#not my fault that my heart is so fucking big and it has separate places to store everyone i adore 💖
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what if u get a scratch and vampire ellie smells u from a mile away and she’s so desperate to have your blood that she lures you into her house and begs you for just a little taste. she whines and apologizes over and over again for being so needy while drinking your blood.
no smut. but suggestive! doc version included
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ oohhhh.. literally loser!vampire!ellie. the layout would be reader who's ultimate best friends with her; long time childhood friends potentially? and, let's also exercise the chance that ellie was fortunate enough to keep her vampirism veiled from your knowledge all this time. (if edward cullen could, she can too.) so, on one superficially mundane day near the woods where you happen to break skin by means i will leave up to individual imagination, ellie just so happens to be a mile away - returning home after a hunt proved to be in vain (girl had to feed bad but was way too delirious to concentrate.) - so, what transpires when she picks up the familiar scent of her beloved friends blood, an aroma commonly encountered, but always ignored despite her bloodstained appetite? yield.
"hey, my cars' just by the curb there. can give you a ride back to my place, patch that scratch up. 'ts not a big deal."
strange for her to utter that - it's not a big deal, when your puny little scratch is incapable of even irritating you that bad, but ellie insists, softly. what she omitted, is exactly what will happen between plopping on her bed and actually plastering a band-aid on that scratch. blood was drawn, crimson had dripped, and nothing goes off without a hitch when a voracious vamp meets the nectar of life, nothing. "you don't have to look— just, let me, please? again, i'm so sorry for asking." her voice withered and apologetic, a breathy and sedated mess with her fingers twiddling and twining with yours, sat adjacent to you just looking so so guilty for even bringing the topic up; vex with herself that she couldn't ignore it, like all the other past instances. "ellie, i— ugh, okay. if it's only a little.." and— that reply of sanction should excite her, god forbid she doesn't have the biggest crush on you, and now she's doing this thing viewed as intimate by some of her peers? but she can't help but feel.. sorrowfully faulted at first.
she drags her lips over the nub of your wrist before she separates them and bares her pretty teeth, poking your skin in little dints. vampiric foreplay. "you do this with every girl?" and you say it earnestly, yet with a light heart. no ill will bending in your tone nor intention. yet vulnerability casts a pall over ellie right now, taking blood from the one she can't keep her damn desires off, "i don't— i don't, no, fuck.. never, you're the only one so far." she mumbles, withdrawing her teeth a moment to spew that recital of apologies "so fuckin' sorry, please don't watch me. i just need.. just need—" she's literally so ashamed of her vehement needs for your taste, she can't even complete her sentences, unsheathing her teeth once more and burying them into the flesh by your wrist bone, grunting simultaneously with your pretty little wince.
although it is strange— on the edge of daunting, you managed to muster a fondness for it after a minute or so; the adrenaline rush at first bite, the excess of blood smearing her pale rose lips in a blotchy pattern, sometimes trickling the rise of her chin, those cursedly cute noises she makes during the feed, the fumble of her fingers trying to pull your arm deeper into her mouth like your wrist alone wasn't suitable of quenching, suspending her sucks with a spluttered or breathless, "damn it, sorry, just a little longer." whispered unto the delicate massacre painting your lower forearm— you love it. too much, you love her sudden jump in energy, pinning you on the mattress with her whole body and lodging her knee between your thighs, all while pleasuring you with pain, you fucking adore it. she has to know.
"take all you need, ellie. i don't mind, you can have me all you want, hmm?"
who knows where her mouth ended up next.
MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . BIG TEXT VER
ignore why i wrote sm i did not plan to yap this much apologies if its rushed i am quite tired.
#ellie williams#⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks#vampire!ellie#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie tlou#lesbian#sapphic#ellie x reader#ellie williams x fem!reader#ellie williams fic#tlou fanfiction#ellie williams blurb#ellie williams concept#tlou ellie#ellie williams x fem reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n
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Thinkin bout that sure, strong Steve with the baseball bat rn.
What if reader had a scary encounter on her way home and big strong Steve came to the rescue 👀
I changed this around a bit. I hope that ok. Stevie is still being protective with his bat though <3.
Watch A Few Movies, Take A Few Notes
Warnings: Reader gets hurt and Steve saves the day; they are shooting a Scream-esc scene so there's that
Word Count: 1965
Followup to this request
“C-Carter?”, you squeak as you step out of the bedroom and look down the hallway. Everything in the house is silent. “Carter!”
“Nina?”, James asks groggily before seeing your worried face and throwing off the blanket to come check on you. “What’s wrong?”
“Carter heard a noise and went to check it out. H-H-He hasn’t come back, James.”
As you cry he wraps his arms around you and holds you to his chest.
“Fucking idiot. Always has to play hero. You were right you know? Sometimes that man leads dick first before using his fucking brain.”
You stiffen in his hold before taking a step back as your wide eyes meet his.
“What?”
“I never told you that. I said it to Rose when we were hanging out before she…”
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy exhale.
“Fuck. I was really hoping you’d be the one to make it through this.”
As the metalhead lunges forward, you hastily slide out of his way and run down the stairs as fast as your feet can carry you.
“Carter! Carter, please! Where are you!?”
Your back hit something hard and you abruptly turned coming face to face with the clown mask that had been haunting your nightmares. You screamed trying to run but barreled straight into James’s chest as his arms trapped you tightly to him holding you in place.
“Where are you going, sweetheart? The fun’s just beginning.”
Tears run down your face as the man in front of you removes his mask and you heart breaks as Carter’s angry, manic eyes find your own.
“Cut! Good job, guys.”, the director compliments as Eddie releases his hold around you and you watch as Steve’s eyes immediately soften to the regular kindness you’re used to seeing within them. “Why don’t you guys take a break and we’ll come back in twenty after we have everything set up.”
Both boys nod as they walk ahead of you towards the catering cart as you trail behind. Since your evening with them they hadn’t really interacted with you outside of set and you knew that was your fault. They had invited you over a few times since, asked you to dinner, and asked you on so many different dates but each time you declined. Truth of the matter was you were scared. You liked them very much, wanting to spend more time with them off set and outside of the bedroom but this was new territory for you.
“I miss you guys.”, you mumble as you fiddle with some of the snacks in front of you.
“Hm. Not very much since you either don’t return our calls or tell us you’re busy when we invite you somewhere.”, Steve sighs as his eyes remain downcast.
“And your still with Captain Asshole.”, Eddie adds with a tone filled with disgust.
“He’s my boyfriend—”
“Didn’t seem to bother you when you came over, princess.”
Finally turning to face you, Steve tosses what he grabbed back onto the table.
“Look, if you wanted what happened to be a onetime thing, that’s fine. We’re big boys, Y/N, we can handle that. That’s all most women want from us anyway; together or separate.”
“Steve…”
“But you just disappearing and ignoring us like you did. Now WE feel like the disgusting whores.”
“Steve, Eddie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…I just…I’m so confused and…”
Nodding, he cut you off by walking away from you as his friend followed.
****
20min Later
“Y/N, are you alright?”, the director asks as you fly onto the set with tears in your eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just ready to do these scenes.”
“Babe—”
“I’M FINE, ALEX! L-Let’s just do this, ok.”
Both men’s stares penetrate your body as you place yourself in front of Eddie who wraps his arms lightly around you.
“Are you ok? You’re shaking.”, the metalhead asks with genuine concern.
“Yeah because two serial killers are about to threaten me. I’m in the right headspace. Just do your fucking jobs and scare the hell out of me.”
“Did something happen, honey?”
“Oh, I’m honey again, Steven? I thought I was the bitch that used you and made you feel like a whore.”
Even though only they could hear you, everyone on set could feel the intense energy radiating from the three of you as you glared at the man in front of you.
“A-Action.”
Amber hues search your face as his lips form into a thin line before a creepy smile spread across his face.
“Surprised, Nina? I thought we’d be married with six kids before you finally figured it out. James is more of a pessimist than I am. He thought you never would.”, Carter laughed, tossing the mask to the side.
“W-Why?”
“Why?”, he mocks making you angry. Reaching for your jaw, you glare up at him as he tilts your face till your almost nose to nose. “Control that attitude, little girl.”
Moving his fingers to your hair, he yanks you further into the living room and pushes you against the wall making you wince.
“I’ve been your best friend for years, Nina. I loved you since the moment I saw you.” You jumped as he slammed his hand into the space beside your head.
“That hard, Harrington? He’s trying to control himself from not just pounding into you. Your little pussy is driving him crazy.”
Your eye lids flutter as you shrink under his stare.
“But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough right? JESUS! I would have worshipped the fucking ground you walked on! All of this, Nina, is your fault! It took us killing all your friends and that stupid fucking asshole from the diner who tried to take what was MINE! YOU’RE MINE!”
“I’m sorry…”
James came up to your other side and rest his forearm inches from your head.
“I bet you are. Bet now you’d do anything for him, huh? Pfft, I told you just let her go, Carter. We can scare up something better especially once we’re famous, dude.”
“James, why did YOU do this? You were my friend! One of my closest!”
“Really? One of your closest? FUCK. OFF!”, he growled in your ear. “I was just someone for you and your friends to laugh at. Carter here is my only true friend. He knows what I’ve been through. You could have been a part of that! But no…all that matters is image right?”
“No! No, I swear. I don’t care about that! You two mean the world to me!” His palm against your chest pushes you back against the wall. “There is some part of you both that understands! James, I never laughed at you. I laughed with you. You’re so funny and I love talking to you about music and-and I don’t know fucking everything! And Carter, you’re so sweet and protective. I always cared about you! I didn’t want to lose you!”
“You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart, and you’re definitely not a whore. You’re special. You deserve so much better.”
Carter’s eyes blink back frustrated tears as his hand reaches out to caress your face.
You wince and they notice. Steve’s fingers extended out to take a look but you bobbed your head out of his reach. Eddie gripped your jaw as both men stood up straighter and the other boy licked his thumb before trying to wipe the makeup from your cheek.
“Gentlemen? What’s going on?”, the director called.
Along your cheek bone, a bruise was starting to form slightly above the redness that circled it. Their eyes softened as they let you go but remained huddled around you.
“I told him I wanted to break up…”
That was all you needed to say before their faces hardened and Steve turned silently walking past the director who kept calling his name as you and Eddie trailed after him.
***
“Steve, wait.”
He didn’t hear you; he was a man on a mission. Knocking on the dressing room door with the bat in his hand, he waited.
“I’m busy! I still have 30 minutes till I need to be fucking anywhere!”
As Steve stepped back, Eddie gripped your shoulders and pulled you to the side out of the way. You jumped when his shoe connected with the door and it flew open.
“What the fuck?!”, Ryan shouted as he got to his feet.
“That’s a good question. What the fuck? What the fuck kind of asshole hits his girlfriend?”
“Ex, Harrington.”
“Oh, my fault. That’s right, Eddie, thank you.”
“Fuck you both. That bitch wants to leave, she can!”
Steve swings the bat into the mirror inches from Ryan causing it to shatter as your ex jumps back.
“Call her a name again.”
“L-Look, what do you guys want?”, he stutters. “You want her? Fuck, you can have her. I-I-I don’t care. Money? Drugs?”
“We had her already, Ryan, and we’d like to stay with her if she’ll have us.” Your ex’s eyes widen as he glances your way. “Oh, she didn’t tell you?”
“She said she loved someone else. She didn’t say who.”, he growled. “Or how many, you fucking whore.”
The bat in Steve’s hand hits a framed poster behind the man as he swings again. Eddie leans forward and grabs his collar shoving the man against the wall.
“What we want, Ryan, is an apology.”
“Fuck you.”
He cowers as the bat comes within inches of his face into the wall beside him making him scream.
“Not for us, you idiot. Y/N.”, Eddie sighed in frustration as he rolled his eyes.
Ryan’s own eyes glance towards you but when he doesn’t say anything the metalhead slaps him hard.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N! God damn it!”
“Sorry for what?”, Steve encourages.
“For hitting you.”
He grunts as ringed fingers slap him again.
“Louder!”
“I’m sorry for slapping the shit out of you, Y/N! I’m so fucking sorry!”
Steve steps towards him placing the bat against his chest.
“If you come near her again…this bat won’t just be breaking your furniture. Do you understand me?”
Ryan nods as both boys grin, Steve reaching for your hand and heading out the door as Eddie follows.
***
Eddie plopped down beside you on their couch making you flinch when he placed the icepack on your face.
“Oh, you’re fine.”, he teases.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Take care of wounds on your face? Well shit, baby, I mastered in it. It’s really easy, you just—”
“No, you dork.”, you giggle. “I’ve never… been in a shared relationship but…I want to be. I want to be with you two. I—”
“He said you said you loved someone else. Is that true? Do you love us?”, Steve cut you off, smirking when you nod. “Good because we love you to.”
Raising your eyebrows, you glance towards Eddie whose smile widens.
“I’m sorry I made you guys feel the way you felt. I didn’t mean to but I swear when I came over here it wasn’t to use you to feel better or for it to be a one-time thing. I’ve always felt safe with you both.”
“Mmmhmm. Is that why you got all hot and bothered during our scene today?”
Your jaw drops in faux shock and the metalhead mimics your reaction mockingly.
“I was not!”
“Suuuuure. Come on, honey. That’s the best part about shooting scenes like that. Playing the role of someone you’re not in a situation that you would never be in…”
“But if you were, you’d rather it be with someone you trust who has your best interest in mind.”, Eddie adds as they both grin wickedly your way.
“What do you think, honey? Wanna do that scene again but with a spin?”
#steddie#eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington#joseph quinn#fan fiction#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#joe keery#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fluff#steddie x y/n#eddie fanfic#steddie ask#eddie munson angst#steddie fluff#steddie smut#steddie fanfiction#steddie fic#steve and eddie#actor!Steve harrington#rockstar!eddie munson#actress reader#request#steve x eddie#steddie x reader#steddie x you
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Hello! I love you work and was wondering if you could make hc for the ninja with an S/O who cooks them luches/snacks/food packets, if they are going on a mission, Bc they don't want the them going hungry?
Ty sooo much <3
I love you so.
This request is actually adorable </3 I LOVE STUPID FLUFFY DOMESTIC STUFF!!!!!
title creds: The Walters, I love you so
Summary: While the ninja are away, they miss you more than anything. How would they react if they found you were taking care of them from across Ninjago?
Lloyd Garmadon, Nya Smith, Kai Smith, Cole Brookstone, Jay Walker, Zane Julien (separate) x gn!reader
Lloyd:
Lloyd was heartbroken to leave for the mission in the first place. Poor baby has attachment and abandonment issues, so he hates to leave. So, when he finds your care package it really brightens his mood for the rest of the mission.
Someone, probably Kai, makes a comment in passing about how Lloyd didn't leave anything for you. Lloyd instantly feels worse, but he gets over it. He knows you, and he knows that you wouldn't be angry.
If the mission is going to last a while longer, he will send you a letter. It contains how much he misses you, a very large thank you, and ramblings about how cool he was in his most recent fight. Extremely unorganized, but cute nonetheless.
When he feels lonely without you near him, he re-reads the little note you sent him, 'Hi, honey! I hope you like everything I packed, I tried to pick your favorites. I miss you so much, LOVE YOU!' It makes him feel a little less far.
When he gets back, he is going to be ALL over you. He went so without cuddles, and you even took care of him from across Ninjago!! He is so thankful for you. <3
Nya:
Outwardly, Nya doesn't seem to be affected by having to leave, she most definitely is, though. Nya doesn't want emotions to cloud her view, so she just pushes them down.
When she's alone, she finally allows herself to miss you. Doing so, she looks for the picture of you two she always carries, and happens to find the little package hidden in her luggage.
Nya goes red as soon as she realizes that you knew, you knew that she was horribly sad to leave you. You can read her like a book, and she hates it.
She takes her time to enjoy everything you packed for her when she gets down-time. She is so grateful to you for looking out for her even if you aren't there physically.
Once she gets back, she will be more affectionate in private. It's how she's able to show her feelings without embarrassing herself. She isn't good at verbalizing feelings. (I feel like Nya shows affection like a cat, she comes to you.)
Kai:
Some little mission? Nothing the fire ninja can't handle! Kai is so confident, almost to a fault, so he acts like nothing bothers him. When, in actuality, a lot of things easily get under his skin. Leaving you, especially.
Kai is very emotional when he finds the little package, he will even start to brag to the other ninja about how amazing you are, how you're all his, the ninja start to get annoyed with him lmao.
Kai being dramatic aside, the smallest most unnoticeable things you do make his heart melt every time. He thinks he's all big a nd tough, but you just make him so soft.
Kai will lay in his cot, and think about you at night. <3 He'll hold his pillow and pretend it's you to finally be able to sleep. Poor baby wishes you were here to take care of him and dote like you always do.
But seriously, he falls even more in love with you, if that's even possible. Kai is rough and fiery, much like his element, the sweet things you do always seem to brighten his flame tenfold. He is always willing to complete a mission if it means he can see you afterwards.
Cole:
Cole probably didn't notice till like the last day- In his defense, the mission did take most of his time, and the only free time he had was spent training. When he does find it, he's like, "Who the fuck put smashed cake in my clothes????? >:( I'm still going to eat it!!"
When he does notice, he is so happy, especially because you packed him a slice of cake, SCORE! He'll even eat it out of his clothes, he's cute, not clean...
He is genuinely so touched that you would bake/buy a cake and send him some for the mission. <3 The way to his heart is through his stomach, that's for sure.
Next time, he will check first thing if you sent him any goodies. He's like a kid on Christmas. The other ninja see him rip all his clothes out of his suitcase as soon as they get to their destination and are like, wtf??
Because he found it closer to the end of the mission, it will be fresh on his mind, so he will be sure to give you a big thank you in person. He will be yours for like the next two days, all over you.
Jay:
It would probably be so hard to sneak something in Jay's stuff. He definitely checks that he has everything over and over again. It's like five minutes before the ninja need to leave and he's re-packing his underwear lmao.
If you somehow are able to hide a care package in his stuff, he'll find it almost immediately, it's like he's got a nose for it I swear-
It makes him really happy though, his mom used to pack him little things when either of them would be away, so it's like a sweet little burst of nostalgia, he cries.
He rants to Cole about how amazing you are, Bestie Things™, Cole is lowkey so thankful Jay has you to look out for him, it makes Cole happy too. :)
When they get back, Jay will tackle you in a hug, he is so mushy and sentimental all of the sudden you think something happened. He has to explain, no, nothing happened he just loves you and wants you to know it. <3
Zane:
Zane is a robot, so it's a bit hard to choose what to send him. Like what does he eat??? Batteries?? You genuinely do not know what he can eat, if anything. So you send him some nice double A batteries and oil, yummy, right?
He leaves something for you too, he's like a 5-star chef, so he cooks all your favorites before he goes, sweet boy wants you well fed and happy!
When he finds everything, he is a tad confused. He eventually realizes that you just want him taken care of however that may be for a robot.
There are times that he wishes he was human like you, there will be a point when you pass away and he will be alone. So seeing you try to take care of him, albeit in a strange-ish manner, he forgets about his past worries.
Even if he can't enjoy what you sent, it's the thought that counts. Zane was made to protect those who cannot protect themselves, so having you doing your best to help from the sidelines motivates him to do his best.
I am sosososoos sorry this took so long. I'm actually sick rn, but I'm starting to get better!! I hope this isn't bad- I guess my writing gets worse when I'm sick lmao. Thank you for waiting though!!! <3
#lloyd x reader#ninjago x reader#ninjago#lloyd garmadon#ninjago lloyd#nya x reader#ninjago nya#nya smith#kai x reader#kai smith#ninjago kai#lloyd garmadon x reader#nya smith x reader#kai smith x reader#ninjago cole#ninjago jay#ninjago zane#cole x reader#cole brookstone#cole brookstone x reader#jay x reader#jay walker#jay walker x reader#zane x reader#zane julien#zane julien x reader
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thinking Extremely Hard about a Mamma Mia!-stuck au like:
- Dave originally being a director and having essentially raised Dirk but without the water apocalypse his midlife crisis hits Hard, so he gives away most of the money, buys an island, and creates a lil resort on it, which that’s cool!! He can handle it!!! But now the remainder of the money is in Dirk’s college fund so okay, he’s fallen on some financial straits, but he can still keep the place up and running.
- Dirk helps out and gets them online but eventually comes the day where he meets Jake and then after that comes the day when they decide to sail the world together. Dirk’s ready to go whenever except Dave would be left with the resort all on his lonesome. And Dave is visibly buckling under the stress.
- So Dirk’s trying to figure out how to get this asshole some help when he stumbles on The Notebook.
- The Notebook is actually a Journal which is actually a Diary, Dave’s old diary, and there’s some illicit details in there that Dirk wishes he could scrub from his memory forever, but it proves useful because it mentions that years and years ago, he brought three separate love interests to the island before they all ran off and broke his fuckin’ heart. And now Dirk’s got the gears turning in his brain.
- So Dirk goes to Jake and says hey. I want a wedding. Let’s get married. and Jake’s like ???? okay ?????? what brought this on and Dirk’s like Do I need a reason to have a wedding.
- And Dirk of course is sending letters to the three love interests, posing as Dave, to invite them to Dirk’s wedding. Best case scenario, one of the assholes reconnects with his brother and he won’t be so lonely. Even better case scenario, Dirk can guilt trip the FUCK out of all three of them for breaking his brother’s heart and get Money off of it to give to Dave
- So who are the love interests? Glad you asked!
- You have June, once a childhood friend now estranged, and now also a famous comedian- she might have talked to Dave once or twice after everything, but once Dave fucked off the map, there were no more opportunities to even try to bring up what’d happened between them
- You have Karkat, once someone he fell into a relationship hard and fast, now a famous romance novelist and screenwriter. Is he still an alien? Fuck if I know, but the point is, their break up was messy enough that Dave never contacted him again, and Karkat’s got a shit ton of regrets
- Now my gut reaction for number 3 is Jade, but I’m not entirely sure, since I’m not sure how her relation to Jake is in this yet hbkj. Likely a famous scientist and adventurer at this point.
- If not Jade we could probs do Terezi in that slot? Or else pare it down to just the two love interests lol anyway not important rn
- Point is, once they get there, Dirk is doing double time trying to keep Dave from finding out that Dirk’s the one who invited the love interests, pretending to be excited for a wedding he’s only staging to parent trap his bro, trying to keep Jake from knowing that he’s only staging this to parent trap his bro because he’s afraid Jake will believe the relationship was Only there so Dirk could use their relationship as an excuse even though he still loves Jake, and not-so-subtly implying that Dave’s stress is all these chucklefucks’ fault, so like. Pay up.
- Meanwhile Dave has no knowledge of what the fuck’s happening and has just learned that Dirk wants to have a wedding, actually, which while coming out of left field Dave’s actually pretty excited for. As far as Dave’s concerned, he’ll never have a big white wedding of his own, so it’s probably fine to live vicariously through his lil bro right? Just a little? Meaning he’s gotta get this shit on Lockdown
- and, predictably, Shenanigans Ensue.
- and I have no idea who Dave ends up with.
#homestuck#dave strider#dirk strider#dirkjake#davekat#davejune#davejade#daverezi Maybe#dirk falls into the sophie slot a little too Well gvjhbkj#it's the Scheming mostly
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by wand or by knife
rated m (for a v short fade to black moment), <1k
[honestly idk i had this idea and i'm in the trenches due to a long fic that doesn't seem to want to end and this just happened! it's probably pure nonsense]
SIMON
When Baz asked me not to make any plans for today, I didn’t question it. There’s always something going on. A family dinner to celebrate a holiday I never even heard of, drinks with friends I forgot existed that he somehow keeps in touch with, sporting events I am pretty sure are made up until the moment we arrive. I never question it.
Baz could ask anything of me. I don’t know how to say no to him.
I wouldn’t want to, either.
BAZ
I have been doing weird things for Simon Snow for ages now. I’ve decided that at this point it would be weirder to stop.
The idea lodged itself into my brain last week. We were wrapped around each other like we always are: curled up on the sofa together like a creature that separates into two every morning but needs to return to its natural form at night to survive.
The film was rubbish, if you ask me. Simon would probably agree. But he’s easy to ready when it comes to mushy stuff. I always notice when his eyes get all bright and big like that.
I don’t know yet if I’m a grand gesture kind of guy, but I do care a whole lot about making him happy.
SIMON
There are scones for breakfast. When I ask where he got them, he avoids the question and starts talking about research with Penny. When I ask again, he tells me not to worry about it.
That’s not a very Baz thing to say. And they’re just scones. Nothing to be suspicious about, really. Except… they taste exactly like the ones back at Watford.
I put half a dozen away easily, and wash them down with tea he keeps refilling.
It’s a good morning.
BAZ
I tried to remember what I was wearing that day, but I can’t. It was winter, then, so it’s not like it matters, really. It’s too warm for jumpers.
Simon has told me before how much he likes the green shirt, so I go with that. This is not the kind of thing one dresses up for but I don’t know how to not make an effort.
SIMON
That fucking green shirt.
“Simon, come on, I wanna get going.”
I’ll get him going all right.
He’s got the top three buttons open. The green makes his eyes pop, his skin all lovely white marble, peppered with stark black hair. I want to lick all the way from his collarbone and down his sternum. I want to pop all the buttons off on that bloody shirt.
He wouldn’t forgive me for the latter, but I think I can get him on board with the former.
“Snow, for fuck’s sake, now?”
We’re always late when he wears that shirt. It’s not my fault.
“Si— oh, bloody hell, well, don’t stop now!”
Whatever it is we’re doing, we might be late.
BAZ
He’s a bloody demon.
I have to bribe him with food to get him in the car.
SIMON
He better not be joking about getting me more scones.
BAZ
This is all a bit of a silly plan. I consider turning the car back and taking him out for lunch.
I don’t, for the sake of romance.
SIMON
He’s fidgety. The soft kind, not the nervous kind. I’ve learnt how to tell those apart. There’s definitely something fishy going on.
The music is on quietly, and the windows are down. His hair is up but little wisps of it escape the bobble, flying around his face. It makes me want to reach over and tuck it behind his ear. He fed just this morning, so it should pull a blush out of him, too. I like it when he blushes.
BAZ
“Wait, are we going to…” he trails off.
Finally. I figured he’d get it like twenty minutes ago.
SIMON
My heart is hammering against my ribcage. I check Baz’s trousers for the potential shape of a velvet box through the fabric of his pockets. Nothing, though. Not one thing. No ring.
Why else do people bring their significant others to the spot of their first kiss?
BAZ
“Come on, Snow,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
SIMON
I find the place before he does. I didn’t think I’d remember it, but I do. I remember the flames, and the way his lips felt on mine. They feel just as good now, but it’s nice to be less confused about it. And less worried he’ll incinerate himself into a pile of ash, like an idiot.
BAZ
I pull my wand out of my pocket, and then his present. I pass it to him without a word.
SIMON
“I thought you said I was not allowed near knives,” I tell him.
I had a small accident in the kitchen, a few months back. I’ve not tried any knife tricks since then. I have no clue why he’s handing me a pocket knife now.
BAZ
“Come here,” I ask him. He does. I twist him around so he’s bracketed by my body, between the tree and I. “Step forward.”
“Is this a weird vampire thing? Wait, Baz, are you finally turning me?”
“Shut up, Snow.”
He’s still laughing, but it dies down when I mutter the spell and aim at the tree.
The carving is a little wonky, but I’d never used that spell before. His mouth is open and he looks vaguely like he may cry.
He traces the shapes with his fingers when I finish.
SIMON
S+B.
Baz is a romantic fool. I love him so much it hurts.
You’re ridiculous, I want to say. But I’m too scared I’ll cry if I open my mouth.
“Your turn,” he whispers, kissing behind my ear.
BAZ
He carves the heart around the letters like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done.
Perfect, magical, incredible Simon Snow.
SIMON
“I love you,” he says.
And then he kisses me.
#fuck christ#what am i doing#truly unhinged behaviour#to just type a fic and post without even rereading?#apparently that's what i do now#snowbaz#[insert keyboard emoji here]#by wand or by knife#ficlets
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healing in 5b
this season was all about healing, and we got so many lovely arcs out of it, and especially in the finale.
the big arcs obviously, Maddie's and Eddie's: those two literally went through hell in 5a and 5b both, and they fought to heal themselves, to feel better, for their family. the finale did such an amazing job of bringing together 18 episodes of setup as it finally brought both Maddie and Eddie back to where they belong: with their families and at the dispatch/118
Eddie and Bobby/Ramon was such a fun journey to see. We went from Eddie completely blowing up at Bobby (who was trying to support him in the best way that he could) to Bobby being there for Eddie in the wake of his breakdown to Eddie using the things he learned from Bobby (and his therapist) to try and fix his relationship with his actual father. And then the scene in the finale? Well, if you can't say full circle relationship there, where can you say it? Therapy!Eddie is healthy, wealthy, and thriving, and he's doing his best to share that emotional strength as he accidentally saves Bobby from himself.
Madney as a whole have been through so much this season, but even individually, Maddie and Chim went through huge trauma and doubt. Maddie about her capability as a mother, Chim about his capabilities as a partner, and I think the choice to let them both heal and grow on their own before (HOPEFULLY) bringing them back together only makes their relationship all the stronger.
I've always felt that BuckTaylor was an unhealthy relationship. Not the couple itself, they definitely had some chemistry, and both of them were genuinely trying to make things work, but the way that they got together in the first place. Buck was so shaken(literally) in the aftermath of the shooting, and he latched onto the first person who offered him their hand. The way they broke up, well, we could have seen it coming from a mile out. Buck and Taylor unfortunately will always be on opposite sides when it comes to this kind of argument, simply because of who they are as people. They might have tried to overlook each other's faults, but neither of them could hold on. Buck and Taylor both knew that it was time to separate, and doing so was good for both of them, they way she finally left, it wasn't bitter, it wasn't a typical break-up scene, it was a mutual understanding between two people who (I hope) will be friends in the long run.
Henren had a lot of new starts and revelations too, especially in the back half of s5. We got some beautiful scenes of Hen and Karen finding themselves again, becoming at peace with who they are, with no regrets. Plus the conversation in the finale was one that was so sweet, my heart especially felt for Karen not being mad at Toni for her sake, but for Hen's. Karen has been through a lot with the drama with Hen and Eva, and I think they've finally settled into their relationship and family together, at peace.
Honorable mention to Albert, who opened himself up to Chimney, even thinking that Chimney might reject him for how he was feeling about firefighting. Chim not only assuaged his fears abut also encouraged him to do what he really wants to, a marked difference for Albert from what he ran from their Father for.
over all, 5b has been an amazing season, with literally no bad episodes. 911 writers y'all are doing the GOOD shit recently, keep it up. but stop fucking doing insect episodes those are the fucking worst
#911 show#911 on fox#911 meta#911 s5#911 spoilers#eddie diaz#evan buckley#bobby nash#henrietta wilson#karen wilson#maddie buckley#chimney han#albert han#taylor kelly#ramon diaz#krowabbey
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Persona 5 Royal.
Hm.
I think even with the newform of post shortening I'll read-more this, so let me get a gist out of the way.
This easily became one of my favorite games. It's on the list, it's embedded in my mind, it's granted me interesting plot lines and characters and it's quickly given me something I'm happy to love.
There's the gist; And the elephant in the room is that I got a smile out of the mysterious glance at what appears to be Akechi in the background, that's fun.
Now to say.
Much.
I'll try to separate different thoughts with a header of sorts because this is gonna be a mess.
This game is honestly pretty incredible.
I feel like this is a weird way to start this out but, I didn't expect to so quickly play an RPG that so enraptured my mind and heart after DQ11.
I've played a ton of games that have touched me in various ways, but it's rare for me to play one that so thoroughly entrenches itself in the miasma of experiences that make up who I am; Just finds my core and sets up shop. Offers a mirror, offers challenges, offers a shoulder, and plenty more.
Playing a game like that isn't common; It's a matter of having something to say, or do, or show, and it's a big matter of personal bias.
It's just how art can hit ya, or miss entirely. Sometimes you find one that stops you in your tracks and you dwell on it for years after.
Despite playing a lot of games, I, and I assume most others, don't play games that hit that note too often.
It's rare.
I've played so many games I would happily recommend for being phenomenal in their own ways, but that list isn't fully comprised of titles like that.
When I played DQ11 I found myself with a story so dense with things I appreciate that it took over my mind for months. It's still left quite the impact, being a title that can easily bring a happy tear to my eye if I dwell on it too long as I find what they've told to be such a beautiful heroes' tale.
Persona 5 has hit that same deep place in my mind, and, in the grand scheme of things, so quickly after I just found a different title that did the same.
And this isn't by any means a ramble on how P5 is perfect; Far from it because that doesn't exist and because it was created by people- people aren't perfect- people don't make perfect things.
Just in the way of cultural differences and personal morals there are things in P5 that I simply believe weren't handled as well as they could have been, be that gay characters, flip flopping on whether sexual assault as a subject deserves respect or laughs, or the ways in which relationships with minors and adults are presented and treated.
While conversely at least some of these faults could be argued for by virtue of life itself not being perfect, but then it becomes a matter of what is your art's morality; What is it trying to say, and is it being presented because it's true to life, or because it's titillating, silly, or something a creator believes to be right.
I digress.
This is a ramble on how what P5 is is something extremely special to me. And an incomplete one at that, as I couldn't possibly revisit every important moment in this 236 hour (inaccurate*) long story on a post made at a whim at the end of said playthrough.
*= I was AFK a lot, and my gameplay included a lot of rendering video, it wasn't this long but my save sure was lol.
I don't (currently, maybe I should) keep notes of my playthroughs- the posts themselves are catalogues of my thoughts at each time. The finale post is more to sum up where my heart lands me, not to substitute a well rehearsed and scripted video essay.
I guess that makes this even less than an essay- it's just a ramble, lmao.
Let's start with the end because it's so fresh.
I'd say what I understand to be the base game ending (I'm assuming it's just the previous god going) was bombastic, exciting, and even had the bite of the metaverse disappearing and Mona potentially dying. I fucking adore that.
The ending of Royal is a lot more clean... and reminds me of something I already mentioned lmao.
Spoilers for DQ11 skip to next red text:
but both include a Perfect ending and a Broken But Hope Filled ending but inversely placed in the story.
DQ11 ends on the Perfect ending, with the weight of knowing you created the Broken But Hope Filled ending and effectively killed yourself out of that ending to create the perfect ending.
The point of it all being that you did the best you could for the world, then found a way to try to do even better for another cursed world (parallel timeline shenanigans), so you sacrificed the life you've fought for, and the relationships you've forged to 'try again'. The Perfect ending in this case IS perfect, just not for the Hero. They gave everything up for this as a sort of ultimate sacrifice.
P5R ends on the Broken But Hope Filled ending and you spent the last dungeon literally killing the Perfect ending because you refuse to give up the relationships you've forged and the meaning you find in the struggles you're lives have experienced.
I find that interesting. (continued but not spoilers anymore)
Royal's ending is bittersweet. We're saying goodbye (THAT SUCKS), the metaverse is (I believe) gone again- but that sting isn't as bad since it's already done that before, Akechi is 'dead' but he simply doesn't compare to Morgana who was a true friend through the entire game, and we gave up a utopia to get this.
The entire moral that lead us here is literally golden in my book- I appreciate the insistence that our experiences hold value, including the negative ones as we grow from them. But I think as far as ending on a bang or whimper it's a lot less flashy than the base ending seems to have been assuming assumptions assumingly on what that is lol.
Basically, I think base had a better ending, but Royal had more to say and what it had to say was very good in my book, it just then had to end and kinda went "Uh, then we ended, shit."
I still teared the hell up multiple times doing my Earthbound walk about in the post game. And I still wish desperately that I got to get closer with Yusuke and Haru.
AH I love all the damn characters so much.
I feel I've said it all on these fuckers, I love these dunces and they are the best. The party is one of the absolute best out there- it's truly a crew you WANT to be in, you want to go hang with these guys at a ramen place, you want to go hang at a library because one of them needs help with something, you want to go wander the shops with them, you just want to be friends with absolutely all of the party members (maybe not Akechi in the later game when he actually joins the party but that's a whole other complicated goof).
It's an accomplishment to go and create so many likable and befriendable characters- I love em.
And the side characters and confidants are just a fantastic eclectic group- I'm being so vague simply because due to how P5 is formatted, I'd argue 99% of my posts are just me talking about the characters because you GET to do all these things with them. You GET to go to the movies and study and hang at the baths- so I've said all there is, I'm sure.
But I love them. <3
Another thing I've talked plenty on already but is worth mentioning in this finale post is that fantastic gameplay
I literally can't expand on it much in one post so I'll leave it simple.
It's flashy, it's EXTREMELY involved, it's combo heavy in a fantastic way (and with multiple avenues for combos!), and the worst I can say about it is that on Normal difficulty it became exploitable pretty early on and didn't really challenge directly much until the end, but, difficulty is not the end all of the gameplay's quality.
You want to feel involved and challenged in *some* way (if not direct difficulty), and I felt both of those things- just without much risk of failure. Arguably- ARGUABLY- that's damn near perfect. But for preference, I'd have preferred a slightly harder time- more HP on enemies and more risk of losing- but this isn't a complaint- it's a recognition that I will probably highly enjoy replaying on a harder difficulty :)
Simplifying the entirety of the gameplay to combat would be a crime though because this game was also half life sim, and quite an enthralling one at that. Hell, half isn't enough, MOST of this game was life sim, and I loved it so much more than I thought I would.
It also kinda screwed me a bit because I LOVE reading everything I have access to at any given moment.... and this meant a metric ton of reading every day, sometimes accomplishing next to nothing.
You could easily do all the things I did in this game in like 10 hours of gameplay, but it took me 23 times that because I would regularly take trips EVERYWHERE to seek out new NPC dialogue that added nothing to the game itself but was quintessential to my experience.
Loved it.
And before I close for good on this playthrough, I want to just speak some appreciation towards some of the morals and themes in here.
Not all, I'm stupid (for one), and tired (another), and some fucked up third thing as well so just a couple that I feel like talking about.
For one, RIDICULOUSLY big fan of the personal justice angle. It lent itself to so many narratives about the problems with the world from the angle of these things being normalized, expected, or accepted by society at large- but that doesn't mean we should accept them and stop trying to make things better.
It's just a solid theme to build around and it tied itself to the motivations of our characters so damn well with many of them being upset at how Adults handle the world or mistreat others and seeking to make things better.
Also, if the like 8 times I brought it up didn't make it clear, a big fan of the strength of kindness in the Akechi - Joker storyline. It's really a show of how Joker's refusal to turn his back on others, even people as, to be frank, shit as Akechi with his murder fun time nonsense, is literally what grants Akechi his moment of redemption.
That murder kid really tried to turn self sacrifice into a selfish move for personal revenge, and Joker's refusal to be insincere to him left Akechi stunned as his motivations were changed in real time right before he died- that's just a fun narrative, man.
And while I think it made the stakes feel less "scary" than the prior chapter, I really do enjoy how Maruki was our final baddie since he's quite literally a goodie.
It offered a completely different angle to challenge the PT's morals and allowed us to end on a narrative about the worth of our whole life experience rather than a narrative on defeating evil, it was honestly a really good choice in my book.
And I suppose that wraps up this mindless ramble.
To close I just want to say, I fuckin' love this game. It's a favorite now, as I've said.
I'd also like to say I'm surprised that getting to the post game wasn't as demanding as I was initially lead to believe.
I had been lead to believe, since launch of Royal, that this game was some weird "Do it perfectly or you're fucked" kind of game.
I avoided playing Royal for YEARS, because I thought I'd HAVE to shove a guide down my throat in order to experience half the game.
But as it turns out the Royal content is rather short, all things considered. And the requirements are MILES less intense than I was lead to believe- like- MILES. I thought you needed all confidants or else, like, it's not that hard lol.
Getting a perfect run on a blind run is a bit rough, but even that isn't remotely out of the cards if my playthrough is anything to go by.
And on whether / when I'll play more; Now that I've seen the credits, I'm not sure.
This playthrough was.... strange for me. When I pick a game up for the blog I usually stay pretty consistent with it. I've had flubs here and there over the years, but this might be the single most disjointed playthrough I've ever done- with months of no updates multiple times throughout just because of where I was outside of playing.
But because of this, I've basically been playing this game for 8 months. That's a long time to be on one single player game that I think a few weeks coulda done.
Kinda want something else. But my desire to play through on a harder difficulty, on NG+, and to get a perfect end to my playthrough with all confidants maxed remain.
Part of me wants to just jump right back in- especially since very very little of it would "need" (I do this for fun lol) to be blogged about in the first place, but a lot of me wants to sit this on the shelf and come back later in life.
And a lot of me also worries that doing that might table it too long, as I table many things and then decide new experiences trump them.
This game has the benefit of being one of my all time favorites now, so it's less likely, but I mean. FFT is an all time favorite. Doing modded runs of that for the blog has been backlogged for years. I don't want to put replaying P5R off that long at all.
But enough idle worrying in my game diary.
I am going to play something else for a while. That's my current plan. Mostly because that whole mishap with myself that caused this playthrough to be so disjointed is very much still a struggle- so I don't want to dive into a full new playthrough that's just as disjointed.
I might set a date for myself; Come back in a year's time perhaps. I have nothing set in stone. But I want to replay this. Harder difficulty, NG+, perfect confidants. I want that.
We'll find out when.
In the mean time I'm going to bask in the post-game joy of this phenomenal title.
I'm grateful for the opportunity.
And thank you to all who saw fit to interact through this playthrough- I doubt many would get this far into this nonsense post to see said thanks, but I'm sending that out there into the world all the same.
This was a ridiculously positive gaming experience in terms of the game, and a pleasure to chat with some fans.
Everyone, have a good one :)
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When Obi-Wan gets to AotC, there's also about two dozen Anakin clones on-site. They're all girls because... IDK Anakin is trans. They have a hive mind and are developmentally a few years younger than Anakin himself.
It's incredibly unsettling to Obi-Wan.
It's almost definitely a "fuck with Anakin's already fragile mental health" ploy by Palpatine, along with a "what if Jedi Black Widows, for me, a Sith Lord. Wouldn't that be neat? That would be neat."
Anakin is torn between "this freaks me out" and "GANG OF BABY SISTERS LET'S GOOOOOOO."
(I just finished reading Like Real People Do by glimmerglanger, so this is definitely inspired by that and the obligatory 'lay back in bed and daydream variations on plot points of that fic you just really enjoyed,' and also a little by Same Heart, Same Blood by loosingletters.)
They're physically like 14-16 on average, and Anakin's vibrating out of his skin with a million conflicting emotions, but when he tells Padme she's just like "oh, you have a handmaiden gang!"
I told this to @willowcrowned and she suggested:
Once Anakin decides to repress the part of him that’s weirded out and just regard them as baby sisters he gets. A little strange about it
The first time one of them dies he may or may not slaughter every person he can
[in response to Padme's comment] Anakin starts worrying that he needs to get them cool matching outfits
I also chatted about it with @firebirdeternal and they said:
Gang of Unsettling Smol Siblings is exactly the Karma that Anakin deserves
Do you think the Clones have a kind of Collective Name that they use at first that eventually just kind of morphs into a new last name? Skysisters or something?
Like Palpatine was trying to be clever and name them like the Nightsisters.
I initially went with "functionally one person" hive-mind but I'm torn.
I think maybe they're BASICALLY one person on Kamino but drift into Separate Consciousness once they're far enough apart physically that their minds don't blend from proximity anymore.
Then they start Dating (like half of them are dating Fett clones because they grew up with these dudes, it's like childhood friends romance), and Anakin loses his mind about Protecting Them and They're Too Young.
Padme: You're nineteen and we just got married, they can date.
Anakin: THEY'RE EIGHT.
Padme: And the Fett clones are ten and dying for us in the field. Get them rights before you panic about their love lives.
Firebird:
it could be worse, one of them could imprint on Obi-Wan.
"Anakin I promise I won't yell at you for the next five stupid things you do if you can figure out a way to stop this baby from having a crush on me"
(I like the idea of Obi-wan bargaining not with "I won't be mad at you ever" because they Both Know That's Not True, and instead haggling with specific allowances. Like he's handing out Stupidity Coupons)
Please imagine Mace and Obi-Wan's personal responses to the idea of suddenly having to deal with not one, not two, but OVER TWENTY SKYWALKERS.
Plo is delighted to take one off their hands.
So is Yoda.
Willow:
Mace is like. okay suicide isn’t the Jedi way but on the other hand. i physically cannot deal with this
Yoda: a skywalker, you say? one who is tall enough to reach the top shelf, you say? such a skywalker, bring me
Anakin would be given at least one because fuck you, suffer with us, but he's still a padawan so Ugh, fine, no.
I want to say one stays on Coruscant to hang out with the Guard, and ends up half-adopted by Padme. She keeps dressing up the Aniclone left with her in handmaiden outfits and sending selfies to Anakin.
"Hanging out with the little SiL!"
Anakin has so many issues about WHEN his genetic material was acquired.
And there's some confusion from the Fett clones about how much of a hive mind is normal for Jedi. They are confused that the answer is basically none, and "this is WHY nobody clones a Jedi"
ONE OF THEM STEALS BOBA FROM THE ARENA ON GEONOSIS.
Firebird:
"I have followed in our progenitor's footsteps and acquired a sibling." holds up a struggling Boba "He bites."
Willow:
Ooooo okay so if they have a sort of hive mind then they probably don’t have names other than their designations on Kamino right
BUT
When they SEPARATE
The one that picks Boba up on Geonosis gets a name specifically for that.
Okay what if the one Padmé picks up gets some variant on ‘pretty’ because she’s always being dressed up
BELLE
Maybe Yoda’s Ani has a name that means thief? Because obviously Yoda is using Anakin to steal sweets
So, to make the timeline work...
I don't think anyone would give Anakin one of his sisters until after he's knighted at least.
So obviously when they're doing initial placements none of the sisters go to him or Obi-Wan.
Once he's knighted, of course they're already all placed with someone, and Anakin instead gets Ahsoka. He loves Ahsoka. She is also a little sister. He said so.
At some point afterwards, one of the sisters is left without a place because the Master that was in charge of her died in the field battle.
That sister then gets placed with Obi-Wan, because he's already mostly-successfully raised one Skywalker, so he can do it again.
Anakin gets to hang out with her basically all the time.
Ahsoka is very very jealous of this girl stealing Anakin's attention.
Anakin is oblivious to the rivalry.
He asks Barriss to look after them while he's discussing Adult War Things with Luminara and Obi-Wan, and Barriss gets an eye into This Mess, which is quickly colored by Ahsoka growing a puppy crush on the lovely Miss Offee herself.
Firebird:
Ahsoka: Ah yes, my nemesis.
Anisister: Ah yes, my new older sister whom I want to impress so bad.
"I will impress her by being Stoic and Competent"
"Oh my god she must think she's so much better than me what a bitch"
Anakin is oblivious to most things to be fair
Anakin: Laser focused precision fighting machine who can read the tiniest body movements and predict your moves seconds in advance, who also cannot understand even the most basic social nuance.
I was originally writing this as to Dunk on Anakin but then I made myself sad, because none of those things are really his fault.
So you know that post about like, Sasuke and Brooding, specifically in the context of "Brooding" as it's used to refer to Nesting Chickens? Grouchy and protective and sitting on a tennis ball trying to hatch it because they're just. "These are my Babies."
Anakin Broods.
Baby sisters. Must protecc.
"I'm actually fine and extremely deadly in combat."
"MUST PROTECT."
Bad Guy: [catches Ahsoka in a Trap]
Aniclone: Must rescue sister!
Aniclone: [fights, is not winning fight, gets ouched]
Ahsoka tearing her way out of Trap: I lived bitch. Also: stay the fuck away from her. [murders so hard]
Ahsoka catches the Protective Older Sib feels by the traditional method: "Hey, only I'm allowed to be mean to them."
Willow:
Oh Anakin has no clue what’s going on.
He walks in on Ahsoka glaring at the Ani and is like!!! Little sisters!!! Bonding!!!
When Ahsoka was about three seconds away from tossing her out of the airlock.
Ahsoka mistakenly assumes that Barriss has a crush on the Ani, and gets even MORE jealous.
Obi-Wan is like oh god. I can’t take care of an Anakin going through puberty again.
He’s great with periods and other stuff because he read about a billion books. He is TERRIBLE with everything else, as he was the first time.
Barriss is like???? YOU'RE BOTH CHILDREN, PLEASE CALM DOWN, I HAVE ZERO INTEREST IN DATING ANYONE, LET ALONE SOMEONE YOUR AGE.
IDK how old Obi-Wan's Aniclone is, probably physically the same age as Ahsoka?
Per @atagotiak on discord:
Also something something, similarities btw Anakin and Obi-Wan where like. "Am I a parent? That seems uncomfortable, I'm too young to be a dad to a kid this age, I mean I'm cool with being a mentor/caretaker but..."
Obi-Wan can't even sidestep parenthood this time.
"Is Anakin basically your dad?"
"Uhhhhhh"
[Muffled discussion]
"So Obi-Wan is your dad."
"Okay!"
"WAIT NO I DIDN'T AGREE TO THIS"
Ahsoka: She's stealing my brother, that BITCH.
Obi-Wan's Aniclone: new sister new sister new sister gotta make a good impression
Firebird:
I feel like the Sister Squad would make very effective interstellar espionage agents
Even like, kind of by accident. They just get encouraged to branch out in their interests and figure out what they want to do with their lives and end up all over the dang place, and since they're all pretty dang competent they tend to gravitate towards Important Positions wherever they end up.
Except for one sister who just retires to raise Space Sheep.
I like that in this AU Palpatine is just like "I will create an army of Loyal Murderers who will obey my every whim and also be a big psychological lever on my Other Pet Murderer," and then they all just Baby Duckling imprint on the first Jedi to be nice to them instead and he has to just be like "Wait no not like that."
AND one of them Steals Boba
I want Obi-Wan's Aniclone to start dating Fives. All the sisters judge her for it, because he's a Goof. A very competent, ARC Trooper goof! But a goof.
Not as goofy as Anakin, though.
Firebird:
Who expects a clone of Anakin Skywalker to not make questionable lifelong romantic choices impulsively?
#Anakin Skywalker#Ahsoka Tano#Obi Wan Kenobi#Disaster Lineage#Sheev Palpatine#Skeevy Sheev#cloning#Yoda#Mace Windu#Skysisters AU#trans anakin skywalker#Phoenix Posts#hive mind#Padme Amidala#Anidala
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Love Sick
Masterlist
Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.
A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Content Warning: swearing
Word Count: 4k
Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.
He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.
To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.
So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.
As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand?
Spencer is positively sick with nerves.
He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.
Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.
Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.
The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.
Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.
Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.
Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.
Showtime.
“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.
The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.
Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.
The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.
But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.
“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”
So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.
“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.
You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.
“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”
Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!
Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”
Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.
You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.
The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.
“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”
Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.
With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.
“What about your date?”
You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.
“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”
Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.
--
Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.
He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:
“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”
Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.
In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.
“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”
Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.
“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”
His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.
“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.
“What are we watching?”
You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.
“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.
“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”
His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.”
He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.
Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.
You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.
“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”
Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.
His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.
And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.
“How are you feeling, Spence?”
Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better.
Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0
--
Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.
Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.
Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.
He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”
“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”
Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”
“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.
“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”
The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”
Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”
“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”
A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.
“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”
“It’s not what you think-”
“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”
“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”
Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”
“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”
Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.
“So, you sabotaged the date?”
Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”
“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”
Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.
“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”
Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.
He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.
Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.
And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.
“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”
Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.
Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.
“You sabotaged my date.”
Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”
You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.
Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.
“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor.
Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it.
“Why did you do it?”
Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.
“I-I…”
Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.
“Spit it out, Spencer.”
“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done.
Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.
“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”
God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.
“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”
Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.
You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“You like me.” It isn’t a question.
Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.
“Y-Yeah.”
You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.
“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.
“Uh, why is that?”
Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.
“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”
Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.
“W-What?”
“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”
Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.
“More than anything.”
“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”
Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.
“You . . . You like me, too?”
You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”
“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.
“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”
“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.
“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”
“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going.
You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”
It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating.
Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair.
You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for.
God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass.
-
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#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer x reader#spencer reid fluff
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By Your Side // John B Routledge
john b routledge x reader
warnings: physical violence, angst
part of #obx2celebration
masterlist
ask me anything
a/n: y'all please keep in mind this is fictional. i know the process of what happens in here would never happen in real life but that's the fun of it all :)
summary below the cut to avoid spoilers
--
summary: seeing your boyfriend in prison was never easy, but seeing him in the medical wing leads to a heart to heart in each other's arms.
The weight in your chest was getting heavier and heavier with each breath you took. It felt like you would never catch a break, never be able to breathe fully ever again. Ever since you and John B returned to the Outer Banks, it felt like it was one thing after another that just caused more and more trouble for the two of you. Nothing was worse than the look on his face when the cops finally cornered you and your friends. You had gripped John B’s hand as long as possible before he was torn from your grasp.
The whole day seemed like a blur then, but the soreness in your throat was still there from where you screamed at Shoupe and Deputy Thomas for how they handled John B. It was unforgivable, burned in your mind on repeat as you watched the scene over and over again with your heart cracking a little more each time. Regardless of the fact that your boyfriend was being arrested and charged for something he had nothing to do with, you couldn’t get over the fact that he was being shoved around and literally beaten by the people who were supposed to protect and help you. Needless to say, anytime you saw Shoupe or Deputy Thomas, your glare was enough to make them wish they hadn’t stepped foot in your path.
You were a mess without John B. Normally, the two of you were attached at the hip, but being without him was never this hard. The lingering thought in the back of your head kept reminding you that he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t home. Every minute he spent in prison was a minute you didn’t sleep because you were so worried.
Kie had done her best to try to console you. JJ had spewed crazy plans that only made you more upset because you knew none of them would work and John B wasn’t getting out unless you exposed Ward. Pope was silent, lurking in the shadows at the loss of his best friend. He clung to Kie in hopes that they would all figure something out soon enough.
The Chateau was nowhere near as comforting, even with all of your friends scattered across the house at every second of the day. You had visited John B each chance you had just to reassure yourself that he wasn’t gone completely. You would do anything to be in his arms, to hold him and just tell him everything would be okay.
Walking through the doors of the county jail, you moved without words to set all of your stuff on the counter that you couldn’t bring through. The lady behind the desk, Beth, was the only saving grace you had found in the chaos of this mess. She was the only one to treat you respectfully when it came to anything revolving John B. Although she never outwardly stated it, she believed your story, and that meant more to you than she would ever know.
“Hi, Y/N,” She greeted with a small smile. You returned the gesture and accepted the visitor lanyard she stretched out to you. Walking through the metal detector, you followed her back through the hallways. You had slowly gotten used to the cursing and yelling that followed your arrival. Beth was the Director of Visitor Safety throughout the building and in the short time you had known her, she had pulled many strings in regards to you and John B. Within the first two days, she had realized how uncomfortable it was for the two of you to sit and stare at each other with everyone listening. (And yes, she meant everyone because nobody could be in the presence of a “cop killer” and not be amazed).
Beth led you into her office with a smile and shut the door behind her as she left to grab John B. You were more than grateful for her help with everything. Had Beth not been there the day you walked in with tears streaming down your face from the anxiety and terrifying aura of the whole idea, you didn’t know what you would’ve done.
Glancing at the clock, you noticed more time had gone by than usual, and the sound of yelling that emerged had your heart sinking. You stood up, fingers twisting into the torn bandana fabric around your neck out of habit as you stared at the door in worry.
Beth appeared in the window a second later before opening the barrier and looking at you. “Come with me, hurry.” You followed her without another word, keeping close so you wouldn’t lose her. When she diverged off the normal path, you knew something was really wrong. She led you down a separate hallway, scanning her badge when necessary until big letters above the door told you this was the medical bay.
When you made it past the door frame, your eyes instantly landed on the bright orange jumpsuit that your boyfriend was clad in before noticing the expression of terror on his face as he sat on the bed. “John B!”
Wide brown eyes met your gaze in a split second before John B was shoving the nurse’s hands away to catch you the moment you collided with him. You could hear Shoupe, who had been standing nearby, let out what sounded like a sigh of relief before he mumbled something about filing a report and left the room.
“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” You asked John B once you leaned back, hands still grabbing his uniform as if he would disappear through your fingers.
“This is my daughter, Macy,” Beth introduced the nurse standing close by as she avoided your question. “We’re gonna hang over here for a second. If you guys need anything, let us know.”
The two of you gave Beth an appreciative nod as she stepped aside with her daughter. Turning back to your boyfriend, you caught the bruises covering his neck in the light. “JB…” Tears burned your eyes as your fingers glazed over the marks which made him wince. “What the fuck?”
Your boyfriend pulled you back into his chest, fingers running through your hair as he took a deep breath. Nothing was more calming to him than having you in his arms. Being able to actually hold you, feel your skin on his, was healing to him. “Doesn’t matter,” He mumbled against your hair as he recognized the comforting smell of your shampoo. “So glad you’re here.”
The small sob that escaped your throat didn’t surprise him much. John B wasn’t oblivious to what was going on to you without him around. It broke his heart that he couldn’t be there to talk you through it all. Most of the times you came to visit, you were constantly holding him in some way just to feel his skin on yours.
“What if something worse happens?” You choked out through shaking breaths. “John B, you’re not safe here. This isn’t fair. I’m not losing you in a prison of all places!”
“It’s gonna be fine,” He hummed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m gonna be fine, babe. We’re gonna figure it out.”
“I’m ripping Shoupe a new one,” You grumbled as you reluctantly let go of him to look at the bruises lining his skin. You let out a teary sigh before your boyfriend brushed the salty drops from your face. “I’m getting you out of here. I’m going home and I’m literally… I don’t know, I’ll find something, somehow. I’m not standing here and letting this happen.”
John B couldn’t keep the smile from forming on his face as he kissed you softly. “I don’t want you doing anything besides taking care of yourself, okay? Please. For me.”
You huffed but nodded regardless. “Whatever, JB.”
“I’m serious!” He argued as he placed his hands on your cheeks to get your attention. “Please. There’s no point in tearing yourself apart without me.”
“Fine, then tell me what happened.”
John B rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed before grabbing your hips and situating you to stand between his legs. His fingers squeezed your sides before he spoke up, “I think your dad has someone on the inside, here, and he’s trying to get rid of me and make it look like an accident.”
You blinked for a moment as you processed before you nodded slightly in agreement. “I wouldn’t put it past him.” You struggled with the idea that this was all your father’s fault and the guilt in your chest was getting worse each second. “I’m sorry, JB.”
“It’s not your fault,” He comforted as he squeezed your hips again in reassurance. “Come on, babe. You know that. I would never blame you for any of this. We just gotta get some evidence to end it, okay?”
“Y/N.” Beth’s voice interrupted your thoughts as you looked up at her. “I’m sorry, honey. We gotta go.”
You nodded slowly, hands intertwining with John B’s as you pressed one last kiss to his forehead. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”
Your boyfriend smiled slightly. “You know careful’s not in my vocabulary.”
Flicking his cheek gently, you smiled as you stepped out of his grasp to follow Beth back out while Macy attended to your boyfriend. Your thoughts were running, but one thing you knew for certain. You would get John B out of prison if it was the last thing you did.
--
masterlist
#obx2celebration#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks x reader#outer banks imagine#outer banks#obx x reader#outer banks x you#outer banks one shot#outer banks fic#outer banks blurb#john b routledge outer banks#john b x reader#john b routledge x reader#john b imagine#john b routledge imagine#john b one shot#john b outer banks#john b routledge writing#outer banks writing#john b blurb#season 2
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Where the heart is // B. B.
Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) are getting a divorce because they are silly and both love the other so damn much. (Happy Ending!)
TW: Talk of divorce. Talk of potential pregnancy and babies.
A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]
TAGLIST: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately.
Waking up from this nightmare
How's your life, what's it like there?
Is it all what you want it to be?
Does it hurt when you think about me?
And how broken my heart is
The apartment is deadly quiet as Bucky steps inside, only the rattling of his keys echoing through the halls that once seemed so warm and inviting are now but a cold reminder of what used to be.
People never really talk about these moments. The after. The wreckage. The ruins of what used to be. Sure there are movies and books and countless songs but they take the feeling and they wrap it up in beautiful words and prose and make something beautiful of it.
There’s nothing beautiful in the way Bucky feels as his feet drag him towards what used to be his bedroom, which is now hers. There’s nothing beautiful in the way he feels as his eyes wander over to the closed door behind which lays an empty room. One that is empty not because of choice but because of the shitty cards life has dealt both him and her.
There is nothing beautiful about the way he feels. Only sadness. Only hurt.
When he turns the corner and steps into the bedroom, his heart drops for a second. He hadn’t expected her to be here, not with how quiet the place is. But sure enough, there she is. Sitting on the fluffy comforter they bought together, legs tucked underneath herself. She said that comforter was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. Now she doesn’t even lift her head to look at him, focusing only on the box resting on the bed before her.
“Hey uh — I didn’t expect to run into you.”
“ I live here. Sorry to disappoint.“
“ I know, that’s not what I meant. It’s just so quiet. “
She shrugs but still doesn’t look up. There’s so much resentment there, dripping from every word. He can’t fault her for it. Not even a little. If he was her, he’d hate himself too. Maybe this will make it easier for them. If she hates him, that’s a straight cut. Right? Hating is easy. It’s loving that’s hard.
“ It’s like that now. You here to get some of your stuff?” she asks, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes are red and tired. Not like they were when he left, filled with tears and sorrow. Now they’re just infinitely sad and exhausted. Like all the life and all the warmth and all the passion that he fell so deeply in love with, has been sucked out of her. He hates knowing it’s partially his fault.
“ If that’s okay with you.”
“ sure. “
The movies and the poems and the books and the songs, they never talk about this. The after. The limbo. The “will you keep this or shall I take it?”
They don’t talk about the fact that you’re supposed to pack 5 years of relationship into a bunch of boxes and figure out what to do with it.
He quietly walks into the closet, as if making any noise would break whatever bubble is currently surrounding the two of them. Sometimes he wonders if things would be different had they been different people. Had they been able to express their feelings differently. Sometimes, in the most secret part of his heart, Bucky wishes there would’ve been screaming. Maybe screaming would’ve been helpful. Sure, it’s not the most eloquent way of communication but at least it is communication. But there was no screaming. Only silence. Only feelings swallowed up to never be spoken about. To suffocate them from the inside out.
Making as little noise as possible, Bucky grabs some of his clothes and stuffs them into the duffle bag Sam gave him. He had that look on his face, the pitiful one. The one that says “sorry, man”. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Bucky. This is his fault after all.
There’s a sound coming from behind him, and for a second he really believes it’s his mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears it again, louder this time, more clearly.
She’s laughing. Maybe not a full-on laugh but a chuckle. It’s been a while since he’s heard that sound.
“ What’s got you laughing like that ? “ Bucky asks as he turns back around only to be greeted by her smiling face. God how much he misses that smile.
She looks back down towards the box in front of her and the picture in her hand.
“ It’s uh — it’s a picture of the first time you stayed over. “
His legs carry him towards the bed as if they work on autopilot. As he sits down next to he can just about make out the scent of her shampoo. The one he bought for himself last week, not because he necessarily likes to use it. He bought it because he misses the scent. Because he misses her. And if he can keep her close like this, even for a small moment, he’ll buy an entire store's worth of shampoo.
Her fingers gently grip the picture so as to not rip or crumble it. He can’t hold back the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips as he recognizes the picture. It’s a slightly less gloomy version of him, in love and asleep. Curled up on her old tiny couch in her old tiny apartment with her dog Yoda sleeping soundly on his chest. He was so nervous to stay over at her place the first time he did. Nervous about so many different things but mostly about doing something to hurt her. Physically but also emotionally. To think that now his biggest fear came true, crushes his heart even further.
“ I miss Yoda. He was a good dog,” she says as she puts the photo back into the box. Truth be told, Bucky misses him too. He was grumpy and lazy and he didn’t ever really listen to them. But he was loyal and cuddly and all in all, he was the perfect dog for the two of them. And he had accepted Bucky into his and her life immediately. As if he knew that Bucky of all people needed nothing more than a chance to prove himself to be something other than a killer.
There are more pictures in the box, alongside other clutter that Bucky can’t quite make out. One of the other pictures he can see clearly, is one of the two of them on their first Halloween. The Halloween that Bucky didn’t want to dress up for. The one he promised himself he would spend curled up on his couch watching a scary movie and not open the door to anyone, Trick or Treaters or otherwise.
He ended up going out anyway. With her. FOR her. And it was one of the best nights of his life even if it meant he had to dress up like a skeleton.
“ What is all this? “ he asks though, by the way his heart starts beating faster, Bucky isn’t sure he even wants to know the answer to that question. “ You getting rid of our pictures? “
He doesn’t want it to sound so accusatory. They’re broken up. Separated. In the early process of a divorce. She has every right to get rid of their pictures. Get rid of him. Bury the memories. Just because he can’t let go doesn’t mean that she’s grieving in the same way.
“ No, “ she scoffs and pulls out a small scrap of paper, “ this is a memory box I started when we first got together. It’s things I didn’t know where to put but that I wanted to hold on to. I had planned to give it to you for our 10 year anniversary but … well “
She doesn’t have to say it. He knows.
“ Then after the — seperation I put some other stuff in there. Memories.”
“ Can I see what else is in there? “ he asks “ since I won’t get to see it on our 10 year anniversary.”
Bucks isn’t quite sure why he adds that to the end of his sentence. It makes him sound spiteful and mean and he can tell, by the look on her face, that it hurts her. And he’s done enough of that in the past. Isn’t that exactly the reason they are here in the first place?
She considers it for a moment and Buck can only guess the different kinds of emotions running through her then. He feels them too. All of them. They are confusing and most of them are negative. She has no reason to let him see this, relish in sweet nostalgia with him as if everything is okay and they’re not getting a fucking divorce.
“ Sure, I guess. I — yeah.”
She scoots more to the middle of the bed, making more space for Bucky to sit down properly. He’s perched on the side that was his. The side he fell asleep on and woke up on so many times. And she was there next to him. Always there and warm and soft. And she’d smile at him through sleepy eyes and a hazy mind and she’d rival the sun. And then she’d gently comb her fingers through his hair and say good morning and he knew it would be — a good morning.
He hasn’t had a good morning since he left.
She moves the box to sit between them on the bed and motions for Bucky to start digging in.
There’s a pile of what he realizes are old movie tickets. It's something they used to do when they first started dating. Thursdays were movie days. But while everyone went to see the new blockbusters, the two of them would pick the movies that sounded the weirdest and they’d buy a big bucket of popcorn and blue raspberry slushies and just relish in the grandeur that is bad cinema. Most of the time they were the only ones at the cinema. Sometimes things got — R rated.
“ Why did we stop doing this? “ she asks as Bucky looks up from the tickets “ going to the movies I mean. It was always my favorite day of the week. “
He tries to remember. Tries to pinpoint the moment when life changed and their Thursdays weren’t their Thursdays anymore. He can’t. He comes up empty.
Sometimes life changes in little ways, ones you don’t realize at that moment and they don’t seem significant either. It’s a broken tradition. A missed movie night. It’s slow and creeping but at some point, you stop and look at your life now and it doesn’t resemble your life then anymore. Everything has changed and you didn’t even notice. Not for one single second.
“ I have — I have no idea. “ he has to confess.
“ Remember that movie with the killer florist ? “ she asks and her voice is laced with laughter. Something sparks up in his heart. A tiny flicker of something he’s missed. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. He can’t help but laugh along.
“ I do! Or the one where the woman fell in love with the Koi in her neighbor's pond? ”
“ Oh god! That was terrible. “
“ It was.”
She looks wistful for a moment as if her thoughts wander off to some long-forgotten memory.
“ What are you thinking about? “
He never usually had to ask her. He’d either know or she’d tell him on her own accord. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them. One he wants to break down or climb over so badly. But does she want him there? After everything?
“ The day we saw that movie was the first time you said I love you. “
It’s true. Now that she mentions it he remembers it so clearly. It’s like he’s suddenly faced with a scene from a movie he’s forgotten about a long time ago but once someone mentions it, he remembers it in great detail. Knows every word. Every line.
“ I still don’t quite know what it was about that moment that made you say it but — “ she trails off, a smile playing on her lips.
Bucky knows. It wasn’t a groundbreaking realization back then. He’d been feeling it for months. Fell deeper in love with her with every glance, every smile, every silly movie he got to watch with her. They went to some dingy diner after the movie to grab a burger and some fries. The leather seats were old and the filling was spilling out, the air smelled of grease and air freshener, and the laminated menu cards were sticky with undefinable stains. All things considered, it should’ve been a bad date. It wasn’t though. Nothing was ever bad with her. She smiled. All she did was smile and hum along to some song Bucky didn’t know as it spilled from the jukebox. And it occurred to him then, that there was no need for a big gesture or a special moment. Every moment with her was special. Life couldn’t get any better than this. Existing was enough if only she was there.
“ Nothing. “
“ Hm? “
“ There was nothing special about that moment. I just realized that I would be okay with anything if only you are there. You — that’s all I need in life. “
She looks at him then and for a second he thinks that maybe she’ll kiss him. Tell him that they are making a mistake and ask him to come back. Tell him that she doesn’t blame him. That she forgives him. That she wants him anyway. Despite — everything. She doesn’t though. Just sighs and pulls another picture from the box.
It’s a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch with a tiny white ball of fluff resting on her chest.
“ Our first picture with Alpine. “
“ That was taken on the day we found him. Look, you can clearly see the scratches on my face from crawling around the dumpsters to rescue him. “ Bucky points out.
He had never thought of himself as a cat person. Really he wasn’t so much an anything-person anymore, after Hydra. But somehow that little cat had wormed his way into his heart and refused to leave.
“ Was worth it though! “
Bucky nods his head in agreement “ it was. “
“ You should — you should take him. He’s really more your cat than mine.”
“ He’s our cat.” he points out.
“ Bucky there won’t be an ours anymore. Soon.”
It breaks his heart. Over and over again. He just got used to being himself. The version he was when he was with her. How is he gonna deal with doing it all over again? He doesn’t want to be a version of himself after her.
“ I don’t have a place yet and Sam’s allergic. “
“ He can stay here until then, of course. I love him. “
There’s a lot of love there that’s being given up on, Bucky realizes. And he hates every part of it.
“ Shit, remember this? “ she chimes up again as her hand holds onto a thin receipt, the black ink bleached away and thinned out from years of being stuck in a box. From years of memories fading.
“ Is that from the —”
“ The tattoo place, yeah. “
The patch of skin on the inside of his arm grows hot as if he is suddenly aware of what is there. Something long forgotten. A small letter forever etched into his skin in black ink like the way she’s forever etched into his heart. Always there. Forever. Just like the delicate lines that write his own name onto her collar bone. James. Not Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. James.
“ Oh god, I can’t believe you kept these,” Buck exclaims as he picks a pair of bright blue knitted socks from the box. They’re made from scratchy wool and there are a million and one holes in them. It’s so her. So quintessentially her. To keep them. With their holes and their scratchy wool and all. Even if they’re a mess. Even if they’re broken. She holds onto things no matter how bad. No matter how lost and sad and broken and useless. She holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Unless you make her. Unless you force her to. Unless you break her heart.
“ Umm … you made them for me. Like you literally learned how to knit to make me a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, Buck. Of course, I kept them. “
Bucky bashfully shrugs his shoulders, a tint of red dusting his cheeks. “ I’m glad you liked them. Even if they’re scratchy. “
“ I like you and Alpine and you guys are the scratchiest,” she points out. She’s not wrong.
“ Was I a good boyfriend? “ Bucky asks and while in the grand scheme of things it really doesn’t matter, he wants to know anyway. Wants to know he did something right.
“ You were the best boyfriend. “
“ I’m sorry I was a shit husband. “
She stays quiet for a moment and with every second that passes by he breaks more and more. He wonders how much of him is left at this point. How much there’s still to lose. Then again, what does it matter? He lost her and that’s all that really matters.
“ You weren’t a shit husband, Bucky. “
It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion as they both grab the 2 things left in the box.
Bucky holds onto the blue velvet box knowing exactly what’s inside. The last time he held it, got on his knees in front of her, put the ring on her finger, that was one of the best days of his life. A sign that the Winter Soldier was his past and that he could finally truly move on. They were younger, in love. Happy. Now he hardly remembers what happiness feels like.
“ I was so nervous to give this to you. Not because I thought you’d say no or anything. I just — I just wanted to be enough. The ring and the proposal and — me. “
“ You were always enough. “ she says and he can hear the tears in her voice. It’s thick and heavy and he knows that if he looks at her now, there will be tears in her eyes too.
But he doesn’t look at her then. His eyes fall onto the piece of fabric in her hands. It’s so small. Soft peached colored with a little bunny embroidered on the front. It’s tiny and cute and it belongs to no one. It’s tiny and it should’ve been theirs. But it isn’t.
“ No, I wasn’t. He says and shakes his head. You deserve more than I can give you. “
She throws the baby romper back into the box and gets off the bed as if someone has set it on fire.
“ What’s wrong? “ he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everything. Everything about this situation is wrong. They’re supposed to make love on this bed, not cry over memories long gone. Push away thoughts of their looming divorce.
“ I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe you can tell me. “ She calls out to him as she pulls the rest of his shirts from the closet and throws them into the bedroom. Colors of fabric flying through the air like wings of a bird flapping through the winds. Some of them she lops at him, passion and anger and wrath and sadness filling her eyes. “ Maybe you can tell me why the fuck we’re doing this. Why we’re putting ourselves through all this pain and suffering and this bullshit divorce. Maybe you can tell me why you left me to have a fucking breakdown every time I walk into my closet and see this goddamn dress, “ she cries while holding up the hanger over which her beautiful white wedding dress is draped. God, she looked so beautiful that day. Like a goddess. Like an angel. Like his redemption.
“ We were happy. We were trying to have a family. And then what — it doesn’t work and you leave? You just gave up. “
“ I didn’t give up. “
“ Yes, you fucking did! You gave up and you served me divorce papers and you didn’t even give me a fucking choice. “
“ You agreed! “
“ Because I love you and if you don’t want to be with me, then I am not keeping you. I love you enough to let you be happy even if it’s without me.”
Those words send a shock through his heart. Like an icicle. Cold and sharp and unforgiving.
“ You think I don’t love you? You think YOU are the reason?,” Bucky questions before grabbing the romper from the box and holding it up “ this is the reason. This is my fault and mine alone. It’s my fault that this belongs to no one. It’s my fault that there’s an empty room in this apartment that you can’t walk into because it hurts you too much to see it empty. You deserve to be a mother and clearly, I can’t give that to you. That’s the burden I carry but it’s not one that should be put on you. I can’t give you this but you deserve it and you should have it. So this is me letting you go so you can find someone that can give you a baby. Someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn't have a body that doesn’t work anymore. Not in the way it should. “
“ James, “ her words a but a whisper as his name tumbles from her lips and she lets her wedding dress fall to the floor to sit next to him and hold his face in between her hands. “ That wasn’t your fault and you are not broken. I want a family, yes. I want a child. But with you. I want a family with you and it doesn’t matter if it’s my blood or not. It’s our family whichever way we decide to do this. And if we — if we stay just us and Alpine that’s fine too. I just want you and whatever else we decide on. Together. I love you, James. I love you and I miss you and I don’t want a baby if it’s not with you. A family means nothing if it doesn’t include you. Whatever the consequences of the serum are, they are not your fault. You are not broken, James. You are you. You’re a hero. A husband. And maybe one day a father but above all, you are James Buchanan Barnes, a survivor and you are not broken. “
He knows he should be saying so many things right then but all his thoughts get tangled up and won't find the way to his lips.
Instead, he says the only other thing he can think about right then.
“ You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. “
She laughs through the flood of tears that leak from her eyes and trail down her face.
“ I mean you always look beautiful but that day. My god. I honestly couldn’t believe you said yes to me — of all people. 106 year old me. Wouldn’t believe it until the moment you walked down the aisle. Then I knew that this was really the start of my new life. Of my forever. “
“ I miss you Bucky. “
“ I miss you too. “
“ I don’t want to divorce you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.”
“ Even without the babies? “
“ Yes, “ she nods and brushes her fingers through his short hair. “ You are my family James and you are enough for me. Always”
“ I love you. “ he says because really, it’s the only thing he can think of. The thing he wants most. The only thing that matters.
Without another word, he pulls the ring from the box and delicately slips it back onto her finger. Where it belongs. Where it always belonged.
“ I’m sorry I was ever this stupid. I should’ve just talked to you “
“ Yeah you should have but right now can you — can you just kiss me? “
She doesn’t need to ask him twice. He kisses her once, then twice, then once again. It’s been a long long time since the last time he’s kissed her. Too long. Way too long.
He’s not gonna stop anytime soon. Never again. Never ever again.
“ Hey, “ he says “ how about you slip into your wedding dress I think for all my stupid decisions I owe you a dance. “
“ I think you might be right. “
And she’s smiling, so bright and radiant. Like the sun. Like all the stars. Like his own personal light in the darkness.
“ Don’t expect too much though. I just cried, my hair is a mess — I won’t look the way you remember me looking in this dress. “
“ You’ll look gorgeous.”
And he’s right. She looks breathtaking. She looks like a wonderful, wonderful dream. Like love captured in a person. Like a second chance. Like his home.
There are a lot of thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind as he pulls her close and they sway to the melodic tunes of their wedding song as it sounds from the speakers of her cellphone. But above all there’s love. And the knowledge that he is enough. That they are enough. Their tiny little family. Perfect and not broken or missing anything. It’s good as it is.
They don’t have to think about who gets to keep the decorative throw pillows, the records they used to collect together, the plates that were a wedding gift, the cat. Because it’s theirs. Together. Shared.
And forever.
#bucky x f!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female!reader#Bucky Barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky fanfic#bucky fanfiction#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x female!reader
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Consequences
Masterlist
Summary: When Javier left for Colombia the second time, he told no one but his father. When he returns, he realises how selfish that decision was.
Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader
Warnings: Angst.
Words: 4kish
~
Arriving back in Laredo had been as uneventful as Javier had expected it to be. He hadn’t been gone as long as last time. A little over a year had passed since he’d made the decision to go back. After spending a few months mulling over whether he wanted to return there he had packed a bag and gotten on the first flight he could catch. His father had tried to speak sense into him, tried to convince him that it was a good idea. He could see how Colombia had sucked the soul out of his only son but Javier didn't listen and he didn’t do the one thing his father asked him to do.
Tell you.
He’d made you aware from the start that it was just casual. That he wasn’t ready for commitment. The family and the white picket fence and you'd agreed to that. Your relationship was his only constant for two months. His source of release when ghosts came back to haunt him. He’d met you at his favourite watering hole, you were new to him but not new to the bar and the two of you had talked for hours that first night you’d met. He’d kept coming back then, one thing led to another and he became a regular feature in your bed. The sex was great. Incredible and despite him telling himself that it wasn't serious there was a part of him that had fallen for you but he knew you didn't feel the same. So he'd left it.
Laredo is a small town. Everyone knows everyone and Chucho knew you. When he’d learned of his son's relationship with you he’d made Javier promise he wouldn’t hurt you. It was common knowledge that your relationship history was poor. You’d been treated poorly, cheated on and left to pick up the pieces all on your own until you’d met Chucho. He had taken you under his wing, gotten you the job at the bar and helped pick up the pieces of your broken heart when your fiancé had left you. He had also been there to support you when Javier had left and he’d warned you when he had learned his son was returning.
News you’d not taken well.
…
‘Where are you going?’ Chucho asked as he watched his son make his way to the front door.
‘Going for a drink.’
‘She’s not going to be there.’ He stated and Javier glanced back at his father.
‘What?’
‘She doesn’t work at the bar anymore.’ His father elaborated as he continued to stare at the mug clasped between his two large hands.
‘What makes you think I was going to see her?’ Javier queried, cocking his hip to one side as he studied his father closely.
‘Because I know you.’ He asserted ‘You seriously think that she’ll want to see you? I asked you to tell her and you didn’t.’
‘I-.’
‘Don’t even try and lie to me pendejo.’ He snapped, finally looking up at Javier ‘She turned up at my door looking for you and I had to tell her that you were gone.’ He growled, eyes glowing in the dim evening light ‘You have no idea of the mess you left behind.’
‘What mess?’
‘It’s not my place to say. It's her business what you know.’ He answered, pushing himself up from his chair ‘You lost the right to that knowledge when you walked out on her.’
‘It was casual pops.’ He argued ‘She knew that. If she got hurt by me leaving then that's not my fault.’
‘Your actions have consequences, Javier.’ He finished ‘Remember that.’
~
The sun was blaring down as you managed to rip the last of the weeds that had invaded your flower bed. Wiping your brow with the back of your hand you dusted off your soiled hands on your worn jeans and made your way to your front door. As soon as your hand twisted the vintage doorknob you heard a voice you hoped you’d never hear again call your name and you sighed. Turning your head to see him standing there on the path, as beautiful as he was the last time he saw you.
‘How are you?’ He asked awkwardly and you rolled your eyes.
‘Peachy.’ you growled as you pushed open your front door.
‘Hermosa wait.’ He pleaded as he sprinted after you, catching the door before it slammed shut.
‘Javier I don’t want to talk to you.’ You growled, crossing your arms as you blocked his way into your home.
‘I just wanted to explain myself.’ He asserted ‘I was a jerk. I shouldn't have just left without saying goodbye.’
‘No, you shouldn't have.’ You growled as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other ‘Is that all? Only I have things to do?’
‘Can I come in?’ He asked, his brown eyes pleading and for a moment you felt yourself weaken under his sad gaze.
‘No.’ You snapped ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Well, could we perhaps meet for coffee?’ He countered ‘I just want a chance to talk.’ He continued, scrubbing a hand over his face as he adopted his signature stance ‘Dad said that I left a mess behind with you and I want to make amends.’ He confessed ‘If I can.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ You replied as you started to push the door ‘I’ll call you.’
Then you were gone. A dark green door separating the two of you. He stood there a moment, his stomach twisting in knots as he relived the interaction he’d just shared with you before he made his way back to his truck and left.
Hoping that you’d call.
You did…
~
His heart was in his throat as he sat at a table outside the cafe he knew you loved, your favourite coffee ready and waiting for you. His nerves increased when he saw you turn the corner but his emotions soon became confusing as you got closer, pram in front of you.
Why did you have a baby with you?
He didn’t have long to ponder that as you came to a stop beside the table, leaning down to check inside the pram before you took your seat opposite him.
‘Thanks for the coffee.’ You said, taking a sip and humming as the flavours assaulted your senses.
‘Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.’ He replied, giving you a genuine smile ‘Who’s baby is that?’
‘What did you want to speak to me about Javier?’ You asked, skimming over his question.
‘Oh… Well. I um… I wanted to apologise for leaving without telling you. I know I said that we were casual but you deserved better than that.’ He started, taking a sip of his coffee before he continued ‘I um… I guess I just thought it would be easier if I just left but I guess that wasn’t the case if I hurt you.’
‘Javier.’ You began, letting out a sigh as you sat back in your chair ‘I knew what we were. I’m not angry because you left. I’m angry because you ignored my calls.’
He cocked his head to the side as he waited for you to elaborate.
‘You don’t remember do you?’ You asked and snorted when he shook his head.
‘Was a few days after you arrived.’ You declared ‘I rang you telling you there was something I needed to speak to you about.’ You paused as you sipped your coffee again ‘You told me that you were busy but that you would call me back as soon as you could.’
Javier winced as the memory of that call came flooding back to him.
‘You never called me Javier.’ You snapped ‘I rang, left messages on your machine and with your secretary but you never called me back.’
‘Hermosa I-‘
He was cut off by crying and you turned your attention to the pram beside you, pulling out an infant that could not have been much older than four months old. You hushed her, rocking her in your arms as she screamed and protested at your attempts to soothe her.
‘Does she need a bottle or?’ He asked, a little unsure what to do.
‘She’s hungry.’ You stated as you fished out a small blanket from the bag that hung just below the handlebar of the pram and threw it over your shoulder.
After a little arranging, you draped the blanket over her head and shifted your shirt, rocking her lightly as she latched to your breast and started to suckle. Javier watched in shock as the puzzle pieces started to slot into place.
‘She’s uh… You have a baby?’ He asked, voice shaking a little as his eyes drifted from the infant in your arms to your face.
‘Yes.’ You replied plainly, looking him squarely in the eye.
‘Wow… Uh. Congrats I guess.’ He said as he supped at his coffee ‘Who’s the lucky guy?’
‘Seriously?’ You snort, rolling your eyes at him.
‘What?’
‘I thought you were supposed to be some sort of detective.’ You sniggered as you took another sip of your coffee.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He growled, feeling his anger start to simmer beneath the surface.
‘Well, let's see.’ You start, glancing down at your daughter before returning to Javier ‘You left. I needed to talk to you. A year or so later you come back and the girl you were fucking has a four-month-old baby. That a big enough clue for you Agent Peña?’
Javier sits there for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he processes everything that you had told him. The longer he took to say anything, the more amused you got by his obvious struggle to comprehend that the infant in your arms was half him. In the time it took for him to process, you tucked yourself back in, readjusted your shirt and started to pat your daughter's back as you placed gentle kisses in her hair.
‘She’s uh… She’s m-mine?’ He stuttered, eyes settling on his daughter.
‘Yes, Javier. She is yours.’ You replied, pulling off the blanket from your shoulder and tossing it on the table.
‘Does pops know?’
‘He does.’ You replied ‘He was there through it all. Came to my scans, held me after she was born. I even stayed with him for the first two months so that he could help me. He uh… her birth was hard.’
‘Hard?’ He asked, his expression changing to one of concern.
‘Yeah, she partly breached.’ You stated, as you looked down lovingly at your world ‘Forceps and six stitches later she was in my arms.’ You said with a smile ‘Was hell but she was worth it all.’
‘Why didn’t pops tell me?’
‘Because I told him not to.’ You snapped, looking up at Javier with fire in your eyes ‘You lost your right to know about her when you chose not to call me.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Fair?’ You growled ‘What’s not fair is that I turned up at your house to tell you that I was pregnant, only to learn that you’d left the previous night for Colombia without telling me.’
Javier winced at your timbre.
‘What’s not fair was having to go through the emotional turmoil of learning that I was pregnant with the baby of a guy that I had been fucking casually and knowing I was going to have to do it alone. What's not fair is that I called, gave him a chance after chance to be a part of that baby’s life and he chose to ignore me.’ You paused, downing the last of your coffee ‘You had an opportunity to know about her. To chose whether or not you wanted to be a part of her life and you blew it. I clearly meant nothing to you as otherwise, you would have called.’ You growled.
'I did care Hermosa.' He said softly and you laughed.
'Funny way of showing it.' You replied, staring at the pram for a short while as an awkward silence settled over you both.
‘Can I um… Can I hold her?’ He asked, his request taking you by surprise and you glanced down at your baby for a moment before looking back at him.
‘No.’ You replied bluntly before you stood and placed her back in her pram ‘Thanks for the coffee, Javier.’ You spat as you shoved the blanket into the bag and turned off the breaks on the pram ‘See you around.’
…
‘HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?’ He yelled as he came charging through his father's front door.
‘Tell you what?’
‘That I’m a father!’ He gasped ‘That I have a four-month-old daughter. Who you have spent time with, have photos of on the walls of the house. I just assumed that they were some friend's kid but no, she's mine.’
‘She told me not to and I agreed with her decision.’ He stated and Javier saw red 'I thought that it should be down to you to mend this.'
‘If I had known I could have… things could have been different!.’
‘You would have known about her if you'd called her like you said you would.’ His father snapped back ‘You had plenty of opportunities.’
‘I was sorta busy taking down a cartel pops.’
‘And you didn’t have a single moment to yourself?’ Chucho questioned, watching the guilt seep into his son's features ‘You didn’t have a single moment in the past year to call her back? To find out what was wrong with the girl that you had been sleeping with for months.’
‘You should have told me pops.’ Javier scoffed.
‘You should have called.’ His father replied before standing up and leaving a conflicted son in his wake.
~
2 weeks later - 2 am…
Javier was woken by the sound of frantic banging, followed by raised voices and after rubbing his tired eyes he traipsed his way down the stairs to find you sobbing, your daughter in his father’s arms.
‘Her fever’s really high… I don’t know what to do.’ You sobbed, hands shaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.
‘What's going on?’ Asked Javier, making you and his father startle a moment before returning their attention to the baby ‘Is she okay?’
‘She has a fever.’ His father stated.
‘Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?’ He asked, gingerly approaching you before looking at the wailing infant in his father's arms.
‘It's probably just a cold.’ Said Chucho, shaking his head as he glanced up at you ‘You can take her if you want Mija.’
‘I uh… Can you drive?’ She asked the older man, her question stinging Javier.
‘I’m not allowed to drive at night now Mija.’ He stated and she nodded lightly ‘Javi will take you.’
‘It’s fine I’ll-’
‘Just let me help.’ Interrupted Javier, his eyes almost pleading ‘I am her father after all.’
…
The wait in the ER was the longest of your life. You sat rocking your screaming child as others tutted from their thrones of judgement. You could feel their eyes on you as you desperately tried to soothe her but you knew that nothing would work until her fever was tended to.
Javier sat silently beside you, picking at his cuticles and glancing every so often at his daughter. A part of him yearned to hold her, rock her in his arms and take her suffering away but he didn’t push you. He’d had two weeks to ponder everything that had transpired and he’d tried to reach out but you’d been hesitant. His heart was hurting bLet'se had no right to demand anything from you and so he decided that he would have to earn your trust in the hopes that one day, he’d finally hold his daughter.
‘Sophia?’ Came a voice, grabbing your attention and you abruptly stood.
‘You can uh, wait here if you want.’ You said, glancing at Javier as he stood.
‘I’d like to come.’ He said nervously ‘If that's okay.’
You simply nodded before making your way over to the doctor that had called out for your daughter. He motioned for you to lay her on the bed that was placed in the centre of the room, holding your baby's tiny hand as the doctor made his way over with a tray of different instruments.
‘Someone isn’t a happy girl are they?’ He said softly, stroking her plump cheek and pushing his bottom lip out at her ‘Is this dad?’ He asked as he motioned at Javier.
‘Yeah.’ You replied, taking the younger Peña by surprise.
‘Well let's take a look shall we.’ He said as he started to take her temperature ‘103. No wonder you're grumpy.’ He said as he placed the thermometer back down ‘Lets listen to that little ticker shall we?’ He said as he opened the front of her Winnie the Pooh onesie.
You and Javier watched as he moved the stethoscope around her little chest, letting out a sympathetic sigh as he placed the instrument back around his neck.
‘It's just a cold.’ He said, placing a comforting hand on your arm.
‘What can we do to help her?’ Asked Javier and you turned your head to look at him briefly before looking back at the doctor.
‘Lots of mums breast milk or formula.’ He started ‘The fever is clearly making her uncomfortable so I’ll prescribe some Calpol for that. Will hopefully bring that fever down quickly.’
‘Thank you.’ You said kindly, giving him a genuine smile.
Scooping your still fussy baby into your arms you followed the doctor out and to the pharmacy where he hands the lady at the desk a slip.
‘Get well soon Sophia.’ Said the doctor sweetly as he gently pinched the infant's cheek before bidding you both goodbye.
Javier watched as you picked up the prescription and that's when it hit him. Sophia. He hadn’t known her name until tonight and the more he thought about it, the more he thought it suited her. Smiling to himself, he doesn’t notice you had turned to face him.
‘Javier?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Can we go now?’ You huffed and he sprung into action, leading the way back to his Jeep.
…
‘See I told you Mija.’ Said Chucho as he rocked a sleeping Sophia in his arms ‘Just a cold.’
It hadn’t been difficult to get the little one to take her medicine and within ten minutes she was out like a light.
‘How she caught a cold in the middle of summer I’ll never know.’ You chuckled, smiling at the older man as he fawned over his granddaughter.
You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Javier was watching him, conflicting emotions battling for dominance on his face and for a moment you felt sorry for him.
‘Thank you for taking me to the hospital.’ You pipped up and he glanced up at you.
‘It's fine.’ He replied coldly and you felt the sympathy dissolve.
‘Well, I better get her home.’ You said as you took her from Chucho.
‘I will see you on Sunday.’ She said to the older man, giving him a peck on the cheek.
Glancing at Javier you noticed him staring off at nothing in particular and scoffed, kissing your daughter's warm brow as you made your way out of the door and to your car.
‘What's Sunday?’ He asked his father after he knew you had left.
‘She and I have Sunday lunch together once a month.’ He stated plainly ‘I’ll leave something out for you.’ He finished before retiring upstairs again, tired from the evening drama.
~
2 months later…
You smiled at Chucho bounced Sophia on his knee as she tugged at his moustache. She was fascinated with her abuelo’s facial hair, always trying to grab it with her tiny hands. You thought, for a moment, about whether she’d do the same with Javier, the facial hair style being a trend amongst Peña men.
‘There was something I wanted to ask you Mija.’ He said suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts.
‘What's that?’
‘Do you think that perhaps Javi could come to dinner this Sunday?’
‘Chucho-.’
‘He’s been trying Mija.’ The older man interrupted ‘He’s been hurting. Seeing his daughter from afar but not being able to hold her.’
‘Well, who’s fault is that?’ You snapped as you took a sip from your lemonade.
‘I found him crying the other night over a photo of her.’ He said and you looked at him in shock ‘He’d never admit it but this whole situation is killing him.’
‘I'm sorry he's hurting. Truly I am but I just don’t want Sophia to grow attached to him and then him leave again.’ You stated and Chucho nodded in response.
‘I understand Mija but he’s put that life behind him.’ He paused, taking in your expression ‘He has nightmares you know. That country destroyed him and now he’s returned home to learn he's a father but he can't be one no matter how much he wants to be. I’m worried about him Mija.’
‘Worried how?’
‘He doesn't really eat.’ He stated as he pulled a tired Sophia to his chest ‘He’s cut down on the drink and the cigarettes but he’s not taking care of himself. He barely leaves the house. I’ve managed to get him to help me with a few jobs on the ranch but most of the time he’s either laying in bed, not sleeping, or sat out on the deck staring off at nothing.
‘What do you want me to say Chucho?’
‘Just let him hold her.’ He pleaded ‘Even if it’s just the once. Let him just hold her a moment. Let him come on Sunday and just have a little time with her.’
You sat there in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say.
‘Please Mija.’ He begged one last time and you nodded.
Perhaps it was time to mend fences.
~
Dinner was almost done by the time the Peña men arrived. Chucho entered first, Javier trailing behind him and he watched as you hugged and kissed his father in greeting before grabbing Sophia so she could kiss her Abuelo, or lick, on the cheek.
‘Hi.’ You said to Javier and the man was startled.
‘Hi.’ He replied, nodding slightly ‘Thanks for letting me come along.’ He said, fiddling with the hat in his hands,
‘She’s getting so big.’ Said Chucho as he bounced his granddaughter in his arms ‘Isn’t she getting bigger Javier?’
‘Yeah… yeah she is.’ He replied as he smiled at his daughter.
‘Would you uh… Would you like to hold her?’ You asked, your nerves seeping into your voice as he looked at you in shock.
‘You sure?’ He asked but his eyes were full of hope.
‘Yeah.’ You replied, watching as Chucho carefully handed Sophia to her father.
She squeaked loudly at him as she tried to reach for his moustache and you chuckled at her, smiling as he placed a kiss on her tiny palm.
‘Hey, Hermosa.’ He said softly as he gazed at her, their brown orbs locking.
At that moment he realised there was nothing he wouldn't do for her and his heart swelled. Taking a seat he lifted her so that she was at eye level with him and he rested his forehead against hers, breathing in her smell and smiling as her hands slapped tapped his cheeks.
‘I love you, baby girl.’ He said quietly as he brought his lips to her brow ‘And if momia will let me. I will spend the rest of my days proving it to you.’
#javier peña x reader#javier peña#javier peña x you#javier peña gif#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña fanfiction#javier pena fanfiction#narcos fanfiction x reader#narcos fanfiction x you#narcos x you#narcos x reader#narcos#narcos gifs#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#pedro pascal gif
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drabble idea! who said "i love you" first, and what were they doing?? 👀
(Kiribaku Drabble Prompt)
I started following the prompt and then it totally spiraled...
It was an accident.
A fucking accident.
It slipped out so casually, tumbled out of his mouth so effortlessly, felt as natural as breathing or shitting or eating or sleeping - it was an accident.
Kirishima halted halfway out the door with his hero-suitcase clutched tight in one hand, and Bakugou's entire body stiffened as soon as he registered in his groggy early-morning brain what it was that he had just said out loud.
Fuck. It was a fucking accident!
He wasn't ready to have that kind of a talk yet, he wasn't ready to deal with all of the bullshit that would no doubt come as a result from it, he wasn't ready to be in love. Not yet. Not right now. Not with Kirishima.
Kirishima glanced over his shoulder back into the apartment, and Bakugou used every ounce of the willpower that he had inside of him to force himself to keep cooking, force himself to not look back at him, force himself to pretend like he hadn't just said what he had just said.
But all that Kirishima responded with before he walked out the door was, "I'll text ya if I plan on bringing home dinner tonight, bro!"
And then he was gone.
Bakugou's muscles still felt tight, though, and his heart still felt like it was beating ridiculously fast somewhere deep inside his chest, but he forced himself to go about his own damn business. It was nothing - it had meant nothing.
It was just a fucking accident.
-
Kirishima didn't mind taking care of Bakugou when he was drunk.
Honestly, he was just relieved that his best bro had finally started to loosen the restrictive reins on his social conduct enough to even consider going out with the rest of their old classmates from Yuuei High.
It was nice to see him snicker and share snide remarks with Todoroki at the bar, and it was nice to watch him playfully goad Mina with teasing shoves to the shoulder at the pool table, and it was even nice to watch him knock the bottom of his beer bottle down on the top of Midoriya's and cause the foam to bubble up and spill out onto the table while everyone laughed at the display because at least he wasn't trying to kill anybody.
Kirishima didn't mind taking care of Bakugou when he was drunk.
He just didn't really know how he was supposed to respond when Bakugou said shit like that; a grunted whisper in his ear with a strong arm wrapped around his neck as the pair of them meandered down the empty night street back towards their apartment.
It probably didn't mean anything anyway. Bakugou was drunk; his words were slurring and his eyes looked cloudy and he tripped over his own feet every couple of steps. It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean what Kirishima wanted it to mean, he was certain of it.
"Eh?" Bakugou grunted louder when Kirishima didn't respond to that. He pressed harder into Kirishima's side, his bicep tightened around Kirishima's neck. "Didya fuckin' hear w-what I said, shitbag-hairstyle-shit?"
Bakugou reached across with his other free hand and pinched hard at Kirishima's flushed cheek, who couldn't help but snort as he tried to tilt his head away. Bakugou's arm squeezed around his neck and prevented him from going very far though.
"Yeah, I heard ya man," Kirishima huffed out, and he tried not to look at him, and he tried not to notice how tight his chest felt, and he tried not to think about it because Bakugou didn't mean it like that.
"Kay," Bakugou relented as he dropped his hand back down to his side again.
The pair of them continued back to the apartment in silence, save for the scuffing of their sneakers against the asphalt of the pavement, and Kirishima really didn't mind taking care of Bakugou when he was drunk.
He just wished that Bakugou would stop saying that if he didn't really mean it.
-
Once was an accident. Twice was a coincidence. Three times was a habit.
Or as Bakugou liked to look at it:
Once was a fluke. Twice was a mistake. Three times is the result of Enemy Action.
This was all Kirishima’s fault, really.
It was Kirishima’s fault for suggesting that they move in together after they graduated from Yuuei. It was Kirishima’s fault for insisting that they go together to buy all of those dumb household necessities like shower curtains and plates and matching fucking towels. It was Kirishima’s fault for always strutting around the apartment without his shirt on, it was Kirishima’s fault for always leaving the bathroom door cracked open when he was in the shower, it was Kirishima’s fault for always ruffling Bakugou’s hair whenever he walked by him sitting on the couch - it was all Kirishima’s fucking fault!
Bakugou stared at the black screen of his phone after the call had ended, stared at the tiny angry reflection of himself staring back at him, and his fingers tightened desperately on the edges.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Why did he keep fucking saying that shit? Why did it keep fumbling out of him like some kind of thoughtless instinct?
Why didn’t Kirishima ever say anything about it?
Todoroki blinked from beside him on the sidewalk as the afternoon rush of pedestrians scurried by like a school of fish avoiding an intrusive boulder settled in the middle of a river. "Did you just tell Kirishima that you loved him?"
Bakugou tensed. He glared at him out of the corner of his eye as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and continued on with their patrol. “As if. Get your damn ears checked, icyhot.”
“My yearly audiometry evaluation came back normal a few months ago,” Todoroki informed him unnecessarily. “You just told Kirishima that you loved him.”
Bakugou’s lip twitched into the start of an impatient snarl. “Fuck off, it ain’t any of your damn business!”
Todoroki considered this for a moment in silence before he asked, “Does that mean that you two are finally dating?”
Bakugou’s gaze snapped over to look at him with a challenging glare. “Dating?”
Todoroki nodded. “Finally.”
“Finally?!”
“Yes. It means after a long time, typically following a considerable delay or-”
“I know what it fucking means!” Bakugou chided, clenching his hands into fists. “The fuck would we be dating for?”
Todoroki blinked at him again like he wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to proceed with this conversation. Bakugou continued to glare at him as he waited for some kind of explanation, and he tried to ignore how sweaty his hands were or how hard his heart was hammering somewhere lodged up in his throat.
“Hold on,” Todoroki dug around in his pocket and pulled his phone out as the pair of them crossed through a busy intersection before he entered a number on speed dial and held it up to his ear. “Hello. Bakugou just asked me why he should date Kirishima, what was it you told me again?”
“What the shit?! Who the fuck are you talking to!?” Bakugou lunged for the phone in Todoroki’s hand, but a shard of ice shooting out of the pavement from the toe of Todoroki’s boot effectively prevented him from doing so. “You fucking bastard!”
“Ah. Right. Okay. Thank you,” Todoroki hung up the phone just as Bakugou rounded the jutting piece of ice and came to stand in front of him, looking murderous. Todoroki seemed incredibly unfazed by this as he relayed back to him, “Denki says that only bros who want to see their other bros dicks would act the way that you do around Kirishima.”
Bakugou was so blindsided by this blunt comment that for a moment the only thing he could do was look at him in stunned silence. Todoroki seemed incredibly unfazed by this, as well.
“Do you want to see Kirishima’s dick?” he asked very seriously.
...
Did he?!?
-
Kirishima didn’t know how much more of this he could realistically take.
Once was no big deal. An accident, a fluke, a half-awake brain grumbling a half-garbled sentence that didn’t mean anything. Twice was more of an annoyance, really. A coincidence or a mistake, a drunken statement no doubt uttered by hundreds of inebriated people on a nightly basis.
The third time it was so quick that Kirishima hadn’t even registered that it had even happened until about twenty minutes after the call had already ended.
So what though, right? Lots of people ended their calls like that. Usually when they were talking to a family member or a significant other, but Bakugou was his best friend and sometimes best friends said it too, so there shouldn’t be any reason for Kirishima to make a big deal out of it.
But there was no excuse for it this time, as Kirishima came to a sudden halt in the middle of the kitchen to stare incredulously across the counter at his roommate who had just come barreling out of his room like a man on an increasingly important mission. Bakugou stared back at him with a tightly clenched jaw and a set of narrowed eyes as though he were gearing up for a physical confrontation.
Kirishima blinked, and the base of his neck felt flushed and warm as the back of his shirt started to stick to his skin. He swallowed hard. “W...what?”
Bakugou’s eyes narrowed further. ��You heard me.”
Kirishima did hear him - has heard him say it four separate times now - and still, he had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that statement. Once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, three times was a habit. So what was Kirishima supposed to blame the fourth time on?
“You gonna say it back, or what?” Bakugou challenged him with a defiant lift of his chin as though he had something to prove.
Kirishima’s hands tightened on the bowl he’d almost forgotten he was even holding on to. He couldn’t say it back, he couldn’t. Not when Bakugou didn’t mean it like that, not after how long he’s spent lying awake at night in his room fantasizing about this very moment, not if Bakugou was just going to take it all back and pretend it had never even happened in the first place.
Bakugou shifted awkwardly on the other side of the counter, restless and fidgety and growing more impatient with each second that passed, before he huffed angrily and spat out again, “I said I fucking love you. Now are you gonna fucking tell me that you love me too, or not?”
Kirishima’s eyes widened like saucers and his fingers clenched harder on the bowl. “You... love me?”
Bakugou’s shoulders tensed but he refused to back out, stubborn and steadfast and ready to go down swinging. “How many more damn times you need me to fucking say it?”
Kirishima continued to blink at him, vaguely aware of how fast his heart was racing somewhere far away, vaguely aware of how his entire body seemed to thrum chaotically down to its very core, vaguely aware of how warm his chest felt as he replayed all of the past incidents.
Murmured in the domestic hush of early morning in front of a sizzling breakfast. Whispered in the contented aftermath of a rambunctious night out with friends. Uttered in the casual routine of a midday check-up following a planned inquiry for a shared dinner later that night.
And now here. Stated bluntly and directly so as not to be misinterpreted as any kind of accident, or coincidence, or some type of forced habit. A declaration and a confession all wrapped up in one white-knuckled challenge.
“Well?” Bakugou snapped as his chest heaved with every harsh breath. “If I have to say it again, I will. If I have to say it a million fucking times for you to get it through your thick skull then I fucking will. I said I fucking love -”
Kirishima couldn’t possibly have waited for him to finish as he surged across the room, dumping his abandoned bowl carelessly onto the counter before he crashed his lips down hard onto Bakugou’s, who stuttered and stumbled at the sudden intrusion into his space before he pushed back with just as much enthusiasm.
And even though Kirishima couldn’t possibly get the words out past all of the frantic movement of their eager lips, his heart thumped painfully with each thought flitting through his mind that he was certain Bakugou could hear loud and clear:
I love you, I love you, I love you.
#kiribaku drabble prompts#kiribaku#pining#and they were roommates#love confessions#kirishima is in denial#bakugou is losing his mind#Todoroki just wants answers for his very important questions#kiribaku fic#bakugou katsuki#kirishima eijirou#bakushima#bakushima fic#bnha fanfiction#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfic#mha fanfic#todoroki shouto#kaminari denki#mina ashido#midoriya izuku#bnha#my hero academia
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Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania
this was requested by: anon
word count: 10.5k / rating explicit
a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk
taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish
It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.
The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.
"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."
He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."
"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.
"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."
It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."
"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."
"You're a good cook, what can I say?"
"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"
Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."
"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.
"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.
Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"
You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.
"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"
You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.
Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"
"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"
The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.
"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*
"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.
You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"
"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"
Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."
You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.
Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.
"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.
The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."
///
You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.
Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.
So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.
Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.
He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.
You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.
"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.
It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.
The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"
"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.
When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-
"Dick - were you...?"
He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"
"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."
Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"
Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.
You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.
"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.
He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"
You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.
"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."
"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.
Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."
His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.
"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."
Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."
His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.
Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."
This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.
"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.
"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."
He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.
Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.
"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.
With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.
"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.
He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"
Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"
His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.
One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.
Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"
"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.
Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"
You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"
"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."
Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"
"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."
"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-
Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.
Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.
"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"
This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.
When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."
He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.
"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.
Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"
"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.
You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.
"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.
The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.
With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-
"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.
Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.
It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.
And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."
"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"
"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"
Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.
"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"
He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."
The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.
"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."
You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.
Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"
The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-
"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.
You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.
Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.
Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.
"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"
“-make me yours, then, please-"
You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."
Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."
Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.
Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.
He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"
"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.
You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."
That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"
"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"
"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."
Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."
God, you're going to come again, holy shit-
He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"
You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-
"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"
You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.
#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#nightwing#nightwing x reader#dc#dcu#batman#batfam#kinktober#smut#dick grayson smut#sex pollen
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good for you - t. jost (part two)
a/n: apparently the only things i can finish are smut which is honestly on brand for me. this part is a bit of filler but to be fair this entire fic is smut with barely a plot so i meannnn but anyways, let me know how you guys like it :)
big shoutout to @hookingminor because nothing gets posted around here without ilyana fr fr
part one
warnings: it's smush time (smut)
So you fucked?
Mat was confused, posted up in his hotel room in Philly trying to navigate the bits of information he’d been getting out of you. You’d barely spoken to him all week, your classes were already killing you and you’d been missing the nightly Facetimes you promised when you moved. Mat thought there was another reason you were ignoring him, the evidence that you did the diry with Tyson was obvious. He was pretty sure you did, the mark on your neck wasn’t as hidden as you seemed to think it was, and you had a pep in your step that you only got after a good hook up.
“Yes Mat, we fucked,” You sigh, pressing your hands against the cool countertop and staring at Mat through your laptop screen, “This is your fault.”
“Oh it’s my fault two consenting adults had sex? Did he stay over?” Mat asks, trying to grab onto as many details as he could.
“No I kicked him out after a second round in the shower,” You admit, covering your eyes so you wouldn’t see the shit eating grin on your best friend’s face, “I kind of want to do it again.”
“Three’s the limit,” Mat reminds you of the golden rule of hook ups. You both came to the conclusion one day, if you fucked someone more than three times, you had more feelings than you realized and it was time to run or let yourself get hurt. Mat seemed to do just fine with it, and most of the time so did you, but Tyson was tempting you.
“Oh my god, he’s calling me,” You panic, Tyson’s contact flashing across your screen. Mat went to open his mouth, some sort of roast about how nervous you were would probably have followed if you hadn’t hung up on him. You waited for one more ring, not wanting to seem too eager to answer his calls, “Hi?”
“Hey,” Tyson drags out his greeting, pacing around his own apartment trying to figure out what the hell he thought he was doing. He wanted to see you again, clothing optional if he was being honest with himself, he just needed you to know somehow that you weren’t just a booty call, “What are you doing?”
“Drowning in homework already,” You whine, rolling your eyes at the chaos around you. The city has been jackhammering outside your place since the day you moved in, stalling you every time you tried to do anything.
“Everything alright?” Tyson asks, his voice was laced with concern by the crashes coming from your end of the phone.
“Yeah, sorry they’ve been doing construction outside since I moved in,” You sigh, rubbing a hand over your forehead, “I really need to get these done-”
“Bring your stuff over here,” Tyson blurts out, grabbing onto the opportunity to see you. He could handle hanging out while you studied, you were sort of friends before, how hard could it be?
“You want to spend time with me while I study?” You question, genuinely curious about what kind of dude you’re fucking wants to do nothing while you actually get some studying done.
“Yes Y/N, I want to spend time with you,” Tyson chuckles, shaking his head at your shock. Of course you didn’t do that with anyone hooked up with, but you’d never hooked up with anyone you knew outside of the bedroom either. Keeping both of those worlds separate kept your heart safe, “C’mon, I’ll even buy you dinner.”
Okay fine, I’m on my way.
***
This was much harder than Tyson thought.
It was easy at first, you came over a little while later and Tyson thought he could control himself. You settled on dinner a few minutes ago, and that’s when things went south. It was the pout, the way you looked at when Tyson said he wasn’t in the mood for sushi. You batted your eyes at him, a small pout on your face and the words Tys please following. Tyson was a goner, calling up for sushi almost immediately while you smirked at him for giving in so easily.
Now, Tyson was just watching you, and not even in a way you wouldn’t notice. Your nose was tucked into your notes, it’d scrunch up every once in a while and Tyson assumed that meant you got to something you didn’t want to deal with. Your cardigan had fallen down your shoulder, leaving a spot where Tyson’s lips could have just landed easily. Your feet were across his lap, Tyson’s large hands on your legs while his thumb rubbed along the fabric of your leggings. His hand was creeping up slowly, your lip between your teeth while you watched him, “Don’t get distracted princess.”
“You’re making that a little hard,” You whine, just as Tyson’s finger slid under the waistband on your pants, “Tys-”
“No keep reading,” Tyson reminds you, humming when you let his hands slide your leggings off. His lips pressed softly against your hips, your eyes far more focused on Tyson’s head between your thighs, “I’ll stop if you can’t focus.”
“Don’t do that,” You sigh, feeling Tyson’s smirk against your skin. Tyson chuckled, a finger sliding your panties to the side.
“This wet already huh? Physics must really get you going,” Tyson teases, glancing up at the book in your hands. His breath was hot against your core, “Smart and pretty is a dangerous combination princess.”
“So I’ve been told,” You let out a gasp, Tyson’s tongue lapping at your pussy slowly. Your hand fell from your book, pulling at Tyson’s curls. His mouth unlatched from your core, forcing you to let out a whine, “Tys that’s not fair.”
“I told you keep reading, can’t have you failing on my watch,” Tyson laughs, laying his head on your hips. He had you in the palm of his fucking hand, every bone in your body was on fire and you hated every second of it. The way you were whining for Tyson to touch you was uncharted terrority, a craving you couldn’t satisfy and it was going to get you into trouble. You focused on your work, a small hum came from Tyson before his finger slid up your folds, “Good girl.”
Your eyes were fixated on the words in front of you, retaining as much as you could while Tyson’s fingers were teasing your entrance. He was moving slowly, loving the way your body reacted to his touch in a way he could have only dreamed. One finger slid in, curling against your g-spot and pulling a moan out of you, “Fuck, I’m almost done-”
“Finish pretty girl, go ahead,” Tyson pushes, smirking to himself at your reaction. His mouth moved to your core, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking on it. Your breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling while you finished the last paragraph before you were seeing stars. You tossed your book on Tyson’s coffee table, throwing your head back and grabbing his hair.
“Faster, Tys, please,” You beg, your hips lifting off the couch. Tyson slipped in another finger, tongue working against your core. He fingered you through your orgasm, fingers moving lazily in and out of
you when you finally came down, “Tyson, holy shit.”
Since when was Tyson this cocky? His smile was smug when you finally met his eyes, the same sparkle in his eye from the first time
you fucked. You pressed your lips to his, grinding your hips against him, “Your turn.”
Tyson’s eyebrows raised, a wave of shock over his face while you lowered yourself off the couch. You weren’t going to let Tyson just get off with a smile that smug. If Tyson wanted to play that game, you
needed to remind who he was playing it with. Your fingers slipped under his sweats, pulling down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. Tyson’s hand ran through your hair, a finger tracing your jawline while his thumb ran across your bottom lip, “You’re so fucking hot.”
“I’m aware,” You tease, licking the underside of his cock. You moved slowly, teasing him just as much he did to you. Tyson’s hands went to push your head down faster, so you pulled back with a smug smile that matched his, “No touching Tys.”
“C’mon, princess, that’s not fair,” Tyson’s hands flew back, a giggle falling through your lips at his whine. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, taking his length into your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. Tyson groans, his hands balling up into fists to keep himself from touching you, “Fuck, your mouth babe-”
The echo from Tyson’s doorbell bounced through his apartment, reminding you both of the food you were supposed to be waiting for. You pulled away, a smirk on your face, “I think you need to get that.”
“You did that on purpose,” Tyson groans, collecting himself enough to open the door for your food. You waited patiently, watching the way Tyson snapped back into the incredibly kind man you’d always known. If he thought you were dangerous, then he was absolutely lethal with the way he could speak to you as filthy as he did and smile as kindly as he does to others. He closed the door, watching back over to the couch where you were still sitting in just your panties and a tank top, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Let’s get you fed babe, I’ve got plans for us.”
“Hm, how about you eat it off of me?”
“I swear Y/N, you’re never leaving this apartment.”
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His cumslut
Letting Vinnie do basically whatever he wants tends to benefit me more then most people might think. My best friends are always saying I’m gonna regret letting him go to whatever party or anyone's house. They say he’s a hypocrite because he always has tabs on where I'm at and who I'm with honesty it does get annoying at times but he can't help that he has trust issues. I knew what I was getting into when I said yes to being his girlfriend he has had a bad past with every girlfriend he's had, all of them have cheated and every girl he got with outside of a relationship just uses him. He was very clear on how he feels about unnecessarily revealing clothes “Wear what you want but if I have to kill a guy tonight I'm punishing you when we get home.”
A very common phase he uses but that's the worst of it I don't mind telling him who I'm with or where I am, I never ask him where he is because because I know he won't go looking around anywhere else. I've explained this to them a thousand times “Well tell us why your so confident he won't cheat” I blush slightly and shrug “YOU DO THIS EVERYTIME” I look down “it’s personal” they look at each other and laugh “tell us you prude” I chuckle slightly “promise no Judgement or making fun of me!” they both hold out their pinkeys and nod “wellllll...I let him do whatever he wants-” kay laughs “Yea we know” I look down “i mean anything” I slowly look back up “what he says goes.... Don't wear clothes for the rest of the week.....suddenly I'm busy all week” they look at me dumbfounded “of course there are exceptions but I let him have complete control with the sexual side of the relationship.” I say with a small smile “and he's good at it too” they look at each other and look back at me before busting out in laughter, “no wonder your not worried...your his sex slave” I tilt my head Vinnie had never used that term with me, I grew up with Vinnie me and him went to school together we weren't close till middle school we decided in freshman that we would be best as friends. The second week him and I were in LA we went to a party and ended up hooking up I was a virgin, and I thought it was gonna ruin everything but to my surprise, we just kept getting more and more serious.
After 5 months of living in the sway house, we moved out into our little house, our sex life completely changed when we no longer had people living with us. Vinnie told me his sexual dreams of having me whenever he damn well pleased and having me wear things he likes. Vinnie makes jokes about it but in real life I'm only allowed to call him Vinnie if we're in public inside the house his name is Daddy and that alone. The first time we had a fight in the house I called him by his name and he simply picked me up threw me over the couch, he edged me for hours when he finally let me release the power of it made me faint for a minute scaring the the absolute shit out of Vinnie. ”Honestly your not wrong...he’s never called me that but I guess your kinda right” they are quite for a second so I look at them “what” they look at each other before kay takes a deep breath “are you happy though, Outside of the sex he not controlling or pushy?” I smile “oh he's perfect and so sweet to me honestly I'm more worried of hurting his feelings.” I feel my phone vibrant and then Vinnie’s ring tone I answer quickly wondering why he didn't face time me or text me “hey bab-” I hear him breathing deeply “whats wrong?” I ask with worry “I really need you to head home now baby I’ve had a very long day and I need to release some tension.”
I feel shivers go down my spine and I feel myself already starting to get wet I let out a fake sigh “alright Vinnie if it’s that important I’ll be home in 10 minutes” hoping the girls won’t think it’s about something dirty. Vinnie lets out a chuckle “they are still giving you shit about me?” I laugh “I’ll be home soon I love you” I hung up and give the girls an apologetic face “girls I’m-“ they laugh and stand up “it’s okay Y/n we don’t want him to throw a tantrum because your not naked when you get there” I gasp turning around seeing their playful faces “you guys are ridiculous.” We all laugh as we go separate ways, I get in my car rushing home I want to beat him to the house so I can keep the plan of being naked. The second I step in the house I start stripping and then as I’m about to pull my skirt off I hear a door slam. I gasp and rush upstairs flinging my clothes off just leaving them there. I hear the Door open then slam shut I jump on the bed quickly, I place my head and chest against the bed my ass in the air. I spread my legs as far as possible trying to calm my breathing my heart is basically beating out of my chest as I wait for him patiently.
Vinnie's POV
I pull in to the house and shut off the car taking a deep breath ”Vinnie it's not Y/n’s fault that Justin is a dumbass” I say to myself getting out of the car I slam the door releasing as much anger as possible before going in the house to my beautiful wife to be. I will marry this woman she's everything I've ever wanted or needed but now isn't the time for marriage or at least that's what I keep telling myself walking in to the house and slamming that door too I am already kinda feeling better I'm still fucking pissed but I'm not raging anymore I toss my keys into the bowl and take off my shoes seeing hers just tossed to the side unlike usual. I walking into the living room to see her shirt and bra on the floor I smirk and walk up to the stairs seeing her skirt and her panties along with her socks right outside the closed door. “Hello my love-” I walk in to see her bent over with her ass in the air, her beautiful flower on full display along with her cute little button. The sight takes my breath away I can see her arousal dripping down her legs “well aren't you just the prettiest view.”
I see her wiggle her squishy cheeks making me laugh a little “wanna give Daddy a little dance show princess?” I was kidding but my baby never disappoints she immediately started to shake her butt to an imaginary song I watch with my mouth open a little I truly didn't know she was capable of dancing that way. I watch in awe as she began to make her ass clap (as one does💀) I grunt as I feel my dick become impossibly hard I began to take my clothes off as I pull down my boxers. My cock slaps against my lower stomach making my stomach twist I grab ahold of it watching as large amounts of pre-cum slip out. I swiping my tip letting out a little grunt, I hear her call my name I look up at her to see her look at me from between her legs “can I help?” she asks as she bites her lip. I immediately let go and I feel another large amount of pre-cum drip down my staff again making me blush slightly no one makes me as horny as she does.
Y/n’s POV
I jump up from my spot I roll off the bed dropping to my knees in front of him I take both my hands and intertwine them with his big warm hands. First I lick up the line of pre-cum that's made its way to his balls all the way back to his tip before sinking down till he hit the back of my throat. Vinnie lets out a gasp rocking his hips against my face pushing the rest of his cock down my throat a gag comes out as a result but I continue to bob my head and suck I pull my head off taking a breath or two before opening back up and taking him all the way till my nose is pushed against his naval. The prickly hair tickling my nose I let out a small giggle “Oh fuck what was that” Vinnie moans above me and he grabs the back of my head by my hair in a fist “I'm gonna fuck your throat baby are you ready?” I nod my head best I can with his thick and long cock stuffed in my throat and blocking my airway. He pulls back till his tip is almost out before thrusting back in a popping and gagging sound come from my throat and my eyes rolls to the back of my head. I never thought I would get so much pleasure from giving a man head in my life but something about his taste and the feeling of him stuffing my throat that I just can't get enough of. Once I spent a whole day just sucking his dick he came in my mouth and down my throat too many times to count I had a little stomach bulge after and it kinda looked like a food baby. I remember Vinnie asked if that meant I was technically carrying his children now I smile slightly at the memory but I'm brought back to reality when I hear him calling my name “oh fuckfuckfuck” he pushes his cock as far down my throat as possible “Shit Y/n fuck baby!” shooting a long, and hot load down my throat I grab his hips gargling my throat around his cock making him jump and try to pull away as he continues to cum down my throat. He succeeded in pulling out and the last little bit of cum landing on my tongue “mmmm Daddy you taste so good” I say licking my lips I use my finger to the the rest off my chin and off his tummy I look in his eyes at I take the finger and put in my mouth moaning at the taste again. “Fuck Princess you enjoy that way to much don't you think?” he laughs as he lays down on the bed “my balls hurt” he laughs I crawl back on top of him kissing his cheeks and finally his lips “you taste so good though Daddy, I just can't get enough of you.” I run my hands threw his hair “give me like 10 minutes and ill make you feel so good baby” he says as he kissed my neck I sit beside him rubbing his god like body (somebody said something about licking his biceps in the comments as I kinda like that idea so enjoy)
I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms admiring his gorgeous skin I feel the need to worship him show him just how much of a slave for him I am he doesn't need to tell me I'm his slave, I already know I am and I'm gonna show him. “Mmm Daddy let me worship you” I whine as I began to kiss his chest and shoulders I run my hands up and down his toned stomach I began to kitten lick his hard muscles sucking little hickeys while I'm at it. “Fuck Princess what did you say” I start to kiss and lick his abs my hands rubbing his hard thighs pulling away I say “when I was at lunch with the girls I finally told them the truth about why I trust you so much they called me your sex slave.” I stop and begin to leave hickeys all over his hips and sex lines his hard cock brushing my cheeks and chin “I thought about it and I agree and honestly I wouldn't have it any other way” I lean down kissing his lips “oh princess I'm gonna make you more then just my sex slave” I sinister smile runs across his face and gleam appears in his eyes “I'm gonna make you my cumslut and your gonna beg for my cum....well everywhere if I have it my way.” he says looking in my eyes I feel a blush run on my cheeks and an excited shiver run down my back “you know you'll have it your way Daddy that my job right?” I say with a cute smile tilting my head trying to look innocent Vinnie let's put a dark chuckle “I can't wait to ruin you and really turn you into my cumslut” he pulls me down before flipping us over so he's on top “you won't be able to think about anything else except the way it feels for me to cum in your beautiful body” that sentence sent a violent shiver down my spine, I just got on birth control a little over 2 weeks ago but we haven't had raw sex quite yet mostly because we wanted to be sure the birth control is in full effect before taking the chance. (let's pretend you can't get pregnant on birth control at all lmao) I guess now is better than never “please Daddy make me your cum slut” I whine hooking my leg around his hip running my hands threw his hair.
Vinnie’s POV
My poor little bunny had no idea what she was doing to me as far as she's concerned these are just words flying out of her mouth but to me they are her words of true love and true trust. She trusts me enough to control her body and soon her mind, once she falls into the state of a cumslut I know she won't be able to control her body or her mind hopefully she feels relaxed in that state. The last thing I would want is for her to have a bad experience with me being the one in charge. I push my head into her neck running my staff between her slick lips a small moan falls from her lips “thank you, baby, I won't disappoint you I promise.” I kiss her lips once more before grabbing ahold of both of her legs pushing my spongy tip into her entrance the feeling completely different from when I have a condom on I let out a low gasp. Goosebumps pop up on my skin and a shiver runs down my spine as I pull out a light popping noise is made “UGH FUCK YOUR SO TIGHT” I let out a loud moan throwing my head back. I look back down seeing my sweet girl looking back up at me with wide innocent eyes and her mouth slightly open her hands hold tight onto my shoulders without even thinking I push inside of her both of us moaning as her wet walls fluttering around my dick about sending me into orbit I quickly bottom out letting out a grunt using my free hand to move her hair out of her face “F-fuck Daddy please I want you to use me” I began to jackhammer into her feeling her wall pulse around me her loud moans filling my ears as I pick up her legs pushing them into her shoulders feeling myself go further inside of her “Da-DADDY” I chuckle “what baby is there something you want” she whines and grinds her hips into me making me go even further if that's possible. “Daddy please cum inside of me I wanna feel it” Her little body was shivering, I feel my balls tighten so I began to rapidly pound inside of her “OH YESSS IM CUMMMING” she yells out thrusting her hips up. I grunt pushing as far into her as I can releasing deep inside of her, I look down to see her tense and shivering “you ok bunny,” I ask slightly worried “i-so um I-please” I look at her slightly confused “what baby?” I say with a little laugh I see her open her eyes a little before spreading her legs again “more please.” she whines out I drop my mouth open at my cute little whiney mess “oh princess you have no clue what you just did”
I have other things coming but should I make a part 2 to this
#vinnie#vinnie hacker#vinnie hacker imagines#vinnie hacker smut#vinnie hacker x reader#Sway#Swayboys#sway gaming#swaygaming#swayla#swayhouse#hypehouse#thehypehouse#hypehousesmut#Smut#smut imagine#smut imagines#dirty imagines#imagine
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