The next thing she knew, she was being hoisted off the chaise and bent over the desk, facing out towards the crowd.
The Captain’s body molded against her back, his breath hot against her ear as he growled, “I’d find something to hold on to if I were you, wench. Because I’m gonna fuck you hard. I’m gonna fuck you deep.”
Emma barely had time to latch on to the corners of the desk when the entire thing tipped forward from the force of his entering thrust. Relentlessly, he pounded into her, egged on by the jeers, cheers, and taunts of the crowd.
“Keep your eyes open, wench,” a voice demanded from the masses. “We wanna see you watching us take pleasure in your degradation.”
The green light commanded that she do just that, the silhouettes from behind the thinly veiled screens leaving little to the imagination of how much the audience was enjoying the show.
“She can keep her eyes on the lot of you,” the irritating woman’s voice said. “I want the Captain’s eyes back on me.” When the green light agreed, Emma could practically hear the woman’s gloating expression in her words. “Cast those come fuck me eyes this way, Captain.”
He must have complied, prompting her to purr, “Oooo, you are a wicked one, aren’t you. Would you like to have your wicked way with me? Tell me all the wicked things you’d like to do to me.”
With effort, given the pounding he was giving her, Emma managed to look back over her shoulder in time to see him flash the woman a wide, yet sinister smile before grunting, “I’d like to shove a gag in your mouth to shut you the fuck up.”
Applause rang out, as did a round of laughter, and Killian turned his attention back to Emma and the brutal pace he was setting.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he panted on a half groan. “So wet and so tight.”
“That’s it, Captain,” the crowd encouraged over the barrage of their own moans and sounds of satisfaction. “Take her. Use her. Breed her.”
“Yes!” someone cried out. “Breed her! Fill her for us, Captain. I wanna see your cum leak out of her afterward.”
The Captain roared from his release moments later, his fingers digging into her sides to the point of bruising as his hips moved erratically against her ass. Once every last drop had been coaxed from him, he collapsed and fell forward, sprawling across her back as his chest fought for each breath. Around them the sounds and smells of others reaching their own climax filled the air, then for a brief yet glorious moment, things went quiet.
One final swath of green filled her vision, and Killian murmured into her ear, “Stay there, love. One last task, I’m afraid.”
He removed himself from her and she immediately felt the warmth of his release slip from her depths and trickle down her thighs. He gave her ass a quick, firm slap, then spread her cheeks, allowing everyone to see the proof of his conquest as the platform turned one last time.
When the platform came to a stop, a curtain dropped, surrounding the stage and separating them from the audience's view. Killian assisted Emma off the desk and swept her up into his arms before taking them over to the chaise where he could sit and cradle her in his lap. They held each other as their skin cooled, their heartbeats regulated, and their breathing calmed.
“You were wonderful, Swan,” he praised, his fingers gliding across her back and down her side. “I’m so proud of you, love.”
“You, too,” she murmured against his chest, barely able to keep her eyes open, the exhaustion created from both their exertions and the stress of the situation starting to take hold.
“Here. Have her put this on.” A voice caused them both to jump and Emma’s head snapped to where a Lost One stood a few feet away with a robe offered in his outstretched hand.
Killian took it from him and draped it around her shoulders, then helped her to stand so she could secure it around herself.
“Follow me,” the Lost One commanded, setting off towards the door they had entered hours before.
“Are you okay to walk?” Killian asked, his tone full of concern and laced with guilt.
“I’m good,” she assured him. Tucking herself into his side, she added, “But I might need to lean on you a bit.”
“Lean on me all you need,” he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “But I don’t mind carrying you.” She flicked her eyes up at him and smiled when his Captain’s persona took hold once more. A surprised yelp squeaked past her lips when he bent down and swept her feet out from under her. Straightening, he adjusted her weight in his arms and cheeked, “I’ve carried rum barrels heavier than the likes of you, wench. So, I’ll have no argument.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
~/~
Killian gazed up at the ceiling, his arm wrapped around Emma as she lay curled into his side, the smell of her floral shampoo and conditioner tickling his sinuses. After they’d finished entertaining Pan’s guests, the Lost One had led them to the showers so they could clean up. They’d both been almost too spent and exhausted to wash, much less talk, and little had been said on the way back to their room, while dressing, or even after they’d crawled into bed.
While Emma had drifted off within moments of her head hitting the pillow, Killian had been unable to do so. Too many thoughts were competing in his mind. Thoughts of Emma playing her part as the defiant wench, the memory of her on her knees, splayed out on the chaise, and bent over the desk threatening to make him hard again. Thoughts of the crowd and how he hadn’t expected the proprietary feelings of satisfaction that had coursed through him as he took his wench in their full view, claiming her for his own. Thoughts of what those actions would mean for them now, knowing he had finished inside her without protection. Thoughts of everything the two of them had been through since they had awoken, naked, in bed together all those weeks ago, and… thoughts of what Pan might have in store for them next.
It was these thoughts that were keeping him awake the most.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Emma said groggily, her fingers twirling through the hair on his chest as she sleepily looked up at him.
Furtively, he glanced down at her then back up, unwilling to voice his thoughts to her just yet. Despite everything they’d been through, she seemed so content. In this moment she was safe and happy and hopeful.
He did not wish to deprive her of that.
“Hey,” she said, concern coloring her tone. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and pulled his face back down, forcing him to look at her. “Tell me. What’s eating you up?” Propping herself up on her elbow, her brows pulled together and a slightly panicked expression crossed her face. “Please tell me you’re not beating yourself up about tonight. You know I would never hold any of that against you, right?”
“Aye, I know,” he responded quickly, not wishing for her to believe for a moment that his trepidations had anything to do with her. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“I just… I wonder whether we,” he paused, taking a moment to swallow and fortify his resolve before confessing, “Whether we made the right decision.”
Confusion rooted deeper in her expression. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you… don’t you wonder why he let us call them?” he said, his fingers gently stroking her arm as a way to ground himself and hopefully keep her feeling connected to him as he attempted to voice his concerns. “Why he made it seem like agreeing to do what we did was the only choice we could make?”
“It was the only choice,” Emma countered emphatically. “Being separated from one another isn’t an option I--”
“But that’s just it,” he argued. “Maybe that’s the choice we should have made.”
Emma pulled back as though he’d just slapped her, and his heart broke at the vulnerability and hurt he saw displayed upon her face and in the tremor of her next words. “Are you… Have I done something to make you not want to…”
Sitting up, he took her face in his hands, leveled his gaze with hers, and assured her, “No. No, please don’t misunderstand me. Being separated from you is the last thing I would ever wish for. I just think that…”
Emma reached up and took his hands into her own, cradling them in her lap as she spoke. “Alright. Talk me through what you’re thinking, then. Why do you think it was a mistake to agree with his demands and stay together?”
Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he drew in a deep breath, not wishing to voice his concerns for fear of making them real. He’d rather them both be prepared for the possibility, though. Everything they’d faced, they’d faced together. Choosing together. He didn’t want this to be any different.
“Each round of Pan’s demented game has escalated things between us,” he began. “First, it was stripping away our vulnerability. Forcing us to reveal things about ourselves that we would never normally reveal.”
Emma nodded and squeezed his hands. “Go on.”
Wetting his lips, he continued. “The second round was all about taking advantage of our attraction towards each other and getting us comfortable with sharing physical intimacy. This third round challenged and exploited the lines of physical intimacy we were willing to explore with one another.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “Each round has ratched up the stakes of our experience here, making us more and more compliant.”
“And each round’s rewards and penalties have reflected that.” He held her gaze with an intensity he hoped would lead her into understanding where he was going without him having to say it explicitly.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite getting it.
“I still don’t understand why you think it might have been best if we’d chosen to be separated.”
“What if the next escalation, or the one after that, is…” He swallowed past the bile working its way up his throat, “...actual harm to each other. Violence.”
Emma balked and her mouth dropped open with a gasp. Clearly, such a thought had not occurred to her until now.
“What if Pan makes us hurt each other? What then?” he continued on, pulling her into his arms and whispering the rest into her hair in a tone of apology. “Maybe he tricked us into staying together? Maybe we would be better off separated, because… Now we have to face what it would mean to have hurt someone we… how are we supposed to respond when faced with the command to injure the other? What would you have me do if Pan orders me to…”
Thoughts of the unthinkable made it impossible for him to continue, but after a few moments Emma pulled back and ran her fingers down the side of his face.
“We’ve already made our choice to stay together. There’s no point in wondering whether or not it was the right one.”
Killian nuzzled his face into her hand then turned his head to place a kiss on her palm.
“Besides,” she said, his tough lass straightening her shoulders and setting her resolve. “If Pan commands that one of us is to be harmed, then the harm will happen regardless.”
Killian cocked his head to one side, not completely sure what she meant by that statement.
Fortunately, she clarified, saying, “Either one of us will administer the injury, or he’ll have one of his Lost Ones do it. Either way… the injury will occur. There’s nothing either of us can do to stop it from happening.”
“Aye. You’re right,” Killian replied. “I suppose the thing we must ask ourselves is whether we can endure the guilt, and every other emotion that might come with it, should we be the one to inflict such pain on the other.”
Several silent beats of his heart went by before she softly, yet hesitantly asked, “Could you?”
Killian took another beat to truly consider the question. The question he’d been considering for most of the night. If Pan commanded it, could he hurt the woman he loved?
“No,” he stated definitively. “It’s one thing to administer a spanking to you, and quite another to…” He balled his hand into a fist and stared down at it, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully. “The thought of putting my fist to you… I can’t. I won’t.” Gazing back up at her, he added, “And I won’t fault you for having a Lost One mete out Pan’s orders on me either. Especially if it will save you from having to carry that guilt, love.”
Emma nodded her understanding and acceptance, then prompted him to lie back down beside her. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she whispered softly, though there was very little hope in her tone.
“Aye, love. Let’s hope so.”
Part Ten - Coming Soon!
Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)
(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)
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irda!! it’s been a while!! just dropping by to leave some cute lil plushies and lots and lots and lots of hearts!! 🧸💖💞💝 I hope this season of love has been an overflow for you 🥺
i also come back with a sel question!! i know valentine’s has passed but I am curious what an ideal valentine’s date would be for you!! and what does hajime’s or any of the cod men’s love feel like?
SELLL MY LOVE
hi how are you apologies for the delay, i hate grad school
CAN I TELL YOU I THINK ABOUT THIS ENDLESSLY AND I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS TOO (btw happy belated valentines, i saw you did a valentines COLLAB, i've been meaning to binge!!!!!!!!!)
i think hajime has always been soft for the idea of love. yes, he's stoic and independent and likes to present himself as such an immovable strength that the premise of him and roses kind of seems paradoxical--but to me its so fitting.
maybe other guys tend to feel constricted by the concept of valentines day, where they're stuck to the old ball and chain and pressured to perform for a capitalistic holiday; but not iwaizumi. if you're in a relationship, he's going to the nines--doing the rose petals, writing the sweet but short message in the card, making the dinner reservations, and sharing a steamy and soapy bath with you are all ways that he participates because hajime likes you. these are all ways that he shows that he cares for you because sometimes he can't find the words to show that, so doing things is easier. (and yeah, this is a very man thing to be emotionally inept that the only applicable love language is by action, but sorry! that's hajime!).
and more importantly, when you like it? he's a beaming fool. he's picking the petals and spreading them around your room with the confidence of a king, because he knows you'll enjoy it. pulling the msby card so that he can get the super exclusive balcony seating and the booked out new restaurant downtown? he's smug as hell. running the bath and throwing that bubble shit in it, making the bathroom smell like lavender and mint? bitch is patting himself on the back saying "who's the man? i'm the MAN."
because showing that he loves you is natural to him, it's the absolute designation of strength. he's a secure dude, and he's secure in his relationship, and he won't ever be the one to write waxing poetry about his feelings for you, but he gets an innate pleasure out of treating you. because he loves you, and he knows you'll love these tiny things. so yeah, he kinda loves valentines. cause he gets to love you even more than he already does. and it's not like its because he knows any better or wants to prove that he's a better man than anyone else. like i genuinely don't even think he realizes he does valentines day better than any other boyfriend, he just does it because he wants to treat you and that the whole point of valentines dayl
and he gets wicked head from you so it's even better.
#SORRY THIS IS SO LATE#I COULD SPEAK ABOUT HAJIME LOVING LOVE AND ACCIDENTALLY DOING IT RIGHT ALL THE TIEM#like i genuinely think he doesn't even realize that he's the standard#your girlfriends are always telling you that you struck gold#and he's so confused by it.#he's just doing boyfriend things#but youre like#babe no#you don't get it#and he's like whatever about it#other: sel#I LOVE HIM#iwaizumi hajime x reader
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Fox Flavour AotC
Continuation of my bullshit from here going through events of Episode II and then into TCW.
Kitsune!Anakin changing between fox and human form due to stress would make AotC very funny actually. Just randomly poofing out into a smol fox during his mission to protect Padme to the point where she usually just carries him.
Anakin: The Audacity
Also Anakin: Pretty lady is carrying me? Crush is holding me???
I’m picturing the first time they meet again after ten years and it’s still a trainwreck but in a different way. Anakin is nervous to see her again, momentarily forgetting about the ears sticking out the top of his head that are just going haywire trying to pick up any and all sounds. Obi-Wan’s ‘relax’ comment does about as much good as it does in canon, except he’s finding the very obvious tells funny rather than irritating, and then they actually see Padme.
"Ani? Look how much you've gro- are those fox ears?" The entire conversation just gets completely derailed and suddenly Anakin is very tired. Any and every potential thing he had ready to say to her just evaporates because right, the Kitsune thing.
"Oh. Yeah, they're- new." Obviously. Obi-Wan is trying valiantly not to facepalm but also offering zero assistance.
"Can- Can I?" Padme asks, lifting a hand up to his head, her intent to touch very clear but waiting for permission. Yes, she’s a Senator and probably has more decorum than this, usually, but the guy she hasn’t seen since he was nine now has a pair of fluffy fox ears poking out of his hair (That haircut is doing nothing for him).
Anakin is stuck between being horrendously hormone driven right now and wanting to ignore any and all changes he's undergone. Still, it’s Padme and he knows she’s just curious, like she was when asking naive questions on Tatooine a decade ago.
He leans down to let her pet his ears and Obi-Wan is this close to being catty. Something something 'you didn't let me touch your ears that fast'. But he is a saint and holds his tongue, for now.
"Oh! You have tails too?" Padme is intrigued, and already the hand that was bending his ears is now starting to move downward before she’s even properly thought about what she’s doing.
Anakin is a bit too dazed to pay attention to what she's doing either so Obi-Wan clears his throat and reminds the Senator of the reason for their presence before her hand could make contact.
He knows from experience already that Anakin is particular about the tails. The ears he will begrudgingly allow certain people to touch - a group which, apparently, includes the Senator - but the tails are strictly off limits. Despite how eager he'd been a minute ago to be near her, Anakin now looks rather relieved that there was some space between them.
He really does not like his tails being touched.
Suffice to say any chance at romantic Anidala gets blown clean out of the water. His attention is a bit too split on his recent transformation to truly hone in on Padme. Padme can also see how badly this has affected him and decides what he needs is a friend rather than a lover. She was the one to propose after all, so in this AU she boxes that impulse away.
GOD his ability to transform could even be a bonus to his guarding duty (watch me make this the Star Wars version of Dragon Knight ffs). His being a tiny fox most of the time would mean Padme doesn't feel/look actively guarded BUT there is a ball of pent up aggression just waiting for an opportunity to strike.
Trying to think how this would play out with his mother and the Tuskens. I considered him skipping some tail levels to just go straight into Full Grown Kitsune out of a vengeance fulled rage. Then I thought about Anakin finding his mother, watching her die, and then becoming so stressed he goes TINY. Maybe Padme went with him because she knows he's not gonna like what he finds and will need help and he's clearly not emotionally stable with how often he keeps changing form. So she's there to grab him and shake him out of it.
But then I thought OH FUCK what if his constantly changing means Padme notices his stress over his dreams way quicker. She insists on going to Tatooine days earlier, plus she'd also like to see Shmi again. So they find her ALIVE instead. Anakin's entire brain focuses on getting her the fuck out of dodge and its only the guards that come after them that end up dead. Perhaps the rest of the tribe see Angry Fox Man and go 'hmm maybe not'. I'm pretty sure Palpatine bribed them to kidnap Shmi and they did that so they have no desire to go chasing this monstrosity across the desert thank you very much. He leaves the encounter with vengeance and protectiveness warring in his brain and he tells absolutely fucking no-one (get bent Sheev). Padme would also be liable instead of just him if anyone found out.
The experience brings them closer together as friends and since they went early there is time to help Shmi heal before they get the call from Obi-Wan. Shmi has some words for her son about all that business in the desert once she’s better. Fox Ear pinching included, to which she took remarkably well.
She had always known her son was special - on account of the immaculate conception if nothing else - so she just accepts that this must be another part of him that’s starting to come through. Anakin rather likes that explanation so he doesn’t correct her on how he transformed. He also doesn’t complain when she insists on brushing his tails because they are ‘incredibly untidy’.
Padme: Momma’s boy
Anakin: >:(
Padme: >:)
Then it’s off to Geonosis for the arena fight, which probably goes about the same except Anakin can now turn into a tiny two-tailed fox in a fit of stress to get out of his bindings and dodge the angry Reek. He’s not very good at climbing though or he’d have copied Padme. Dooku has a few comments to make about Anakin’s appearance because he’s pretty sure he did not come to the Temple looking like that so how did that happen? The man is very good at riling Anakin up though and the new appendages are sore spots which Dooku takes advantage of. The fight with Dooku proceeds about as expected.
Anakin gets his ass kicked. Arm comes off. Another tail pops into existence.
“Oh, I’m going to get more of these things? Damn it.”
The Clone Wars begin.
Tbh the main bulk of this AU is set during the Clone Wars because this is undoubtedly gonna be Rexwalker. That ship has come for me with an iron grip. He's not married to Padme, but they are friends who occasionally fool around for fun and stress relief. They still find each other very attractive but Padme didn't propose so he hasn’t got this huge secret to keep (which probably means he’s less stressed). War breaks out and Anakin is introduced to Rex, who just does not bat an eye at the fox appendages at all. He does find it useful for gauging Anakin’s moods in the early days though because he still can’t control them and his General never fucking admits to being in less than optimal condition.
The potential for pining is unreal. Bromance turned romance that neither of them can act on because ouch that imbalance of power concern. While Rex trusts Anakin not to abuse his rank, Anakin is really uncomfortable with the idea that Rex would just do whatever he’s been asked to do. He wants to know that Rex is doing something because he 100% wants to, with absolutely no doubts. He’ll just wait for the war to be over, bother Padme incessantly for the clones to be recognised as citizens in the senate and then … leave the order? He supposes he would have to if he wanted to be with Rex.
I just want Anakin to do that thing male foxes do when they spot a potential mate - target acquired - but it’s at Rex when he is being unfairly competent on the battlefield. Ahsoka is tired but rooting for them. The whole ‘we’re just friends’ spiel is actually true when Obi-Wan confronts him about it but BOY do Anakin and Rex wish that wasn’t the case.
I don’t ever write pining so I’m very invested in this AU right now.
#Anakin Skywalker#captain rex#Padme Amidala#obi-wan kenobi#star wars writing#rexwalker#anidala#the anidala is platonic because this is a rexwalker AU endgame really#attack of the clones#star wars#the clone wars#sw#sw au#Kitsune!Anakin
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I have some questions for the two of you, if you don't mind answering. You don't need to answer.
What kind of Digivice do the two of you use? Is it JUST you two? How long have you known each other? Do you do everything together, or do you prefer to do things apart? If you had the chance, would you change partners? This last one is for Pumpkinmon specifically, but if you could go back and change your evolution would you?
Wow, thats a lot of questions... Good thing we've got some free time! We'll take turns answering the questions.
For our Digivice type, our first Digivice was a D3- it was a neon yellow hand-me-down we got from my cousin and his partner (a Tyrannomon). About two years ago, we actually managed to get a Fusion Loader! It's a nice, deep shade of grey that we both really like. We had to save for a long time to get it, but we absolutely love it.
Well, considering we use a Fusion Loader, no! I am Jay's partner, but we have several digimon coming and going from our household as they please. We do have three other permanent digimon residents that reside in the fusion loader with me, but we also live with Jay's aunt and her partner Vi, who's a Gatomon.
We have known each other since around the time I was nine(ten, almost eleven whole years now!). When Pumpkinmon and I met, he was still an Impmon. I had just moved in with my dad full-time and was starting at a new school; and Pumpkinmon and I met on my way home one day.
Well, it depends on what we're doing? We spend our workday together, of course, we split house chores with Jay's aunt and Vi, and play a couple video games together too. That being said, Jay is and always has been a very introverted person and absolutely needs time to themselves. They love us all, but being around people and Digimon constantly can be very emotionally draining for them. That being said, I'm very extroverted- whenever Jay isn't around, I'm usually hanging out with the other Digimon in the household!
Well, I can't speak for Pumpkinmon, but I absolutely wouldn't. Pumpkinmon is my rock, my whole world, and I love him to bits. I honestly couldn't even imagine a better partner. (Jay, I need you to know I feel exactly the same way 🧡)
Oh boy! I've actually got a story for this. When I first evolved into a Pumpkinmon, I was actually incredibly upset. I had been a Wizardmon for almost five years, and I had been training so, so hard to Digivolve into a Baalmon! I wanted to be a Beelzemon someday, because I thought it'd be super cool. But now that I've been a Pumpkinmon for awhile? It just feels right. In my opinion, it fits me so much better than being a Baalmon. I've really grown to love this new form over a very short time, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Anyways, I hope this answers any questions you had! We tried to be detailed, but if you're still curious or want an even more in depth answer to the questions, please don't hesitate to ask us!
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Trigun Stampede Episode 9 Liveblog
Ah back to the pianos. Although this might be an organ, I'm not sure if it's hooked up to the pipe-looking things behind it
Oh Knives also got help from SEEDS people. ...I thought they were in contact with all the other survivors? I wonder what happened here.
"production" "cut [the plants] off from a higher dimension" so "they can't maintain their bodies" Are they extra/multi-dimensional beings? Am I understanding that right? Huh.
that withered effect is actually horrifying, okay.
and the harvest is even worse
okay. okay ethics aside. I don't think this is a good long-term plan???? Like. Does this group have the tech to clone more Plants? Can they run that tech without power from the Plants they just killed?
Wait so this group also knows that Knives is a Plant? I'm surprised they're not using him for resources too.
Vash walks in in the middle of this??? Wow that's some timing.
okay tense scene but I still cannot take "Millions Knives" seriously as a name.
Wow and he actually kept using guns after that? I guess Vash doesn't seem to have much spite, but honestly even so I would have expected him to avoid them.
...I don't think that's the same gun, but it looks similar enough in shape that I'm considering it
I don't think 'once' is enough to warrant asking 'how many times.' Even if you count her initially taking Vash in, a) how would Knives know that b) that still doesn't warrant asking 'how many times'
Big glowing ball of purple energy. Hmm. I'd consider this a little late in the game to introduce something higher-fantasy (at least visually) to a show that's mostly been sci-fi, but okay.
Okay 'gate' is no longer requiring capitalization. And may or may not be a black hole.
I did not expect Knives to cut off his arm! I honestly thought it was going to be something kinda more mundane! ...why, though?
THEY'RE STILL ALIVE IN PRESENT-DAY!????? WHAT
But. But if they're still around. Are they just in hiding?? Why?? The whole 'lost technology' thing makes this so weird, because that means that they're kind of just sitting on the knowledge. And also presumably the Plants that were on the ship, too? Ethics aside, those also count as life-saving resources in a place that is in desperate need of that. Or if they're that close to where Knives had been, maybe he stole them already?
Well. Given the worms in the next shot I presume he'll know about them soon regardless.
Okay. Okay I had thought 'oh maybe they just live longer,' but I thought that'd be strange because... why would that be the case? Technology again? Genetic tampering???
I will say 150 years fits what I was thinking more than like. 40.
Okay yeah I didn't think that going in and out of cryosleep was an option. Do they like, automate it? That seems dangerous.
Yes, just. Light a cigarette over the very rare and extremely limited foliage, Roberto. Great plan.
actually huh do they like normally synthesize nicotine on this planet? that'd make some sense.
Okay before Vash answers the question of whether or not he can make up with Knives, my prediction is "no but actually yes." In that logically he doesn't think so but emotionally he does. And he's probably going to go with his emotions every time he sees a potential opportunity.
"third of the seven circles" yeah, okay. we're doing dante's inferno now.
Oh wait I was curious and went to google it. Dante's inferno has nine circles. Nevermind. In case it is relevant somehow anyway, wikipedia says the third circle is for gluttony, where sinners are punished in "an icy mud".
Googled it an heaven is also supposed to have nine circles. This tangent was probably wholly irrelevant lol.
What are these blink during Zazie's dialogue? They're interesting and I don't think we've seen them used like this before, but they're also throwing me off.
Oh more lore! Neat. (although. how and why does Zazie know this??)
Wait. Was the crash the twins caused the same as the one that people initially arrived on the planet in? It's only been 150 years??
...why are all of these plants red, actually? Haven't they established that's an unhealthy color for them? I thought Knives would try to take care of them a bit better?
Oh okay this is not an unfounded question. Nice.
End notes:
Okay yeah again nothing really to say here! I guess we're out of Vash's main flashback, but there's probably gonna be a bit more about what he's been up to in the meantime. I am really curious as to why Roberto and Meryl seem to have been moved from one location to another, though. I'd assume they'd be mostly irrelevant to Knives' group?
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The Fallout “commentary” (inner thoughts, NOT a review or critic)
Day one: Dude, The Fallout is soo confusing, like how did you guys manage? I can’t make up some of the scenes in my head, it’s so vague and then so specfic and jumpy. I’ve never read something like it.
It’s so hard to keep track of the days (do they mean anything besides just to count them?), i have to keep looking back. And the narrative - my poor non-native english brain is finding it hard to comprehend…
But i can’t.stop.reading!
It’s so riddling I keep coming back to it for more.
79 pages in- did anyone find it as confusing?
Day two: i take it back, it just got so fucking goooood ~ who cares about the day count lol
Day four: ok this is becoming a post about the wild journey that The Fallout has become for me; i’m about 100 pages in, and my god, it’s still confusing, but it’s got me tight by the ovaries. Jesus christ take the wheel… will update later
Day six: so i’m about 250 pages in and it’s becoming more like a proper thing, like more of a steady narration and i’m loving it, i’m not as lost with descriptions, only when they go on missions, it’s still a bit blurry in my imagination but it’s still great. So spoiler: the war has been “over” for about 30 or so pages, but not really? I’m curious to see what happens? Also, spoiler again: Neville’s news broke my heart :( will update soon!
Day seven: i’m 309 pages in and i have to say i think i have reached a wall… so, this is NOT a post about me critizicing this amazing piece of work, ‘cause lord knows i would never be able to write something like this. It’s just my inner thought while in this Fallout ride I’m on… That being said, i think it could’ve ended about 50 or 70 pages ago… i’m not sure what’s next after (SPOILER) Ron’s back… we’ve had two big climaxes (the war and then Ron) but now i’m not sure there’s something that could amount to that? Don’t get me wrong, i’m looking forward to reading the 180 or so pages left, but right know i feel the storyline is a bit without direction and d and h’s relationship should have advanced a bit more emotionally? (To my personal liking, not sayin it would be “the best for the story” bc it’s not my story) but like, them not communicating pretty much at all is giving me a headache, and a heartache… like, please say something! I can’t handle the hot and cold thing for much longer and don’t want to feel like it’s just dragging and losing momentum… anyways, of course i’m updating and going straight back to reading, it’s 1:33 a.m.
Day nine: i’m finished. It’s really over… 485 pages later, my eye sight definitely worse off after countless hours of reading. I have to say, i didn’t expect it turning out the way it did, and idk why bc it kind of was a lot of the same for the last 185 pages… i really wanted to absolutely obssess over it but i found myself thinking “now something big is going to happen” and then 30 pages later: “ok now something big is going to happen” and then i reached page 470 and… nothing really. I don’t really know how to feel… again, this is not me throwing shade, or criticizing or anything like that, it’s just my experience as a reader. So yeah, of course my hat is off to the amazing effort and talent of the author, there’s a reason this fic is regarded as one of the dramione fics ppl need to read. It just lacked a few things in my personal opinion and preference, which is worth nothing in the end lol. I would still reccommend it to anyone! And i guess that, to finish off, and for my personal record, i would give it a solid 4 out of 5 rating.
I’m having lots of fun “journaling” about my reading experience, i think i might continue, if only for my own entertainment and to look back :)
#the fallout#dramione fandom#harry potter#dramione#draco malfoy#dramione fanfic#hermione granger#hermione x draco#dramione ao3#ao3 harry potter#hp fanfiction#fan fiction#fanfiction#everythursday#harry porter fanfic#harry potter fandom#dhr#fanfic#hermione fic#draco fic
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I also have an absent father who was absolutely terrible when he was apart of my life. I’m wondering what you think of "daddy issues" being super sexualized. If that’s too personal you totally don’t need to answer I’m just curious.
Well, first off I'm sorry. It really sucks to have a bad father. I can say without emotion that the worst feelings I've ever experienced in my life have to do with poor treatment from my father.
With that being said, I have a lot of conflicted feelings. Intellectually, I know that the daddy issues thing is a stereotype, and by no means does every person who's had a fraught relationship with their father has daddy issues... But like... I definitely fit the mold in very transparent ways. I push people away and have a hard time feeling trust and intimate, genuine affection with men (versus seeing them as objects meant to occupy a temporary, distracting moment in my life). I have commitment issues like crazy. I'm extremely attracted to men (often older than me) who seem to offer things my father failed to provide (stability, authority, praise) even if I'm in no position to accept those things emotionally.
But daddy issues are so varied--someone super close to me also has daddy issues that manifest in a different way. She clings to men rather than pushing them away, she seeks men who will give her a family, she wants to commit forever and always ASAP and is crushed when men don't want that.
I also make tons of jokes about daddy issues... all the time. Humor is a coping mechanism for me, and I do find the stereotypical ways in which those of us with absent fathers can sometimes be predicted immediately.
I think the issue I have is when men are predatory about it? Like, I have no problem if people with absent fathers want to engage in a bit of like... daddy kink, for want of a better word. I personally find calling *certain men* daddy kind of hot. I don't really associate the word with my father, though, so that may help my distance. I mean, I do find that people, at least, who have healthy relationships with their father and *did* call them daddy have a harder time with that kink than people who didn't. In my personal experience. Personally, though, I think that my enjoyment of that kink is probably a bit surface level--I like seeing men react to it. I like them immediately registering that they should probably not respond to that like they do, but they are. It's a power rush. I think it's that way for a lot of women who like it, whether or not they have issues. (And to be clear--I'm a pretty light hand with this shit. I have zero interest in age play, baby play, etc. For those that do... If you're consenting adults with one another, have at it, but I don't want it. I think that even calling your partner daddy is probably like... Best left to people who stopped being children a good while ago. I had no interest in it in my early twenties, for example. I don't want him to be my father, I just want to embody all of the things *I* associate with a daddy--warmth, affection, a bit of control, safety, but the ability to hunt and gather and provide a good cave as well. And for sure, I think nine times out of ten this plays into some light d/s shit for people too.)
However, that's all in my court as the wounded party~, right? Going back to the predatory thing, men actively seeking out people (often women) with daddy issues? Gross. My trauma is mine to deal with how I need to, and if that involves you and you're consenting, then cool. But don't seek me out because you think that my issues make me easier prey. The idea of daddy issues being something to hunt for on Tinder is just... Like, I'm not going to do anything more than roll my eyes about it, but I find it incredibly dismissive.
So yeah. Mixed feelings would be the term, for sure. And I'd never expect someone with a similar experience to feel the same way as me... I just want them to allow me to do what I want with what happened to me.
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Love & Tarot 💌
This is not anti-love readings, future spouse readings, etc, but I wanted to talk about our perception of love, how it transfers into readings, etcetcblahblah let's get into it
So I've been thinking, and as the story goes I get lost in thought, and I wondered how our perception of love can transfer into our readings. Which is to be expected; the way we live our lives will change the way we view the world, which can be extremely beneficial considering you might hold advice that's difficult to find! It's sort of like if a card consistently pops up for unfavorable situations, you start to associate that card with negative meanings no matter what. So if you're a romantic, would love readings tend to lean more positively no matter what. Same thing with poor experiences, would conflicts be more prone to popping up? I'm actually more curious about if this overlaps with readings and experience so if you want to chime in feel free--
In another circle, for those that feel their decks come to life or have a personality: same concept?? Do you notice some decks tend to paint people or situations in a certain light? I mean obviously that's why people get darker decks for shadow work or obscure decks for light work etcetc BUT in a sense of skirting around certain things bc of how the deck itself acts. Like if you have an intense deck, they might sometimes not be as objective as they need to be since that's not the point. Example bc I'm not explaining this well, I'm going to pull some cards on me as a partner with three different decks (will refer to myself as a third party):
RW (Objective)
The Hermit Rx, Ten of Wands, Queen of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, The Chariot Rx, Four of Wands, Eight of Swords, Three of Pentacles Rx, Three of Cups
Someone who doesn't like to always stay in, will feel stifled. They tend to carry the brunt of the relationship or it's issues in silence and try to intuitively guess how their partner is feeling. Very emotionally in tune with themselves but picky with who gets to see this side. Extremely relaxed with how the relationship plays out. Not worried about the destination or when they get there, but has a flight reflex if they pick up on family issues playing out in relationships/if it reminds them of childhood trauma. This person gets themselves trapped worried about their own insecurities and might ruin things for themselves, and they can be very stubborn. More signs of them enjoying nights out and being playful or not shying away from merging friend groups. Hearing giggling so they might like teasing their partner or play fighting.
Divine Tarot (Positive)
Temperance, Page of Swords Rx, Three of Pentacles, Six of Swords, Two of Swords Rx, Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, Judgement, Two of Cups Rx
This person will bring balance to their relationships, give and take. They will do everything they can for their partner. There's a tendency to be daring and bold, even if it might ruffle a few feathers (even their partner's). They're willing to work with their partner but they'll make some witty remarks about the process sometimes. They will stick with their partner and make sure they reach more stable horizons together. They are not afraid to make difficult or harsh decisions if the other party cannot, and they don't shy away from the boring work that will pay off later within the partnership. They only approach those when they have their mind made up, and they are ready to weather the worst storms with them. Their partner will leave with new perspectives on themselves and in life. This person however is unsure of if they'll ever find their other half.
Horror Tarot (Negative)
The Hermit Rx, Temperance Rx, Nine of Cups Rx, Seven of Swords Rx, Four of Cups, Page of Pentacles Rx, Queen of Cups Rx, Queen of Pentacles Rx, Judgement Rx
Shut in, don't like nights out and you won't find them in a club. Difficult to open up in relationships as well. Someone who usually will approach a situation feeling dissatisfied with what's shown regardless of how great it is. Tend to get swept up in their emotions. Way too blunt without realizing it. Tend to let their lethargy and apathy get the best of them. Repeats the same cycles over and over. Personification of Pity Party by Melanie Martinez. Cunning and not as nurturing as they seem.
See the difference. In the eyes of the Divine Tarot I'm a savior and I'm so precious and you shouldn't hurt me :(( or I'll cry :((( but to the Horror Tarot I'm a loser who needs to get a grip. Honestly it was hard to do this bc I'm so used to rationalizing these decks but it was neat to do them side by side.
Obviously this is not for all readers, because a good amount of readers don't resonate with this! A good lot of readers I enjoy and trust are actually very logical and don't vibe with the whole 'decks have personalities' thing, so keep that in mind. This is just a topic I've been thinking about because I've noticed the slight difference in love readings from some people I follow and thought it was interesting. However you know what's more interesting? The topic of love itself and I will simply just leave this video here because I think it's neat
youtube
#a random not fully fleshed out thought piece bc i was supposed to this earlier <3#I N T E R A C T i like hearing from you guys
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*Masterlist*
Collection of TBF and Completed DBH works. All works are Fem!/Reader unless stated otherwise. Links are to AO3. Any requests can be submitted here or AO3.
Main focus as of now is BMB. BUT there are many more works in the making! Thank you for all your support!! ♥️
Connor (RK800)/ Reader
Diagnose Me, Doctor - 40/40
Tags: Reader is a doctor, medical terminology, angst, slow-burn, smut (Chp. 25+), character death, emotionally heavy, Connor is soft but also not ;), no seriously I cried writing some of it
Use Your Words - 1/2
Tags: bookshop au, shameless smut, meta stories, masturbation, post-android revolution, fic promos, it’s just buildup and filth guys, more tags to be added
Connor (RK800)/ Reader x Cyberlife Tower (RK800-60) | Sixty/ Reader
Be My Buddy - 5/?
Tags: Fluff&Angst, long-distance fic, reader from abroad, texting, calling, anonymous, eventual relationship, eventual meeting, will earn other tags as things progress
Connor (RK800)/Connor-52 (RK800-52)/Reader
And Then There Were Two - 3/3
Tags: polygamy, minor death, smut (Chp. 3), threesome F-M-M, insecurities, multiple pov, 52 is Colin, one-shot in three chapters
Nines (RK900)/Reader
This Is Not A Date - 1/1
Tags: one-shot, friends to lovers, dating but other people, nines being the curious and innocent boi he is, smut, rough sex, but kinda soft too idk
Cyberlife Tower (RK800-60) | Sixty/ Reader
Cupcake - 1/1
Tags: GN!Reader, fluff&angst, character growth, sixty needs help, self-worth issues, life lessons, smut (enough to tag), sub!sixty
Remember To Love - 1/1
Tags: valentines day fic, fluff and angst, mainly angst, memory issues, just a lot of feelings, smut, oral sex, p in v sex, ive avoided spoilers in tags so read to find out
Spoils Of War - 3/? ON HIATUS
Tags: android revolution, human slavery, sixty takes charge, reader is in prison, dystopia, smut (Chp. 3+), prison violence
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🔮 G INTP VIRGO—who will you marry? 🔮
DISCLAIMER: Please keep in mind that this reading is just for fun! If anything resonates, then it’s even more fun! 😊 Also, please don’t be mad at me if you don’t get your selfship characters 🥺
🔮 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲
the fool, 4 of swords, page of swords, 3 of swords, mask
This is someone with a very happy-go-lucky vibe. Very positive and kind of laidback person. Excited about life and everything in it. You’ll love his jokes as he seems to be someone with a good sense of humor. Very curious about you and how to make you happy. Definitely, someone who doesn’t like to see you sad and can’t afford to hurt your feelings. He can be a little chatty too or fidgety, but I see this to be something you’ll find adorable. He’s the type of guy who wants to be everything you need.
the hierophant, 3 of pentacles, ace of pentacles, nine of pentacles, clock
Your person can be a bit traditional though. I see that his work might be of utmost important for him and can take it as a priority. He’s very hardworking and people might respect your person for this, but he can workaholic and needs a lot of your patience as there will be times, when he couldn’t make it to be with you.
very soon, this could be the one, soul mate, engagement ring, stabbed in the back, photograph
This person maybe just around the corner, but someone you haven’t noticed yet. Maybe, he’s someone you won’t expect to have a profound effect in your life that’s why. The revelation once you knew who he is will be a little shocking. Also, your person might rush your engagement because he seriously wants to be with you already. He may love kissing and holding your hand from time to time. I perceive that it gives him a sense of belonging like you’re made for each other. He’ll be very affectionate and I’ll see you melting for him over this. You’ll be each other’s soulmate!!! There could be something telepathic between the two of you where the one sense what the other thinks. You’ll be emotionally warm with each other and everyday would be exciting with this person.
sunset kisses, ‘I love you’, goodnight texts, retelling your story, candles, skinny dipping
🔔 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥
the sun, the empress, 8 of pentacles, knave of wands, the moon, 2 of chalices, the sun again, fated, over the moon, surprising, intimate
This proposal will feel very dreamy. This is such a happy event where both you and your future husband are smiling from ear to ear. I’m picking up that he really thought this one out well and worked hard to pull everything off. I can see him giving you some fresh flowers right off the bat and he’ll be totally handsome that night. He’ll also be very romantic and caring towards you. The ring will be very beautiful like it has some rosey undertone to it. It can be rose gold as well. You’ll be very ecstatic and surprised. You won’t see this coming and thought this was just a normal date. This might happen in the evening when you can see the moon shining bright. You might see a bay or sea during the proposal as well. Once you said, yes, I’m picking up that he won’t be able to stop kissing you. You may kiss a lot this day as well as all the cards have the couples kissing each other. This day you will feel that you are definitely destined to be together and everything happened at the right time and way.
💍 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞/𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫
-/ enlo! so yeah, I’m kinda picking up on Naruto and Sugawara in his energy, so it’s kinda mixture of both! I hope you had fun in this reading! 💗
🔮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠
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Percy was one of two Terrans on this spacecraft. As a captain, Percy had been taught to work based on his head and not his heart, but to still hone his intuition in situations of dire need.
Annabeth, his head of communications officer, was a book smart nerd (and his best friend) who relied heavily on her brain and knowledge, and found no difficulty doing so.
This caused some heated discussions. One of which had been going on for several years now, but Percy had let go since they had a certain cute Plutonian on board who he didn’t want to upset.
Nico was Plutonian nobility and was Percy’s Chief Science Officer. He was very intelligent and competent at his job, and Percy would never want to endanger his relationship with any of his crew members.
However.
Frank Zhang was a Martian who had been living in a colony outside the Solaris system with an endlessly curious mind who liked to know whatever there was to know about the planets surrounding “Solaris” (in quotes because apparently Percy’s very own Sun was not the only Sun, so he couldn’t call it the Sun anymore. Dumb universe.)
“Captain Jackson, sir,” Frank saluted him on sight.
“Not necessary Frank, we’re not on a mission or on the deck,” Percy sighed. Frank was trained by the Martian military before coming to the Space Academy on Terra, and relied heavily on his training when in social situations. It meant he was pretty formal around Percy at all times.
“Right,” he paused, his copper skin reddening with a blush. “Percy.”
“Yes, Frank?” Percy put on a smile. Frank was also quite shy, but Percy enjoyed answering the man’s questions and getting him out of his shell.
“I was wondering about the star Terra revolves around,” he started, and quickly pulled a small notebook and pen seemingly out of nowhere. Percy raised his eyebrows, impressed.
“What about it?” He patted Frank on the shoulder and started walking with him towards the mess hall. This seemed like a conversation to be had over lunch.
“Records are inconsistent about how many planets orbit Solaris,” he continued as they entered the packed room, and Percy nodded sagely as they sat down at an empty table.
Percy noted internally that Annabeth was picking up her food, and had noticed them. This could get interesting. He scanned the area for Nico, unfortunately, Percy noted that he was only one table away with his half sister Hazel. Hazel and Frank were romantically involved, so the two would probably join this conversation. This could get ugly.
Percy had to think of damage control.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?” Percy asked and shook his head, lost in thought as Annabeth sat down.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hazel’s eyes light up as she noticed her boyfriend.
“Records are inconsistent about how many planets orbit Solaris. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the situation?” He repeated himself. Right, Percy kept forgetting that he was from a colony, and therefore didn’t know much about the Solaris system.
“It was debated for a while a few years ago,” Annabeth answered for him, and Percy frowned. “But it’s eight,” she finished.
“Fuck you! It’s nine!” Percy exclaimed. Hazel and Nico paused in the process of sitting down at the table with Annabeth, Frank, and Percy.
The two seemed to assess Percy’s bright red face, Annabeth’s calculatingly raised eyebrows, and Frank’s nervous gulp, and slowly sat down to watch.
“Pluto has only made two and a half revolutions, Percy. It’s too small and barely caught in Solaris’ gravity!”
“Viva la Pluto, fuck you!” Percy shouted as he punched his hand in the air. “Fight me,” he added jokingly as Annabeth rolled her eyes and addressed Frank.
“Technically, there are eight planets and one dwarf planet, but much of Terra’s population was angered by the loss of Pluto as a “planet,”” she added the air quotes, much to Percy’s irritation. “And they still emotionally are attached to it.”
“Interesting,” Frank was furiously jotting down notes and Percy rolled his eyes, wary of the reaction his two Plutonian crewmates might have, but the two were simply observing.
It was later in the evening when Nico approached Percy by tapping him on the shoulder.
“Hey, Percy,” his deep voice was soothing to Percy’s agitated nerves. The day had only gone downhill from earlier.
“Hey, Nico. What can I do for you?” Percy smiled at the other man. Nico was incredibly handsome with his olive skin and great black wings.
“Thank you, for earlier. I know it’s silly, but it’s nice to hear at least someone still considers my home planet a planet,” he smiled softly and squeezed Percy’s shoulder where his hand still lay, and walked away.
Percy was left a little shell shocked, and stood there like a dork for a solid two minutes before meandering back to his cabin. Pluto being a planet might be the hill that he died on, but it was a beautiful vision.
#percico#nicercy#percy jackson#star trek#fusion#nico di angelo#annabeth chase#humans are space orcs#humans are weird#pluto is a planet#yes i know there are more than one dwarf planet
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How to Win a Breakup
Word count: 6200
Warnings: mild swearing, kissing
Despite this fic also having a fall theme, it's not intended as a sequel to the last one. But, I mean, come on... Loki, in a pirate costume for Halloween... mm 😉
“Guys… I need costume ideas,” you whined, plunking yourself down on the couch between Nat and Wanda, leaning your head on Nat’s shoulder.
“What kind of costume are we talking here?” Wanda inquired.
“The kind that will make my ex sorry that he ever cheated on me,” you grumbled, scowling.
“Ah.” Nat wrapped her arm around your shoulders comfortingly and giving you a squeeze. You lifted your head off Nat’s shoulder, leaning your head back against the couch with a frustrated sigh.
“I just don’t understand why he had to be coming to this party. Doesn’t he know I’m going to be there? It’s at my best friend’s house.”
“Boys are ignorant sometimes. Either he doesn’t realize how stupid it is for him to be going, or he just wants to make you feel bad.” Wanda glanced toward the kitchen where Vision stood making dinner. “Take it from me – it’s easier being in love with an emotionally intelligent android.”
“Yeah, well there’s only one of those around here,” you groaned.
“Hey – not all guys are ignorant,” Bucky cut in, turning his attention away from the television.
“Yeah, some of us are just emotionally constipated,” Sam jested, patting Bucky on the shoulder as he glared back at him.
“Alright, we’ve strayed away from the real problem here – I still need a costume idea.”
“What in the Nine Realms do you need a costume for?”
You glanced up to find Loki striding regally into the room, taking a seat in the open armchair across from you. As he often did, he had a book tucked under his arm. You were surprised he’d decided to grace you all with his presence instead of just reading in his room, as he typically preferred. Perhaps he’d heard you all talking and was curious.
“Because she’s going to a Halloween party tomorrow night. And she needs to show up her asshole ex-boyfriend,” Nat explained snarkily without waiting for you to respond.
“I’m not sure I follow.” Loki looked to you with a tilt of his head, urging you to elaborate.
You scoffed. “Since I’m not bringing a date, I at least need to show him that I’m confident in my single status.”
“And how does one achieve that with a Halloween costume?”
“She needs to pick something that makes her look good, makes heads turn in her direction, but doesn’t look like she’s overcompensating. So, not as oversexualized as a hot nurse in a short dress, but also not frumpy in a loose onesie cat costume,” Wanda explained.
“It has to look effortless,” Nat added. Loki raised his eyebrows, looking at you incredulously.
“Wouldn’t it be simpler to just bring a date?”
You huffed out a sarcastic laugh, smiling in self-depreciation. “Like who? It’s not exactly like I have a guy lined up waiting to take me to my friend’s Halloween party. A-and even if I did, even that isn’t that simple – it has to be a guy that he’d be jealous of to see me with, not just some random guy off the street.”
“It seems as though there’s a lot of complicated aspects to winning a Midgardian breakup,” Loki observed, a ghost of a smirk teasing at his lips.
“It’s not winning, it’s… it’s just… ok, yeah, it’s winning I guess.” You sighed, leaning your elbows on your knees, and putting your face in your hands. “Maybe I’ll just tell my friend I’m sick. Then I can just avoid this altogether.”
“You can’t do that – it will only make him realize he got to you,” Wanda countered, placing a comforting hand on your knee.
“I would go with you.”
Your head snapped up from your palms, eyes darting over to the last person you’d have expected to offer to participate in a seemingly foolish Midgardian tradition (as you imagined he would refer to it). Loki’s eyes were fixed on you, his head tilted slightly, brows raised as he waited for a response. You squinted at him, trying to identify any hint of a jest behind his questioning expression.
“You would go with me?” you asked, incredulous. “Youwould go with me?”
He furrowed his brow, nodding slowly. “I… do believe that’s what I stated.”
Sam and Bucky appeared as surprised as you did, watching Loki with their jaws hanging slightly open. Loki wasn’t typically one to go out of his way to help other people in the tower. You suspected part of that was because many of them had fought against him all those years ago, and while publicly all was forgiven, there was still a hint of bad blood between the God of Mischief and the other Avengers. Although, admittedly, he had done a favor or two for you in the past; helping you to train to fight with a dagger was the first, although you’d asked him to assist you with that, knowing he was the most practiced with a blade. He also had lent you a book of his a couple times, after you’d asked him to tell you about what he was reading. But those other times, you’d prompted him to do something for you. Never in a million years would you have expected him to just willingly offer you his Saturday evening to attend a party with a bunch of Midgardians he didn’t know.
Undoubtedly, you were intrigued by his offer. You liked to consider yourself his friend, having spent quite a bit of time together in the training room, and over discussions about your love of literature. He certainly seemed to tolerate you more than he did the others in the tower. At the very least, he didn’t scowl when you walked into a room he was sitting in, as he sometimes did when his brother entered with his boisterous voice and thundering footsteps. Maybe he saw himself as your friend too. It made you smile a little to think about.
“What would be in it for you?” you asked, allowing a smirk to cross your face to let him know you weren’t interrogating him, but genuinely were curious what was going on in his head.
“A cheating ex-boyfriend, and a party with aforementioned ex-boyfriend present? The obvious need to make a show of being happy without his dreadful company? The chance to play tricks on an unsuspecting mortal?” The dark-haired Asgardian’s eyes flashed as a sinister grin spread across his lips. “Sounds like exactly the sort of task for the God of Mischief, don’t you agree?”
“Hmm. I suppose that is true…” You leaned back into the couch, gazing across at him with your finger pressed to your chin in thought. “And you think you could make him jealous?”
Loki chuckled deeply. “Darling, is that even a question? I am a literal god. Of course, I can make him jealous.”
“Don’t go getting a big head now, Loki,” Nat teased, but she too had a smirk on her face. She looked at you, shrugging. “He kind of does have a point, though. It’s the perfect opportunity to make him regret his decisions.”
You remained silent for a moment, thinking.
“You’d have to wear a costume, you know.”
“Not a problem.”
“What about matching costumes?”
“Naturally. It’s only logical. I would be your date for the evening, after all.” Something about the way he winked at you after saying the word ‘date’ made your face feel warm.
“Well… if you’re sure… alright. I’m in. But you need to help me figure out a good costume.”
“Excellent.” His grin was practically wicked now. “When do we start?”
You spent the afternoon chatting with the others about possible costume ideas. Wanda seemed a bit wary about your decision to accept Loki’s offer, but Nat was thrilled you’d have someone as snarky as Loki to attend the party with you. She knew he found no shame in tricking other people, especially if it was to make someone else angry. What a perfect guy to help you get back at the tool you used to date.
You ran through a few ideas, finally landing on a classic. Pirates.
But, not like cheesy hook-handed pirates. Full-on Pirates of the Caribbean style.
One added benefit of attending the party with Loki was that you didn’t need to actually shop for a decent costume – he could simply magic one up for each of you before the party. He’d never tell you how he did it, of course. You suspected it may involve thievery of some sort, because how can someone just conjure fabric from thin air? Still, you weren’t about to question his methods. He had graciously offered to help you, after all.
And, boy, did he deliver. The next evening, you found your costume sitting in a neatly folded pile on your desk. Changing into the outfit, you turned and looked yourself over in the mirror. You left your hair down, a three-pointed pirate hat atop your head. With a tight-fitted, long red dress shirt underneath a black knee-length leather coat on your upper half, you wore fitted pants with knee-high black boots on your feet. To complete the look, a black sash worn around your waist, with a sheath and a cutlass that looked all too real (and probably was, but you didn’t want to find out.) It was the perfect mix of sexy and badass. You put on a bit of makeup before heading out of your room to meet Loki at the car Tony had lent you.
The thought had never crossed your mind to see Loki in any sort of costume (other than his Asgardian leather, of course; because honestly, you couldn’t say that wasn’t a costume of sorts). Certainly not a pirate costume, of all things.
But damn did he make it look good.
He, too, wore a three-pointed hat over his dark locks, which he’d tied back in a low bun at the nape of his neck. His torso was adorned with a loose (well, loose by Loki’s standards) white button-down shirt with a thick brown belt around his waist and a brown leather captain’s coat with gold trim along the sleeves. On his lower half, brown pants with a darker brown leather boot.
As you approached, he shot you a half-smirk, adding another one of those sly winks for good measure. You suddenly felt weak in the knees.
“You look… wow. Pirate looks good on you,” you breathed, trying to hide the tint in your cheeks.
“Yes, but not nearly as good as it looks on you,” he flirted, taking your hand in his and raising it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.
Ok, there was no hiding the color in your face now.
“A-are you ready to head out then?” you stammered, glancing at the car to give yourself an excuse to avert your eyes from his piercing gaze.
“After you.” He opened the back door for you, allowing you to duck inside before following you. The driver backed the car away from the tower and headed down the street toward your friend’s house.
You allowed the silence to press on for a bit, not really knowing what to say to this demigod who had offered his time and attention simply to make your ex jealous. Do you say thank you? Come up with a game plan? What exactly is the protocol in this sort of situation?
“Would you like to set any ground rules?” Loki’s deep voice actually startled you from your thoughts, and you turned to look at him, forgetting how close he was sitting in the back of the small car. You cleared your throat, trying to hide your flustered appearance.
“Ground rules? What sort of ground rules?”
“Well, I am your ‘date’ to this event. And I am not your romantic partner in reality, so I assume you’d want to set some limits as to how far you’re willing to go to make this horrible man jealous.”
“Oh. Right.” You swallowed, not having given this much thought. “Well, uh… you can hold my hand.”
“Child’s play, darling. Go on.”
“And… uh… I’m gonna need some examples of what you’re referring to,” you mumbled, happy that it was dark out because your face was on fire right now.
“Examples? Honestly, did this ex of yours treat you well at all?”
“Loki! That’s not… I didn’t mean…”
“Examples would include affectionate gestures normally seen in Midgardian romantic relationships. As in, would you prefer to limit this fictitious relationship to hand-holding? Or are you looking to drive the dagger up to the hilt in your ex-lover’s chest and share a passionate kiss in front of him?”
“O-oh my god Loki,” you squeaked, hiding your face in your hands despite the fact that he couldn’t see how flushed your face was getting. “Ok, uh… let’s just limit it to a kiss on the cheek at most for now.”
“Noted.” He pondered for a moment. “What does this ex-boyfriend of yours look like?”
“I’ll point him out to you when I see him.”
“And this man was unfaithful to you?”
“Yes, I believe we’ve established that.” You turned to stare straight ahead again, trying not to think of that day. The day you learned he had hooked up with his neighbor in the apartment next door. You were glad it happened before things got too serious between the two of you, but you had been dating for seven months by that time. You may not have been ready for an engagement or anything, but it was still a slap in the face.
Loki reached over and placed a firm hand on your knee. You glanced up at him in the darkness, the glow of the streetlights illuminating the fierce look on his face.
“We’ll give him hell.”
You chuckled, smiling weakly. “Thanks.”
The car arrived at your friend’s house, and Loki quickly got out so he could open the door for you like a true gentleman. You took his outstretched hand and stepped out of the car, lacing your fingers through his. With one last deep, steadying breath, you led Loki inside to join the party.
You preferred to be fashionably late so as not to be the only person there, and so the house was already fairly crowded with costumed friends and strangers alike. Politely, you greeted your friends as you passed by them, making your way to the host across the room to introduce your ‘date’ to your best friend.
“Y/N! You made it!” Your friend threw her arms around you the moment you made your way over to her. “Oh! And you’ve brought someone?”
“This is Loki,” you introduced him, introducing your friend to Loki as well. “He’s my date for the evening…” Leaning closer, you whispered, “…so that asshat ex of mine doesn’t think I’m still single.”
“Oh, you’re so bad!” she teased, shoving your shoulder playfully. “Well, he deserves to see you happy.” She turned and pointed at Loki. “You’d better make her happy.”
“That is my intent.”
“Oh!” She leaned closer to you to whisper, “There he is – he just walked in.”
Cautiously turning around to avoid making a scene, your eyes landed on your ex, Adam, walking in with the pretty neighbor from next door. He was dressed as a doctor, with his date dressed as – you guessed it – a sexy nurse.
“Lovely. He’s still with her,” you grunted through gritted teeth. “That’s not even what nurses actually wear! How impractical would a dress be?”
“Why don’t we go get a drink and find somewhere to sit for a while,” Loki urged, tearing your focus away from your cheating ex-boyfriend. You nodded, waving goodbye to your friend as you allowed Loki to lead you to the refreshments table.
With a beer in hand, the two of you found a seat on a sofa in the living room. Your eyes flitted over to your ex standing across the room chatting with his new girlfriend and one of her friends. Adam glanced over briefly, his eyes landing on you. Immediately, you stiffened, hand squeezing Loki’s hand still laced with your own.
Loki unwound his fingers from yours and slid his arm around your waist, prompting you to look at him. His eyes were soft, an unusual look on him as you were used to his cold or calculated stares, or otherwise his trademark mischievous smirk.
“Don’t look at him. It will make him believe you care about what he thinks.”
“Well, I do,” you whispered.
“You shouldn’t. He is a villainous lowlife. Or, an ‘asshat’ as you’ve so titled him.”
You laughed despite yourself. “Alright, you tell me then – is he still looking?”
“Not yet, but he’s glanced over numerous times.”
“Well, when he does… feel free to kiss me on the cheek so he sees it.”
Loki’s eyes flashed, a subtle smirk crossing his face. “If that is what you wish, then certainly.”
You chatted for a bit, trying everything in your power to avoid looking over at Adam despite your brain screaming for you to glance in his direction. You trusted that Loki would let you know when he was looking your way. And sure enough, he did.
“He’s looking this way,” he whispered, squeezing your side where his hand rested on your waist to get your attention. You jumped at the ticklish touch, letting out a small giggle. Loki leaned in and kissed your cheek as promised, but before he pulled away, he paused to whisper in your ear. “Oh dear. Are you ticklish?”
“What? I- ahaha no!” He didn’t wait for your response, repeating the squeezing motion against your side a few times. You buckled under his touch, rapid giggles flowing from your lips.
“This is adorable.”
“L-Loki wahait! I’m holding a drihink, I’m gonna spill ihit!” you pleaded, shoving at his hand on your waist. His fingers stilled, and you allowed yourself to relax again into his side. He reached over and took the beer from your hand, turning to place it on a side table next to the couch.
“No longer a problem.” He brought his other hand down to your hip, kneading his fingers into the bone while picking up with squeezing your side again. Giggling frantically, you pushed weakly at his hands, helplessly melting into his side.
“Hehehey-AHaha noho!” He let his arm around your waist travel up to your lower ribs, scratching into the spaces and grinning as your laughter pitched up in volume.
“He’s certainly watching now, darling,” Loki whispered, sliding his hand at your hip down to squeeze above your knee.
“Okahahay we win then! Nohoho more!”
He stopped his ticklish assault, chuckling as he leaned in to kiss your cheek again. “You’re no fun, darling.”
“No fun?? Because I won’t let you torture me?”
“Let me? That would imply that I couldn’t overpower you and tickle you senseless.” Your face flushed. “In any case, it certainly seemed to bother your ex-lover.”
Sneaking a brief glance, you saw Adam with a sour look on his face, no longer holding his new girlfriend’s hand. Looking back to Loki, you grinned smugly.
“Alright, I’ll give you that.”
Loki’s eyes lit up. “So, you’re saying I may continue?” His fingers clawed into your belly, causing you to double over, a renewed bout of giggles bubbling up in your throat.
“NOho! That’s nohot what I meheheant!”
He relented, removing his fingers from your belly. Leaning in close to your ear once again, he whispered, “Don’t think that this is over, darling. You’re not off the hook yet.” You shivered, a squeaky whine escaped your lips, making Loki laugh, a warm, gravelly rumble in his chest. He pulled you in closer to rest more firmly against his side.
Loki was a well-mannered date, mingling along with you with the other guests, getting you food and drinks throughout the evening, and above all, making sure he was holding your hand or gripping your waist whenever Adam was looking in your direction. There was music playing in the sitting room, and as people had a few drinks and became more relaxed, guests gradually began to dance to the Halloween-themed tunes.
“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, darling?” Loki asked, slipping his hand into yours.
“Certainly, my dear,” you teased, allowing him to lead you to an open space in the sitting room. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you clasped your hands around his neck, swaying gently to the music.
“Your friend is staring again,” Loki whispered. You glanced out of your peripheral vision, accidentally catching Adam’s gaze. He turned away from you, looking into his girlfriend’s eyes and leaning in to press a kiss to her lips.
The feeling that washed over you, you wouldn’t call jealousy. No, more like pure rage, thinking about the fact that this man had broken your trust to run off with this woman without a second thought.
“You’re allowing him to get in your head, aren’t you?” Loki’s voice brought you back to the present, and you realized you had clenched your hands into fists against the back of his neck. You turned to meet his eyes, glowing blue green as he analyzed your expression. He took a breath, then asked, “Do you trust me?”
“I… yes?” you replied cautiously. His gaze was so intense, you felt as though he could see into your mind, read your thoughts.
He slowly, carefully, leaned forward, bringing his face closer to yours with his brows pitched up in silent request for permission to be this close to you. To push the boundaries of your ‘ground rules’ that you’d set in the beginning. But only if you allowed it. His eyes flitted down to your lips for only a moment, and you knew what he intended to do. Subtly, you offered him a nearly imperceptible nod. The corner of his lips twitched up into a grin, and he leaned in a bit closer.
Your hats bumped when he leaned too close, making you laugh. With a grunt, he reached up and removed your hat from your head, closing the distance between you to slant his lips across yours.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting, kissing Loki. Maybe that it would feel weird, since you were friends. Maybe even that it would be awkward, or that you’d feel grateful that he was even willing to stoop himself to this level and kiss a mortal such as yourself just to help you get your revenge.
You didn’t expect the fireworks. You didn’t expect your knees to buckle, your eyes to flutter closed in bliss, your skin to tingle as he weaved his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck. You certainly didn’t expect the low growl that came from Loki’s throat as he tugged you in closer, or for him to deepen the kiss as he dipped you backward slightly.
Oh, gods, it was wonderful.
You were smitten.
When he finally pulled away, the only thing that mattered in that moment was the god who held you tightly in his arms. Even if it wasn’t real, to even feel for this moment that it could be was wonderful, if only until you left this party. Loki looked entirely too pleased with himself knowing he was the reason you had a dizzy, hazy look in your eyes, but you didn’t even mind. He ducked his head down to move his lips beside your ear.
“I believe you won this breakup,” he whispered.
Oh. Right. Your ex. The whole reason Loki was even here with you tonight.
You stole a quick glance to where Adam had been dancing with his girlfriend and found he was no longer there. Instead, you saw his back retreating through the door to the next room, his girlfriend following hot on his heels as she shouted something at him.
“Good.” You grinned half-heartedly as you looked back at Loki. “I need to go to the bathroom for a sec, I’ll be right back.”
Loki’s eyes skimmed over your face as if searching for something, but he nodded and released his hold around you. Before you backed away, he swept his arm up to place your hat back atop your head. You laughed a little, straightening the gaudy hat before heading in the direction of the bathroom.
You needed a moment alone, if only just to breathe and recenter yourself on the true intent of this date. Loki was helping you get back at your ex. Nothing more. And he didn’t owe you anything more. It was kind enough of him to offer to attend the party with you to help you save face. He played the part excellently.
“Hey.”
You stopped dead in your tracks, confronted with the one person you didn’t want to talk to this evening. Folding your arms protectively across your chest, you shot him a hard look.
“Hi.”
“Can we talk?”
“What for?” You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Y/N, come on… don’t be like that. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not sorry for what you did. What you’re sorry about is that you’re having second thoughts, and you think you can just come sweet talk me into forgiving you.” The fire in your eyes burned into his, and you felt your muscles tensing as you bristled from his words.
“No, it’s not like that…” Adam reached out to try to take your hand, and you took an abrupt step back.
“Don’t. You don’t get to touch me.” He retracted his hand, giving you a desperate look.
“Please, can’t we just go talk outside for a minute?”
“I’m afraid she’s spoken for tonight.” A pleasant thrill ran through your chest at the sound of Loki’s smooth, velvety, dark voice behind you. He stepped up to stand by your side, sliding an arm around your waist and tugging you closer, twisting his body so he was standing a step in front of you, almost protectively closer to your ex than you were. Adam shrank back a little as he took in Loki’s intimidating, proud posture. Not waiting for him to say anything, Loki turned his head to look at you. “Are you ready to leave now, darling?”
“Yes, let’s go.” You shot one last look in Adam’s direction, setting your jaw. “See you.”
Allowing Loki to lead you with a hand at the small of your back, you made your way over to say goodbye to your best friend before taking your leave.
The both of you were silent on your way to the car, remaining so even as the driver pulled away from your friend’s house to begin the short drive home to the tower. There were so many thoughts running through your head as you stared out the window at the streetlights and building racing past the car. Naturally, the fact that your ex thought he could corner you and talk you into forgiving him infuriated you. But despite that, the dominating thought in your mind was about the prince of Asgard sitting beside you, and the memory of the feeling of his lips against yours. You would never regret the decision to allow him to kiss you. But now that it had happened, and you actually felt something, where did you go from here?
“Did that horrid ex-lover of yours upset you?” Loki asked suddenly, breaking the heavy silence.
“A little, yeah. Who does he think he is? What makes him think he has the right to try to talk to me after the way he treated me?” You kept your gaze focused out the window, afraid if you looked at Loki’s face you’d stop breathing.
“He’s a witless swine. He doesn’t deserve you.”
You barked out a laugh at that. “He found someone prettier than me anyway. I’m not sure why he was so interested.”
Loki grabbed your arm and squeezed hard, almost painfully so, prompting you to look at him. His eyes were dark but fierce, brow furrowed in anger.
“Don’t you ever say such things about yourself.”
Taken aback by his stern words, you allowed the self-depreciating smirk to drop from your face. “Wow, alright, no need to be so intense.”
“I’m serious. You are beautiful, and not only that, but you are intelligent and witty, gentle and kind. Any man should consider himself fortunate to call himself your romantic partner.”
“Ok, now that is an exaggeration.”
“You’re doing it again.” Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “Keep that up, and I’ll be forced to tickle you.”
“W-whahat?” Your heart leapt into your throat, heat creeping into your cheeks. A slow smirk spread across his face as he watched you react to his threat.
“Say you were wrong to speak so negatively of yourself. Tell me you are beautiful. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to teach you a lesson.”
“I am not saying that – no, wait a minute, L-Loki…” His smirk broadening, he scooted a bit closer to you, snaking his arm around your waist and resting his hands threateningly against your sides. “… y-you can’t be serious, that’s not… that’s not fair!”
“I’m still waiting, darling. I’ve yet to hear the words that will save you from this.”
You jolted a bit, giggling as his fingertips contracted into your sides to punctuate his threat. “I-Ihi won’t say it, uh-uh. No way – no, noho, NOHOHO!”
Sighing as if it pained him, he dug his fingers into your sides again, unrelenting as he squeezed and pinched up and down to reach your lower ribs. Giggling hysterically, you twisted to try to break his hold, shoving weakly at his hands with your own. You had limited space to squirm around in the back seat of the car, and it only made you feel more trapped in his hold as he sought to break your stubborn resolve with his deft fingertips.
“It would have been so simple to just say something nice about yourself. Is this really worth it? Being so stubborn?”
The real answer was yes, absolutely. If the consequence of refusing to say something kind about yourself was for Loki to wrap you up in his arms and tickle you to pieces, well, you’d accept your fate. The pleasant warmth of his arms around your waist, the way he knew exactly how to wiggle his fingertips into your skin to draw the most desperate giggles from your mouth, and feeling so comfortable allowing yourself to release such silly laughter in front of him… it almost made you forget about the looming question of what you were going to do about this sudden surge of feelings you had for the god.
“Ihi still wohohon’t say it!” you cried defiantly. With a growl, he slid one hand up to pry his way under your arm, the other darting over to the center of your belly, clawing rapidly into both spots and laughing himself as you snorted before dissolving into loud belly laughter.
“You’ll need to submit eventually, dear.” His voice rumbled right in your ear, the proximity flustering you further. Glancing out the window, you saw you were pulling up to the tower already. The moment the car stopped, you whipped your hand down by your hip to unbuckle yourself and jumped out of the car, making a run for the door while you continued to giggle from the sheer absurdity of it all.
You should have known better than to think you could outrun the God of Mischief. Within moments, his arms latched around your waist from behind, tackling you and dragging you down to the side into a pile of leaves. The fallen foliage softened the landing, and you took a moment to catch your breath as best you could through your giggles as you looked up at the dark-haired god hovering over you. His curls had fallen out of the hair tie just slightly, a few stray strands hanging loose around his shadowed face. More striking, though, was the bright smile on his face as he laughed along with you, almost childishly so. He propped himself up a bit more firmly on his elbows to get a better look at your expression, with your eyes squinted nearly shut and your cheeks squished up toward your eyes from the wide grin on your face.
“Eheh… now, I need to hear you say it,” he demanded through his laughter.
“No! I wohon’t do it!” Loki leaned his weight onto one arm, bringing the other down to knead at your ribcage. His grin only broadened when your giggles pitched up in octave, affected by his touch. “NOHO LOKI IT TIHIHICKLES!”
“That would be the point, love,” he laughed, allowing himself to drop and press his whole weight into you to free his other hand to tease your other side. You shoved at his shoulders with your hands, but he was dead weight against you, effectively holding you down without hope of escape.
“YOU’RE HEHEHEAVY!”
Loki gasped facetiously. “So rude!” He slipped his hands under your coat to get better access to slide his fingers under your arms, scratching gently at the skin through the thin layer of fabric you had left to protect you. You threw your head back in hysterics, feeling your hat slide off your head.
“NOHO LOKI GEHEHET YOUR HAHANDS OUT!”
“Why? Is it too much, darling?” His grin was maddeningly flustering, so you shut your eyes tight to avoid looking at him as you pressed your arms down to your sides as best you could.
What happened next was quite possibly the most flustering thing he’d done all evening. More than the vicious tickle attack, more than the hand holding, the cuddling, the staged kissing… all of it combined.
Overwhelmed by adoration, looking down at your face scrunched up with laughter, Loki instinctively ducked down and pressed his lips to yours again without a second thought. You squeaked in surprise, eyes snapping open. He stilled his fingers, still pinned under your arms, as he lifted his head to give you a somewhat apologetic look.
“I-I didn’t mean to overstep, I- mmph!”
You silenced his stammering apology, wrapping one arm around his neck and dragging his face back down to yours to kiss him again. He picked up where he left off without missing a beat, lifting one hand up to cup your face. You tangled your fingers through his hair, undoing the hair tie a bit more in the process, but the satisfied moan he made against your lips was worth it. His hand slid around your neck to return the favor, gently weaving his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and tugging gently to send a wave of goosebumps down your spine. A contented sigh into his lips told him you appreciated his reverent touch.
The peaceful contented feeling was short-lived, however; dissipating when the fingers of his other hand that were still pinned under your arm began to dig into your uppermost ribs with renewed vigor. Your desperate giggles were muffled against his lips, and though you tried to pull away to scold him, he only pressed his hand harder against the back of your neck to prevent you from breaking the kiss.
You finally managed to turn your head a bit to regain the ability to speak, still laughing at the ticklish feeling of his fingers vibrating under your arm.
“LOHOKI YOU’RE – AHAHA – YOU’RE RUINING A MOHOMENT!”
“Just making sure you’re aware that I haven’t forgotten – you still haven’t said one kind word about yourself,” he teased, grazing the fingertips of the hand at your neck along the sensitive skin below your ear. You squealed and made to open your mouth to scold him, but he silenced you once again with his mouth against yours, reveling in the fact that despite the giggling mess he’d made of you, you still leaned into his touch.
When he managed to pull his hand out from under your arm and move to dig his fingers into the front of your ribs, you kicked your feet against the ground and shook your head.
“MMOKAY I CAHAN’T!” Loki paused his tickling fingers, looking down at you expectantly as you gasped desperately for breath. “Ihi… whahat was I supposed to say again?”
“Cheeky little…”
“NOHO WAIT I’M SEHEHERIOUS!” you cried as he began to drill his thumb into your ribs again. He stopped, chuckling at you.
“Tell me you’re sorry for speaking so negatively of yourself. Admit to me you are beautiful.” The resolute look in his eyes, mixed with a touch of soft reverence, made your stubbornness melt away.
“Fine. I’m sorry I said such things. And I’m… beautiful.”
Loki looked at you with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “What do I need to do to make you believe it?”
You gazed up at him, subconsciously tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear out of his face. “Just… look at me like that a little more often, and maybe I’ll start to believe you.”
“Anything for you, love.”
“Good. Now kiss me again.”
“Mm. As you command, darling.” He ducked down to catch your lips with his, but you stopped him with a finger pressed to his lips.
“Without tickling me this time,” you winked.
“You’re no fun.” Chuckling, you allowed him to close the distance and kiss you once again. In that moment, held so reverently in Loki’s arms, you began to believe that, maybe, you were worthy of him.
#ticklish!reader#sfw tickle fluff#tickle fluff#loki tickle#tickle fic#marvel tickle#ler!loki#lee!reader#loki x reader#Loki in a pirate costume
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Hi again! Can I ask for some spicy Yandere Demon!America with a Tainted Angel!Darling where he finally breaks down her resistance enough to seduce her into his bed?
Y/N had been hunted by Demon America for awhile now. She didn’t understand why that demon had the hots for her. She looked and behaved like any standard Angel in her rank. But for some reason he always came looking for her when she had a mission to complete in the human world.
“Y/N can’t you just ditch your duties for once and come with me I found this awesome food place that I’d think you’d like.”
“Beings like us don’t need to eat if we do it’s purely because we’re bored or curious. Regardless the answer is ‘no’. Now can you please leave? I have some work to get done.” As you were concentrating on healing the flowers and fauna that were decaying due to some of the human involvement in the land.
Alfred roles his eyes. Indignant that you found small lower creatures to be of a higher importance than him.
Things had continued like this for a few years of Alfred inviting her to ditch her duties slow progressing her in to manipulating her into abandoning her duties as an Angel.
At first it started off with one assignment.
“Y/N what happened you were supposed to save those puppies with ease!? What on earth happened?”
An elder Angel will scold you on slacking off on your duties .
“Nothing I just got distracted is all it won’t happen again.” You say not knowing if that was a lie or not. Your heart was racing at the thought of running into the demon whom had caught your interest but you kind of wanted to keep your distance away from at the same time.
You were on another simple mission to save an elderly lady from being hit and killed by a drunk driver. To no avail. You fail yet again because that demon had captured your attention with few new things he showed you : board games and sweets two things that humans would pair together often when they wanted to have fun on their days off.
When you had failed to save the woman’s life you were ex communicated from heaven altogether.
“You have failed as Angel for the last time y/n and we’ve ended your time as an Angel in heaven. Enjoy being a fallen Angel.”
You’re ejected from heaven disgracefully wings singed, white tunic burned, and halo turned to dust.
You no longer were an Angel. But a fallen on with one direction. Of course America will take full advantage of your sad state. Abandoned by heaven for not fulfilling your duties as an Angel.
“Well now that you don’t have an actual place to live. Why don’t you come back with me? I have a larger bed we can share and……” before he can continue you immediately try to dismiss him saying something to the effect that you can survive on your own in the human world without his help. But once he brings up game night with sweets and booze involved your down to join him in hell without much hesitation.
❤️🔥It takes Demon America a couple of weeks to break you down to get him into bed with him but he finally manages it when he talks about the inevitably of it all when you failed a great deal of your duties as an Angel.
❤️🔥Knowing full well he has you in a vulnerable spot he will hold you close and caress your trembling body. You’ll be a hot mess tears, snot, sweat the while nine yards of ugly crying. Once’s you’ve calmed down enough for him to take you to his bedroom your still going to be in an emotionally tender place where he will use that to his advantage. It will start off sweet.
“Y/N it’s okay let it out. Things like this happen all the time.” He will hand you a handkerchief for you to blow your nose and wipe you tears all the while he has his hands up your shirt and kissing your neck. Your mind isn’t able to register what’s going on Intuit your in too deep and generally don’t seem to care since you already lost your status as an Angel.
“Alfred what are you doing?” Trying not to give into the burning urges that we’re building upside you since he started to feel you up.
“What you’ve always wanted to and now that your a fallen Angel there really shouldn’t be a problem.” He states as he gently places his lips on yours in a drawn out kiss that renders you speechless. The only thing you could really do was stare into his red eyes and wonder if your shouldn’t have befriended him in the first place.
“Oh don’t give me that look y/n it was bound to happen it like you weren’t happy being an Angel anyways.”
As you tremble in his arms you consider his words and they replay over and over and over. With your insecurities …
‘Have I ever been a good Angel?’
‘Has any of my work actually mattered?’
‘Did I even-…’ before you could spiral down anymore Alfred untrusted your thoughts with more kissing down on your bow uncovered breasts and body.
‘When did-…’
“Oh y/n relax there is nothing wrong with being a fallen Angel. Especially when you’re this beautiful.”
He says as he has you straddled in your weakens form. He has your smaller body slightly suspended in his strong arms and your calf’s resting on his shoulders as he enters you harshly.
“Ahh!” You squeek. He gave you no time to prepare your emotions or body for him.
“You should have known all this time it was ruse for me to get you to be here with me.” He says as he continues to thrust in and out of you. He pants more and runs his hands though your silky (h/c), (h/l).
Things continue on this way for awhile until he grabs both of your thighs and revs himself up for the finale. And he forces himself into you harshly as far as your body could allow and releases himself in you.
You let out a loud and somewhat pleasurable yell. It still didn’t take away the fact that he did this all unprompted so you weren’t able to enjoy yourself as much physically or emotionally.
“I.. Alfred …”
“You love me I know.” He will say with confidence that he isn’t wrong in the slightest.
#hetalia fandom#hetalia#yandere america x reader#hws#yandere america#demon america#answered#aph allies#aph hetalia#yandere hetalia
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Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?
Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader
Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.
Warnings: Language, etc.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.
Status: completed. | series masterlist
↩ at peace | dearest daddy
mia speaks!:
okay, wow. So it took awhile for us to get here and I apologize for that but we’re finally done with Homesick, wew. It’s been a challenge but I’m so happy and grateful for all the positivity you guys have been sharing with me. Also, thank you so much for your patience.
It’s been an emotional ride but we’re finally done. There may be a few short stories after this chapter but no promises. Hopefully I get the chance to though, I do want to be able to. But for now, if you guys have any requests for imagines/scenarios with this series, don’t be afraid to send them over!
Also, big thanks to @oii-sugasan and @sunshinesero for beta-reading this for me! I apologize if this chapter is any way lacking compared to the first nine chapters, it’s been awhile since I wrote anything so I hope this was a great way to end this series.
I love you guys so much, I’m so glad to be (sorta) back. I hope you guys enjoy this!
Time was a funny and fickle thing. Sometimes there was never enough of it, and other times it stretched out endlessly. It had been seven months since your life had once again made drastic changes. It often surprised you how time flew by so fast.
Seven months since your two precious boys had been introduced to the man that they now call their father. And well, seven months since you had been reunited with the love of your life. Sure, it had ups and downs, it wasn’t bound to be perfect since the two of you were your own person. It was inevitable for such different personalities to clash, it didn’t help when there were two children present, one of them being as handful as their own father.
Atsumu had shown that he was a doting father, despite only being a part of their lives for less than a year, he had put his new family as his top priority, wanting to make up for lost time. He would instantly drop anything and everything, sometimes even volleyball when he could for times when his family needed him. Not that his new family had been a burden since then, his sons and of course you, have been nothing but loving and supportive. Showing up to games to cheer him on and the twins attending his training to either join or just watch their father and new favorite uncles.
It had been a rollercoaster ride since it was officially announced that Atsumu was off the market and that he actually had sons. Some fans were supportive, believing the news and claiming that both the young twins were striking replicas of the volleyball player. And of course, there were fans that were against it, raging how you were nothing more than a money-grabbing harlot and that you had probably lied to Atsumu about the twins being his.
They were quickly shut down, of course, by not just fans but various people close to the volleyball setter who defended you without you even asking for it. You weren’t going to lie, that particular month filled with venomous words thrown your direction stressed you out but it was mostly because of your motherly instincts, wanting to keep your sons away from such unnecessary drama. You and Atsumu had decided to ignore the majority of the vile comments but seeing you so emotionally exhausted had only fueled the already tiny flame in Atsumu. He was quick to announce that he would no longer tolerate any form of slander towards his family and would handle things legally if anyone were to step out of line.
And by the next few weeks, the hate simmered and the stress that had engulfed you and Atsumu in its grip had vanished. All that was left that made you both worry was Atsuhiro’s health.
Fortunately, Atsuhiro’s sickness didn’t grow worse as time passed by since his first transfusion. If anything, the boy was healthier and it was very much evident in his features. The healthy glow returned to his skin, he was smiling more and had shown his usual energetic-self like before he had fallen ill. Atsumu on the other hand, much to Atsuhiro’s dismay, had started becoming such an overprotective father. It took a lot of begging from Atsuhiko for their father to spend the day outside of the protective bubble of your apartment.
It took time and patience from everyone’s side to get this far, and for Atsumu, (and of course, you) he didn’t mind it one bit. He had grown more mature, despite his twin brother’s disagreements, he not only took care of himself more but he had become a role model to his sons.
Not only that, but as his relationship with his sons grew stronger, the love the two of you had for each other only seemed to intensify as well. Sure, the two of you had ups and downs back then in your friendship but it was as if time and distance hadn’t kept the two of you apart. If anything, it was as if it made your bond stronger. Two best friends, reuniting and finally expressing their true desires, it was easy for the two of you to fall into a comfortable routine.
“Where are the boys of the hour? I’ve been wanting to see how good Hiko looks in my jersey!”
Bokuto interrupts your thoughts for a brief second before you return your focus to your duties of cutting up the vegetables in the kitchen. You can’t help but chuckle at the sour expression that graces Atsumu’s expression as he fills a tray of refreshments on one of the island counters. “Don’t remind me, Bo-kun.”
“You’re just jealous that your sons didn’t want to wear your jersey," he teases, a playful grin on his lips as he lifts himself off of the ground by his hands to sit on the counter.
The scowl on Atsumu's face only deepens at the reminder, "Get off the counter, Bo-kun. Don't be rude. Why don't you actually start to help and give out these refreshments to the guests?"
You watch in amusement as the two exchange their usual banter around the kitchen of your home in Hyogo. It was decided a week ago after Atsuhiro's second transfusion was a success, that the twins would celebrate their birthday back at Hyogo instead of having the guests cramp up in your small apartment in Kanagawa.
It was also then decided by your sons what theme they would be having for their birthday. It was traditional for the twins to have their birthdays themed depending on their current interest. Lately, since the two were very fixated on volleyball due to their new favorite uncles and of course, their father, it was decided that they would be having a volleyball themed birthday where the guests were required to wear their favorite player's jersey.
For a minute, your new friend Bokuto had been rather excited upon hearing the idea.
"So show up with our own jerseys? Great!"
And as for Atsumu, he was excited at the prospect of seeing his own sons wearing his jersey. That is, until his sons destroyed such dreams.
"Are the two of you really sure?" you hear Atsumu's voice echoing from the twins' bedroom throughout the walls of the apartment as you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you as you ventured further into the comforts of your home. “Like really? Those are your choices?”
You grew curious as you slipped out of your shoes and let your hair loose from its tight bun, wincing slightly from your tugging. There was a tinge of whininess dripping from Atsumu’s voice that you couldn’t help but wonder what the three of them were talking about. It wasn’t unusual for Atsumu to be around when you had to work on days where the boys came home from school or when they didn’t have school.
At most times, when Atsumu didn't have training, he would be the one taking care of the boys instead of your mother or Osamu. Majority of his free time away from volleyball was spent with his sons, wanting to make up for the time he had lost. And there wasn't a day where the young twins wouldn't ask about their father and if he was going to visit. It was as if they were scared one of them would disappear, wanting to spend the entirety of their lives together.
"Maybe we can go with superheroes this year!" Atsumu's voice grew louder as you reached the door to the room where they occupied. Leaning against the door's frame, your eyes land on the back of Atsumu's head as he's seated on the carpeted floor facing the twins who were playing with their action figures. A small grin curling upon your lips at the sight of Atsumu’s slightly dishevelled bleached hair.
Atsuhiro, who seems to have the ability to sense your presence, looks up from his toys and in an instant, his eyes widen happily. He was about to greet you but you quickly pressed your index finger against your lips to signal the little boy not to announce your presence just yet, wanting to see Atsuhiko and Atsumu's interaction. The smart little boy that he is, nods and returns to his toys.
"But daddy," Atsuhiko protests, his focus still on the action figures in his hands, "We did superheroes last year! I wanna wear Uncle Bo's jersey!"
You fight the urge to burst out into a fit of giggles as soon as you catch a glimpse of Atsumu slumping his shoulders dejectedly. Now you understand as to why he had his moppy voice on. "But don't you want to wear daddy's jersey for your birthday?"
"But daddy," Atsuhiko lets out a sigh, looking up at his father with a look that meant the little boy wasn't up for any arguments on the matter, "Uncle Bo is the best! So I wanna wear his jersey!"
You could have sworn you heard Atsumu whine, suddenly wishing you had decided to film this from the start. "But it will make daddy really happy if you wear his jersey!"
Atsuhiko shakes his head as he continues to play with his action figures, "But I want Uncle Bo and I to match!"
Atsumu sighs in defeat before turning his attention over to Atsuhiro, looking hopeful. "What about you, Hiro? Would you wear daddy's jersey?"
"No, daddy. I wanna wear Kageyama-san's jersey," he nods with a proud smile, "Wanna be just like him! He's so good!"
"But daddy's just as good a setter as Tobio-kun!" Atsumu cries out, throwing his hands up in the air, "betrayed by my own children. 'Samu isn't going to let me live this down."
This time, you let your presence be known by finally releasing a bubble of laughter. Atsuhiko instantly drops his action figures and rushes over with a happy squeal. Atsumu pivots his body, looking up at you with such a pitiful gaze as he juts his lower lips out ot a pout, "I want new children."
Needless to say, Atsumu had been pouty ever since and has been dreading today due to the reason that every single one of his friends had found out about it. He had tried a handful of times to change their minds, unfortunately, the young twins won't budge.
“It’s not my fault your kids like me better than you,” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest, “I am an ordinary ace after all!”
A scowl graces on Atsumu’s features which causes the other occupants in the room to chuckle in amusement. It wasn’t as if Atsumu didn’t like the idea of his sons becoming close to his teammates, but lately, it was getting harder for the setter to share. “Get your own children!”
“Ah, about that...” Bokuto trails off with a nervous chuckle which causes everyone to fall silent and look at him in curiosity, “I actually will be getting my own child soon, I think.”
“You think?” you ask with an arched brow, “You can’t just think you’re having a child, Bokuto-san.”
Atsumu interjects, “And aren’t you in love with that best friend of yours? What happened to never being with anyone else but her?”
He waves his hand in the air dismissively with a frown etched on his lips, “Well, I can’t exactly be with her when she just got married.”
“You are so getting your ear torn off by the management when this news gets out,” Atsumu snickers, which he earns a smack to his shoulder from you. “Ow!”
You narrow your gaze at your boyfriend, completely unamused with his behavior. “Don't be dramatic, I didn't hit you that hard!" Letting out a huff as you wipe your hands on the apron you were wearing, "You aren’t helping Bokuto, ‘Tsumu.”
His lips curl up to a cheeky grin at the sight of your expression. He leans forward to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, your cheeks growing warm from the public display of affection. His heart swells from your reaction to his gesture, murmuring teasingly, “Sorry, darling.”
“Please, don’t make me barf.” Osamu interrupts with his features scrunched up in distaste from the interaction between you and his brother.
Atsumu sticks his tongue out at his brother who returns the gesture with a shake of his head. His arm snakes around your waist to pull you closer to his side as he returns his attention over to his teammate, “Well, is the woman making you marry her?”
“Making you pay for child support?” Osamu quickly adds.
Atsumu quips with a chuckle, “Threatening to expose your sins?”
You interrupt the two with a glare towards them, “Stop ganging up on him!”
Bokuto lets out a laugh as he begins helping your mother set up the desserts onto one of the trays to bring outside to the guests, “Nothing like that, she’s pretty chill and we’ve gotten pretty close lately. So we’re going to co-parent.”
“That’s very mature of you, Bokuto-kun.” your mother compliments him with a smile before patting his back.
He feels his cheeks grow warm from the compliment, his heart swelling with pride. “Thank you.”
“Maybe you’ll end up falling for her anyway,” Osamu teases with a smirk playing on his lips, leaning against one of the kitchen counters.
He shakes his head at the idea as his brows knit together, “Jess and I won’t fall in love.”
“Jess?” Atsumu blinks at the familiar name before his eyes widens at the realization, releasing his grip from your waist, “Jess, that journalist that you showed around town when she first visited Japan?”
Bokuto nods with a smile gracing his features, “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”
“Maybe you’ll learn to love her in your own way through your child,” you suggest with a shrug of your shoulders as you began untying the apron you were wearing upon realizing what time it was.
Atsumu shakes his head and responds before Bokuto could utter a single word, “No, no. That’s impossible. Bo-kun’s heart belongs to his best friend.”
“Stop teasing him,” you scold your boyfriend with a shake of your head, handing over the apron you successfully took off, “make yourself useful and help out here in the kitchen,"
"Bu—"
Cutting him off with a stern glare as you lift a tray from one of the kitchen counters and handing it over to Bokuto, a small smile gracing your lips, "Don't mind him, Bo. Can you bring these to the backyard and help out if anyone else needs help? I think Reiji needs a hand setting up the bouncy castle,"
Retrieving the tray from your hands, his eyes lighting up from the excitement, "bouncy castle, you say?"
"That's for the kids, Bo-kun." Atsumu scoffs but soon lets his lips form into a pout when he had been ignored, turning his attention over to you once Bokuto slips out of the kitchen, "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to check on the boys to see if they're ready for their big entrance," you muse with an amused grin. Of course, you knew what your sons had prepared for the big entrance that they insisted. Atsumu had pestered both you and the young twins since he had heard of their plan but as your sons refused to budge, you had feigned clueless, claiming that your sons had opted it to be a surprise.
Little did Atsumu know that you had helped your sons pull off such an idea.
"I don't get why they have to have a big entrance," he sighs, brows furrowing as he racks through his thoughts on what the surprise could be. It didn't help that he was both curious and excited at what his sons might pull off.
Osamu lets out a snort, rolling his eyes at his twin brother as a smirk curls upon his lips, "What do you mean? They're your kids."
"What does that even mean?" Atsumu scowls as he slips on the apron you had handed over, walking over to where your mother was situated to take over what you were doing.
You shake your head at the two bickering older twins and shoot a look of sympathy towards your mother that was going to be left with them in the kitchen before she waves you off. Your heart was swelling from happiness at how natural everything felt, despite the silly banter thrown around. It was home.
As you step into your childhood living room, you're hit with a nostalgic wave from the memories surrounding the whole area. Though it may be a mixture of good and bad memories, since you had come to terms that you were no longer running away from your past, you only feel comfort.
You made your way through your childhood home over to the bedroom that had been renovated to the liking of your twin boys.
The mere thought of your boys growing to love the place where you had grown up yourself was enough to bring a smile to your face. You press your knuckles against the wooden door to signal your presence by knocking on it repeatedly, “Are you two ready?” you ask, your voice probably muffled on the other side. Your fingers wrap around the handle of the door and as you were about to twist and push it open, the door instantly snaps back shut with a loud thud. “Can’t-”
“No, mommy!” Atsuhiko screeched causing you to blink from both the surprised force and tone.
Pressing your palms and ear against the door to hear what the commotion was all about, you frown upon hearing only their shuffling feet, “What are you two doing? Guests have arrived and your party will be starting soon,”
“We’re almost ready, mommy!” Atsuhiro assures you from the other side.
A chuckle escapes your lips at their antics as you decide to not interfere any further, “Alright you two, just be sure to be out in a few. You don’t want your daddy to come fetch you. It’ll ruin the surprise.”
“Okay mommy!” you heard Atsuhiko yell out, their excited muffled voices purely obvious from the other side that you couldn’t help but smile.
On the other hand, back in the kitchen, the father of your twins was having his own little dilemma back in the kitchen. It wasn’t as if he was uncomfortable being around your mother, but it was more like he felt he was still lacking.
Despite him knowing that your mother and you hadn’t had the greatest relationship when your father passed away, he still wanted to be someone your mother would approve of. He didn’t know whether your mother knew the whole story of the relationship between the two of you but being away from you and your sons during most of their childhood was enough to make him worry. The mere idea of his sons looking up to him sent his heart soaring, but of course, he also wanted your mother to feel secure enough for him to be together with you and the twins.
“I’ll bring out these sliced up fruits outside,” Osamu cuts the clear tension surrounding the kitchen. Atsumu resists the urge to glare at his twin for leaving him behind with your mother, knowing full well that his brother knows his current insecurities. A small smirk graces Osamu’s features but not the obvious one that would make your mother notice.
Atsumu watches his twin slip out of the kitchen with a tray full of food for the guests before flickering his gaze over to your mother situated at the other side of the room, making final touches to the cupcakes. “Is there anything else that I can do?”
Without looking up, a smile etches on your mother’s face. “No, it’s fine. We’re just about done with everything.”
“It looks good,” he states with a nod of his head, not really knowing what to say.
Placing the piping bag to the side, your mother lifts her head up to look towards the direction of Atsumu and wipes her hands on the apron she’s currently wearing, “You know you can always start calling me mom.”
The mere sentence made Atsumu want to leap in excitement, but at the same time he was nervous, a sudden fear of messing things up engulfing him. “I don’t want to overste-”
“Oh please,” your mother waves her hand in the air with a light chuckle, “I’ve known you since you were eight. We’re practically family. So you might as well call me mom.”
Atsumu couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth tug up to a wide smile, “Alright, mom.”
“I’m really happy that the two of you decided to work things out,” your mother spoke with a smile as she delicately places the cupcakes on the cupcake stand.”
His feet shuffled across the room to help your mother stack the cupcakes onto the stand, “We had to for the kids anyway.”
Your mother hums in thought for a second before responding, “I think the kids were just the push the two of you needed. If anything, I’ve always thought the two of you would always end up together since the two of you always leaned on each other for anything.”
He nods his head slowly, leaning against the counter as he feels his heart swell with happiness. “I guess you’re right, mom. I did lean on her majority of the time when we were growing up. I guess I still am now. I just wish I could make her happy.”
“Don’t worry, you do. Before she left Hyogo, I know for a fact that she was miserable in this house after her dad had passed. You were the only one giving her a reason to move forward,” your mother spoke, sadness dripping from her voice.
A sigh escapes Atsumu’s lips as his features scrunch up to something that resembles pain. “I was also the reason why she left. I may be even the biggest reason why she left.”
Your mother extends an arm out and places a hand on Atsumu’s arm, trying her best to give assurance and comfort, “You weren’t the only reason behind that. I don’t know if she’s told you, but I had neglected her. I’m not proud of it and apologies are probably never enough for forgiveness. I was barely a mother when my husband had passed. I was almost an empty shell and instead of being a moth-”
“Mom,” Atsumu cuts her off and grabs hold of her hand in his own, “Don’t blame yourself. She loves you very much. It’s all in the past. We’ll be able to move forward, we already are.”
The two were interrupted with Osamu’s arrival, knocking by the kitchen’s door frame to announce his return. A smile etched on his lips at the scene before him, “Hey, Y/N wants everyone in the living room. Apparently the boys are ready to make their big entrance.”
Your mother excuses herself as soon as she removes the apron tied around her, excitement clearly evident in her features. Atsumu knew it well, despite the relationship that you had been slowly rebuilding with your mother, she was just as excited as him to have the twins into her life. She has equally doted on, if not more, on the twins ever since and well, Atsumu wouldn’t have it any other way.
Atsumu knew for a fact that you adored the time you’ve been sharing with your mother. As long as you were happy, nothing else mattered.
Osamu gives him a pat on the back, arching a brow in curiosity as they make their way out of the kitchen, “Everything alright?”
Atsumu gives him a nod, giving him the largest grin that he could muster. “Yeah, definitely.”
“You look disgusting,” Osamu jokes, pretending to shudder which causes Atsumu to give him a shove as they step into the living room where most of the guests have already gathered.
“Hey ‘tsumu!” Bokuto calls out from next to you as soon as Atsumu comes into view. “Hurry up! I’m excited to see Hiko in my jersey!”
Atsumu rolls his eyes as he approaches, grumbling to himself. As soon as he reaches your side, he places a quick kiss to your temple before snaking an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Yeah, yeah. You have to stop rubbing it in. We get it.”
You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape your lips as you lean yourself into Atsumu’s warmth, “Oh come on now you two, focus on the big entrance will you?”
Bokuto just snickers from the side while Atsumu sends him a glare. If you were to describe the two of them, they were practically acting like petty children but you know those two will eventually switch attitudes as soon as your twins step out to make their entrance.
You flicker your gaze over to Osamu who was situated a few steps ahead from your little group, trying his best to act natural with his phone up. The two of you had discussed prior to the party that he would be the one to film the whole thing going on. Your little boys had practically begged their uncle to film their big entrance but mostly, what you hoped Osamu to capture was Atsumu’s reaction.
A part of you expects that he would be a grinning mess at the sight of his kids but also, you’re also hoping he’d be speechless from all the teasing his kids put him through of having to wear someone else’s jersey.
“What’s taking them so long?” Atsumu asks, tilting his head slightly hoping to meet your eyes as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt.
As you were about to answer him, the familiar voices of your two boys echo throughout the room from the top of the stairs. You didn’t even have to look to know about their surprise since you know very well of what they had planned. Well, obviously, you had helped them out with picking up the jerseys that they were going to wear.
However, you had wanted to capture Atsumu’s reaction to your boys with your own two eyes instead of just watching it from a video. And honestly speaking, you didn’t think you’d fall in love with this man any more than you already do but here you are.
Just the mere sight of his features scrunching up to a look of awe was enough for your heart to swell. It looked as if he was close to tears as watches the twins descend the stairs with the prodest smiles they could muster.
You pry yourself away from his side as soon as the twins approach Atsumu, knowing full well what was going to happen as they had practiced what they were going to say. Flickering your gaze over to Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro, seeing them in Atsumu’s high school volleyball jersey made your own eyes water despite the fact that you were the ones who had gotten them the uniform a week ago.
“Wh-What are you guys wearing?” Atsumu almost chokes out his words, “What happened to the jerseys that we bought that you said you were going to wear?”
Atsuhiko throws his arms out in the air, smiling widely. “We changed daddy!”
“We wanna wear your jersey daddy,” Atushiro nods his head enthusiastically, lifting his hand up to grip onto Atsumu’s shirt.
Atsuhiko wraps his arms around Atsumu’s waist, “‘cause you’re our favorite volleyball player daddy!”
The scene itself was enough for everyone to watch in awe, a few of the guests that were invited had their own phones up to capture the moment with smiles on their faces, the others were almost practically in tears themselves, and well there was also Bokuto by the side with his pouty self at the realization that neither of his nephews were wearing his jersey like he thought they would. Atsumu on the other hand, had eventually dropped down to his knees and wrapped his arms around his two boys, burying his face in between them as he let out his own tears stream down his face from the overwhelming joy that coursed through him.
Yes, this is your family.
This is your home.
You stare out the window from the kitchen of your childhood home, a smile on your face at the beautiful afternoon of your backyard full with people you adore and have missed so much.
The party was still in full swing despite the sun about to set, the laughter from the guests and a few children present rang in the air. Happiness had engulfed your heart and honestly, you had trouble believing it yourself but here you were.
You wouldn’t trade this for anything.
An arm snakes around your waist from behind and you would have been startled if you hadn’t felt Atsumu’s presence a minute ago. Despite not having seen each other in years, everything about him was still familiar. Sure, there were a few things about him that you didn’t know but that didn’t mean that he still wasn’t your Atsumu that you’ve grown to love.
“Thank you,” he whispers as he nuzzles his nose into your hair, a smile playing on his lips.
You place your hands atop of his and lean yourself back into his warmth, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you thanking me for?”
“For everything,” he lets out a sigh, causing a shiver to run down your spine from the heat radiating from his breath close to your ear, “For giving me two amazing boys and for existing yourself.”
Pivoting your body around so that you were facing Atsumu, your hands settling on his chest as you look up at him with your lips curling up to an assuring smile, “Thank you.”
“And what for?” Atsumu questions, matching your own smile with his own as his hands cup your face. He lowers his head slowly, nudging your nose with his own as the pads of his thumbs brush delicately against your skin.
Heat spreads across your cheeks at his gestures, feeling shy yourself but despite that, the majority of what you felt was only comfort in being in his arms. “For loving me as much as I love you.”
He hums in response, placing a quick kiss to your lips. “No, I probably do love you more. More than you can imagine.”
Before you could respond, he places his lips back firmly on yours and your eyelids flutter shut as if on instinct. The hands of yours that were resting on his chest eventually found their way around his torso to pull him close. Tilting your head to the side, the kiss itself deepens as he runs his fingers through your hair.
It just felt so natural being with him.
Before the kiss could grow more heated however, a loud yell from outside had interrupted the both of you causing you to pull away much to both of your dismay. Your heads turn towards the direction of the commotion, the bouncy castle coming into view.
Or rather, the depleting bouncy castle with Bokuto and Hinata coming out hastily in laughter.
You shake your head at the scene, a bubble of laughter leaving your lips before turning your head back over to look at the man before you. Just when you had decided to pull back and return to your duties of being a mother, he wraps his arms back around your waist to pull you back against him. Another laugh escapes your lips as you playfully slap his chest, “What now? We have a party going on, we have to entertain our gue-”
“Move in with me,” he interrupts, his features showing nothing but seriousness.
You meet his sincere gaze with your own and your heart makes a leap out of joy. There was only one answer you could possibly give.
“Yes.”
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