#nuzzle each other's faces endlessly until you hear cut? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oedein · 3 years

Text

DEAL WITH IT.

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader.

warnings: SMUT. sub reader. unprotected sex, overstim, light degradation, pet names.

word count: 3.9k

A/N: lol sorry for making bucky so mean ;(

Standing in the bedroom of your shared bedroom with Bucky, the two of you were trying to find outfits for tonight.

Tony had invited all of the avengers to party to celebrate your latest mission with the squad ending flawlessly. As part of the team, you were going. Bucky was quite averse to the idea of staying out for the night at first, but after a few hours of you practically begging him, he finally caved. — It's not that Bucky wouldn't have gone at all; he would've most likely just tucked himself away in a corner during the whole night and minded his own very boring business. If it wasn't for you accompanying him, helping him loosen up and actually enjoy himself.

After spending a fair amount of time getting ready both physically and mentally, you arrived at the party without any further hindrance.

Bucky kept close to you, his shoulder bumping into yours every time you stopped to greet someone. An hour of just strolling around endlessly made you jittery, feet bouncing off the floor every time you stopped walking. The sound of your suits rubbing up against each other built up a mild frustration within you, making you grit your teeth. You decided to link your arms together as a result instead of walking around like you were gonna merge. The two of you were usually shy about showing affection in public, especially around the other Avengers, but something about tonight tempted you into being more physical with him. You ended up catching up with a friend for quite some time as you were on the way to a bar, making Bucky rather restless. Excusing yourself, you nudged into his side and turned to whisper in his ear. "Hey, 'might want to go there alone for now. I'll be there in a bit." Bucky nodded and pulled his arm away from yours, starting to walk away from you. You watched as he went to sit down on a stool in a far corner, ordering his drink in peace. Your eyes kept flickering over to Bucky as your friend spoke, silently watching as he brushed his hair out of his face and cracked his knuckles. The way he tilted his head back and sighed in frustration as his bangs fell into his face again made you chuckle quietly. You followed every minute movement he did, biting your lip. When he scratched his beard, squinted when someone was too loud, or the way he would look over at you, eyes scanning you up and down made you lose your sense of surrounding, only fixating on him. The friend from earlier was still talking but caught on to you zoning out pretty quickly. Not wanting to bother you further or waste time, they excused themselves and nodded towards your boyfriend, "Go catch up with him; we'll talk more later!" You would apologise countless times for being so out of it before your attention turned back to Bucky, your gazes connecting. "Buck, buck, buck!" You called out playfully, humming as you walked up to him. He turned the stool around as he heard your voice, giving you a slight nod in acknowledgement. You beamed up at him, taking the opportunity to move closer, nestling between his spread legs and leaning your back up against him.

Bucky leaned forward to rest his chin on your shoulder instead of just sitting straight, giving you a soft nuzzle. As the bartender approached, you quickly added, 'I'll have whatever he's having.' craning your neck to the side and giving Bucky a wink. You could feel his chest rumble as a chuckle built up, the sweet sound escaping from his lips and lingering around you. You awkwardly wrapped an arm around him and turned, lips hovering over each other for a few seconds before they connected. A quick yet deep kiss. You hummed in discontent once he pulled away from you, placing a lasting kiss on your cheek instead. Bucky glanced at you, watching as you nuzzled your cheek into his chin and kept your arm around his shoulder before you leaned back into him. "You look so good in that suit, Buck. Giving me so many bad thoughts..." you purred into his ear, watching as he suddenly turned in his seat. "And it's so hard to have all these thoughts with so many people around. I can't do anything about it." A string of tsks left you, and you shook your head playfully, turning to look for a drop of shock on his face. To your surprise, he was staring straight ahead, gaze almost burning holes into the wall. You couldn't make out any emotions on his features, only noticing his visibly clenched jaw. A pang of satisfaction ran through you — the plan you wanted to set into motion earlier was seemingly starting to work. Bucky's attention returned to you, and he moved his hands to your waist, pushing you so that you would turn to face him. His eyes fixed on you as he leaned in closer, your noses almost touching.

"No." A single word left his lips, taunting you. The confidence from mere seconds ago crawled back inside, being replaced by a newfound annoyance of your boyfriend. You looked directly at him, letting out a huff in response. A smirk crept up over your features, and you placed an arm on his waist, "Aw, come on," you emphasised the last word, dragging it out as you nudged him with your shoulder, "you know you want it." You brought your hand up, dragging it against his crotch before it slinked under his chin, tilting his head down. Moving in for a kiss as he jerked back from the contact, you gave his bottom lip a tug before you pulled away. You heard a quiet 'fuck you.' escape his lips, making you giggle in return. You made sure to finish up your drinks before you got up, deciding to walk outside to chill off. The cold air bit at your reddened cheeks, making you shiver and press further into Bucky as you walked. Your hands curled up into fists, shaking from the chill winds dancing around you before Bucky eveloped them in his. The silent walk fell short as you stopped, turning to stand in front of him. You wriggled your hands free from his grip and placed them on his tie, playfully tugging on it. You reached down to his pants, fingers resting on his belt before you dragged your nails against the leather. You felt his muscles flex underneath his shirt, reacting every time your fingers would brush up against his abdomen. Bucky remained silent, watching as you pushed up against him, grinding your crotch against his, desperate for any reaction. Your eyes met, staring down each other, awaiting your next moves. Your shared warmth was soon gone, with Bucky almost peeling you off of him, moving his hand under your chin and tilting it up.

He ran his metal arm down your body until he stopped at your crotch, copying your actions. Before you could react, he pulled away, shaking his head at you dismissively. The trip home was unbearably quiet, Bucky shutting down any advances you made, resorting to a painful silent treatment. Once you got to your apartment, Bucky ushered you inside and closed the door with an unexpected intensity that made you jump in surprise. Discarding your outerwear, the two of you began walking inside before you were stopped in your track, almost falling over as a result. Bucky was close behind you as his hand found its way to your pants, hooking a finger around your belt and pulling your back towards him. You yelped in surprise, stumbling back a few steps before you hit Bucky's chest with a soft thump. A sigh escaped him before he spoke, voice low and gruff. "I don't appreciate that type of behaviour. Especially not in front of others." His free hand found its way up to your face, fingers wrapping around your jaw firmly, turning you to face him. "Whatever you were trying to gain back there is not going to happen." He noticed a change in your posture, the way you almost cringed into yourself as you listened to his harsh words. As soon as you were about to speak up, Bucky was cutting you off in an instant. "Hm? D'you really think you deserve any of those things?" His words were laced in disappointment, watching as you desperately racked your brain to try and come up with a confident reply. "Aw, poor boy... not a single word, huh?" Bucky brought his knee up between your legs and pushed them apart, the fingers around your belt pulling you further into him. He grinded up against your backside, listening to your mewls. "Where did all that confidence from earlier go?" He huffed out a chuckle, hot breath fanning against your cheek. A satisfied smirk washed over his features as you shuddered in response. "Be good for once and sit down." He mumbled, giving you a slight push towards the living room sofa. You gasped at the sudden movement, stumbling forward and catching yourself on the armrest before you sat down, anticipating Bucky's next move. He followed close behind, eyes never leaving your frame. The growing silence broke as Bucky reached out with two fingers in front of your face. He was towering over you, fully taking advantage of the angle he was at. "Open your mouth." You obliged eagerly, faster than he could finish the sentence. Leaning forward, you let your tongue lay flat against your lower lip and tilted your head back. You looked up at him proudly, expecting to hear praises; instead, you were met by his harsh silence again. Bucky watched as you wrapped your lips around his digits, fluttering your eyelashes at him as your gazes met. You could sense how impatient he was getting, so you started sucking on his fingers, coating them in your saliva. The muffled moans you let out against Bucky's fingers made his cock twitch in his pants, his bulge visibly growing. A string of saliva followed his fingers as he pulled away from your mouth, drool pooling up at the corners of your mouth threatening to spill out as well. Bucky slid down on the sofa next to you, pulling you up on his lap with his free hand once he settled. You rested your legs in between his before he began tugging down your pants and underwear. You followed suit, struggling before your shirt came off fully. Bucky discarded the clothes on the floor before he moved your legs on either side of him. Your member sprung free, plopping up against your belly, making you shudder as the cold air hit your sensitive tip. You looked down, watching as some of your precum ended up leaking on your stomach. Bucky brought his lubed up fingers in front of him and spat on them as well before he lifted your hips slightly. He moved his hand to spread your cheeks, letting a slick finger circle your entrance. He spent a good few minutes riling you up, the seemingly endless teasing never ending. "Hah- Mm.." You tried to moan out in disappointment as he stopped moving, but the noise got stuck in your throat, leaving you even more frustrated. "Please, Buck.. please touch me." You leaned your head against his shoulder, drawing out a lengthy whine into his ear. "I don't think you deserve any of that, though, do you?" He tutted at your words and stopped moving his hand, "Dumb brats don't get their way. They have to deal with what they get." You huffed out in protest as he spoke, "M'not a dumb brat!" You gave his chest a light slap, laying your hand flat against it. Bucky hummed in response and turned your head to face him, "You sure are acting like one right now." As he finished scolding you, he started moving his fingers again —this time pushing his slick digits into you, slowly stretching you out. The sudden contact made you jolt forward, and your hands gripped onto his shirt tightly, knuckles almost turning white. Bucky watched you slowly unravel in front of him as he started to increase his pace. You threw your head back, whining loudly every time his fingers brushed against your prostate, threatening your body to climax early. He moved his cold, metal arm from your waist and wrapped it around your cock, starting to pump it with a steady pace. The added pressure made you keel over, laying your head against his chest as he kept pumping his fingers into you. The second you tried to show that you were close, he would suddenly stop and pull his fingers out, watching as your frustration grew. Tears began forming in your eyes from the teasing, spilling over as you looked at him, making you feel pure defeat. Bucky smirked, pleased with the state he had put you in. He leaned forward, placing small kisses on your cheek until he reached your lips, capturing them in a deep, salty kiss. You kissed him back, sniffling softly as he pulled away from you. He bucked up against you and nodded to the free space on the sofa, motioning for you to lie down. Once you had switched positions, you watched as Bucky moved to get up. You frantically reached out for him, not expecting him to walk away from you like this. He looked down at you and tsked, lifting his index finger and shaking it at you. "Come on, you gotta be more patient than that." He sounded disappointed again, making you wince at your sudden reaction. You curled into the leather sofa, hands at either side of your face. "You can't seriously believe that I'm done with you right now. Not when you're behaving like that." His voice echoed through the room as he walked out to get something. You felt the sofa dip as he returned and nestled between your legs. The familiar sound of a belt jingling piqued your interest, making you look over. Bucky came back with a bottle of lube in his hand, ready to prep both of you. He undid his pants and let his cock spring free, looking over to see you staring at him through heavy lids. A low groan snapped you out of it, your eyes following his hands, watching as he stroked his cock and lubed it up. Cars driving outside the apartment illuminated the room through your windows, letting you see all of Bucky for a few seconds, taking in the sight in front of you greedily. The way he threw his head back and the way his hand would occasionally twitch as he pumped himself was intoxicating. Bucky pulled his hand away from his cock and reached out for your waist, pulling you up on his lap before he lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself in, getting all of his cock to fill you up, growling as you squirmed. His thrusts started out slow and steady, your moans spurring him on. He brought your legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as his thrusts turned harsher, almost feral. The room's silence was replaced by the sound of your erratic moans and skin slapping against skin. "Hands up over your head." Bucky suddenly huffed out, never ceasing his ruthless pounding. When you didn't respond, he decided to lean forward, bending your legs until he was close enough to your face. You gasped as his position switched, his cock pushing even deeper inside of you. His hand pinned yours above your head, holding onto your wrists tightly as he kept rutting into you. A loud whine escaped you as you tried glancing down at your neglected cock, wanting to relieve the pressure building up in your abdomen. Bucky noticed your shifting attention, tutting at you as he leaned back up, grabbing onto your hips. "Why don't you be a good whore and cum without touching yourself, hm?" It was more of an order than a question, and you bitterly agreed, trying to relax your arms as Bucky kept fucking you into the sofa like a toy. The assault on your prostate resumed, sending waves of pleasure through your body, cock twitching impatiently the closer you got. After the first time you came, you tried to sit up, expecting him to finish up as well. But you got pulled down into the cushions again, being stared down by an annoyed Bucky. He shook his head at you and kept thrusting. "Isn't this what you wanted?" He spoke through gritted teeth, trying to steady himself as much as he possibly could with you clenched around him. You nodded frantically and quickly moved your hands down, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, hoping he wouldn't complain. Luckily he didn't, being too preoccupied with fucking you senseless and milking you dry. Drilling into you like it was the only thing he knew how to do. His hips snapped into yours aggressively, cock burying itself deeper in your ass, prodding at your prostate without mercy. After what felt like an eternity of being relentlessly pounded into and being brought to climax several times, you suddenly broke. "Hah, too much..." You moaned out, back arching off the couch and pushing you into Bucky. "It hurts, pl-ease!" Bucky ignored your cries, his pace increasing any time you started whining. He watched your cock twitch as he found your sweet spot again, moaning as you clenched around his shaft. You felt the familiar pressure build up in your abdomen again, pushing yourself off the couch with your elbows as you came for the nth time. Your red, sensitive tip rubbed up against your stomach, making you hiss and whine. Bucky suddenly slowed down, watching for your reaction. He heard you breathe out in relief, beginning to tear up and moving your hands to cover your face. A low chuckle escaped him, and he started thrusting into you again, reaching out for your cock as well. He pressed his palm against your tip, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing. You gasped, letting out a string of curse words and cries, the overstimulation completely taking over your body. "I can't do... it, please." You managed to choke out in between sobs and broken moans. Clenching around his cock, you looked at him through your blurred vision, tears rolling down your burning cheeks. Your hands flew down and grabbed onto Bucky, digging your nails into his forearm, begging him for mercy. Bucky grunted from the pain of your grip and started to pump your cock in retaliation, your sharp cries making him shiver. He began thrusting into you again, the mixture of pleasure and pain making you roll your eyes back, mouth hanging open. He dragged a finger over your stomach, coating his hand with your cum before he spread it on your member, revelling in the way your shaking body reacted to him. His free arm grabbed onto your waist, angling you on him before he began drilling into you again, prodding at your prostate again. Your eyes found his, watching as his face suddenly twisted. Bucky's grip on your cock never relaxed; instead, he started to pump your shaft faster as his thrusts became sloppy and erratic. Bucky looked down, watching your fucked out face, before he leaned over you, releasing into you with a loud groan. He snapped his hips up, pushing to stay deep inside of you. You felt his cock twitch, his release making you shiver and cry out in relief. It pushed you to release for the last time, hips snapping up into the air as pain wracked your body, cock painting your torso and covering you in cum. Bucky thrust into you one last time before he pulled out, trying to steady his breath before he wriggled his arm out of your grip and tucked his cock back into his pants. He watched as your body shook, not being able to calm down fully. His suit and shirt came off, and he kneeled down on the floor next to you, wiping both of you off carefully with his shirt. He let it fall to the floor, scooting over to you and placing his cold hand on your cheek, stroking away tears that rolled down your face. A pang of guilt surged through his body as you looked down at him, eyes puffy and wet. You turned and flashed him a sad smile, breathing heavily into your shoulder. His hand reached out behind your head, grabbing onto a blanket that he luckily had placed on the sofa before, bunching it up in his arms as he got up. Bucky returned to the couch and bent over you, helping you sit up. He wrapped his arms around you securely, making an attempt to prop you up against the backrest. You laid limp in his arms, still trying to catch your breath through quiet tears. You watched as he pulled out the blanket, spreading it out and wrapping it around your shaking body, hushing your cries. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." He whispered soothingly and rubbed your back,

"Good boy, taking it all so well." Watching as you reached out a hand shakily, he took it in his, rubbing his thumb over your skin. Your breathing began to even out, eyes following Bucky's as his arms went under your legs and around you, scooting you over into his lap. He hugged your body closely, moving his head to kiss away the tears staining your cheeks. His right hand made its way up to your face, cupping your cheek and tucking your head under his chin. A loud hiss left you as your inner thigh brushed up against your still sensitive member, causing you to twitch and tense up. "Still hurts..." A quiet whine left you as you mumbled against the fabric, arching your back awkwardly. "...I'm all messy." Bucky grimaced and gave your side a gentle squeeze in an attempt to shift your focus. "I know, I know. It's gonna be hurting for a while, but you need to try to relax." He sighed deeply and peered down at you, "I'm not leaving until you can get up on your own." You hummed in response, snuggling into his lap, trying to stop shaking. A sudden feeling of anxiety bubbled up as you felt Bucky move until you realised that he was just trying to lay down with you on top of him. Your legs moved around, trying to find a comfortable position before you finally settled, hands grabbing onto the blanket and bringing it up to your face. Bucky brought his hand up from your waist and placed it on the back of your head, fingers massaging your scalp. He watched closely as your eyelids fluttered shut, making him sigh in relief. "I love you," His voice was soft and loving, barely above a whisper. "Such a good and patient boy, huh? Always holding out for me." He was finally praising you, making your stomach bubble up with pride. You lifted up a finger silently in acknowledgement and wiggled it around, listening to Bucky's soft chuckles in response as your mind began to cloud, leading you into a well-deserved slumber, your body ceasing its trembling.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky x reader #bucky x male reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #marvel x male reader #marvel smut #male reader insert

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inkykeiji · 3 years

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Many sad thoughts running through my head but I can imagine Dabi having trust issues as you and the other anon saying. Him being afraid of getting left behind. I feel like he would say “I didn’t mean to say I love you” at some point because that’s a type of vulnerable he doesn’t want to be but it’s just one of many thoughts

AHHHHHHHH anon anon why must u hurt me like this?????? pls my whole heart just broke at this and i uhhhhh wrote 1.7k words about it,,,

❅ cw: soft dabi, angst, rly sappy ❅

It seems to happen at the most random of times. It isn’t like the movies, isn’t ever after some profound incident or momentous occurrence shared between the two of you—no, it’s always right after the most mundane things; after he catches you brushing your teeth in a cute matching set of panties and a tank top, sticking out your tongue at him, mouth full of foamy white toothpaste; after he finds you curled up on the couch buried under a fluffy blanket, nothing more than a lump and a head as your eyes rapidly scan the pages of the book in front of you, entirely absorbed in whatever world it’s built for you; after he walks into the kitchen to see you by the sink washing a few dishes, hips swaying and head nodding as you hum along to whatever song is blasting through your headphones.

But God, does it hit him like a motherfucking bus every single time, punches him in the stomach without warning, knocks the breath straight out of him.

He’s usually good at keeping it to himself, usually able to swallow it back down when those three little words begin to creep up his throat, dancing on the back of his tongue and restricting his breathing.

But eventually, he messes up.

You had started it, right after you had finished sprinkling the pizza stone with some flour while he was rolling out the dough, wiping your powdery fingers down his t-shirt, then swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a streak of white flour painted in its path, a little mischievous smile on your face and glint in your eyes.

He retaliates immediately, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it right in your face.

“Dabi!” you gasp, but your shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as you wipe at your face, fingers only managing to leave more strokes of the substance instead of clearing it. Your hand dives into the bag, grasping a handful of flour, inhaling deeply—enough to expand your entire chest—before blowing air out of your mouth, casting tiny, thick explosions of white at him, speckling his shirt and dusting his inky hair.

“Oh, you little brat,”

And, fuck, you look so goddamn beautiful, giggles ringing out around the room, flour strewn in your messy, tousled hair, smears of it across your cheeks and neck, sprinkled on your clothes, eyes bright and breathing laboured with exhilaration as you daintily leap away from him.

They’re bubbling up in his chest, those three stupid little words, climbing up, up, up his throat to settle on his tongue, light and sweet, floating in his mouth like candy floss and melting on his tongue only to be resurrected by another one of your giggles, or playful yelps, or squeals of his name.

And he’s too preoccupied to remember to swallow them down, to chew and chomp on them until he’s crushed them into a thousand tiny pieces as he chases you around the kitchen while you throw clouds of flour at each other, too enraptured by the soft, cute, precious sounds he’s endlessly pulling from you, too hellbent on hearing more, a man possessed.

Because he hasn’t laughed like this in ages, isn’t sure he’s ever laughed like this in his entire life, and they just slip out, when he finally catches you, chest heaving a bit from the thrill of it all as large hands curl around your shoulders.

“God, I love you,”

They’re muttered softly, just a huff of breath, really, blanketed by his laughs and yours, and you nearly miss them.

Nearly.

And then, everything stops. Your laughs abruptly cut off, and he wishes he’d have missed the sharp intake of breath you inhale through your mouth, lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring at him as your body freezes up, going rigid in his grasp, feet fused to the floor.

He stops, too, lets go of you so quickly you’d think your skin burnt his palms through the thin material of your shirt, sapphire eyes growing wide—wider than you’ve ever seen them before—as his mind catches up with his mouth, stumbling a few steps back from you.

He wants to say something, anything, but his voice is caught in his chest, fading into pathetic squeaks of breath any time he tries to force a few words out. And it aches, heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, breathing shallow—almost ceased completely—as he stares unblinking at you, sharp, tingling anxiety flooding his veins.

And you—well, you’re staring at him with this look in your eyes, something that he can’t decipher, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a look he’s never seen before, your eyes shining as you gaze at him, almost glittering as you stare at him, unmoving, unbreathing, unexplainable. Are you upset? Angry? Disgusted? Stunned? A combination of all four? None at all?

The fact that he can’t tell, that he doesn’t know, when he prides himself on being able to read others so insanely well, ignites flames of anger that alight his entire body, right to the tips of his fingers and his toes, blazing straight through the anxiety and simmering in his chest, eyes hardening as they glare back at you.

A beat passes, your ears ringing from the thick, tense silence draped over the room, and then he’s pushing past you roughly with a choked snarl that sounds a little like a mix between a sob and a growl, and storming out of the kitchen.

He’s cut off all communication entirely, has been ignoring you for a few days now, only leaving his bedroom out of absolute necessity and refusing to answer any of your countless texts that have been collecting on his lockscreen, refusing to even touch his phone. He doesn’t want to see what you have to say, desperately tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that he isn’t scared of what your messages might reveal, isn’t terrified of that impending rejection he’s so sure is lurking on the horizon.

But there’s only so long he can keep avoiding you before you finally catch him in the kitchen, just past three in the morning, fixing himself a late-night snack.

“Oh, thank God,”

He whirls around at the sound of your voice, cobalt eyes gaping for a moment before narrowing into sharp slits an instant later.

“Dabi, listen—”

“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “You listen, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”

Leaping in front of him, you block his path, prohibiting him from leaving the kitchen and speaking quickly. “Yeah? Well I do!”

“I don’t care,” he spits viciously, the ache throbbing deep in his chest—at the very core of his body—reminding him otherwise. “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway! It’s not like I meant them,”

And that—that gets you to stop, tripping a little over your own feet as you stumble back like he’s physically slapped you, a soft, hurt little whimper getting caught in the back of your throat as tears rapidly pool in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“Wh-What?”

He glares down at you, molars grinding together as his nose twitches.

I didn’t mean to say I love you.

What a pathetic fucking sentence—it’s almost laughable, the corners of his lips quirking up in a sardonic little grin. Your breath hitches, and his shoulders tense at the sound.

‘You aren’t supposed to know I love you’ is much more accurate, his mind sneers at him. Coward. Fucking coward.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, though his voice is beginning to quiver, trembling hands curling into tight fists in an effort to stop it, short nails biting into the flesh of his palm as the skin stretched taut over his knuckles turns bone white.

“Didn’t mean what?” you whisper, glistening tears finally spilling over and streaming down your cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of salt water behind them. “Say it, Dabi,”

He’s got his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head, knows if he opens them, if he looks at you, that he’ll break, shatter into a thousand pieces, split himself open at the very core of his body and bare his entire soul to you.

“Look at me,” you demand softly.

His jaw flexes once, slowly exhaling out his nose.

“Dabi, look at me,” a pause. “Please?”

“No.”

“W-Why?” the word escapes your lips in a little whine, broken up by your sniffles.

You know why.

But it’s those little half-sobs, the ones that keep catching painfully in your chest, that do it, interspersed with your soft whimpers as you plead with him—please, open your eyes, just look at me for a second, please!

Unable to stand it any longer, his lids finally rise, slowly revealing sparkling sapphire, glowering at you, his harsh gaze protected by a thin shield of water.

He hates this, hates not having control over his own fucking body, over his own fucking thoughts, hates the unfamiliarity of it all, of the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach and burning in his throat, swallowing thickly past the hard lump that’s formed, constricting his breathing.

Revolting, his inner voice snarls at him. You’re weak, letting some stupid little girl get to you like this, as if you even—

Your touch silences the voice, cutting it off midsentence, his whole body flinching at the soft, small hand resting so tenderly against the curve of his face, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your palm a second later, eyes slipping shut again.

“Dabi,” you begin, and something has changed. You no longer sound hurt, no longer sound wounded, your voice gentle and—

No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to him right now. Panic grips his heart, puncturing it with its claws, sending blistering, sharp pain searing through his chest and slicing him open, raw and vulnerable.

“Please, don’t,” he whispers, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, voice frail, fragile, broken.

Don’t. He doesn’t want to hear them, doesn’t need to hear them, can’t bear to hear them—not if they’re false, fake, uttered out of misplaced pity and sympathy.

“I love you, too,”

A pathetic hiccup gets caught in his throat and he chokes on it, chest stuttering as he shakes his head, lids clenching tightly against the unfamiliar sting of tears, lips pressed together firmly to stifle the tiny distressed sounds that keep crawling up his throat, trying to escape.

There’s no way, she’s lying, how could she ever—

“Yes,” you whisper, thumb caressing his jaw. “I love you, too,”

#dabi x reader #dabi #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi angst #dabi fluff #???? just BARELY #TW SOFT DABI #AHHHHHH anon i am screaming endlessly into the void #sweet anon 🥺#clari gets mail

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hwari-ssi · 3 years

Text

Floraison | 4

genre: fantasy/soulmate au

warnings: it kinda gets angsty, smut (in the future)

word count: 3.6k

pairings: ot7 x reader

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A/N: omg omg aaaaa sorry for taking so long!! honestly, it wasn’t easy writing this one because of my insomnia. i just wrote whatever came to mind, so i hope you’ll understand (you can roast me) D: oh, and there’s a surprise at the end!! lol i hope y’all won’t hate it

Jeongguk really did end up sleeping beside you after all. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone. He held your small frame against his lean body, your quiet breaths subtly tickling his neck like a feather.

He'd been awake for some time now, but didn't want to go outside yet. Not when you were fluffy and warm, all curled up tightly next to him. He glanced at your sleeping face, lips parted slightly and breathing softly.

It made a lot of sense why the three of them already felt so attached to you. How your senses calmed within seconds when Namjoon touched the crown of your head earlier. You were their mate. Once a soul finds their other half, it was impossible not to be away from them.

That's what he felt for the others, and now, you. He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the bedroom door creaking slowly, a disheveled Taehyung peering in, still very much half asleep.

"Is our princess here?" The older asked, rubbing at his eyes which were red from fatigue. Jeongguk motioned for him to join in, wanting to stay until they had to leave the room for breakfast. The former ambled over to the bed, not hesitating to reach over and wrap his arms around you. Your scent hit him like a ton of bricks. Celestial and flowery—such a pleasant aroma.

The sudden movements brought you out of sleep, and you opened your eyes to see another stranger. Shaggy brown hair, strong eyebrows, sharp jaw, and what an adorable boxy smile he has.

"Hello, darling." His husky voice made you shiver, and the action wasn't missed by the two. Your cheeks flushed with pink, reddening even more when Taehyung brought his face closer. He held eye contact, but you couldn't do it so you turned to the other side, where Jeongguk happily opened his arms for you, caging you in when you scooted forward.

"Gguk?" His heart does a little flip at the nickname you gave him and smiles at the sight of the blush adorning your cheeks, realizing albeit too late at how you were practically attached to his hip. Had anyone else been that close, you would have felt your space was being invaded, but in this case, the faint smell of his cologne and his close proximity increased your pulse rate. Your arms were still around the boy, clinging to him like a koala, and you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Hey, no fair," Taehyung pressed his face into your hair and smiled when he heard you giggling. The three of you settled into a comfortable silence, Tae's breathing was fanning over neck, while the other's fingers danced on the small of your back, massaging the skin every now and then.

Their actions combined turned you putty in their grasp. You nuzzled your face into Jeongguk's neck, almost purring while you gave him the attention he'd been wanting to get from you all morning.

The men had smiles plastered on their faces as you continued to lavish his neck with affection. You may not know exactly what you were doing, but they did, and it made their hearts soar in happiness. You were claiming them, as your soulmates, and you were unaware of that. The feeling it gave brought you peace. At that moment, you understood each other perfectly. This is what you've always longed for. Tranquility. The stirrings of revolutionary ardour. A sort of freedom, if you will.

A gentle knock from the doorway brought the three of you from your daze."Breakfast is ready," Jin smiles at you lovingly. Taehyung almost wanted to protest, but he wouldn't want to keep you from eating. and so he forced himself up, pulled you with him and laughed at Jeongguk who was trying to fix his unkempt state.

The elder came over and took your hand, leading you out the room and down the stairs, into the dining hall. Everyone was already gathered around the table that was filled with scrumptious-looking food.

That's when the others took notice of your presence. You were indeed beautiful, just like how Jeongguk described you. Your gray eyes were what stood out to them the most. A tell-tale sign that you are one of the stars from above. Deep as the ocean, deep enough to fall in and drown, the windows to your soul were. With a simple glance, she could calm a torrid sea of heart ache. Longingly they looked at her, with the warmth of a hearth during Winter's Eve, deep in the forest wherein lovers would share the fire. Perfectly wonderful and endlessly enticing them, every blink a kiss to their soul. They almost melted at the sight.

"Jimin and Hoseok went a little overboard this time," Jin says with a chuckle. He led you to an empty chair that was next to Yoongi. He sent you a smirk, picking at your messy ponytail. "Fucking cute." You smiled shyly as he laughed softly at your reaction. Jimin took the seat alongside you and started placing food on your plate. You thanked him, and he gave you a pat on the head in response.

"These taste amazing," you said, as you happily munched on your baked cinnamon donuts. The cooking duo didn't know they were holding their breaths until they heard your affirmation. They tried not to be obvious with their staring, but both of them wanted to see how you would react to their cuisine, making a mental note to make these again for you whenever.

You took a slug of your drink, all the while glancing at the sea of new people. To your right was Yoongi, features akin to origami. Sharp edges and angles. Cute button nose, and lips carved like a doll's. For an adorable face, he has such an intimidating glare. You turned to Jimin next, whose jawline was pronounced, lips full and pillowy, and has straight eyebrows. He regarded you with warmness, like a mother would tend to their child. and Lastly, Hoseok—the boy was sunshine personified. The brightness in his eyes reminded you of home. A heart-shaped mouth with a beauty mark placed just between the cupid's bow and vermillion border. He also has dimples like Namjoon's.

"So, darling, how did you meet the youngest of our bunch?" Taehyung asks, rousing you from your reverie. You were now aware that all of them were staring at you curiously, and it made you want to bury yourself inside a hole. You tried not to let the memories resurface, but his face flashed in your mind, making you drop your utensils. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Thank you for the hospitality, it was well received, but I should go."

"Sweet one—"

"No!" Your sudden outburst surprised them. "I should leave.. I don't want to cause you any trouble.." the stare shared between everyone went unnoticed by you. Jin carefully made his way towards your chair and knelt so he was eye-level with you. Your head was pointing on the floor, eyes downcast, and he took that as a sign you were feeling dejected. He tilted your chin up, only to see tears gathering in your eyes, making Tae feel bad.

"It's okay, little one. We won't hurt you. You can be honest with us." He spoke, sincerity filling your ears. You tried to tell if he was lying, but the way he was looking at you told you otherwise. Yoongi's hand smoothed your hair down, the motion quickly lulling you into a sense of security. You gathered your courage and responded in a meek voice, "I had a previous master, and it took me so long to realize he was treating me badly.."

The word master made bile rise in each of the men's throats. They can only imagine what horrors you went through. Stars, like you, are a kind of rare breed that is gifted by the star goddess. You harness multiple powers, one of which being pyrokinesis, the ability to command and emit fire at will. However, your inability to get a handle on your newfound gifts inevitably results in tragedy. When you turned a certain age, you emitted a burst of fire so immense that it destroyed a city block, killing your entire family and everyone else in the vicinity, having no other choice but to leave your home planet, Stellaris. That's when you turned to Asteria, asking the goddess for a new life and change of scenery. She was hesitant to send you somewhere far away, so she settled for earth, where your soulmates were. Except, you ended up in the wrong hands.

A hybrid smuggler, perhaps? breeds like you cost more than an arm and a leg. Maybe the power you possessed is what drew him in. He manipulated you, used you to fight against dangerous paranormal phenomena. You knew you had to get away—you weren't even supposed to meet him. The bastard took you against your will, threatening to send you back if you didn't listen. You lost the battle because of your naivety.

"Does anyone want dessert?" Jeongguk spoke up, trying to keep everyone's mood from lowering as they learned about your life history. "We won't give you back to him, Y/N," The elder states, eyes boring into yours with determination. You wanted to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. "You needn't worry, lovely. We will do no such thing." Jimin reached for your hand and held it to his chest. Still unable to find your voice, you settled with a small nod, making the boys smile from ear to ear.

"Here," Yoongi nudges your shoulder in a gentle manner as he positioned his fork close to your mouth. It had a piece of steak and nicely cut asparagus on it. "You need protein in order to stay strong, our pretty kitten." he says, almost stuttering as the pet name escapes his tongue without realizing it, it's glossed over though.

You blushed, eyes turning into half-moons as your lips curved upward. "Thank you, yoonie." He'd get so soft after hearing you call him with a sweet endearment. Yoongi's gummy smile was showing, and you couldn't help the butterflies flittering inside your tummy after seeing him smile adorably. The man was usually pretty good at hiding his feelings but, somehow, he was horrible at doing that right now because you were currently in his radar.

"Alright. Since we're finished with dinner, why don't we clear the table?" Jin declared, while everyone lifted themselves from their seats. Taehyung piled most of the dirty dishes, placing them in the sink. You helped collect the cups and followed suit, watching Hoseok as he turned the faucet on with a sponge in hand. "Can I help?" You tugged on his sweater, your shy demeanor made him want to coo at you.

"Of course, little one. You can dry the dishes and Jeonggukie will put them away," The younger's ears perked at the mention of his name, reaching for a towel that was hanging on one of the kitchen cabinets and handed it you, caressing your cheek with his free hand in the process. The others observed the scene, tenderness painting their expressions. It seemed more evident that you fit in perfectly with every passing moment. You belonged here, with them.

"I'll be in my office. Got some digging to do," The elder mouthed at Yoongi, almost having trouble catching the words because he was deep in thought. Chances are, that son-of-a-bastard owner must be looking for you, but there was no way in hell they were going to give you back to him. Not if you didn't want to go willingly. The idea saddened him, because seeing how the younger ones had already taken such a liking to you, it made him feel protective.

"Would you like to watch a movie with us, Y/N-ie?" Jimin came up behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder as you dried the last bowl. Jeongguk takes the plate from your hands and presses a kiss to your temple.

"A movie? I've only ever seen one film though.." Hoseok beckons you over to him and holds out his hand. You let him guide you through the hallways, leading you back up the stairs and into a bathroom. Your eyes widened as you noticed it was huge and prettily decorated, you dare say it might even be bigger than your master's headquarters. He disappears for a hot minute to get something before stepping in, holding a pair of new sleepwear for you to use. You took the soft material from him, and smiled in thanks.

You eye at his arms, one pulling a rectangular, sheer-white cloth made of linen out of a cabinet, the other, a crystal bottle. he leans over the bathtub, turning the tap on and let water fill the tub before pouring the liquid. The sweet smell invaded your senses, automatically putting you in a good mood.

"You're all set. I put the clothes on the counter. We'll be waiting—" He turned his back to you, wanting to leave you to yourself but you cut him off when a whine left your lips. Immediately, he was by your side again, asking you what he possibly did wrong.

"Can't you stay, hobi? I don't want to be left alone.." You felt safe with him. His heart swells with pride. Although the idea of being with you in the same room, having nothing to cover your body made his heart race and face flush. He mentally slapped himself for thinking such vulgar thoughts. Now is not the time, you idiot, the voice in his head kept him in check, and he was grateful.

"I can help you wash your hair," He offered, high-fiving himself for not stuttering. "I'll wait outside. Just call for me, princess. okay?" You hummed in reply. You rid yourself of your dress, letting the fabric pool around your feet and stepped into the bathtub, submerging your body in the water and letting the warmth seep through your aching muscles, releasing all the tension.

You scrubbed at every part, making sure to remove the hidden grime found on your skin. Soon enough, your entire body was clean. Your natural glow was back. You reminded yourself to thank him later for making the water all sudsy because bubbles are always fun to play with."Hobi, I'm ready!" You folded your knees up to your chest just in time as Hoseok walks inside, not forgetting to shut the door behind him.

He sat at the edge of the tub, ready to lather your hair with shampoo when he sees the lines scattered across your back. The atmosphere turned gray. He stopped on his tracks. His gaze darkened. Of course he had to mask it—he didn't want to make you feel sad again, so he takes a deep breath, and decides to inform the others about this matter later. Your well-being was his first priority at present.

Silence fills the room as he massages the product on your beautiful locks. You didn't forget to thank him, mumbling as you relaxed at his touch. He looked at your small form sorrowfully, kept himself from asking for fear of you possibly running away. He only hopes that the time you'll open up to them will come in the twinkling of an eye.

"Everything's going to be fine now, sweetheart. We won't bring you back," you carefully maneuvered your body to his front, the water swishing around the tub at your movement. Your collarbones were showing, complexion looking a bit smooth, reminding him of rose-tinged ivory. You're looking better now, the pink in your cheeks much more visible compared to earlier.

"I can stay?" You bit your lower lip, shoulders shrinking. You wanted to stay here forever, but there was a strong likelihood they would change their minds. Because who would want someone broken? Someone like you?

"We all want you to stay, Y/N. Even if it means forever." Hoseok promises, running his forefinger along your jawline, tilting your head up so you were gazing into his dark orbs, slowly pulling you in like a vortex. "There's seven of us, baby doll. No matter what happens, We'll keep you safe." Why were these people so willing to help? It made you want to breakdown and cry, but you willed yourself not to."Okay, hobi." He smiled, kissing your forehead sweetly.

He pulled himself from the bathtub, the smile never leaving his face as he moved out of the room. You smiled in return as he shut the door, stretching your body in the water once more and stood, reaching for the towel, wrapping it around yourself. After getting dressed in the clothes your hobi got for you, you folded the dress and bundled it up in your arms before leaving the bathroom.

"I'll put those in the wash," Jin says as he ran into you, taking the clothes and continued his walk down the hall. You watch him disappear into another room further ahead and made your way to the living room. Upon entering, you found most of them gathered on the couch or seated on the floor, blankets covering their lower bodies.

You were glued to your spot, not quite sure where to sit. A few seconds later, The elder reappears and quietly takes your hand in his, leading you to an empty space beside Jeongguk and sat on the couch, ushering you to sit on the floor right in front of him, solving your little dilemma. You leaned back against his legs and he starts running his hands through your hair, smoothing out any tangled strands. To say you were content would be an understatement; you felt so at home. so peaceful. so cared for.

"Everyone ready?" Taehyung asks, a chorus of agreements resonating throughout the room. The boys settled into comfortable positions, while Jin's hands stayed on your locks, his nails subtly scratching your scalp. An hour later, the credits were finally rolling. Jin looked over to see both you and Jeongguk peacefully snoring, head resting on his shoulder as your quiet breaths lulled him into a deep slumber.

"We should move them, Jin. They'll wake with sore necks if we leave them be," Namjoon says, rising from his seat, gesturing at the others to clean up before lifting you from the ground. He makes his way into their shared bedroom, where four of the elders in the group sleep. He situates you on Yoongi's bed, placing an extra pillow under your head so you won't be uncomfortable whilst in dreamland.

"Sleep well, princess. You are safe here, with us." He caresses your cheek affectionately. "If he does find you, we won't let him take you."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

"He what?" Yoongi slams his fists on the table, anger flashing over his features. He couldn't understand. He did not want to understand either. How heartless would a human have to be to actually inflict injuries upon such precious beings like you? Just across from him was where Namjoon and Jin were seated, the former tonguing at his cheek as he tried to control his raging emotions. He was fuming. On the other hand, Jin and the rest remained dead silent. The atmosphere thickens with visible tension, each of the men taken aback by the information as Hoseok relayed it.

"Shouldn't we report this to the peacemakers?" Jeongguk turns to his elders, eyes pleading for justice. But the younger knew they possibly couldn't let this matter fall into their hands. The uproar it would cause would surely put different worlds to engage in a war. Everyone knew not to mess with Asteria's children. Because to hurt them, would mean facing one's immediate death.

"We can't, young one." Jin reaches for the younger's hand, looking a little crestfallen. "Besides, I heard the bastard got beaten to a pulp by his own shields because they simply couldn't let him step over them anymore," The elder says bitterly.

"Serves that fucker right," Yoongi scoffs, smirking triumphantly. The man must be trying to escape from the consequences of his actions, he thinks to himself, leaning back against his chair, one leg crossing over the other. At least you can live a peaceful life now, without having to worry about anything or anyone else but yourself. That's what mattered to them the most.

The soft padding of your feet down the stairs alerted the men that you have risen, your soft sobs reaching their ears as you were getting nearer. Namjoon didn't hesitate to meet you halfway, scooping you up into his arms and hugged you for the longest time. “Did you have a bad dream, sweetheart?” He wipes your tears away with his thumb, all the while placing lots of kisses on your forehead, nose, and temples.

He walks back to the dining room, refusing to place you back down on the floor, your face buried into his neck because you were too shy to face the others. Tears continue to fall from your eyes. You’re scared, the nightmares made you terrified. “Hey, it’s okay, baby girl,” Yoongi saunters over to your side and holds your face, brushing the tears on your cheeks and gives you another set of kisses on your eyelids, the rest joining in to surround you with worried looks. “It’s okay. We’re right here, princess. You’re alright. You have us. You're okay."

You cried on Namjoon's chest, sobs turning into sniffles after a period of time. You eventually fell back asleep, with them giving you all of their soft reassurances, and Namjoon's hand stroking your hair gently. You looked so vulnerable and so lovely that it made him want to shun you from the world. Oh, what a dangerous world earth was.

But the thing is, you didn’t know you were lucky to have seven, powerful gods disguised as humans, as your soulmates.

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pinkandgirlyblog · 3 years

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Tutor Partner (Thomas x reader TMR)

Thomas x reader (The Maze Runner)

High School AU

Warnings: Kissing, fluff and light swearing

It’s funny how soulmates meet, in story books in battle, in movies the jock falls for the nerd and your parents meet at a bar. It’s always the person you least expect and for Thomas... well.... he didn’t expect this.

Thomas was apart of the skater group, so he wouldn’t be the lad playing lacrosse after school or the stoner doing drugs. He viewed himself to be average, nothing special. All his work was to a normal standard, he would hand in the homework and then go out practising on his skateboard. He had a small circle of friends, Newt, Minho and Frypan. Newt didn’t like to skate but would watch with his girlfriend, Hannah. On the note of girlfriends, Thomas was very much, alone. No love life, no crush, nothing. As I said, average.

It was a normal Wednesday morning, he had skated to school with Minho and now was heading up to tutor with Hannah and Newt. He was third-wheeling but didn’t mind as he saw his friend happy. Newt was recovering from a rare type of cancer called ‘The Flare’ so it was hard for him sometimes but it was lovely to see Newt interacting with the world again.

As they walked up the stair well, they could hearing obnoxious laughing coming from the corridor outside their tutor. As they looked through the glass door to the corridor they saw Y/N laughing at something Brenda said. Thomas sat next to Y/N in tutor, they talked sometimes but nothing more then ‘hellos’ and discussing the lessons of that day. They were both very socially awkward. As soon as Hannah saw the two girls she kissed Newt quickly and joined them. Newt sighed and stated with a dreamy look on his face,

“Isn’t she perfect?”

Thomas just laughed at his best mates face and said,

“We know you have a girlfriend. Don’t need to rub it everywhere”

“Just because Y/N won’t go out with you doesn’t mean you need to bring my relationship down”

Thomas panicked for his friend said his last sentence a bit loud, making him look back at Y/N, relieved to see her gossiping with Hannah and Brenda.

“Quite will you? She could hear!”

“So? Just ask her out.”

“I don’t like her like that and you know it dipshit.”

Thing is, after the new seating plan, Newt, Minho and Frypan had been teasing Thomas endlessly on this none existent crush on his table partner. He just thought she was pretty and had a nice personality, that’s all.

“Keep telling yourself that Tommy”

And with a final wink, Newt followed the three girls walking into the classroom with Thomas following with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. It was just the cold, he had thought. How wrong he was.

As he sat down next to Y/N, he turned on his computer and loaded one of the games from the internet, although this wasn’t aloud, he did it anyway. He could see Y/N watching his screen from the corner of his eye and he smiled slightly. She was pretty, this was obvious, with her sparkling eyes and how she puckered her lips when listening. They only spoke three times that day, to say the history test was hard which Y/N had today and Thomas had had the day before, how the teacher was being boring and how Instagram got a new update and they hated it. As they left Thomas felt a sense of sadness he hadn’t spoken more and when he walked with Newt and Hannah, he felt almost home sick from being away from Y/N’s eyes. Getting lost in them. He didn’t like her though, he had told himself, he just thought she was pretty.

It was Friday and tutor had been going well, they would talk more in tutor and laugh. She and him would play the games on the computer together as a past time for the long 45 minutes of the sessions. Thomas almost felt so happy he could burst. She was so funny and nice. He wanted to be around her all the time and yet he still told himself he didn’t like her, not in a non-friend way of course. He lied.

He liked her very much so.

After a few weeks, he told Newt and Minho, who were beyond ecstatic.

One day, Y/N was walking to Brenda’s house to walk to school together, Frypan and Newt walked on the other side of the road, Newt had whispered to Frypan, not so quietly might I add,

“That’s Y/N. The girl Tommy likes”

Y/N pretended not to hear and yet she was beyond excited. Her crush liked her too.

That day in tutor, they were told by the teacher they where doing sing-off as a bit of fun for the end of term. Y/N and Thomas where picked to perform last and they where beyond nervous.

Hannah and Newt did really well, and before long it was their go.

Thomas and Hannah stood up and stood a foot apart from each other, waiting for the music to start.

Thomas started with the song ‘All the small things’ by blink-182 but was quickly cut off by Y/N singing (your favourite song). Thomas smiled slightly when he saw her having fun, it made him elated to be apart of it. Soon Thomas cut her off by singing ‘Arcade’ by Duncan Laurence, Y/N smiled encouragingly at Thomas until she again, cut him off. She started singing ‘Play with fire’ by Sam Tinnesz, she slowly stalked up towards Thomas and let her eyes drug in his appearance. She slowly walked around him while singing making Thomas palms sweat with anticipation, as the chorus came closer, she stopped nose to nose with him and whispered,

“I’ve always liked to play with fire”

Thomas made a split second decision, he grabbed her neck in a choke hold and pulled Y/N in for a kiss which she eagerly returned. It sounded cliche but fireworks exploded and their bodies tingled. As they came out for air, Thomas nuzzled his nose against hers and said confidently,

“Be mine”

and Y/N answered just as confidently,

“I always was”

#thomas x reader #thomas x reader tmr #maze runner #scorch trials #death cure #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #the maze runner #james dashner #minho x reader #newt x reader #brenda x reader

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scarecow-scarecrow · 3 years

Text

ok so :/ me and @justasimplesinner were discussing how there is a horrifically low amount of (read: there are no) masters of fear scarecrow x reader fics on ao3 so i took it upon myself to make the world a better place by writing a little drabble abt the reader and jon's first kiss!

fic below the cut!

First Kiss

It had started with you next to him on the couch. He had a book in one hand and the other in his lap. You leaned against his wire-thin frame, delighting in the smile you caught spreading on his face. You'd stayed like that for a while until his free hand shyly moved over to yours, and you let his skeletal fingers fill the spaces between yours perfectly.

It was literally the cheesiest thing you've ever thought, but in that moment, he made you feel how poetry sounds. That thought was probably what prompted you to ask in the first place.

"Jonathan?"

He gave a quick hum, not even looking up from his book.

"Can I kiss you?"

He wasn't moving to begin with, but somehow he manages to freeze anyway. You start again immediately.

"Only if you want to," you squeeze his hand, "I would never want to make you uncomfortable. If you want to wait, we can."

"No, no, I do want to." He sets his book down on the table beside him and gives a small sigh that you can feel as you lean against him. "I have definitely made you wait long enough, I feel." He smiles at you, but there's some twinge of guilt behind it.

"You're worth waiting for." You nuzzle his arm and squeeze his hand. "You know you don't have to do this for me."

He squeezes back. "I know."

You let go of his hand to sit up and he turns his upper body towards you.

"Are you sure?" You lean in just a little. His face reddens as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat.

"There is no one else in the world I would allow to do this. You understand the... significance of this." He presses a hand to your cheek and looks into your eyes. "I trust you."

Hearing him say it with an obvious anxiousness made your heart ache. You wish desperately that he'd never been hurt so badly for this to be so hard for him. You wish he didn't have to trust you so much, but you were determined to never leave him so broken or betrayed.

You place your hand to the back of his. You close your eyes and turn your head slightly to press a quick kiss to his palm.

When you open your eyes to smirk up at him, you see him sitting stalk-still. Your voice snaps him out of whatever thoughts he was lost in. "Now you have nothing to be nervous about, because technically I've already kissed you."

He lets himself laugh as his shoulders slack just barely. You turn your attention back to his hand and move your lips down to the inside of his wrist, brushing them against the skin exposed there. You look up at him and quietly ask him if this is okay, if he's okay. He nods and his eyes are glued to you as you kiss up his arm. Each one is small and soft. You're slowly inching up to his shoulder, where you bring your hands up to rest on his upper arms. You hear his breath hitch and you pause, pulling back to get a better look at his face. "You still okay?"

He nods again, but his eyes are wide and you can feel how tense he is under your hands. God, is he shaking? He can tell by you eyeing him that he needs to reiterate that, "I'm alright, dear, I promise." His lips twitch into a smile and you can't help but smile back.

You dip your head back down into the crook of his neck when you decide to entertain a passing whim. Your voice comes as barely a whisper. "You know, I think if heaven were a real place, it'd be somewhere right here." You bring your lips to brush against the skin of his neck and he shivers. The thing that really drives you crazy is the noise he makes - this restrained moan that you could feel while your lips grazed his throat. You've never heard him make a noise like that and you need to make him do it again.

His jawline comes next, and his hands actually raise up a little as you place a peck on his cheek. You're getting awful close now. You bring one hand to his back and the other to the back of his head, lightly pressing his body to yours. You're practically in his lap, so you decide to go all the way and straddle him. His hands settle on your sides and as you kiss the corner of his mouth, his fingers almost dig into you.

You pull back just a little to look into his eyes. His breath is uneven and his hands grip you as tight as they can without it being painful. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your own. His eyes are half-lidded and lost in yours. When you slowly lean back in, he doesn't turn away. You can feel his breath brushing against your lips and the heat from his face. You're so close.

You close your eyes and press forward.

It's maybe four seconds, but it's the softest and most loving kiss you can manage. Any tension that he held in his body you can physically feel melt away, and his grip on you slacks instantly, instead pulling you against him. That amazing noise sings from his throat again. Without realizing it, a soft whine of your own comes after, prompting him to somehow press your bodies even closer together. You pull back, but only a little. You're still so close.

"Are you okay? Was that alright?" You ask quietly.

Jon's eyes remained closed even after you pulled away, but fluttered open at your question. He let out a shaky breath he must have been holding the whole kiss, and his forehead comes forward to bump yours gently. He brings a hand up to the back of your neck, and it moves up into your hair. It's a slow, cautious movement, him entangling his fingers with your hair and holding you close.

"It was perfect. I... cannot believe how lucky I am to have someone like you. To have something like this." His voice is soft and you can hear the smile through the last few words. Your heart flutters and you once again can't stop yourself from smiling back, a quiet hum leaving you. He pulls back and looks away sheepishly. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but stops himself.

"What's wrong?"

He clears his throat, straightening up a bit. "Can we... Could I kiss you again?" His voice is so quiet and he can barely meet your gaze when he asks.

You don't even respond, you just press your lips to his. It's still just as sweet and gentle as the first; you treat him the way you know he deserves to be treated. You'd given him the first kiss you know he deserves.

You pull away only to pepper his jaw in light pecks. "I've been waiting for this for so long. Do you know how hard it was to have to look at your pretty face every day and not kiss it?" You kiss his forehead. "I'm just making up for lost time."

Jonathan stammers and turns away only an inch; to show you how flustered he is while still giving you ample room to assault him with your lips. "You are so very dear to me. I'm sorry it took me so long to be comfortable with this, but endlessly thankful for your patience. I truly don't deserve you... was it everything you wanted it to be?"

You take his chin and gently tug him back to look at you. "First of all, I love you, and you deserve everything I give you and more. I'm gonna do whatever it takes to make you believe that." Your thumb stroked his chin and he melted at your soft touch and honeyed words. "Second of all, yes," You kiss his lips once more, "You were well worth the wait."

#jonathan crane #dc #batman #dc comics #masters of fear #hosannas of anguish #mof!jon #i hope this is ok!!#i've never uh. written anything like this before #idk how easy it is to tell that it's mof jon specifically #but my god i tried

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

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your love is my turning page

(based on “Turning Page” by Sleeping at Last because I listened to it the other day and cried like...twice)

tw: whump, major character ‘death’, blood mention, canon typical violence but only briefly, snuggling, fluff

---

Geralt cradled the bard’s body gently against his chest as he exited the keep, which was burning to a massive stony heap behind him. His amber gaze was blank and his mouth formed a thin, grim line as he moved steadily towards the side of the path ahead, where Roach and the sorceress were waiting for his triumphant return. How disappointed they would be.

Yennefer gasped and covered her mouth with her hand when she finally saw what Geralt was carrying, her tone utterly disbelieving. “No, Geralt. Tell me it isn’t true. Please tell me that he isn’t-”

“We didn’t make it in time, Yen.”

“Geralt, I’m-”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Witcher interrupted again. His voice was toneless and his eyes were glazed and empty when he spoke. Yennefer worried her lip between her teeth, mouth still hidden by her hand. She reached out for Geralt with the other but he growled and flinched away from the contact, “Don’t.”

“Just let me-”

“Don’t touch him, Yen!” the Witcher bellowed, curling his arms up and holding the bard’s limp form against his chest. Tears leaked from his eyes, slow and impossible in their appearance (Witchers physically cannot cry, or so he’d thought). They made their way down his stubbled cheeks and fell noiselessly to the ground. Some of them hung from the end of his nose for a moment before plummeting. Some dropped down to form damp, grey marks on the material of the bard’s half-open chemise. A chemise covered in dark, drying smears of blood.

Jaskier’s blood.

Too much of Jaskier’s blood.

The Witcher fell to his knees in a patch of flowers and pulled the broken form of his best friend even tighter to him. “I...I’m sorry I was too late this time,” he murmured against the crown of Jaskier’s clammy forehead. His slender, long-limbed body still hadn’t gone entirely cold yet despite the blood-loss. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

There were marks carved all over the bard’s torso, oozing blood through the thin material of his shirt; Geralt had seen the bloody sigils glowing faintly before he’d killed the crazed mage who’d put them there. The Witcher had pulled Jaskier’s shirt back down to cover his wounds and absconded with him, casting a careless Igni on his way out the door.

The mage had needed a human sacrifice. The mage had chosen Jaskier.

Yen placed a gentle hand atop Jaskier’s unmoving shoulder and Geralt heard her empathetic sigh. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“I waited nearly a hundred years for someone to come along and show me what love was supposed to feel like and I’d wait a million more; but only for him,” the Witcher admitted. There was no reason not to admit things, now, when he couldn’t ruin anything between them. He laid the bard’s body down beside a small patch of daisies and buttercups and let the aching, burning tears continue their cascade down his face. He didn’t say anything more for a moment; words had never been his strong suit.

“Tell him now,” Yen suggested, her own voice watery with emotion, “Tell him everything. I’ll give you a moment alone.”

Yen wandered a few steps into the treeline to give them privacy, to give Geralt a moment alone with his paralyzed but absolutely not dead bard. She smirked to herself and wiped the forced tears from her eyes. Like taking candy from an enormous, stupid baby. Can he not hear the faint beating of his little bard’s resilient human heart?

“I’d give anything to see you smile at me again, Jaskier. I’m so, so sorry that we didn’t make it to you in time. I’m sorry that you died like this, for the sake of a greedy, power-hungry asshole. You were so bright. You brought so much happiness to the Continent. You brought so much happiness to me.”

Geralt, still kneeling next to Jaskier’s limp form, brushed a stray lock of brown hair behind the bard’s ear and felt a primal sense of loss wrap around every individual piece of his shattered and slow-beating heart. “If only I could have caressed your skin as softly as I often dream of doing. If only I could have felt your warmth in such a simple, human way. You made me stronger every time you coveted my weaknesses, you know. Even when I failed, you stayed at my side and told me how strong and kind I was. How brave I was. Your heart was so delicate and human and fragile. You forced me to work every day to improve myself. I would have done anything to keep you from breaking under the weight of this awful world and yet-” the Witcher’s voice broke completely and he only barely managed to gasp out “-and yet here we are.”

---

Jaskier could hear everything. The too-sweet paralyzation agent force-fed to him by the evil mage was close to wearing off but until then the bard could only listen as the man of his dreams mourned his apparent death. He could only lay in stunned silence as Yennefer noticed the presence of the mixed herbs and refused to mention them to Geralt. Perhaps this was her gift to Jaskier; perhaps this was an apology. Whatever twisted form of affection she was showing her new friend for now, though, had the bard feeling more than a little upset.

He hated seeing Geralt so worked up. So sad. So hurt.

“I’m going to miss your presence in the world, Jaskier. I’m going to miss the way you smiled when you blushed; gods, I wanted to make you smile at me like that so many times...it was blinding. The way your lip would curl up and your tongue would poke out when you scribbled your poems into that damned expensive notebook at inns or near the fire. Gods, I-”

“I could fix him for you,” Yen offered, returning from the trees. It was almost nonchalant in its casualness. Almost.

“What’s the price for such an impressive feat?” Geralt asked. He smoothed the bard’s hair back again. He’d need to bury the corpse soon; he could barely stand to look at it any longer. It’s not Jaskier anymore, not without those sparkling eyes and that trembling, velvet voice.

He’d do anything to hear that voice again, even Jaskier was only cussing him out or calling him every name in the book. He’d listen to a thousand repetitions of every insult hurled his way by every villager across the Continent if it meant Jaskier was saying them with the voice Geralt knew he’d never hear again.

His voice was low and quiet when he asked the sorceress: “What kind of ingredients would you need for such a task?”

“I would need a sacrifice of equal value. Those runes can only be transferred from one person to another.”

Geralt’s head whipped around and his eyes widened hopefully. “Use me. If that will bring him back then take me.”

“And get horrifically murdered when he wakes to find his darling Witcher dead and buried? No, thank you. I don’t have a death wish.”

Smart woman, Jaskier thought. Just give me the antidote or whatever magical cure I know you’re hiding, Yennefer! Let me up! Let me comfort him, I’ve heard enough!

She’d clearly been listening to his thoughts because just as he summoned the worst of his insults to silently throw her way, Yen relented. She knelt beside Geralt and leaned forward, pressing her palm to the center of Jaskier’s forehead. There was a soft purple glow and Geralt panicked, “What are you doing!? You just said-”

“I lied,” she shrugged. “He was just paralyzed. You should have been able to hear his heart, faint as it was.”

“You...you mean…” Jaskier’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he groaned softly. The Witcher’s eyes were wide and shimmered with new tears as he leaned over the bard’s prostrate figure. “Jaskier?”

“Did-” he coughed and groaned again but pushed on “-did you mean it?”

“Every word,” Geralt smiled shyly. He hadn’t thought Witchers could blush, either, but here they sat; Geralt’s cheeks were pale pink and Jaskier was still heaving out labored breaths.

“Here are some basic healing supplies for the bard’s chest,” Yen interrupted, tossing a linen bag towards Geralt, who caught it easily. “I’m going to be on my way. You two need a moment, seems like.”

“Thank you, Yen,” Jaskier smiled. Geralt glanced between the two but before he could ascertain the bard’s meaning, the sorceress had fled through one of her portals and disappeared. As soon as she was gone, Jaskier let out the loud, anguished cry he’d been holding back in her presence. “Fuck me, this hurts! Fuck!”

“Fucking hells,” Geralt scrambled through the bag for some kind of pain relief. He placed a few drops of poppy tincture at the end of Jaskier’s tongue and lifted him slowly from the ground. “Let’s get you to an inn. I need to treat those cuts and I can’t do it very well in the grass.”

“My big, scary Witcher,” Jaskier smiled, hooking his arms around Geralt’s neck as he was lifted into the White Wolf’s embrace. “Taking care of me so well.”

---

That night, Geralt laid with Jaskier’s head atop his chest. The oddly patterned cuts across the bard’s torso were now covered in salve and bandaged tightly.

“None of my training prepared me for this,” the Witcher admitted, kissing Jaskier’s petal-soft cheek with the utmost reverence.

“What is this?” the bard asked.

“I am yours,” Geralt stated. It was a simple fact. A fact he’d accepted the moment he realized he hadn’t lost Jaskier forever. The younger man’s face went bright red and he nuzzled closer to his rescuer’s side. Geralt’s strong arm was looped around his back, holding him close. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Gladly.”

The bard leaned up and pressed his lips to Geralt’s. It was soft, tender, and endlessly healing. Warmth spread through the Witcher’s body, spreading from his heart to each and every one of his limbs. He pulled the bard completely on top of him and wrapped his arms around the man’s lower back to anchor him. Jaskier crossed his arms over Geralt’s chest and rested his chin there.

“Though we’re tethered to the story we must tell, When I saw you, well I knew we’d tell it well.”

“Is that your newest composition?” the Witcher asked, running his hand through Jaskier’s soft brown hair as he sang. The bard nodded.

“It’s a love song. About a Witcher...and a bard.”

“Hmm. I can’t wait to hear it.”

#geraskier fic #geraskier story #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #yen is there also being a bro #geralt whump #jaskier whump #emotional hurt/comfort #witcher hurt/comfort #geraskier hurt/comfort #geralt admits his feelings #geraskier first kiss #love confession #blood mention #injury tw

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zirkkun · 3 years

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a suffering aftermath.

a suffering aftermath. (Undertale Fanfic - based off of huntsman. by @alch3mic - rated M by AO3 standards)

+ huntsman!sans/lil red!reader (though instead written with they/them because;; self indulgence)

+ 1241 words, english

+ hurt/comfort with yandere elements. this is a rant fic based on parts of huntsman. that reminded me very much of of my own life. lowkey i guess “based on a true story” cause it’s my life lol

+ takes place after the events of huntsman., which you should totally read btw

+ “He thought it would be over once they were dead. Unfortunately, there are some scars left behind that cannot be healed. And he hates them with every fiber of his being.”

+ AO3 link

"You know... I'm glad that my stalker is gone, but..." They bit their lip as they spoke. "I always fear they're going to come back."

Sans turned to his human, a brow raised, the faint noise of the television still playing the movie the two of them had been watching. "what brings this up?" he asked.

"I... I dunno," they confess. "I was just thinking about it again." Pulling their legs up onto the couch, they held their head up by resting it against their knees. "I... I don't know if you know this, but... I had troubles with them long before they were my co-worker. In high school." There was a long pause between this confession and their continuation, eyes flipping between the television, the floor, and Sans's face eagerly awaiting the rest of their story. A sigh slipped passed their lips. "We'd met in middle school and were friends for a while, but it wasn't long until they were really clingy in... really physical ways. I... I really hated it. So I started just ignoring them, cause I didn't know what else to do. But they had my email, so they kept emailing me..."

For a moment, they tried to distract themself from the memory of it by watching the movie in front of them instead, but it was clear by Sans's motion of wrapping an arm around their waist and bringing them closer to him that he wanted to hear more of the story. Caving to this, they timidly continued. "They sent me a lot of horrible things, Sans. Long winded explanations of their abuse. Endlessly typo-filled letters of their love for me. Graphic descriptions of their sex life. Threats that they would cut themself or even kill themself if I didn't reply or accept them as if they weren't flawed. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do." It was beyond their control: tears started to trickle down their cheeks as they started to remember everything all at once. At the very least, Sans's gentle rubbing against their back was a bit calming, but it didn't stop the horror overwhelming their mind.

"E-eventually the emails stopped but... the stalker came back. It's almost like they were reignited the second I had a boyfriend." Sans repressed his resentment to hearing such a phrase, but soon pushed it aside with the reminder he could not change his human's life from before him. It only moderately settled his nerves. "The threats they made to him... he later ended up being just as abusive as they were, but so subtle and positive about it that I didn't even realize, but, stars, if anything happened to him because of me?" They shook their head aggressively, words cracking as they fell out of their mouth. "I don't know what I'd do with myself."

Sans couldn't bare to listen to their crying anymore. He pulled them even closer, embracing them completely in a hug and nuzzled into their neck, trying to carefully shush them as their cries refused to cease. Burying their face into the fabric of Sans's black hoodie, they tried to get a grip on their emotions again before saying anything; their hands were death gripping the back of his sweatshirt, trembling as they tried to calm their ever stuttering breath. "S-sorry," they eventually whimpered.

"for what, sweetheart?" Sans whispered. "it's ok. i'm here for ya. just say what you've got to."

Swallowing heavy, and while appreciating his kind words, they couldn't help but feel guilty for suddenly dropping such a heavy topic on him out of nowhere. Ah, it was just like them, wasn't it? To once again ruin a nice date night Sans had planned for the two of them... Their grip on his shirt tightened.

"Ha, ha..." They let out a nervous laugh, trying to sound at least a little more uplifted. "Can you really believe all that happened when I was 15...? And it wasn't even half of it..." They took another heavy breath before continuing, trying to suspend their hiccuping weeps for at least a brief time. "When it got to the end of high school, they desperately tried becoming friends with me again. We had a singular class together... and every time it rolled around it sent me into a silent panic attack. Sometimes they tried passing me notes through a 'mutual friend'... sometimes they'd hang up signs on their desk during class directed at me... and like six or seven times they made alternate accounts to try and follow me online and become friends that way... as someone else I didn't call a stalker. Every time I blocked them, they called me out, creating so much drama that I lost all the friends and bits of internet fame I'd built over the years..." They tucked their head further down. "Sorry, you don't care about that..."

"i care about everything that has to do with you," Sans blurted. "everything."

But they still weren't so sure, and skipped the topic anyway. No, they were sure he wouldn't care about how they had to make a new internet personality entirely. That was off topic at this point. Rather, the more important point...

"You know they found me again. They got the same job as me. They tried working with me. They tried asking me out again. They tried asking to be friends again. They threatened me again. They... They even learned where I lived and stalked me for weeks--"

"i know, i know," Sans hushed. "but they're not gonna hurt you anymore."

"But how can you be so sure...?"

"have I lied to you before, sweetheart?"

His coy tone. He knew the truth. But it's not like he would ever dare say anything.

To them, his voice sounded merely playful. Reassuringly positive.

... to an extent.

"No..." they mumbled, though some part of them wasn't wholly confident; speaking against his hoodie. "No, you haven't."

Sans pressed a soft kiss against their neck. "and i'm not gonna, ok? you can trust me. they're never going to hurt you ever again. not while i'm here for you."

The television continued through the movie, which was reaching its end. A pity. So close to a normal evening. But it was fine for now. The reasoning was legitimate enough. Sans was even finding himself a bit devastated at the sight of his Little Red's tears. Their genuine tears. Each one crushed him. Fueled his anger.

Hunting the enemy had been easy.

Dealing with the mess they caused was not.

Had this stalker not already been long dead and disposed of, Sans would have dropped everything to kill them right now. Anything to stop these tears from dripping down his precious human's cheeks. But now, there was nothing to express his fury onto. He could do nothing for now other than hold them close, despite how every passing second of hearing that traumatized sob practically cracked his Soul, bit by suffering bit.

Why is this not so easily dealt with?

Why can't he just... throw what's unnecessary away?

Why can't this motherfucking rat leave his Little Red Riding Hood alone?

Sans held them just a bit tighter. A bit more desperately. "i'm here for you, sweetheart," he reminded once again. He even grimaced as they held a tighter grip on his jacket, practically feeling their pain as if it was his own.

"nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you again."

#undertale #undertale fanfic #sans undertale #huntsman!sans #yandere tw//#past abuse tw//#hurt/comfort #oneshot #rant fic #zircon writes #undertale au

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hallospaceboyy · 4 years

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Servitude Part 3

Lilith has been acting strangely, and when her emotions finally get the better of her, Y/N must console her.

AN: Love love LOVED writing this, and it's not often I feel this way, but I'm so happy with the way this turned out. I do hope you all enjoy 🖤

Warning for smut, strong language

Part 1 / Part 2

You’ve barely seen Lilith since you had spent the night with her just over a week ago. She rarely summoned you, but still expected you at her side during her council meetings. She seemed at war with herself since the affection she showed you, no longer allowed you to sit in her lap, but had you chained to the throne, kneeling at her feet, as if to instil some dominance, some control that she no longer feels. The silver chain hooks into the small, metal heart shaped loop that hangs from your collar, keeping you tethered there, not that you have any desire to move anyway, happily stay by her side.

The meeting ends, demons filing from the room, and the brunette hadn't touched you the entire time, not even so much as a stroke of your hair, as you were so used to. You'd tried to rest a hand on her calf some time ago, just to feel her, but she had pulled away, leaving you crestfallen, confused.

Her blue eyes finally do rest on you now, and she's frowning slightly, deep in thought. You crawl closer to her, place both hands on her knees, and she stiffens, but doesn’t recoil, eyeing you curiously. The sound of the chain dragging across the stone floor, the way the cold metal brushes the skin of your chest makes you shiver. Lilith regards you coolly, eyes flitting over you as if awaiting your next move. You slowly push her long red dress up her legs, eyes never leaving hers.

“Let me please you, My Queen. I hate that I have angered you.”

Her jaw clenches at that, but she keeps silent as you bunch her dress at her hips and part her thighs. You press soft kisses there, closing your eyes, and hear her breath a sigh, shifting her hips in her seat. Her slender hands tangle in your hair, and you smirk as you kiss higher, find her devoid of underwear again.

You don’t keep her waiting, eagerly bury your face in her cunt and lick at her hungrily, and the demoness releases a strangled moan, arching her back and pushing at your head. She's sinfully wet, drapes her leg over the arm of the throne to spread herself more for you and you groan throatily against her, lapping at her entrance, swallowing her arousal for you with wanton eagerness.

She cries out loudly as you suck at her clit, flicking your tongue over it, and she's rolling her hips against you now, pressing your face insistently to her.

“Yo-You're such a good girl.” She moans breathily, and then she’s tipping over the edge, clawing at your scalp as her orgasm crashes through her, bucking her hips against your skilled mouth. You can feel her slickness coating your chin, and you squeeze her thighs, digging your nails in slightly. It never fails to delight you, making her come apart, seeing her composure slip. It makes you fall for her all the more, her open vulnerability in these moments when you please her.

Her grip on your hair slackens, and she combs her fingers tenderly through your locks, panting. She gazes down at you when you glance up at her and press a single soft kiss to her clit, laboured breathing hitching in her throat. You nuzzle your cheek against the soft flesh of her thigh, leaning your head against her.

“You haven't done a thing to displease me, Y/N.” She whispers, and she offers you a gentle smile, and with a flick of her wrist the chain tethering you to the throne detaches from your collar, clattering to the floor. “Go on to your room now, darling. I need some time to think.”

Your heart sinks when she looks away from you, face stoney again, and you wince at the soreness in your knees as you stand, limping from the room.

You are rudely awakened from your nap when there is an urgent knock on your chamber door, starting into a sitting position and rubbing at your head. The room is dark, candles all burned down, and you know you've been sleeping for hours. You jump from the softness of the mattress when a crash resounds from down the corridor, and you sprint to fling the door open, finding Lilith's minion standing there, eyes wide, wringing his hands.

“She’s inconsolable. I didn't know who else to ask.”

“Lilith?”

He nods, swallowing thickly. “She’s been crying, screaming, destroying things. I've never seen her like it.”

You sigh, ignoring the dread in the pit of your stomach as you brush past him and stride with purpose to Lilith's quarters, and you don't bother to knock when you hear the loud wracked sob from the other side, push the heavy door open with shaking hands.

Lilith is curled on the rug before the fire, although it barely burns, dying down to a pile of hot ash and embers. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, and her shoulders are shaking, hair hanging in wild strands around her face. The armchair is upturned across the room, the drapes pulled from the windows and the frame of the four poster bed, torn to ribbons on the floor. Smashed glass litters the ground, and your eyes flit to the puddle of whisky beside the broken bottle on the stone floor. The room is a mess, chaotic, but you take it in only fleetingly, tiptoe around the shards of glass as best you can to fall to the side of your Queen. You wince when a small fragment embeds itself in your heel, but say nothing, a tiny cut the least of your worries.

“I didn't ask you here.” She snaps, well, tries to snap, but her voice breaks, and it's thick with tears.

“I know. I was informed you may need some company. Maybe a little cheering up, a listening ear?”

You don’t recoil when she looks at you and glares, merely search her face, taking in the red splotched, tear streaked skin, swollen eyes, her smudged makeup, usually perfect red lips staining the pale skin around her mouth. Your heart aches to see her this way, brow furrowing in concern at the fresh tears gathering in her eyes.

“I don’t need anything, don't need anyone.” She spits, looking away from you to gaze at the embers in the hearth, and you refrain from rolling your eyes at her trying to close herself off from you.

“You know, you may not like to admit it, but I know you better than anybody in Pandemonium. I may spend most of my time sitting in obedient silence, but I’ve studied you, watched you intently the entire time, listened to you. I know every change in the nuance of your voice, notice the slightest shift in body language. You can talk to me, Lilith. About anything.” You certainly don’t feel as brave as you sound, but you place a warm hand on her back, and she tenses momentarily, before relaxing beneath your touch and turning to search your eyes.

“I'm weak. I have failed. The one thing I told myself I would not let happen, has. I-I don’t-" She sighs in frustration, rubbing furiously at her eyes. “I care for you so deeply. I never meant to let it happen. But it's drowning me, clawing at my heart and I can’t bare it. Can't bare the way that you remain so kind, so loyal, when I've treated you as some object to be owned.”

“You've treated me well. I'm happy here, with you.”

“Why?” She frowns, bottom lip trembling, and you take her hands in yours, kiss the backs of each of them, each knuckle, her palms, her wrists.

“Because I love you. I would do anything for you. I’m not ashamed to admit that. Having feelings doesn’t makes us weak, Lilith. It makes us strong, to allow ourselves to succumb to them despite the pain we have suffered through. The pains of the past.”

Her bottom lip trembles, and you take her into your arms, surprised when she lets you, instantly melts into you and nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck. She sniffles against you and you hold her tighter, stroke her hair, her back, just cradling her and relishing in the intimacy, the softness. You would hold her this way every day if she allowed you.

“You love me because you feel obliged to. Because I’m Queen.” She murmurs, but her arms still snake around your waist despite her doubt.

“No. I love you because you're you. The fact that you're Queen makes me proud. The fact that you're strong, resilient, generous, intelligent beyond words, endlessly fascinating, makes me love you. I admire you more than I've ever admired anyone.”

Lilith huffs a laugh then, her hot breath tickling your neck. “Ever the flatterer.”

“It's not flattery, my love. I would never lie to you.”

She pulls away from you, and your heart constricts at the notion that you've said something wrong, said too much, but her face is inches from yours, her watery eyes gazing into yours, and she blinks heavily to try to keep the tears at bay. She presses her lips to yours then, and your heart jumps in your chest. She's never kissed you before, had been the one boundary she told you that she would never cross. Kissing is intimate, kissing is a caress lovers share, kissing is how you fall, so the touch of her lips to yours is the only touch you aren’t familiar with. Until now. Her lips are soft and damp, and she tastes of whisky, of burning, her hot mouth a lick of fire as her tongue slips past your parted lips. She tastes exquisite, feels exquisite, and you can’t withhold the soft whine that rises from within you, can't refrain from clutching desperately at her dress, needing her closer to you, needing her against you. Her slender hands cup your face as she crawls into your lap, straddles your hips and presses herself flush against your heaving chest.

You whimper when she breaks away, and she chuckles, nuzzling her nose against yours. You didn’t want the kiss to end, but when your eyes flutter open to look at her, take in her flushed cheeks, the lazy smile on her face, your stomach flips and you feel light headed, overwhelmed with profound affection for her – Your Queen, your Lilith.

“I have wanted to do that for so long.” She whispers, and you blush, grinning at her and biting your lip.

“I think you should do it again.”

“Mm. I agree.” Her tongue darts out at your lips, and you suck at it, capture her lips with yours and nip at her bottom lip. She hums against you, and you hold her tighter, arms enveloping her in an embrace.

“I love you." She mumbles between kisses, voice breathless, gentle, so very soft, and you smile against her lips.

“I love you too, Lilith.”

Your lips remain locked for some time, until you're both hot with need, pawing at each other desperately, and then you carry her to the bed, crawl on top of her slight form with the intention of worshipping her, the entirety of her. But Lilith has other ideas, rolls you beneath her and strips you bare, strips herself bare, and she makes love to you for the first time, her hands gentle, her lips seeking heated flesh, each caress bestowed upon you radiates love, affection, a devotion to you that she had never shown you before. When you are both satiated, laughing with pure joy in each others arms, you fall asleep blissfully entwined. When you wake in the morning, the throbbing you had been ignoring in your foot is gone, completely healed, and your fingers instantly brush your neck. The collar is no longer there, bare of heavy leather. It feels strange, but you know that this is Lilith's way of showing you as her equal, and you nuzzle into her sleeping form, inhaling her familiar scent. The scent of home.

#lilith x reader #lilith #madam satan #madam satan x reader #caos fanfiction #caos

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spencers-dria · 3 years

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Blood, So Much Blood

Someone To Stay Ch. 19

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: Gun, knife, blood, violence, sexual assault, NGL it get's pretty dark and twisty

You dance around your living room, slipping and sliding across the floor in your mismatched Christmas socks. You just got back from visiting your family for Thanksgiving. As much as you wanted to bring Spencer along, he had been called away on yet another case. Neither of you were thrilled, but you understood. You still bragged endlessly to your family about how wonderful he was and how much he cared about helping others. They understood as well. You seemed to win them over just with your stories of how the relationship got started.

But now you're back in your apartment, quickly cleaning up and putting out your decorations as you dance to the Christmas music station. Spencer had sent a quick text letting you know he would be back from the case tonight. You prepared for the fact that he might be too tired to spend time together, but you were not about to be caught unprepared, just in case.

The last month with Spencer has been magical. It was difficult to make time for dates with your schedules, but somehow he made it work. He always makes time for you, whether it means stopping by on his way home after his flight lands, just to kiss you goodnight, or a quick phone call after he gets to his hotel room before he promptly passes out. He had definitely fallen asleep on the phone once or twice. It was adorable and you didn't mind one bit.

A knock on the door sends your heart racing. Call it the honeymoon phase or whatever you like, but you were sure that he would never stop making you feel this way. You take a deep breath before swinging open the door, and you find yourself utterly speechless.

All you can do is stare, mouth gaping open as your eyes lock on Spencer. You don't even consider that you have yet to give any kind of opinion on his new look. You're snapped out of your daze as he stares down at his feet, nervously rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

"Um 'M sorry...probably should have told you first. Or not cut it at all. I can put on a hat if it's that bad?" He mumbles toward the ground.

He looks up, watching you with doe eyes, waiting for any kind of reaction. You finally move, your hands reach up to feel the freshly shaven sides of his head before running through the fluffy locks on top.

"Don't you dare", you mutter under your breath before pulling at his neck until he meets your lips. He's too stunned, forgetting to move for a moment before you feel him return the kiss with equal enthusiasm, hands sliding to wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

You aren't sure when you made your way to the couch, but you find yourself sitting in his lap, running your fingers through his hair as you bite at his perfectly plump bottom lip. Your tongues tease one another with each kiss as your skin ignites underneath the touch of his hands as he runs them through your hair, over your back and down to your hips.

The two of you finally come up for air. You look into his eyes, tracing his jaw with your fingertips before speaking up, "we should probably..."

"Yeah" he nods in agreement.

You slip off his lap and cuddle up into his side as he wraps his arms around you. You both sigh in contentment. You had talked about your boundaries together, and had agreed to take it slow. It was difficult. It was an outdated notion, but it's what was best for you and he respected that completely.

"Look at us making out on the couch, we're like two overly hormonal teenagers," you can't hold in a giggle as you awkwardly hide your face in your hands.

You feel him tug at your wrists as he tries to look you in the eyes.

"Yeah about that, what got into you huh?" He bites his lip as he tries to hide a smirk, showing just how much he enjoyed it.

Your gaze drifts back to his hair. "Don't laugh at me okay?"

He puts on a serious expression but you can see he's already trying to hide a smile behind it.

"You know I loved your long hair right? It looked so good. And you've always been attractive to me. Never doubt that. But this..." You slip your fingers back into the longer hair on top, biting down on your lip to keep your smile form growing too big. "This is so incredibly hot! You are officially way out of my league Spencer Reid. I mean, more so than before. You're like...male model material!"

You can see the disbelief in his eyes but he still smiles and blushes at your gushing.

"Cut it out! Be serious, do you really like it?"

You hold his face in your hand, turning it towards you as you lean impossibly close, never once breaking eye contact.

"I am being deadly serious. I already showed you how I feel about it. But if you've forgotten I might have to remind you."

His blush deepened by about ten shades of red as he looked up with you with his classic boyish smile. Same old adorable Spencer. You opt for leaving a small kiss on his nose, and he looks at you with all the admiration in the world before leaning back over to nuzzle his nose against yours. He knows you love this. You're not sure why you enjoy it so much, but something about it feel so incredibly intimate.

You hum contently, enjoying the feeling as you take in the comforting smell of winter spices and pine. He had started picking out cologne that he knew you would enjoy. You had even sprayed some of it on his sweaters that you had stolen.

He wraps the two of you up in a blanket. The only sound in the room is the crackling of the fire you had lit not long before he came over. You stay nuzzled up together, not speaking, not kissing, just enjoying being with one another.

You open your eyes to look at him, and his eyes are closed as a smile of pure bliss graces his features.

“Y/N I..."

His eyes shoot open and he looks as though something has just startled him, despite there being no other sound than that of his own voice. He stands up, walking across the room before grabbing the remote and returning to your side.

"I-I...think we should watch a movie or something. Ya know? First Christmas movie of the season." He sounds so nervous and it breaks your heart. You wish he could read his mind, and make everything better. But you know not to push him. He always opens up when he's ready. You smile and nod. It's not a bad idea after all.

You convinced him to watch one of your family's favorites "A Christmas Story". He found himself laughing along with you at some of the funny but ridiculous moments: Flick getting his tongue stuck to the pole, the father receiving his leg lamp award, the duck for Christmas dinner.

You find your mind drifting to how much you want a family of your own. You hadn't discussed it with Spencer. He may not even want kids. You had purposefully avoided more serious topics in hopes that Spencer would stay. You couldn't risk losing him. But if he was going to be around for the long haul, shouldn't you make sure the two of you want the same things? You've seen how good he is with Henry, and it melts your heart every time. He really would be a wonderful father.

You're staring at him as the thoughts run through your head. For some reason, your mouth decided to speak without asking your brain for permission.

"Do you want kids?" The words are out before you can stop them. Your hand covers your mouth in hopes of shoving them back in, but its too late. You feel absolutely humiliated and terrified. You've done it. You've ruined this. He's going to run for the hills.

Except he doesn't. Instead he turns to look at you, a bright smile on his face. "Of course! Without a doubt. "

You feel yourself let go of the breath you hadn't realized you were holding as relief washes over you like a warm shower. He reaches over, intertwining his fingers with yours and slowly rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand.

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I didn't know if it was too early to talk about but I do... I really really do."

He places a kiss on top of your head before pulling you in closer as both of you turn your attention back to the movie. You knew that was all that needed to be said, for now. It was enough to know he wanted a family as much as you do. And you hoped that he could see that future with you in it.

_____________________________________________________________

It's your last day of work before your long awaited trip to Orlando with Spencer. You can't wait to finally take him to one of your favorite places. He loves Harry Potter almost as much as you do. And you already know he would appreciate all the small details that had been placed amongst the stores and rides. You look forward to hearing every single fact he can possibly share about each ride as you wait in the lines. You know you won't be bored for a single moment as long as he is by your side.

After putting on a clean pair of scrubs, you get in the car and begin your drive to work, soft Christmas music playing in the background as you hum along.

You make it all the way to 2PM before finding the time to take a lunch break. You decide to wander down to the cafeteria in the basement of the hospital, putting in your ear buds while the elevator makes its way down.

You hear your work phone make the familiar sound, letting you know it's out of range. This is always a relief, seeing as you won't be constantly bothered while you wait in line to order your food. It's always short lived, the beeps and calls returning the second you return to the floor with lunch, but you'll take any kind of break you can get.

While waiting in line, your mind wanders to the conversation between you and Spencer the night before. It was short, but the look in his eyes told you more than his words ever could. He truly cared about you. And you really believe he saw a long future with you.

As you make your way through the empty back halls leading to the elevator, you can hear an announcement being made over the speaks, though you can't make it out over the sound of your music. Another code blue in the CCU most likely.

You walk over to your spot at the nursing desk to pick up your water bottle. It isn't until you take out your ear buds that you realize how eerily quiet the floor is. Quiet. It's like a curse word in hospitals. Saying it will certainly bring on immediate doom.

You make your way around the floor. All of the patient doors are closed, as are the doors separating A and B side. The announcement must have been for another fire drill. It's just protocol. You continue to make your way down the hall looking for any other the nurses. The doctors. Therapists. Techs? It's a weekday. The floor should be like rush hour. Instead it feels like a ghost town, aside from the patients lying in bed in their rooms.

You get an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Your pace picks up as your search for anyone else turns into more of a panic.

Before you can enter into the staff breakroom, a chill runs up the back of your neck.

"Nurse Y/L/N."

You turn to see a family member of one of your former patients.

"Mr. Gray what are you doing here? Is everything okay? Do you need help finding someone?"

"I was looking for someone. But I just found her."

His voice is stone cold. Your eyes are locked on the movement of his hand has he raises it, revealing a gun that is now pointed directly at your head. He's only a few feet away. He's not close enough for you to hurt him in anyway or surprise him enough to run away. He's not so far that he could possibly miss if he pulled the trigger.

You work to slow your breathing and you feel your emotions switch off, allowing you to focus on sharpening your thoughts in the moment.

"If you need to talk to me, we can do that. Let's just sit down and talk ok?"

"NO! You've talked enough. My wife is dead because of you. You watched her die. You didn't help her. I lost the love of my life and it's all your fault."

He steps forward, leaning so close that you can feel his breath against your ear before he whispers "and now you're going to pay."

Your mind is racing as he grabs your wrist shoving you forward. You feel the steel of the gun on the back of your head as he orders you where to turn, leading you through several doors and hallways.

They would have called the police by now right? That must have been what that announcement was, some kind of lock down. They have to know. That's why you couldn't find anyone. That means help is on the way. But what if they don't find him in time? Find you in time?

In time for what you don't even know. He probably wanted to kill you. But if he only wanted to kill you on site he would have done it already. It's the way he's ordering you around, leading you to a second location that makes your stomach turn. What could he possibly do that's worse than death? You don't want to think about it. Poor Spencer has to. He deals with this every day at work. Spencer...Spencer!

You need him here. Silently in your mind you pray that he would find you and save you before you could be in any real danger.

Mr. Gray opens a door to a patient room, and pulls the blinds shut, keeping the gun trained on you the entire time. You look for something, anything that can help you. Spencer would know what to do. He would know how to get out of this. But you. You're just a nurse, with no FBI training. And you feel truly helpless.

"Get on the bed!" He yells. You feel like you could be sick. Tears threaten to break through, but you're determined not to show any signs of fear to this psycho.

"Now!" He raises his voice even louder as he presses the gun against your forehead.

You reluctantly lay down on the hospital bed, refusing to look anything but incredibly pissed off. Truthfully, you are mortified. You want to scream, yell, cry, but you don't make a sound.

He sets the gun down and pulls out some restraints usually kept in the hospital supply room, and he begins to tie your wrists and ankles to the bed. Then he pulls out a knife, dragging it along your jaw and down your neck, before placing it right above your heart.

He leans down to whisper "One wrong move and I will slice you up into little pieces."

You feel your body tense as you fight off every natural reaction to cry or scream. Instead you spit in his face.

He wipes it off with nothing but a smug grin on his face. He knows no matter what you do, he still has total control in this situation.

The knife makes its way down, and you hear the ripping of fabric as he cuts through your scrubs. Your muscles tighten at the sting of the cool air. Your eyes clench shut as he drag the blade up the inside of your thigh, just deep enough to break the skin. You soon feel the dribble of blood running down your skin, but this is far from over. He continues in this manner, leaving cuts on your legs, your stomach, your chest, anywhere that felt too intimate to be touched by a stranger.

Tears have broken through and are streaming down your face but you remain silent. You are determined to not give him the satisfaction of begging. You try not to think about the scars that will remain, unsure if you will even make it out of this room alive.

A hand slips inside your underwear and you try to close your eyes even more, hoping to block out every possible sensation. In your mind you are anywhere but here. You're curled up on the couch, watching the fire, Spencer by your side. Spencer, who would protect you at all costs. Spencer who you love.

You are snapped back to reality by the sharp pain in your lower abdomen. Your eyes fly open to the blade sinking into your skin. And the blood, so much blood. You can't hold back any more. Tears are pouring out as you call for help. You scream in pain. You scream so loud that it physically hurts. You scream until you lose every last ounce of energy within you. You call his name over and over, willing him to appear in front of you, if only to see him one last time before you slip into the darkness that is slowly taking hold of you.

"Spencer..."

A/N: So I included a pretty serious topic in this chapter. I know it seems like it kinda came out of no where. But I want anyone who has experienced sexual assault of any kind to know they are not alone. It is not your fault. And it is okay to call it what it is. Don't let anyone, including the little voice inside your head convince you that it is no big deal. It's okay to ask for help. It's better if you do. This doesn't have to be a friend or a parent if you're not comfortable with that. I have included the national sexual assault help line as well as the suicide help line and some other links. Never be ashamed to seek help. It takes a lot of strength.

Also, any of you who need to talk to me about anything are more than welcome to message me. I am here for you always.

Thanks for your support in reading my story, I love you all!

Fairytales1896 aka Spencer’s Dria

Resources:

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 800.656.HOPE (4673

https://www.rainn.org/about-national-sexual-assault-telephone-hotline

Human Trafficking Hotline: 1-888-373-7888

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

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catracorner962 · 4 years

Text

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)

My first Catradora fic! There are plenty more to come but I thought I’d start with my personal favorite troupe of sleepy cuddles both falling asleep and waking up. Plus Catra sings.

“...and that is why we should be bringing supplies to Selinias while we rebuild the sea gate!” Adora cried, exasperated. She wracked her fingers over her scalp, the tight hair pulled back into a pony-tail. She grunted, yanking out the elastic and redoing her simple hairdo for the tenth time this evening. She turned back to the crowded table, full of papers and scrolls and diagrams of her own making.

“Constructing new supply routes into Selinias around the broken sea gate will take much longer then just building a single service road while the rest of the gate is repaired!”

Catra let out a sigh, shaking her head. From her spot on their balcony she could hear Adora thinking aloud but she’d be laying if she said she hadn’t tuned it out. Instead she stared out at the courtyard of the Bright Moon gardens. The sky turning slowly from pink and yellow to a pastel purple and blue night. Catra smiled a little, watching each star slowly coming out, twinkling against the sky. The stars had returned to Etheria.

Adora brought the stars back, she thought pleasantly. Her grin widened. Catra had never seen the stars in the Horde. Neither of them had. Whatever stars might have existed were covered by the choking miasma of soot and smoke endlessly pumped up from the forges and the exhaust of the machines from the bot factories. Catra hadn’t appreciated the stars on Horde Prime’s ship either. She’d been too distracted by….

The feline girl put a hand to the back of her neck. Just to be sure the chip wasn’t there. It wasn’t. Here, now, after the battle, after returning magic to Etheria and settling here in the castle Catra could sit quietly, admiring the scenery.

It’s...peaceful, she thought wistfully.

Her tail flicked back and forth. The late summer air was heavy...not unlike the sky before a storm.

This is peaceful, Catra thought again.

“Am I right?!” Adora’s strained voice made the feline girl’s ears flick in acknowledgement. “We can ship materials from the Fright Zone to…”

“Adora,” Catra cut her off, standing from her previously crouched perch. “Adora you need to relax.”

Adora blinked, as though she were speaking a different language.

“I...I can’t do that!” She chewed nervously on the end of her pen, turning back to her desk. “We have a meeting with the princess alliance tomorrow, Mermista expects me to have a plan!” Catra easily swiped the pen from Adora’s grasp.

“You’ve been planning all day, it’s late.”

Catra took her hand, letting her thumb caress Adora’s knuckles for a moment before pulling her up and leading her toward their large bed. Adora muttered something, but didn’t resist; allowing Catra to sit her down on the side of the bed.

“I just need…” Adora went to stand, only to be met by firm hands pressing her shoulders forcing her to sit back down. “I need to help the people of Selinias!” She tried again, this time more forceful. Catra’s heterochromatic eyes narrowed,

“You can’t help anyone if you're exhausted,” she challenged. Without waiting for a reply Catra crossed the broad expanse of their shared room, over to the velvet floor to ceiling curtains. She adjusted them until it was just enough to let silver moonlight spill into the room. Coating everything in a glowing cool light.

“Adora? Seriously?!”

Adora was once again hunched over her desk, her simple satin nightgown reflecting in the ever quaint moonlight. How could Catra possibly stay mad? She smiled herself at the simple scene.

Is that what you want? Glimmer desperately shrieked

We both know this was never what you wanted, Double Trouble Taunted.

Everything I want…. She’d convinced herself

They’d all been wrong, she’d been the most wrong of all.

This, right here, Adora with her, in their room, this was what she wanted.

Adora, always steadfast and diligent, always giving her all to everyone. Catra slinked up behind her, winding her arm around the other girl’s taunt waist.

“I have a mission for you,” she whispered into Adora’s ear, her breath tickling the loose strands of blonde hair. “It’s called operation go to sleep.” The blonde turned in her grip and made a noise of disgruntled defeat. She gave in, allowed Catra to once again lead her to their bed. This time Catra leapt in, resting her back and head against the plush pillows. Despite the instinct within her to close up, to constrict her body and lash her tail and hiss and claw, Catra opened her arms. The response instantly seeped away as Adora’s comforting form snuggled into her lap resting her head against her shoulder. Catra’s tail naturally curled around Adora’s calf. They sat there, breathing in the early evening air. The omnipresent trickling waterfall and hum of the bugs outside, the feline girl could still feel the rigidity of Adora’s body.

“I need to be strategizing,” Adora whispered into the crook of Catra’s neck. She shifted uncomfortably trying to rise once more.

“Shhhh,” Catra whispered, reaching one of her hands up to cradle the side of Adora’s face, pressing her head back down against her shoulder.

“I have to,”

“You don’t have to do anything Adora. Not now, not tonight.” She crooned into the top of her golden head. “Whatever you are thinking about can wait. Take it from a professional lazy person.”

Adora giggled as Catra reached up, slowly pulling her hair tie loose. Bright hair like the sun spilled down around her shoulders. Catra’s chest inflated with warmth at the sight, the scent. She loved Adora’s hair, especially like this. Free and falling and as wild as she was. As unruly.

“There are plans to work on,” Adora pressed quietly but she made no move to get up. “The people of Selinias need me.”

I need you

She continued to rhythmically run her hands through Adora’s hair, holding her close.

“What did Mara say?”

“....You’re worth more than what you can give to other people,” Adora whispered like an invocation.

“Exactly,” Catra planted another kiss on her head. The room grew darker as they sat silently. Listening to the fountain and the beat of the other’s hearts. Catra closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of Adora’s scent. She smelled of paper and sweat and ink. She smelled of home.

Slowly the feline girl purred in contentment, her voice sluggishly moved from purring to humming to singing. Catra loved sing, though she almost forgot just how much. When they were in the Horde she would sing in secret. In the locker room alone, or the nights when Adora had nightmares and she’d scale down to the bottom bunk to crawl in next to her and whisper sing until her friend had fallen asleep. But it was only a matter of time before Shadow Weaver took that from her too. The sorceress found her singing during her chores and had summoned her into the Black Garnet chamber. When she came out, she never sang again. Not until now. Catra let her voice melodically drift up and down, the same lullaby she’d made up for Adora when they were young. She remembered every word.

Adora nuzzled closer, her breaths whispering across Catra’s throat, her arms winding around her waist ever tighter. The feline girl continued to sing, low and husky voice ebbing and flowing with the breeze until eventually the song ended, lost to the serenity of the dark.

“I missed your voice,” Adora whispered, barely audible. Catra didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was crying.

Any tart rebukes died on her tongue as Adora rotated in her snug hold, more inward to her chest and kissed her there.

“I love you,” Adora murmured sleepily.

Catra’s heart nearly melted. She mustered a shaky breath, tightening her grip on the girl's waist.

The last time Adora said those three words, they’d been at the Heart of Etheria, surrounded by deathly powerful magic, teetering on the precipice of well...Catra didn’t like to think about it.

“I love you too,” the feline girl crooned, caressing Adora’s face. “Now sleep.” The tranquility of the night lulling them into a gentle sleep. Catra held Adora close to her, she promised she’d stay with her at the Heart too and shed stay here as well, forever in this moment, as long as Adora would have her.

---

Golden sunlight woke Catra the next morning. She blinked open her eyes, a small gasp escaping her. Adora was somehow, impossibly still asleep. It was always Adora who was the early riser. They had slid down into the bed during the night. Adora now laying fully on top of her, not that she minded. Catra rubbed the girl’s back in rhythmic circles between her shoulders. She didn’t bother to conceal the happy purr coming from deep in her chest. The full light illuminated Adora in a heavenly glow.

This is what she deserves. Rest, peace, sleep.

Catra could’ve watched Adora sleep for hours. Lost in the meditation of each full rise and fall of her sides. Finally the princess of power stirred awake, brilliant blue eyes squinting in the light.

“Morning princess,” Catra murmured, leaning down to kiss Adora’s cheek.

“Mm...morning,’ Adora grinned. She inched herself up, her face inches from Catra. The feline girl couldn’t help it, she took the blonde’s face in her hands and kissed her lips. Adora laughed into the kiss, returning it with equal tenderness.

“I’ll get us breakfast,” she started.

“No! Let me,” Catra was up before the girl could protest. She slid out of their room, flitting down the hall.

Catra returned a few minutes later, a fully prepared speech of “no Adora it’s still early go back to bed,” ready to go. To her shock however, the blonde girl was still where she’d left her, dozing lightly in bed.

“Here you go,” she offered Adora a mug of something that Glimmer called coffee. Adora pulled herself up, reluctant but grasped for the beverage and took a sip. Catra sat down beside her and grinned as Adora leaned her head on her shoulder.

“You’re being nice,” she said, almost suspicious. Catra took a sip of her own coffee and slid her other arm around the girl’s waist.

“If it’s your job to be She-Ra,” she pieced together aloud. “Then it’s my job to take care of Adora.”

The blonde girl frowned in confusion,

“...but I am She-Ra.”

Catra turned to her, smiling radiently taking in the girl’s whole face. Those blue eyes that had held so much adoration and contempt, anger and resentment. Those eyes so full of love and loyalty. She stared at Adora, her best friend, the love of her life. She leaned forward touching her forehead to Adora’s and smiled.

“I’m not in love with She-Ra. I’m in love with Adora.”

The blonde girl’s face broke into one of the sappiest smiles Catra had ever seen, though she wasn’t about to make fun given the line she’d just pulled. Adora set her coffee down and put her arms around Catra for a silent hug.

“Glimmer will want to prep for the meeting,” she finally sighed. Cara smirked, taking Adora’s chin in her hand and tilting it upward, leaning in close until their lips brushed.

“And what do you want Adora?”

“I want to lay here in bed with you all day and listen to you sing and never leave.”

Catra grinned, kissing her fully and deeply, slowly pressing her down into the soft sheets once more.

“Then let’s do that,” she whispered, and began to sing.

#catra #adora #catradora #shera #spop #she-ra #she ra princess of power #she ra fanfic #my writing

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emmerrr · 5 years

Note

"Wait, are you saying you want to move in with me?" for pynch !!

anonymous said: Ooooo for the Pynch prompt thing, 39? (“Wait, are you saying you want to move in with me?”)

i couldn’t decide at first which way i wanted to go with this but here’s what i settled on, hope you guys like it! 💖

Adam has lived in a fair few places.

There was the double-wide, the room at St. Agnes, and the Barns of course, for odd weekends and over the summer and any other extended time off from college. There was college dorms for a couple of years, different off-campus apartments for another couple. Then the apartment while he was at grad-school.

Ronan has helped him move into and out of most of these places. But this, as Adam readies himself for a new move to a new city for a new job, is the first time Ronan’s been able to actually join him for the apartment searching part.

He feels a little bad about it; apartment hunting is never fun at the best of times, not to mention it can’t be easy having to help Adam find somewhere else that isn’t at the Barns with Ronan. But still, he wants Ronan’s input, because he wants Ronan to feel at home there whenever he visits. Which, Adam hopes, will be often.

The distance gnaws at him.

What he’s not expecting is for Ronan to take to it with such…gusto. He pays active attention to the surrounding areas of each apartment, the buildings themselves, each and every room inside. He looks at the windows, makes comments about how much light there is, makes thoughtful little humming noises and nods to himself occasionally. He’s interested and engaged, and not once does he complain about the fact that this is how they’re spending their limited time together. But what he does turn out to be is incredibly fussy.

To be fair, the first place they look at is an absolute write-off; paper-thin walls, damp, mouldy, dirty and obviously in some dire need of renovating. Adam’s not really sure why he bothered adding it to his list in the first place, except for the fact that it was the cheapest listing and it’s hard to get out of the mindset that the cheapest is all he can afford, even though that’s no longer the case. Regardless, Ronan gives Adam a look and says, “This is a shithole. Let’s move on to the next.”

The next two places are fine. Adam can easily picture himself living in either one; they’re both within easy distance of his new job, they’re clean and perfunctory. A little small maybe, but that’s not too much of an issue for Adam. It’s big enough for his needs.

Ronan takes issue with both of them for various reasons: the bathroom’s too small, the layout’s too boring, it’s on the fourth floor and there’s no elevator, the landlord gave them a funny look, “there’s a suspicious stain here, Parrish, look, I think someone was murdered here”, the view’s shitty, and on and on ad nauseum.

Adam goes along with it because it’s kind of funny and to be fair it’s not like he was in love with the apartments; there are more on his list to go and see.

The fifth one, to Adam’s eyes, is perfect. It’s within walking distance of his workplace, it’s on the second floor of a quiet, quaint apartment building and it’s at the back of the building so it’s not street-facing, instead overlooking a nice green park. The bedroom’s nice and spacious with a generous en-suite, and the living room is nice and light with lovely high ceilings.

The kitchen is, admittedly, tiny, but Adam only does very basic stuff cooking-wise anyway so it’s fine for him. He nods and turns to Ronan and is about to tell him that this is the one when Ronan opens his mouth and speaks first.

“We’re not living here.”

Adam groans. “Oh, what? What is possibly wrong with this one?”

Ronan crosses his arms, juts his chin out, endlessly defiant. “Kitchen’s too small.”

“The kitchen’s fine, Ronan, come on, this place is perfect.”

“In what world is it perfect? I can’t even fucking turn around in there, and there’s no parking garage or anywhere I can park off-road. It’ll take me fucking ages to find a parking space on the street outside.”

“Yes, but I can walk to work, so the parking space isn’t really an issue for me. You’ll just have to suck it up when you visit—” Adam cuts himself off, very belatedly registering Ronan’s exact words: “We’re not living here.” He said we.

He stares at Ronan, realisation dawning. Ronan’s sudden enthusiasm for apartment hunting, his impossibly high standards, his dismissal of everything that was just big enough for Adam but perhaps not quite big enough for two, especially for someone who had as much stuff as Ronan did…it was all making sense now.

“Wait a second, back up, back up,” Adam says, holding a hand up, needing to hear it in words, needing to know it isn’t wishful thinking messing with his head. “Are you saying you want to move in with me?”

Ronan sighs and looks skyward; flustered or frustrated or both. “I wasn’t exactly going to move here on my own, was I?”

“Why would you move here anyway?”

“Because you’re here, dumbass, ask me a harder one.” Ronan’s tone is flippant but he looks just a little unsure, like he doesn’t know how Adam feels about this, as if he could be anything other than elated.

“What about the Barns?” he asks.

“The Barns isn’t going anywhere, it’s still home. But you need to be here right now and I need to be with you, so…I dunno, Parrish. I just think it’s time.”

Adam steps forward and puts his hands behind Ronan’s neck, tugging him lightly until their foreheads press together.

“Don’t mess with me, Ronan. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are we done with long-distance? Are you gonna be living with me here?”

“Well not here exactly,” Ronan says, gesturing the apartment they’re standing in. “But somewhere in this city, in an apartment that doesn’t suck and that has off-road parking, yes. I’m going to be living with you.” He shrugs. “I mean, if you’ll have me.”

Adam grins and kisses Ronan, the morning’s irritations melting away immediately. “I dunno, you might cramp my style, Lynch. I have lots of fancy parties and I’m not sure if it’s really your scene…”

“Asshole,” Ronan says fondly, but he’s smiling and it’s soft instead of sharp, and he cups Adam’s face lightly in his hands and kisses him so gently.

When they finally stop kissing, Adam shoves Ronan playfully. “You could have told me beforehand that you were moving in, y’know. I made this shortlist on just a budget for one, for me. If I’d known you were on board I’d have accounted for your input.”

“I guess I did kind of forget to mention it, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“…Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t have to come if—”

Adam cuts this off with a kiss. “Stop it. I want you to move in with me. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, I’d just never want you to feel like you had to leave home. I know it means a lot to you.”

“It does,” Ronan nods. He kisses the tip of Adam’s nose. “You mean more, though.”

Adam tucks himself into Ronan’s side, leaning his head on his shoulder. He feels Ronan nuzzling his face against his hair and knows he’s going to remember this moment for the rest of his life.

“Ronan?”

“Mm?”

“I love you and everything, but you have to make a new shortlist of apartments to look at because no offense but you’re impossible and you’re driving me insane.”

Ronan laughs; Adam feels it rumble through him where Ronan still holds him. “Fair enough. Love you too.”

#the raven cycle #pynch #tumblr prompts #trc fic #trc

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alloveroliver · 5 years

Text

Oliver x MC “On One Side Of The Multiverse”

Fluff; Oliver Knight

First Kiss

WC: 1,832

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic

His walls shattered for her like broken glass. The initial epicenter fissuring around his facade until the final blow, a kiss on the cheek, left him defenseless. She noticed his natural curiosity spike the longer they spent together. His questions were becoming less cheeky and more humbly quizzical.

When it came to him asking her out on a proper date, Alice was floored. Of course, this didn’t exactly come out of nowhere, but the actuality of the situation made her heart flutter endlessly. He stood tall next to her until she nodded wearing a massive smile on her face.

His shoulders relaxed, digging a note out of the breast pocket in his jacket. Alice took the small folded paper in her hands and watched him bid her a good night, leaving her on the steps of the black army headquarters. In her room, she would see that the little note contained the plans for their date he would arrange entirely.

To be ready by 8 pm wearing something warm, have eaten only a snack after lunch so they could partake in a full course meal together, and to be herself.

The last part made her roll her eyes with a broad smile. Oliver was never this cheesy but maybe he had some jokes up his sleeve that he’d allow her to see now that their confessions were out of the way.

The night of the date, Alice wore the warmest dress and leggings she could find. Her coat was white with flecks of silvers sewn throughout the hem. Her pulse quickened after hearing the light knock on the door. She adjusted her jacket, opening the threshold to greet Oliver in the hall.

“Hey!” She smiled up at him, grabbing her purse while he stood quietly.

“You look like a frosted snowflake.” His words held no weight of an insult.

The attire she wore was entirely too warm to be inside for much longer. She pushed herself out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Is that a compliment?”

“I love confections” His stoic face hinted at a smile.

Oliver’s jest perked up her lips in a sly grin. She stepped towards the front door, and he followed, catching up with her within a few broad steps.

“What do you have planned for tonight?” She inquired, unconsciously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to allow the events to unfold as we go along. Like a surprise.” His words were calmly executed.

Alice wondered if his tone of voice was an indicator of how nervous he was. Oliver was typically great at wearing masks to keep people out; maybe he didn’t want to allude to how flustered he was.

The outside air cooled her warm cheeks as he opened the door for her. The wind whistled through the trees, blowing particles of snow up into the air. Oliver walked ahead of her quietly, guiding her towards an odd carriage.

“What’s all this?” She gestured to the horse attached to a small sleigh.

Oliver handed the man in the driver's box a tip then turned towards Alice. The horse was decked out in winter gear and bells hanging from its straps. The driver wore a thick black coat and prepped the reins with a few tugs.

“It’s a sleigh ride. Have you never seen one before?” He smirked, knowing full well she had.

“It looks gorgeous.” She eyed the woodwork on the backboard.

Intricate details were carved into the dark cherry wood, spirals and twists littering the railing. A few flakes of snow landed in between some of the cracks, getting stuck by the whooshing wind.

Inside was a thick red seat, large enough for two people to sit comfortably. An oversized wool blanket decorated in green plaid was folded on the far side of the bench, and a thick pillow was propped up as a backrest. Oliver’s hand gently ghosted over her lower back, guiding her towards the step.

“Hurry now, young lady, I don’t want to waste any more time.” He took her palm into his, kissing the back of her knuckles gently. His eyes held a hint of mischievousness as he squeezed her fingers.

Oliver then held out that hand for her to grab if needed as she took a step into the sleigh. A deep blush settled over her features, her skin seemingly unaware of the freezing temperatures outside. Alice’s heart set a steady beat in her ears, drowning out the whistling winds.

The wood creaked under his added weight behind her while she veered towards the far side of the cushion. Once they were both seated, he tilted his head towards the driver who then gave Oliver an affirmative nod.

The horse began to walk, jarring Alice in her state of unreadiness. “Woah,” She laughed, leaning her body against Oliver for support, or desired closeness, not bothering to think on it further.

“The snow is supposed to pick up soon.” His deep smokey eyes caught hers, reaching over her lap for the wool blanket.

He didn’t seem to allow the blush on her cheeks to let up of even a moment, brushing her arm when he plucked the blanket. Alice cursed her burning red ears but tried to will herself to relax. This was a date after all, and they both were vulnerable to one another, so it was ridiculous to try to hide her emotions now.

He unfolded the blanket and set it over their laps. Alice lifted the rough fabric to her chin, not realizing how cold she had gotten in the short time they spent outside. The horse-drawn sleigh took them down a scenic route around the Central Quarters under the sparkling night sky.

Oliver’s arm nudged her by accident, or so she thought until his hand rested on her knee below the covers. There went her body temperature again, almost rising to the point of throwing the blanket off completely.

“There,” He pointed with his other hand to the right of the horse. “It’s starting. It’s only supposed to snow lightly until morning. So we don’t have to worry about the roads being treacherous.”

His hand squeezed her knee when she leaned over his lap to look at the freshly falling flurries. ‘Damn him.’ She thought inwardly. Oliver used every advantage to get her closer to him, and every time she fell for it.

The driver took them straight into the path of the snowflakes, littering the cart with icy dots. They settled into her hair and rested on Oliver’s cheek.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled, moving her hand to rest on top of his on her knee.

Oliver noticed her movement at once and twisted his hand around to catch her palm in his. She jerked her head to look at him, but the smooth-move was impressive. He grinned looking off to the side towards the wayward flurries, as his fingers gently interlocked with hers.

The clouds moved quickly in the sky, exposing the crescent moon and its gentle light. The cold night air blew the soft snow over their heads, glittering anew in the moonlight.

“This is starting to look ethereal.” She mumbled, squeezing the back of his hand.

With the silvery moonlight shining down on the white snow under the starry sky, it was almost unreal. Alice shivered unwillingly, concerning Oliver.

“Are you too cold?” He let go of her hand, wrapping his arm behind her back landing a palm on her waist. “Here, you can steal my heat.”

His chin rested atop her head holding her close. Her head leaned against his chest with a sigh. Alice felt Oliver’s muscles move into a smile, tugging the blanket further up her chin.

“Thanks,” She tried to smile, but her teeth chattered instead. “I should be fine in a moment.” Alice shrugged, moving her arm to wrap around him in a hug.

Her face slipped down, and her ear pressed just below his collarbone. The sound of his heart racing away in his chest made her eyes go wide. He seemed so cool-headed all evening, unaffected by her. Why was his heart galloping away faster than the horse that drew their carriage?

She nuzzled his chest, and Oliver let out a grumble. “Why are you rubbing on me?” He tisked, holding her firmer so she wouldn't wiggle as much.

“‘Cuz you’re warm.” She smiled, wondering if he was blushing as hard as she imagined he was.

Oliver’s warmth began transferring to her in their embrace. A different heat sprang up like a well inside her chest, and Alice couldn’t pinpoint the feeling for a moment until it clicked.

“I feel safe with you.” She blurted out once her mind reached a conclusion.

His body went stiff. “You do?” Oliver’s voice was a mix of disbelief and hope.

Her heart ached at his tone of voice. Had no one ever told him that before? Alice lifted her head from his chest to meet his eyes, cool air cutting through the small distance between them.

“I do. I'm being honest.”

He didn’t open his mouth to argue with her, nor did his eyes waver from her gaze. His hand lifted to her cheek, encasing her skin with his warm palm. With a glint in his eye, he smiled suddenly.

“You’re blushing.” He commented, running his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Oh, Am I?” Her lips parted, revealing the feeling of his soft skin on hers.

Oliver held her face still, staring at her for a long moment in silence. He studied her features up close, all the way from her eyebrows down to the dip below her lips. His hand moved, swiping the swell of her bottom lip.

She watched a single snowflake waft between them in an airy fashion, before tossing around in a circle then gently landing in the center of her lips. Oliver’s eyes caught fire, letting out one ragged breath before ultimately pressing his mouth to hers eagerly.

The kiss wasn’t idle, his jaw worked as he kissed her passionately. Alice kept up with the movements of his lips, drinking in the moment for as long as she could. His hand calmly moved down her face to the back of her neck, holding her to him.

She couldn’t remember the last time a kiss felt this good. Never had someone made her feel so special in just a few short moments as Oliver did. He made the kiss seem like it was all for her, pouring every bit of care into each minute detail as he metaphorically swept her off her feet.

This was their first kiss to shared between them, and tonight, Oliver would make sure this wasn't the last. Stealing a kiss during dinner, and walking her back through the barracks to send her off to bed after a dizzying goodbye kiss. He left her lips with a small peck to remember him by as if it were a silent promise of more to come.

Thank you @lonelyshepherds for the request!

OLIVER KISSES ARE MY KRYPTONITE!!!!! Also, the title refers to how I cannon this is real in some corner of the multiverse. Cuz I am sad he isn’t real...

ML // KOFI // AO3

𝔸𝕊ℍ - 𝔸𝕝𝕝𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikemen revolution fluff #fluff #oliver knight #oliver x mc #fanfiction #ikemen revolution fanfic #first kiss

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likethetailofacomet · 5 years

Text

Love Comes from the Kitchen

This one fulfills an OTP ask by @brightpinkpeppercorn for Jake and Kara. She wanted to know what their love languages are, and the short answer is EVERYTHING that they do is packed with love for one another, but the long answer is here:

Kara sighed heavily, her right hand beneath her gargantuan belly helping to support the weight of the twins as she waddled down the steps slowly, clutching the bannister with her left hand. Her shirt was soaked and her hair was coming free of its ponytail. Bathing Molly was an…adventure…before she was seven months pregnant and the size of a house. After, it was near impossible to get through bath time dry and not looking like she’d just fought a hard and arduous battle. But now, finally at 9:36 pm on a Wednesday, finally the little llama was clean and dry and read to and snuggled with and asleep, and the mama llama could get some rest. Right after I clean the kitchen, she reminded herself as she hit the creaky step and winced, freezing in place and hoping beyond hope that the sound didn’t wake Molly. When a full 7 seconds passed with no whiney calls of “Maaaamaaaaa” coming from her room, Kara breathed another sigh of relief and continued on down the steps, trying to move a little more quickly.

“That you, Mama Llama?” Jake poked his head into the hallway as she made her way down, his sandy hair falling across his eyes and his signature grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was supposed to be at work until 10, but called her right before she started Molly’s bath to say he’d be home sooner. He was tired, long day, had flown a couple of short routes and just wanted to get to bed, he’d told her. Jake coming home early was always fine with Kara, especially so close to her due date. After missing Molly’s arrival, and seeing as this time she was a little higher risk with the twins, he was taking his leave from work with 2 months to go, and after today he just had three more days of work before it was just the three of them until they became five.

“You better hope it’s me, Top Gun, and that your daughter isn’t capable of climbing out of her crib and down the steps alone…yet,” she joked, her voice strained with the effort of moving her frame.

He came out of the living room and wrapped her in his arms from behind- it was the easiest way to hug her at the moment. “Hey princess,” he said softly, kissing her behind the ear. “How was your day?” He pressed his face to her neck and inhaled a breath through his nose. She smelled like hyacinth, like fresh air and home. He closed his eyes and nuzzled against her, her wayward hair tickling his face.

Kara sighed contentedly as his breath warmed her skin, leaning back into him as he tightened his hold on her. “It was good,” she yawned. “Took Molly for a little walk around the pond, your mom stopped over for a bit, then I stuck Miss Llama in her highchair with crayons so I could make dinner,” she yawned again, her voice squeaking a bit, and Jake let half a chuckle slip from his lips as he imagined a tired, messy Kara stirring the pots and flipping the chicken and tasting the greens all while Molly babbled and sang, dragging the crayons in her fists over the paper that now hung on the refrigerator.

“Sounds like a full day for my girls,” he released her and took a step around her. He smiled, his eyes drifting over her face and down her body to rest on her stomach. “And how about my boys?” he squatted down to address their sons. “You little wolves behaving for your mama?” He lifter her shirt to kiss her skin, warm and light, as he placed his hands on either side of her bump. He turned his ear to her stomach as if he was waiting to hear a response from his cubs. “They say they were good all day. That true, Mama Llama?” He stood back up and tucked some of her stray hairs behind her ear.

Kara couldn’t help the rush of love and happiness she felt, watching him interact with their unborn children. Jake in love was one thing, and it was one thing that had made her life complete. But Jake in love with his kids, in love with being their Daddy, that was something else entirely and it filled her heart to the point of overflowing. “They were very well behaved, Daddy Wolf. They’re biding their time for mischief until they see the light of day, I think.” She winked and another yawn broke free. Fighting the urge to lay her head against his shoulder and close her eyes falling asleep on her feet, just standing right here in the hallway- Let the kitchen stay messy, she wanted to tell herself- she sighed and said, “Now, I have to get that kitchen clean before I pass out right here and now.”

“Alright, Princess, better get to work then,” he pressed a kiss to her temple and felt her melt a little, making him smile against her skin. He followed her into the kitchen with a smirk on his face that showed how impressed he was with himself. The kitchen was spotless- which was a far cry from the state he’d found it in when he got home. He’d snuck in, quiet as he could be, knowing from the splashing sounds and the giddy shrieks of his daughter that Kara had been busy with bath time, and made his way into the demolished kitchen, wiping spilled sauce from the counter and errant crayon marks from Molly’s chair. He’d put away the leftovers and even done the dishes, knowing how exhausted she was. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his muscled chest, pulling his t-shirt taught. She took in the clean room around her, spinning slowly to inspect every sparkling surface.

“Jake,” she had a tear in her eye and he knew it was mostly because her hormones were out of control with the twins, but also because he knew how much she appreciated the tiny gesture of love. He showed his love in lots of ways- in flowers and kisses, in touches and with his words, but the times he stepped in like this, taking some of the weight from her back, showing his love and appreciation through his actions, though making her load a little lighter, those were the times that were so important and meaningful. Was there anything inherently romantic about an empty sink or a clean floor? Not really. But the fact that Jake had come home from work early, tired himself after flying a few routes that day, to scrub the kitchen and help her out- that was love and it was just what she needed. “Jake,” she said his name again, tears slipping down her cheeks as a smile slipped up them, “You are the most amazing man on the planet.”

He took a few steps towards her to wipe away her tears with his thumbs, his palms warm against her cheeks. “Anything I can do to help you, princess. You’re the woman of my dreams, the mother of my children,” the fact that Jake got to say children, plural, made his face split wide with happiness and he laid a kiss her nose, “And the best damned thing to ever happen to me, Kara. I love you, and I’d clean a million messed up kitchens to show you just how much.”

Kara looked at her husband, taking in his clear blue eyes and carefree hair, his strong arms and slender hips. “I love you, Jake McKenzie,” she whispered.

“How much?”

Now it was Kara’s turn for a surprise. “Check the fridge,” she giggled as the look on his face told her that he knew what was in there.

“You didn’t!” He pulled open the door and his eyes lit up. Kara knew the quickest way to put a smile on his face and love in his heart was by baking his mom’s pecan pie. So that’s what she’d done that afternoon. “You did!” he answered himself, pulling the pie out. “You really love me, don’t ya princess?” He set the pie on the counter and came back to hug her again.

“Yeah, Top Gun, I really do.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek as he cut them each a slice of pie. They sat in the kitchen, the light of the moon and stars streaming in as they fed each other bites of pie and kissed crumbs from each other’s lips before Jake pulled her into the living room.

“I know stairs aren’t your friend right now, Princess,” he said, taking her by the hand, “So I though you and me could take a little vacation from the bed and stay down here tonight. What do you think?” As if coming home early to help her wasn’t enough, he’d also transformed the living room by bringing all of their pillows and blankets- how did he sneak upstairs without me hearing him?- down and turning the couch into a soft, fluffy nest for them to sleep on.

“I think I couldn’t love you more if I tried, Jake.”

He chuckled and helped her get comfortable before nestling himself in next to her, placing his arm around her shoulders as she laid her head against his chest. “To the moon and through the sky, princess,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. Normally she’d respond with the second half of their phrase, “No brighter love that you and I,” but she was already asleep. He pressed another kiss to her hair and let her gentle breathing lull him to sleep as well, dreaming of the day he’d get to hold her and their sons and Molly on this couch all together.

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaffrenotes @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @endlesshero1122 @indiacater @nekkidmolerat @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @cordoniantrash @jovialyouthmusic @akrenich @gardeningourmet @choiceslife @choices-is-life

#jake x mc #jake x kara #to the moon and through the sky #es #endless summer #jake mckenzie #daddy wolf #mama llama #molly mckenzie #wolf cubs #mckenzie brats #choices fanfiction #fluff #so much fluff

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years

Text

Love Potion Extravaganza Ch. 1

Note: So first off, thank you @missnobodynobodius for commiserating with me about matching EoA with Crazy Ex Girlfriend songs and hearing this ridiculous story when it was a mere wish. Thank you, @shasta627 for helping me match some of the songs and which ones to cut. And thank you @pizzansunshine for helping me for agreeing to edit this monster. Now this story, if you can’t tell by the title, it has ships. So many ships and love. There’s Eleteo, there’s Manualtina, there’s Gabelena, there’s Estoma, there’s Alonsonaomi, there’s Gabela, one sided Gababel, there’s LuisaxFrancisco, there’s Gabenaomi! Unfortunately I couldn’t figure out how to add Estenaomi without adding young Esteban to the chaos😢 But even the Delgados get a turn. So yeah. Many many ships. Slightly suggestive themes. Think P-13. So I hope you enjoy this with its love and lust misadventures here. 🤗🥰😉

And to add here are the two songs I put in the chapter, if you want to listen along to it. West Covina reprise II https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=q8XuQbzoFss and Horny Angry Tango. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=x_rAmAYE-8I. Enjoy!

Elena knocked eagerly upon the workshop of her royal wizard who opened it with a teasing smile.

“You are really excited for this interkingdom alliance aren’t you?” With intentional slowness, Mateo lazily leaned against his door, noting her excited smile and eyes sparking with impatience at his not-quick-enough casualness.

“Yes I’m excited that Avalor is arranging the alliance between Cordoba and Paraiso, it’s an honor and that. But I really, really can’t wait for you to finally meet Alonso and Valentina!”

Elena’s quick eyes saw that Mateo wasn’t engaged in any particular task, evidenced by the tamborita stuck safely on his belt. He was just being slow to tease her! Well she took advantage of his smirking at her to grab his hand to break into an run towards the breakfast table.

“Considering the stories I’ve heard about them, should I be worried?” Mateo called out, stumbling a little at the brisk run bringing Elena to a pause.

“They’ve gotten better...ish. Well I feel like they have matured over the last few visits and with you there, I think it will be easier to deal with them. You’re just very patient with-” Elena paused and turned away to hide her blush.

Lately she had been feeling emotions towards Mateo that were a bit stronger than those she had towards Naomi and Gabe. They were all her friends but something with Mateo ran deeper. She appreciated his traits a bit more. His patience, his steadfastness, his trust, his compassion, how he always knew just the right words to say, how he was so modest but courageous at the same time. When he displayed his confidence, he didn’t act like obnoxious jerk but it was so endearing because underneath it all he was still sweet adorkable Mateo. And then his eyes....

There she went, thinking all about Mateo’s admirable traits. The list had been getting longer and she had been getting more flustered. Whenever she was in presence she had this urge to stand next to him, maybe even nuzzle the crook of his neck. He had such a warm body. That was one of the first things she had noticed when she hugged him during Navidad. She wanted to melt against him and he smelled of gingerbread too!

Elena stop this. He’s your friend. F-R-I-E-N-D Friend!

And now she kept blurting out small words about how much she cared for him. When she wasn’t even sure he liked her. Surely someone as expressive as he would have given some sign that he was interested.

Mateo looked at her questioningly, a light pink blush creeping up his neck.

“You’re so patient. Plus you’re a wizard. Your spells always save the day,” Elena finished lamely, hoping that she hadn’t revealed her attraction for him.

“Uh yeah of course thanks!” Mateo stammered, willing the flush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks to go away. .

Keep calm. She’s just being her usual sweet self.

Mateo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, glancing at Elena’s long raven hair. It was so shiny and smooth like if the nighttime sky had become a river of hair that smelled like strawberries. Mateo sighed. He was hopelessly desperately in love with the crown princess who was totally out of his league and he just couldn’t shake off his crush.

He suppose it had started sometime around the aftermath of Fiero’s first attack. The way she encouraged him to take up his grandfather’s mantle was so precious to him. She had been the only one who showed such trust and belief in his magic skills. Ever! His mother cared for his skills, yes, but that was only after Shuriki’s return and even then she didn’t know enough to get too involved with his studies. The rest of Avalor, ha. They didn’t know the difference between a wizard or a malvago. But Elena. After she had gotten out of the amulet, she shared such confidence in his skills, he didn’t want to do anything to disappoint her.

He had thought that was normal. Some friendly devotion between princess and royal wizard, between friends. But then he began noticing Elena even more. The way her optimism lit up whatever room she was in. How endlessly creative she was when it came to fixing problems and new ideas. Her devotion to her people and kingdom. How she always believed in the best of everyone. Her strength after everything she had gone through. She was not cynical, she was not bitter, she strived to do her best all the time.

The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to get to know her. He learned a little on Dia de Los Muertos two years ago when she told him about the dark prophecy. He learned some of her fears and her weaknesses and that only fueled his desire to help her. If she felt sad, he wanted to comfort her, if she felt weak, he wanted to be the one she could lean on. He said it as much when they went to Vallestrella, “I’ll always be here for you, Elena. No matter what.”

He would have to be crazy not to notice her gorgeous looks too. Her kind, enthusiastic face whose smile was like the sun, her bright eyes... he could go on and on.

But he knew it was useless. He was not a noble, he was not incredibly suave or handsome. He was just her friend. He knew she deserved someone who always went above and beyond. Someone who would help bring her kingdom prosperity and her happiness. He knew he wouldn’t be able to live up to the title of king. If she even had feelings for him which was doubtful. She could have anyone she wanted. Sometimes though, when she teamed up with him during missions or when she gave him a special gift that showed she was thinking about him or now, when she said how she appreciated him- a little spark of hope would burst inside. Maybe she could like him. But then all his doubts returned to remind him how fantastical that belief was.

The two entered the breakfast table where the cook had arranged several large platters of desserts. To suit Francisco’s enormous appetite no doubt, but Elena realized it was a bit much even for her abuelo. Plus there was an inordinate number of roses strewn on places on the table that were not covered by platters.

“The cook does know that Prince Alonso and Princess Valentina aren’t arriving until lunchtime right?” Mateo questioned.

“Oh no, it’s just for us.” The two teens spotted Luisa’s hand waving behind a cake resting at the front of the table.

The two went to the head of the table, inhaling scents of fresh tres leches, campechanas, pan dulces, cherries, empanadas, all sorts of sweet treats to the sight of Luisa sitting contentedly on Francisco’s lap and hand feeding him a cherry.

“What’s with all the food?” Elena asked, but the abuelos seemed to have forgotten her presence and were rubbing noses.

“Guys.” Elena cleared her throat. No notice. Elena coughed pointedly again. Nothing. “Abuela. Abuelo? “

No response. Elena exchanged a glance with Mateo, his perplexed expression mirroring hers down to the identical raised eyebrow. Elena turned back to her grandparents, squaring her shoulders and used her best commanding tone, “Francisco Flores and Luisa Flores please give your attention to me. Now.”

Luisa and Francisco jolted a little at Elena’s queenly voice and looked at her confusedly as if they had never seen her before.

“Is there something you want, dear?” Luisa said distractedly, brushing some crumbs off her husband’s mustache.

“I’m- We’re wondering what is with all the food?” Elena repeated her question.

Francisco proudly straightened in his seat, “This was all my idea. I wanted to show mi amor just how sweet she is with all of this” He gestured grandly at the table, “And we could feed each other all day just like at our honeymoon.”

“Oh Francisco, you’re such a romantic.” Luisa gave him a long, deep kiss. It could have been for 7 seconds but it was long enough for Elena and Mateo to feel uncomfortable so Elena coughed again.

“Can we have any of the food?”

“Sure sure.” Francisco waved his hand dismissively at them, gazing lovingly at Luisa while she whispered in her ear with a devilish smirk.

Elena and Mateo shrugged at each other and took a seat at the other end of the table. “Is it their anniversary?” Mateo asked with another look at the elderly couple who were engaged in another, more passionate liplock.

“No. Usually Abuelo wakes us all up by serenading Abuela in the morning. I should know, I never am able to sleep through it. I guess they’re just in a romantic mood.” Elena answered, a subconscious smile playing about her lips as she looked at her grandparents.

Mateo smiled upon seeing her smile. It was truly one of the most beautiful things in his world. “It’s nice that they are so in love with each other after all these years.”

With a dreamy tone, almost as if she was talking to herself, or confiding a secret to someone Elena replied, “I hope I have that someday too.”

“Me too.” Mateo agreed, lapsing into silence. He wished to say more, but at the same time he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to describe his perfect girl, and how it matched her description. But he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with her. No, it would be too much to bear if he made her uncomfortable.

The moment passed and Elena turned to focus her full attention on Mateo.

“Back to the alliance that will happen. I think you’ll hit it off with Valentina. The two of you can talk about wizardry all day long. Since she’s a beginner, maybe you can teach her a thing or two. You are a really good teacher.”

“Yeah, after letting Olivia bring a water spirit to life, I think I have some work to do.” Mateo chuckled self-deprecatingly.

“Don’t say that. You’re a great teacher. Without you I wouldn’t have mastered my scepter so fast or be able to do the invisibility spell.” Elena smiled, grabbing his hand to give a firm shake. Elena managed to keep her smile even though she wanted to gasp at the slight brush of electricity she felt from the touch of his hand that grazed up and down her spine in delightful little chills.

“When are they arriving again?” Mateo managed to squawk, in spite of the the sudden dryness in his mouth thanks to the soft touch of Elena’s hands tightly wound with his own.

“Princess Valentina and her guard arrived yesterday and are staying at Avalor’s finest resort. 5 stars. With a jacuzzi obviously. We would have let her room here but some of the palace staff haven’t gotten over her last visit.” Elena said and Mateo laughed a little, remembering Elena’s story of Valentina’s obnoxious bragging.

“Prince Alonso will be arriving sometime before-”

“Guitar!” Francisco’s voice called from the other side of the table which the servant brought up quickly.

Without any prelude, Francisco and Luisa sang in unison, “It’s not just a coincidence, it isn’t just by chance. It’s logical. It’s obvious. It all makes perfect sense. And I’m just so happy that you’re here.” Ending with Francisco dropping his guitar with a clang and sweeping Luisa more into his lap in a passionate kiss.

“They are really in love today.” Mateo commented, surprised how they could keep kissing without coming up for air.

“This is kind of strange. They’ve never acted this way before-” Elena was about to go on when the breakfast door banged open and Julio Guzman rushed to Elena’s side.

“Julio, what’s wrong?” Elena put a calming hand on Julio’s shoulder seeing the young man’s annoyed expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfast princesa, but I came here early to discuss the possible trade opportunities for the alliance with Chancellor Esteban. It’s just-” Julio groaned showing his frustration, “He and Doña are fighting. Again! I try not to bring her to the meetings but Esteban insists I do because I don’t quite understand all the trade lingo yet. But whenever I do, they start fighting and ignoring me. They don’t even know I’m there and I can’t get a word in edgewise.”

Elena winced in sympathy. Whenever those two started one of their infamous fights, no one stood in their way and nothing could distract them from battling each other. Julio had confided his frustrations at being ignored before at meetings where he was supposed to be in charge before, but clearly her lectures hadn’t gone through to them.

“Um Abuela?” Elena called over to the other side of the table where she was met with annoyed glares from her grandparents for interrupting their romantic rendezvous.

“Esteban and Doña haven’t listened to me about not fighting during trade deals. Maybe... You can get through to them.”

Luisa sighed as if her request was just another chore in a very busy day but her smile brightened again when Francisco kissed her temple, promising, “Go help them. I’ll prepare some songs to serenade you by.”

Luisa gave a girly giggle and whispered something else into Francisco’s ear which he returned with an eyebrow wiggle, making Elena uncomfortable in a whole new way. She knew they were in love but...

What was more weird was Luisa’s reaction. She had never been so visibly annoyed before. She always had been so willing to drop all other tasks when it came to helping others. Except alone time with Francisco apparently.

Luisa quickly paced out to the hallway, calling after the younger adults who were staring at her in surprise and confusion, “Come on. I want to get this over quickly. Chop chop.”

The three jumped up and followed her in an obedient line, as they approached the Grand Council room, they could already hear voices raised. In angry song.

“I’m clearly not over you yet.”

“I’m clearly not over you either.”

Luisa opened the door to the almost familiar scene of Esteban and Doña Paloma, glaring nose to nose, circling each other. Eyes blazing with fury and pride.

“Our love has transformed into hate.”

“This is how left them.” Julio sighed.

To Elena and Mateo’s surprise instead of the usual insults, Esteban twirled Doña around, gripping her tightly so they would be back to back, singing,“Damn! Sex right now would sure be great.”

“What?” Elena was so shocked by that declaration she couldn’t manage a proper screech of surprise but a strangled whisper. Not that the two dueling adults would have noticed, their eyes were locked with each other as they performed a rather intricate tango.

“This is our horny angry tango!

I want to fight!

I want to bang!

This is our horny angry tango!

We’re truly furious but...

Dang! We’re also horny too!”

Mateo went white as he listened to the lyrics of the song, unsure of where he should look. He hoped that Elena didn’t see him glance at her to gauge her reaction and misinterpret it for something more..well horny.

“Excuse me. Is that anyway to talk with guests and children present.” Luisa interrupted, tapping her foot impatiently. Elena squawked at her abuela’s word choice and Mateo put a comforting hand on her shoulder, sharing a look that mimicked her outrage at being referred to as children.

Esteban and Doña glanced at them in the doorway and quickly pushed away from each other as if they were on fire.

“Sorry so sorry abuela.” Esteban gulped nervously, wiping some sweat from his forehead.

“We didn’t mean to- were we too loud?” Doña panted heavily, undoing her bun, “Just these trade deals are a bit hard to get through with all this heat--Will someone open a window?”

“It’s not surprising that it’s so hot. You do expel a lot of hot air.” Esteban commented snarkily as he took off his coat.

“My “hot air” is minor compared to your justifications that somehow we can afford to offer free port rights to Paraiso with nothing in return. Such a royal way of thinking.” Doña shot back, flinging her coat at him.

Esteban growled, shrugging off his blazer to pull her towards him with a smolder in his eyes, “I want to tear you limb from limb!’

Doña gripped Esteban’s hair and slid her leg up against his thigh, “And put your limbs all over my limbs!”

Esteban took advantage to her dip her several times, “Each time we fight I crave you more!”

He almost dropped her from that position when she ripped open his shirt to suggestively lick at his chest,“This would be better on the floor!”

At those words Elena turned around to rush out the door. It was bad enough that her abuelos were all lovey during breakfast but this was a scene that she did not want to witness! Her hands clapped firmly over her eyes, she bumped into the wall instead. Her head pounded but still very able to hear, “This is our horizontal tango!

We’re both pissed off...

And yet turned on!”

Mateo helped her stand up, keeping his eyes firmly transfixed to the floor. However curiosity of what the formerly appearance/reputation-conscientious Chancellor and lady were doing won over him. He flicked his eyes up to see Esteban and Doña’s new position. Writhing on the Grand Council Table. He was never going to see it the same way again.

“This is our horizontal, horny, angry tango!

Now it’s time for six bar long- classic tango dance break.”

Thankfully the adults got up from the table to execute a tango dance break, giving Elena time to wonder why her abuela was not looking so shocked. Esteban and Doña Paloma? They were rivals. They fought all the time. There couldn’t be any secret feelings between them. And if they had feelings, they wouldn’t do this. They wouldn’t be writhing around on the Grand Council Table in front of––everyone!

She looked at Mateo, knowing that he would know what she was thinking. Her abuelos kisses at breakfast, her cousin’s horny angry tango. Something was going on and they had to get to the bottom of it.

Before Mateo could nod back at her they were distracted by a resounding slap. They looked back to see Esteban sporting a bright red handprint on his cheek and an annoyed glare at the women who was in his arms. Sighing he sang, “I cannot slap you back, because you are a lady.”

Doña pursed her lips, “That clearly is a double standard. But it’s probably for the best.”

The two dipped one more time and were back face to face, “This is our horny angry tango!”

Pressed against each other, panting heavily, the room was silent as everyone waited for what would happen next.

Elena privately mused that this was the most disheveled she had seen her cousin and the former Magister. Hair was plastered to faces that were slicked with sweat, their eyes seemed glassy yet they were focused on not breaking the other’s stare.

“I can’t stand this.” Esteban said in a low husky tone filled with a hunger that Elena had never heard from him before, which made her a bit nervous about what he would do next.

The tension in the room was palpable and Elena desperately wanted to grab Mateo’s hand. She couldn’t stand thick tension like this, she needed action now or she was going to break in and try to switch the subject to-

In one sweeping move, Esteban pushed all the paperwork that had been piled neatly at the edge of the Grand Council Table onto the floor, scattering the white sheets everywhere.

“I must have you.” Esteban declared, pressing a series of urgent kisses on Doña’s neck and lips as he pushed her down against the table. As Doña arched back, breathlessly moaning in response, Elena turned to leave again, pulling Mateo behind her.

The action seemed to snap Luisa to her senses. Clapping her hands between them, she brought everyone’s attention to herself, and stopped Elena from starting her flight to safer quarters.

Esteban and Doña reluctantly broke apart and seemed surprised at the presence of other people in the room.

“Julio, when did you get here?” Esteban asked with genuine confusion.

“I’ve been here the whole time!” Julio cried, crossing his arms, grumbling unintelligible curses to himself.

“Nevermind him.” Luisa interrupted, “You, Esteban Flores, you have your very own room for privacy purposes like this. You should know better.”

“Um..That wasn’t the issue we came here for.” Mateo pointed out, “Also don’t you think this is a bit strange. Most business meetings don’t entail...tangos.”

Luisa sighed, putting her hands on her hips, “I can’t change whatever sexual tension there is simmering between them. Moreover I don’t care. Let’s get this resolved as quickly as possible, I need to go back to my beloved querido...” She paused. Next to her Esteban and Doña had gotten bored of the conversation and were passionately kissing, and whispering scandalous propositions to one another.

“They’re like horny teenagers?” Elena wrinkled her nose.

“Well they did say horny angry tango not chaste angry tango. I guessed we should expect this.” Mateo said.

“Hmm you’ve always said you were going to have begging your name..How will you ever accomplish that?” Doña murmured kissing his jawline, rubbing herself tantalizing against his chest.

“This is true.” Esteban’s breath hitched as his hand slipped underneath his dress, “And my dear, with my lips between your-.”

“Esteban! Please be discreet!” Elena cried, wishing for all the word that the past morning could be erased from her memories.

“Oh Elena, we Flores do not know the meaning of that word.” Esteban rolled his eyes as if he found her request to be incredibly naive.

Luisa grabbed Esteban’s ear like she used to do when he was a boy, “That’s enough of that. Here’s what we’ll do. Esteban and Doña please stay in Esteban’s room, Elena and Mateo greet the ambassadors and Julio... go back to Angelica’s. That settled? Good.”

Luisa strode out of the room with the confidence of a woman who could get things done. Elena turned to Julio, “I’m sorry, Julio. I think you better do what my abuela says for now. But I promise I will fix this issue. Next meeting you will be heard.”

“Thank you princesa, I do hope so.” Julio shook his head and left the room.

Mateo and Elena looked at each other, at a complete lost for words when a jingling got their attention.

Almost afraid to look, they saw Doña throw Esteban’s belt to the floor, he took her in his arms in a bridal carry and they exited the room, completely oblivious to the world around them.

“Let’s just go to Princess Valentina’s hotel.” Elena suggested, shuddering a bit, “We can figure out what is going on at the palace later.”

“Yes, you’re completely right.” Mateo agreed, giving Elena his arm as they walked the hallway to the carriage, “We should be focused on this alliance.”

The ride to their destination was silent more or less as the two tried to hype themselves up for the upcoming meeting and shrug away the confusion of the morning’s antics. Even though it was before lunchtime, they hoped Princess Valentina would distract them until the alliance meeting came to fruition.

Mateo opened the door for Elena to go out first like a true gentleman and Elena respectfully waited for Mateo to come out.

The hotel was half the size of the palace, fitting for its 5 star rating to include a pool, several in-room jacuzzis, a private indoor garden, three different types of restaurants, a club room and its hotel rooms. Perfect for Valentina’s extravagant tastes.

In fact Mateo could see a bit of what Elena meant by Valentina’s grandiosity. She was wearing a triple petticoat, poofy pink dress decorated with sparkles and a large rose at the hip. All of it was a shiny satin and her hair matched with satin pink ribbons and roses interwoven in her high updo. All of it screamed, Look at me. It was fine for the Princess of Paraiso he guessed, but he preferred Elena’s much more low-key looks anyday. She just had a natural beauty that shined no matter the outfit.

She was sitting at one of the hotel’s outdoor cafe tables with a man in a purple dress shirt bearing the Paraiso symbol, Manuel, Valentina’s loyal guard no doubt.

It was clear neither of them had noticed Elena’s arrival as they continued quietly talking over a bowl of strawberry ice cream. Just as Elena was about to go up to greet them, Manuel fed a spoonful of ice cream to Valentina. Valentina smiled, licking her lips mischievously and then leaned over to give him a deep kiss.

#eleteo #elena of avalor #love potion extravaganza #chapter one #my fanfic #my fanfiction #estoma #luisaxfrancisco #luisa flores #francisco flores #elena castillo flores #mateo de alva #julio guzman #suggestive #esteban flores #doña paloma

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scarletraven1001 · 6 years

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Impasse - Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Now that Vegeta is out of danger, he and Bulma finally come clean about their feelings for each other. They both acknowledge that the road ahead may not be easy, but they could face any challenge, as long as they face it together.

Chapter warning: Fluff; Explicit sexual content.

All Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

Also on Ao3.

M-rated version on ff.net.

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Hello everyone! This is the second to the last chapter of Impasse! Aaaayyy, I am so thrilled that I am almost done with this story! I can’t believe that this little fic that started as a one-shot has turned into a full story that has become very close to my heart.

This chapter will contain lots of fluff and a long bit of smut towards the end. I hope you like it!

And please, if you have any questions or loose ends that you would like to see tied up, leave me a comment so I can be sure to include it and give closure in the next (the last!) chapter.

Your feedback will be greatly appreciated!

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Chapter 8: Breakthrough

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Bulma rested her head on the hospital bed, beside Vegeta’s pillow. Her hand was on his left hand, gently stroking his skin as she wistfully stared up at his sleeping face.

He was alive. He was fine.

And she loves him.

She had finally said the words, and as she did, it was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off her shoulders, freeing her from the constraints that had held her back from fully loving him and letting herself be with him before.

She was determined, more than ever, to always love this man, to always show him that she loves him, to be as good to him as he had always been to her.

She still couldn’t quite understand what it was that made him love her, but she was going to find out, and she was going to nurture his heart for as long as he was willing to give her his love.

After she had confessed her feelings to him, he had given her the most heart meltingly sweet smile she had ever seen, a smile so serene that she had never thought she would ever see it on his face.

He had motioned for her to come closer, and as she did, he craned his neck so his lips could plant a gentle kiss on hers.

It was light… little more than a flutter against her lips, but the feelings that rushed through her at his wordless response floored her, caused her heart to shatter and rebuild all at once.

She had cried beside him, her hair falling limply across his chest as she hunched over the bed at his side. He had quietly watched her, letting the strands of her hair flow through the fingers of his right hand as he hushed her, comforted her as she tried to comfort him.

Ouji-sama had come in as she was drying her tears, and he had laughed loudly in his relief at seeing his son conscious after his accident.

When breakfast was rolled in by the hospital staff, Bulma had taken it upon herself to feed him, laughing lightly as he turned his nose up at the food in distaste.

He had gone back to sleep after his meal, and Ouji-sama had left Bulma in the room with Vegeta as Tarble and Gure arrived, so the Oujis could speak with the Insurance and Billing team regarding his bills and discharge schedule.

She straightened as a groan left him, his brows knotting together.

“Vegeta?” she called softly. “Are you in pain?”

“Bulma?” he asked, his eyes fluttering open.

“Yes, I’m here. Are you alright? I can call the nurse,” she said, reaching out for the call bell.

He shook his head. “No, I’m ok.”

“Are you sure?”

“I could… I could use some help sitting up,” he said.

She nodded, reaching down the side of the bed to the controls that the nurse had shown her earlier. The bed can recline or raise according to the patient’s preference, so she pushed on the button to make the upper half of the bed tilt up, setting Vegeta up into a slight sitting position.

She helped him pull the pillow up until he was nice and comfortable, leaning back against the bed, sitting at a level with Bulma on the small chair that she had pulled up to his side.

They were now eye to eye, and Bulma fussed with his blankets, pulling them up to his chest while carefully maneuvering the linen so his injured arm was not disturbed.

“Bulma,” he called, his voice still hoarse, probably scratched up a little while he was intubated in surgery.

“Yeah?” she asked, looking at him in concern.

“We… we need to talk. Really talk,” he said.

“Vegeta, you’re injured. I don’t think you should strain yourself,” she said, lifting a hand to push his hair away from his face.

“It won’t be a strain. I just… I need to do this while all this shit is floating around my head. I wanna get us sorted out.”

She sighed.

“Promise you’ll go back to sleep if you get too tired?”

He nodded.

She took a deep breath.

“Alright. I’ll start,” she said. She looked deep into his eyes, her hand finding the tips of the fingers of his left hand, softly playing with them as she spoke.

“Vegeta… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she felt a lump begin to rise at the back of her throat. “I have been so stupid. I never meant to be so difficult. I was just so confused, and I… I was scared. I was scared of what I felt. I was scared of my family. I was scared that I was reading too much into what we had and I panicked. I have never…”

A sob cut her words off, but she pushed on. “I have never felt this way before. I needed you so much, and I couldn’t understand why. And when I finally figured out I was in love with you… I tried to ignore my problems, I… that weekend at the cabin? It will always be my most treasured memory. Because I let myself go, I just let myself feel. I am… I am so…”

The tears began to brim over, and she watched through watery eyes as his dark eyes narrowed, asking her to continue.

“Vegeta, I am so in love with you. And I don’t know if I will ever be enough for you. I’m petty and immature and I am such an impossible person and I don’t deserve you. You have put up with so much from me and I hate myself for putting you through this. You’re… you’re probably better off without me.”

He kept watching her, and he took a deep breath before he spoke. “Do you… do you want to be without me?”

She shook her head furiously. “No! I… My heart… my heart can’t take it.”

“Bulma,” he said. “Listen to me. I… when I am with you… it’s like every dream I have ever had has come true. But this past week, it’s been hell, woman. I won’t deny it. You’ve made my life so fucking complicated, and yet…”

He kept his eyes on hers as he continued. “And yet… even if my life would be easier and less complicated without you… I don’t want to be without you. I can’t be without you. Because as much as you infuriate me sometimes… I need you with me.”

She took in a shaky breath, about to speak, when he held up his right hand, indicating that he had more to say.

“I am also not without blame. I realize now that I really should have spoken to you more about… about my heart.”

He shook slightly, his eyes dropping to the necklace on her chest. “If I hadn’t been so terrified to breach this, then maybe all these… problems… would not have arisen. I never even told you what that necklace means.”

“Vegeta, please, don’t ever blame yourself. I was the one who was running away…”

“And I was the one who never gave you a reason not to,” he whispered. “I have known for a long time… hell, I told Raditz that I couldn’t get you out of my head. Then the party happened, and…”

“I had been with a few other women before, but nothing had ever compared, had even come close, to that night, Bulma. It was amazing, and you… you were so utterly breathtaking. It was beyond pleasure… you had touched my soul.”

“It was then that I became absolutely sure that I would never again want anyone else. You are the only woman for me. And instead of telling you this, I acted like a stupid fucking Casanova, seducing you instead of wooing you. I… I must have confused you, as well.”

She gulped, “Vegeta…”

“Bulma, forgive me.”

She raised shocked eyes to him. “Vegeta!”

“I had forgiven you for everything before I drove off yesterday. I understood you already. I was going to the cabin… It was the last place where we had been happy and I thought, if I was there, I could clear my head. I wanted to find another way to ask you to come back. And right before my accident, I figured out that what I had to do was tell you the truth, in words that you deserve to hear.”

Bulma held her breath as she saw his own eyes brighten suspiciously, and she realized that Vegeta had been holding tears back.

“Vegeta, what are you trying to say?”

“I am trying to tell you… that I love you, Bulma.”

A sob broke through her lips, eyes wide and overflowing with tears as she lifted a hand up to caress his bruised cheek.

He brought his uninjured hand up to hold her hand against him, nuzzling into her palm as he spoke fervently. “I’m not an easy person to get to know. But you have put up with me and… for some reason, you love me. And while I am endlessly grateful, I need to know that you have forgiven me, too.”

“Vegeta… I love you,” she cried. “And I was never angry at you, but for what you think you have done to hurt me, then yes, I forgive you. Please, let’s try this again. With all cards on the table. I want to… I need to make this work.”

He nodded. “We have to learn to talk. We need to talk about things. No more guessing. I will try, and I need you to help me get better, Bulma…”

Bulma stroked his face with her fingertips as she responded, “Yes. We’re both new at this… relationship thing. We’ll learn together. How’s that?”

He nodded. “Perfect. And… I suppose… are you my girlfriend now?”

She laughed, giddy peals of laughter through the torrent of happy tears. “Only if you're my boyfriend.”

“Acceptable.”

He was about to say more, when a large yawn broke from him, and he turned his face away as his mouth opened wide.

She giggled, her hand on him stroking his head, his hair, while her other hand hastily rubbed her tears away with the neck of her shirt.

“Go back to sleep Vegeta, I will still be here when you wake up.”

8-8-8-8-8

True to her word, Bulma waited until he woke up again so that she would be there when he did. After he woke, Ouji-sama, Tarble, Gure and Goku were all in the room, and she finally decided to head home for a while to take a shower and pack some clothes for another two days’ stay at the hospital. He was expected to be discharged on the third day, and she planned to spend every waking moment at his side.

The feel of the water against her skin felt divine, and after her shower, she turned her television on as she dressed, needing some background noise to distract her from her ongoing worry for Vegeta.

She nearly dropped her clothes when she realized exactly what was on TV.

It was a flash news report, showing Vegeta’s smashed up car in what appeared to be a towing garage, interspersed with flashes of South-West Medical Center.

She turned the volume up to hear what was being said.

“… CEO, Vegeta Ouji, has been reported to be in stable condition following the car crash. The hospital personnel here at South-West has not released an official statement regarding the extent of his injuries, but sources have stated that he had sustained fractures and blunt force trauma.”

“The Ouji family is with him at the moment, and there have been rumors going around that his girlfriend, whose identity has been largely speculated at, will be back shortly, as well. We will keep you all updated on-”

Bulma turned the television off as disgust filled her. She hated reporters and the paparazzi. They were vultures, and she had been surrounded by them nearly her whole life. She was relieved that they had not been as viscous in South City as they had been in West, but with Vegeta having been brought to a hospital at the border of the two cities, she supposed it was about time that she was reunited with some old friends.

She chewed on her nails as she headed to the hospital, fighting back the anxiety that had been building up in her.

She shook her head forcefully. No. She had promised Vegeta that she would be there for him, and she would face a few cameras for him, should they recognize her. Which, she was sure, they will.

She realized she was correct when, upon parking her car and approaching the entrance to the hospital, a flock of reporters began to rush at her, microphones and cameras pointed at her, and she groaned at the thought of facing the reporters.

“Just like old times,” she mumbled with a grimace.

Well... At least she had changed into decent enough clothes, now.

She wore jeans and a simple pink shirt, whose neckline was low enough that her crescent necklace was now proudly on display. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she had put on some powder and gloss so she could at least look pretty for her sick boyfriend.

Vegeta. Her boyfriend.

She hid a secret smile behind her hand, keeping her head low as the reporters neared, determinedly watching her feet as she kept walking.

“Ms. Bulma Briefs! It’s Ms. Bulma Briefs!”

“Ms. Bulma! It has been months since you were last spotted-”

“Is it true that you have been working with Ouji Enterprises-”

“Have you really moved into South Cit-”

A particularly pushy reporter came up, rudely shoving his microphone into her face.

“Ms. Bulma, there have been rumors swirling lately that you have been working for, and have been dating Vegeta Ouji. Care to clarify?”

She raised her head at this.

She looked the reporter dead in the eye…

Took a deep, steadying breath…

“Yes, the rumors are true. I am in a committed relationship with Vegeta Ouji. Now, if you will kindly excuse me…”

She smiled gratefully as two security guards – one blond female and one dark-haired male, who looked identical save for the colors of their chin-length hair – came up to push the reporters back so she can make it into the hospital.

As she arrived back at Vegeta’s room, she sighed in relief as she pushed the door open…

Only to find five pairs of eyes staring at her in various states of surprise or delight.

She looked up, and groaned aloud when she saw that they were all tuned in to the gods damned TV station that showed live footage of what had been going on outside the hospital.

She had no doubt, from Goku’s and Ouji-sama’s mischievous grins, Tarble’s and Gure’s awed expressions, and Vegeta’s profoundly smug smirk, that they had all seen her impromptu interview.

She shook her head with a laugh as she shrugged.

“Um… surprise?”

Turned out, no one was actually surprised.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta had been discharged from the hospital four weeks ago, and Bulma had been enforcing the doctor’s orders on his stubborn ass every single day since then.

No strain on the left arm. Take the pain medication when in pain. Extremely simple orders that her equally bullheaded lover seemed to find impossible to follow.

She had taken it upon herself to drive him around whenever she could, especially after she found out that the stupid man had been looking at his stupid phone during the accident and he had nearly been unable to veer away from the oncoming drunk driver because he was stupid and distracted at the wheel.

She had screamed at him, various levels of “I told you so”, as she reminded him of the many times she had told him not to use his phone while driving.

That afternoon, a bright and cheerful Saturday, she and Vegeta had gone to the local cemetery, to the Ouji mausoleum, so she could “meet” his mother.

“I promised her that I would pick a woman that she would approve of. I just wanted to show her that I kept my word,” he had told her, and she had been so happy that she had kissed him on the mouth in the middle of the café they had been sitting at.

Still unused to public displays of affection, he had turned from her with a huff, but not before she saw the blush on his cheeks.

They had been speaking seriously since the accident, intent on communicating more, and they learned more about each other on those weeks than in all the months they had been together before.

Now on their way home, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, Bulma held tightly on to the wheel as she made up her mind about her next course of action.

She was driving his brand new blue SUV, having left her beat-up car in his condo’s parking garage after she picked him up to go to the cemetery.

They came upon a fork in the road, and to the right, would be the road leading to his condo.

She took a sharp left.

Vegeta sat up straighter, looking back in confusion towards the other direction.

“Bulma… we were supposed to go that way,” he said, pointing behind them.

“Really?” she asked, remembering a similar scenario when he had done the same thing to her.

“My condo is to the right, woman.”

“Yes it is.”

He blinked at that. “Then why are we going the wrong way?”

“Because we are not going to your condo, Vegeta.”

“Where are we going, then?” he asked impatiently, no doubt suspicious of the grin that she had felt forming on her lips.

She ignored him as she took another turn, a shortcut that she had just recently discovered, and before he knew it, she had idled the car in front of her apartment building.

Bulma turned to grin at him, taking in his wide eyes.

She had told him before, that her flat was her little sanctuary that no one but she had ever gone into.

She was finally ready to let him in.

She pushed on the gas to move the car again, until she had parked into her usual parking space.

She hopped off the driver’s seat, not looking at him as she nervously twisted her hand around the chain of her crescent necklace.

She felt him approaching her, then his right hand found her left, twining their fingers together, tugging slightly until she looked back at him.

His eyes were soft, gleaming happily as he spoke, “Come on, now. I want to see your home.”

They were silent as they made their way upstairs to her flat, and her hand shook as she put her key into the lock on the main door.

The door swung open, and she moved aside, motioning for him to step in before her.

He did, and as she watched him look around her tiny apartment, her heart burst at the sudden realization that filled her mind and soul.

With Vegeta in her life, in her beloved private sanctuary…

Now, she was truly home.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta laughed as he looked at an old photo of Bulma as a child, wearing a large pink sweater with her name proudly stamped in large bold letters on the front.

She had been bored one day, three years ago, and had decided to convert all of her favorite childhood photos into digital images that she had placed into the cloud. She had saved all of those into her laptop, which now sat on the small coffee table before them as they snacked on biscuits and chocolate on her couch.

“Why on earth do you have your name on all of your clothes? Were you afraid of getting lost, Bulma?” he asked teasingly as he turned to the next photo, this time of her as a pre-teen in another atrocious getup, but this time, the Bulma was on her baseball cap.

“Hey! I thought it was cool, alright?” she defended, pressing the key to make the pictures move on to the next.

The next photo was of her and a scruffy-looking boy with a large scar on his cheek.

“Oh, and who is this?” Vegeta asked.

“That’s Yamcha, my first boyfriend.”

“Your first what.”

“Vegeta, relax, I was fifteen, nothing happened. He was too terrified to even touch my hand.”

“Tch,” he remarked, before he turned to the next photo.

They both froze.

“Oh my God is that…” she whispered.

“Bulma, is that…?” he asked, zooming into the photo.

It was Bulma as a flower girl at the wedding of one of their wealthy family friends, when she had been about four years old. She had been wearing a fluffy, pink taffeta dress, and the picture was taken during the wedding march.

Beside her, wearing a decidedly angry expression, was her escort, a young boy of about ten…

With suspiciously familiar, flame-shaped black hair.

“Oh my God! Vegeta! That’s you!” she shrieked, pulling the laptop off the table so they could stare incredulously at the photo.

“I remember that wedding, I hated that stupid suit,” he groused.

“Oh come off it, you looked cute!” she said, mentally debating on whether or not she should make her next silly confession.

Oh what they hell. They were supposed to communicate, were they not?

“I can’t believe it… Vegeta, I had a massive crush on my wedding march partner for weeks. And it turned out to be you!”

He turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! Oh my God, look at me here! I’m totally blushing!” she said, pointing at younger Bulma’s very red cheeks. “My first ever crush was this boy in the wedding. I remember telling my dad that I was…”

“What?” he asked when she cut herself off. “Telling him what?”

A furious blush rose to her cheeks. “I… I told my dad that I was gonna be the bride next time, and I was gonna marry that boy. What are the odds that it was you!”

Vegeta grinned. “I guess we were always meant to be together, then,” he said, the playfulness of his tone belying the suddenly serious look in his eyes.

She sensed the change in the atmosphere immediately.

They had not been intimate since their cabin outing over a month ago, and it was the longest time they had gone without since they first slept together.

Bulma put the laptop back on the table, pushing the screen down to let the laptop sleep.

She raised a hand, letting her fingers hover over the soft skin of his cheek, his tiny cuts from the accident all but gone.

He, in turn, lifted his right hand to her chin, tenderly cupping her there as he leaned forward…

They both lunged forward at the same time, their lips passionately meeting in a powerful clash of tongue and teeth, their desperation and need for each other evident in the way they both reached out, madly pulling at the other’s clothes while their mouths danced furiously with each other.

She wrenched his button-up shirt open, uncaring of the buttons that snapped off, while he reached down to the edge of her skirt to hike it up, until his fingers were teasing around the edges of her panties along her upper thighs.

She broke away from his kiss to throw her head back, a loud gasp escaping her as he ran his teeth along the side of her neck, leaving little bites along her throat, catching the chain of her necklace with his tongue.

She felt him shrug off his ruined shirt, before she felt his hands clasp her around the waist, pulling her thin blouse up as his hands travelled higher, cupping her breasts through her clothes and making her groan in anticipation.

“Bulma,” he rasped. “I need you.”

“Take me to bed, Vegeta.”

She rose as he did, and mindful of his still healing left arm, she tugged on his right hand, pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

When they got there, he did not even give her the chance to close to the door before he was on her, pressing her back against the wall as he attacked her neck with his mouth, his restless hands roving over every inch of skin he could reach.

She managed to clear her mind for a moment, as she whispered, “Vegeta, your arm…”

He seemed intent on ignoring her as he pulled back, only to pull her shirt over her head, his hands quickly palming her heaving breasts.

“Vegeta!” she protested half heartedly as he began to knead her flesh through her lace bra, and a whimper of pleasure escaped her as she pushed her chest harder into his palms.

“What?” he asked roughly as she felt her bra loosen, and she realized that he had unclasped her bra from the front.

“Please… your arm,” she hissed, using tremendous force of will to push him back.

He finally pulled away, panting harshly, staring at his injured arm in disgust.

She smiled, shrugging her bra off completely before she placed a hand on his bare chest.

“Hey,” she whispered, and he looked back her with soft eyes, taking in her heaving breasts, and the golden necklace that glinted against her throat in the dying light of the setting sun filtering in through her window.

“Just… let’s take this slow, ok?” she said, dropping her hands to the waistband of his pants, before her hands began to unclasp the button of his jeans, pulling his zipper down so she could push his pants off him.

He obediently kicked his pants off, leaving him in tight black boxers that hugged the tops of his thick thighs and concealed the heavy bulge of his manhood.

She reached for him, pulling him into her arms and kissing him sweetly, letting her tongue play softly with his as her hands roamed his muscular back.

Her hands drifted down until she was cupping his butt cheeks, and she gave them a playful squeeze before she pulled away once again, but not before biting the lobe of his ear to whisper to him, “Lay on the bed.”

He nodded, doing as he was told, while she stood at the foot of her bed, blushing profusely at what she was about to do.

When he was settled, head on one of her pillows, she placed a hand on the waistband of her skirt, gyrating in the air slowly as she pushed the garment down the length of her legs.

She heard his sharp intake of breath as she turned around, bending forward so her ass was in the air as she wriggled out of her skirt.

“Bulma,” he called, edging on a whine.

She giggled to herself as she turned around, then, very slowly, began to crawl over to him.

When she was on top of him, face to face with him, she carefully leaned down so that the entire length of her body was flush with his. Her hips brushed against his hardness, her hardened nipples rubbed against his defined pecs, as she reached for his chin, tilting his head so she can plant an open-mouthed kiss on his waiting lips.

His mouth moved desperately against her, plunging in deeply as she let him explore the caverns of her mouth. His teeth clicked against hers while his tongue tangled with her tongue, and all the while, her hands ran slowly, up and down his sides, soothing him even as she aroused him with her tender touches.

“Vegeta,” she whispered against his lips as his hands travelled up to tangle in her hair, pulling at the strands while he held her head close.

One of her own hands reached up to play with the thick dark strands of his hair, circling his ear and eliciting a shiver from the man beneath her.

She pulled away, before she began to crawl downwards, her fingers tickling along his body until she held the edge of his boxers in her hands.

“I have missed the taste of you, my love,” she murmured as she began to pull his underwear off, but his agonized voice stopped her.

“Bulma… I need to taste you too. Turn over,” he asked.

At first, she didn’t understand. “Turn over?” she thought, until she realized.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, the blush going back to her cheeks as she finally got it.

Slowly, she moved so that her own panty-clad core was near his head, her legs lightly straddling the sides of his head, while her mouth hovered over his clothed member.

She hurriedly pushed his boxers off until she was face to face with his marvelous naked cock, already beginning to weep for her touch.

She was startled when she felt his fingers begin to rub across the cleft of her pussy, through the flimsy material of her panties.

“You’re so wet already, Bulma,” he rasped, before she felt him push her panties to the side so her lower lips peeked from the side of the tiny scrap of cloth.

“And you’re…” she gulped, still unused to speaking so freely about their activities. “You’re so… hard.”

That was apparently the right thing to say, as he groaned, before she felt one of his fingers move along her cleft before plunging into her core. She gasped, grabbing hold of his hard cock and involuntarily squeezing slightly as she felt him please her.

He moaned as she held him, and gathering her willpower, she moved forward so that her mouth hovered over the bulbous tip of him. She breathed hotly onto his cock, one hand pumping his shaft slowly, as the other ventured down to gently cup the heavy sacks between his thighs.

He bucked up suddenly, grinding against her hands as he let his finger plunge into her depths.

She gasped, staring down at the reddened head of his member, her mouth watering as she leaned down and took him in.

He called out her name, before she felt him wrench her hips down, making her practically sit on his face, before she felt his mouth move against her core.

She gasped harshly, his member still in her mouth, and as she did, she widened her mouth, letting more of him in.

He groaned against her core, the sinful vibrations sending untold thrills throughout her body, charging her nerves with little shocks of electricity as she bobbed her head up and down on him, her hands massaging his sacks and pumping up and down his shaft.

His tongue entered her and she moaned, feeling his fingers spreading her lower lips open as he devoured her, lapping up her essence, feeding from her ecstasy.

She moved faster over him, sucking on him, humming against his cock, while he too worked on her vigorously, his fingers pumping a maddening rhythm into her core as his beautiful lips closed over her, his tongue flicking quickly at the swollen nub of pleasure above her opening.

He blew softly into her, before he nipped quickly at her bud…

Bulma shattered, pulling her mouth away from him as she threw her head back, and she pulled her hands way from his manhood to clutch fiercely at his powerful thighs as her orgasm wrenched a fierce scream from deep within her chest.

She raised her hips after she realized that she had been grinding her core against his mouth, and he was lazily licking her juices as she did.

“Vegeta,” she whimpered against his thighs, before she moved up, and with dexterity she didn’t know she possessed, she turned to face him, and pulled her panties off while she moved to straddle his waist.

She rubbed her butt against his erection, moving down until she felt him between her lower lips, and she pushed down so she was grinding his member between her hips and his lower stomach.

Vegeta gasped, his fists clenching the sheets, before his right hand moved up to hold her hip, steadying her movements.

“Stop teasing me, woman,” he muttered hoarsely, the sexy sound sending shivers down her spine.

She nodded, moving so she was kneeling with her knees on either side of him, before she reached down, tenderly holding his cock in her hand.

Very slowly, she sank down onto him, imprinting every sensation that rushed through her as she took him in, inch by inch, until she was seated on him snugly, his sacks soft against her bottom.

He was moaning beneath her as she moved her hips in a circular motion, not raising herself, keeping all of him within her as she ground down.

The sight of him losing control beneath her was excruciatingly arousing, her heart bursting as she thought of the fact that this man… this man who was one with her at that moment… was her man.

Bulma’s vision was dimming with pleasure, and unable to take her own teasing actions, she leaned down, braced her hands against his chest, and began to move up and down.

She was breathing hard, twisting in agonizing delight every time she took him within her, and she could hear him continuously whispering encouragements as she moved over him.

She threw her head back as he felt his right hand clutch her breast, squeezing it gently while his hips began to pump up and down as well, helping her as the rhythm of her movements against him began to falter.

She was cumming again, she could feel it in her every pore, and she groaned loudly as she desperately moved against him, up and down, grinding on him, gyrating her hips in circles as she tried to reach for that incomparable peak of pleasure that only Vegeta had ever, would ever, bring her to.

“Vegeta!” she cried, eyes pinched closed as her blunt nails raked across his perfect chest, and she leaned down, her breasts dangling heavily between them as she moved faster, chasing the rhapsody that was just beyond her reach.

She was almost there.

“Bulma,” he moaned her name, and she opened her eyes to look upon his face.

His eyes were half-lidded, his lower lip between his teeth while his nose flared, trying to breathe her in.

He looked so amazingly beautiful that she lost control, her limbs seizing up as her orgasm robbed her of her senses once again.

She shook, greedily clutching him in her arms before she realized that she had slumped against his chest, and she was now flush against every single inch of him as he bucked against her from below, his right hand squeezing her buttocks as he pumped in and out of her.

She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, feeling the strength of his love and his desire in every line of his body.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him, wanting to hear his every moan and gasp, to feel the goosebumps rising across his skin as he too clambered to reach his peak.

He wrapped his left arm around her waist, while his left hand reached up, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her hair back and gifted her with an unbelievably sensuous kiss.

She moaned deeply into his mouth, pushing her hips against his, needing to feel as much of him against her as possible, and she whispered his name in reverence as he pulled her head back to hold her face against his neck.

“Vegeta ,” she groaned, her breaths fanning across his throat. “I need you… I love you…”

He gave an answering groan, holding her tighter, “Bulma… My Bulma… I love you…”

“Vegeta please!” she cried out, pulling away from his grasp on her head to push her lips against his once again, kissing him for all she was worth while her hips danced a frenzied beat with his own.

“Cum with me,” she begged as she gave a twist to her hips, her hands squeezing his shoulders.

“Wait for me,” he gasped, eyes closed as he arched his neck, jaw slack as he concentrated on the feel of them.

“Always,” she whispered. “I love you, Vegeta.”

Her words, as well as the erotic movements of her body, pushed him over the edge, and she felt as he stiffened, his arms tightening unbelievably around her as he hoarsely shouted her name in the throes of his passion.

The sensations, her feelings, and the rush of his love within her body all came together, and with tears in her eyes, Bulma came once more, sobbing his name in rhapsody.

As they slowly came down, Bulma felt his hands stroking her head, his fingers travelling along the curve of her spine.

“I love you,” he whispered again, and her heart fluttered as her very soul sang with happiness.

She snuggled deeper within his embrace, kissing his chest, eyes wet with happy tears as she whispered the words back, knowing that she meant them… and that she would always mean them.

They had finally broken through their stalemate.

Their feelings won over all the other things that had kept them from being together before.

And Bulma smiled as she realized… that at long last…

The impasse was finally over.

8-8-8-8-8

Next Chapter: Epilogue

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namjoonchronicles · 6 years

Text

Knackered – [BTS] Husband!Yoongi Au

[A/N] (Thank you, gif-provider.) When Yoongi had a complex he doesn’t share with you, you try to do what it takes to make him realize that relationships are more than just give-and-take.

Every time. Every time you try to reach for his hands, he would shove them in his pocket, or take out his phone, say that it’s cold or that his hands are freezing. Even when it’s summer.

“Will you let me hold your hands please?” You said, mustering a lot of courage after being with him for a while and he paused for a moment. He blinks to the ground, burying his face into the thick muffler he had around his neck, exhaling and you watch the warm puff of breath escaped to the air as he does.

He will never be able to answer this question spontaneously. He will not divert them on the spot. Because Yoongi can’t lie.

So you spent more times, hours, days--watching, observing, and studying him. Sometimes he caught your eyes staring, sometimes he doesn’t. When he did catch you, he scrunches his face and crinkled his nose cutely, from across the room. Or if he is particularly feeling on the grey side of the day, he would look away as quickly as he can but you know that the thought lingered in his mind even though he doesn’t show it.

Yoongi is made up of layered stone and his heart is cast with an unforgiving spell that he cast on his own, from years of trusting people he shouldn’t. He is an ultimate dreamer of success and there devils out there that took advantage of the dreamer in him. They become his nightmare.

The passion that you understood so much is the fire you will keep on protecting. You were the one who catered to the flames, boosting it, sending flares into his darkest nights, with a promise of a brighter morning. You were his stone, as he was to you. Stone, the weight that calls him home whenever he drifts too far, guides him, reminding him what he came here for.

Yoongi’s life was an ambient sea, until your storm came and shook him awake with your overwhelming love. You dented his entire being, and filled them with your screaming affections. You ensured that he won’t be able to live without you. So he was filled, with you.

There isn’t a lot of love like yours. And Yoongi knows this too well to let you go. Today, you surprised him at work. You punched the number into his security pad and it beeped open. His studio was dimly lit, the way you remembered he likes them to be. He spun his chair around to see you bringing him food. He tosses his ramen cup away immediately. “You didn’t have to come so far, I was about to come home.” He said, quickly waddling to the door where you were in wide steps, capturing bags of food you brought while passing a brush of his lips on your cheek. His smiled upon contact of your skin on them.

Sitting down with him on the black couch he had, chatting about the day and how it went, was a sound experience. You get them a lot. He would lay his head on your lap watching you speak endlessly about your co-workers. “And then Lola came and shouted, suddenly, I’m not going to your fucking baby-shower...!’” You mimicked Lola’s voice and Yoongi’s eyes popped out and then crinkled from smiling. “She really said that... Lola is feisty.” Yoongi commented. “She’ll end up in someone’s trunk one day, she’s a good friend but her words is terrible.” You shake your head before snapping to him, “Did you remember Eddie? The Korean who doesn’t speak Korean...”

You feed each other food. “I bought this one because it looked nice on the picture. Is it any good?” You asked, watching him nip some of it into his pouty mouth. He leans back a little, savouring the taste while looking at the opposing wall, knees spread widely, “Hurry up, Gordon Ramsay, I need commentaries.” You rushed him and he tilt his head to one side, “You know I’m not picky with my food.”

“I know but your face looks like you are but surprisingly you’re not,” you took a bite of the same thing and immediately winced, “I am never getting that one again.” Yoongi chuckled but resumed eating. His chopstick digs out some of the veggies on it while he speaks, “I am working some piece...”

“I hope it’s sad.” You shot.

Yoongi licked his lip to get the rest of the residue off of them before asking, “Why would you want it to be sad?” Not looking at you. Yoongi speaks this way. He avoids most eye contact but is often caught staring at you when you’re not talking. It’s adorable. “...because I like music that I could cry to.” You blinked to a piece of chicken.

“Is that why you liked Spring Day so much? And Sea?” Yoongi pursed his lips, the jealousy notion in his words didn’t go unnoticed, and he twisted his lips into a smile after you started whining cutely, reclining to his shoulder and shaking your head to protest, acting cute to coo him that you think his music is the best even though you liked Namjoon’s poetic lyrics more.

“Because Namjoon wrote it? You like Namjoon’s writing ha...more than mine?” You could hear him smiling as you nuzzled your face to his upper arm, taking the faint scent of his cologne in.

“I like your writings too. I like Yoongi’s.” Your voice muffled in his chest. He started to chuckle low and you find it sexy. He draped his hand across your lap as you sat next to each other on the couch. “What do you like about Yoongi? Tell me.” He said in raspy smiley voice. What’s not to like about Yoongi?

He is sitting on the piano seat now, playing sad keys just because you asked for one. “This is not it,” he inhales through his teeth and shake his head before fixing another solemn piano chords because the first one he played didn’t give him satisfaction. “Play a sad version of anything in your mind right now...” you told him. “What’s with all these sadness...” he mumbled a few more words after that but you couldn’t hear them once he started playing the first chord of Sea. The notes tattled the wounds you thought had fully healed, provided with the time you started to have them; but the unexplainable pain that enunciates as the melody progresses, proves that the deepest laceration never mend properly.

Resonance in your ear, as the music filled your ear and your heart, deafening your surroundings. Your eyes started to sting, visions begin to blur, Yoongi’s back became unfocused from sight. The rhythm seeps into your soul like rain on a drought, washing your dryness away; like the first warmth on the coldest night—it was nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Laying on your side watching Yoongi’s back—appearing to be a little slouched when he plays the piano, a habit he has—tears falls across your nose bridge and to the leather couch. The way Yoongi’s fingers danced on the keys, the little nods and movement of his shoulders—it was a sight you would want to keep in your heart, till the final moment of your life.

Memories began to rush through your translucent mind as guilt, anger, fear and loneliness took place. Your heart is at war and your brain refuses to tame. Logic and dream becomes so different. Choice and fate became a gamble. The things you went through without anyone knowing, the words that cuts through your skin, coming from people you call family, how they cast their steely gaze on you, mock you behind their sorely tight lips, the blame they put on you, the things they never said but always show.

“In love with a boy!” “You still hadn’t gotten over your high school phase?” “Grow up!” “Think about your parents...” “I am ashamed of you.” “Leave this house and don’t call me father!”

The tears falls uncontrollably, but you made no sound. It pooled to your palm and seeped into the leather chair only to fall to the wooden finish. You shut your eyes and let the memory play in the back of your head, those moments where you only had yourself. And how deathly lonely you felt. It was so easy to have given up back then. It was easy to just fall. The breeze was in your face that spring night, the strong current underneath your feet—all you had to do was, let go. But the hands that are serenading you a lullaby right now, was the hands that saved your frozen soul. You fallen over and over again, just to get up, stronger and taller than before. You fought for the love you have for yourself. You gave Yoongi a chance.

You give that troubled boy a chance to become a man. You believed in the change he is capable of and he took the rest of the faith, and mark up his own path. And this time, he wasn’t alone. You were there. And when the darkness comes, you had him. And he, had you.

Yoongi turned around after the piece ended. He already started dragging your name, scolding you in the sweetest way. “This is why I never I wanted to write a sad song. You were like this when I wrote ‘The Last’ too. I’m so angry. Who is it this time? What made you sad?” He plopped on the floor next to you, gathering both of your hands to his lips, kissing them relentlessly with slow murmurs of ‘I love you’s’ as he tries to coax you away from whatever that is making you miserable. You started to laugh and cry in the most adorable way. Wiping your tears with your sleeves, you giggled at him as he remained rather sad, watching you crumble in the most beautiful a person could ever afford to. “I was...reminded by the times where you saved me, from myself. And you just did it again, just now.” You peeped at him through your lashes and he puts his face closer to yours.

“Please tell me what you’re upset about… We can do this.” He assured, brushing baby hair from your forehead, tucking a lock behind your ear and thumbed your supple cheeks as his eyes dropped to your nose and chin, worried. “...Min Yoongi.” You called. He hummed. “…Min Yoongi.” You called again, this time a bit sweeter. “Yes?” He whispered under his breath. “… Min. Yoongi.” You took his hand in yours this time, “It’s my time to save you.” You brushed thumbed against his knuckles, looking at his nails and then to him. The corners of his nail were dark red, suggesting a trauma resulting from being bitten, and they were shorter, smaller in size compared to before. And these were signs of anxieties.

Yoongi had been keeping his hands away from you because of this. He doesn’t like how it looks against your pretty pairs. Your nails, the shape it has, smooth and petite. It was a complex he had since then. He hated the rough skins his palm had against your silkier once, he despises how it looks against yours, and that was why he never hold your hands. Because he didn’t think he was worthy of the gesture. Despite being your lover for years, now.

Today, Yoongi stared at his computer screen for an hour. He stared at his initials and thought of you. He had a picture of you in his wallet, traces of you in his studio, the curtains you put on, the two red and black ‘Supreme’ stickers you placed on his air-conditioner, and you would have touched his keyboard if there was a chance. You wrote, “Recording Engineer, Mr. Min Genius Jjang Jjang Man Bboong Bboong,” on a post-it notes once when you had the studio on your own, and you thought he would have discarded it right away when he saw it, but you came back to see them framed where you placed it. Yoongi even had another copy of it as a fridge magnet on the small fridge he had in his studio. Bothered by the thought of you not being here, he grabbed his phone and reclined to his chair. He typed a few words and then took a selfie with his hand covering his eyes. Leaving his pouty lips for you to see.

The phone buzzed for you at work, and you tapped them open.

Message from ‘The King’.

You almost awed out loud. His cute pouty lips and his text that said, “…I did absolutely nothing to your work.”

“Yoongi always surprises me,” you saw the picture he sent through the messenger. His nails were polished bright red and you wrapped each of his finger with a Band-Aid so that he won’t bite them. You did it when he was in deep sleep. He woke up and told you that he liked the colour. And because of that, you came to work in a good mood. That would stop him from biting them poor nails. And if he did, you’ll know from the nail polish. You replied a simple red heart emoticon and placed your phone facing down before resuming work. But it buzzed again. You took it again, and Yoongi replied.

“…Can’t wait to do this again.” Along with a picture of your neck, a bright angry hickey on your nape. You scrambled to the bathroom and pulled down your turtleneck black blouse, staring at the mirror.

“…Damn it, Yoongi.” You urgently trace your finger on them. No wonder he insisted to choose your outfits today. “I should have known.” Bad boys don’t really change, do they? At least in this sector, they don’t.

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