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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Side Effects | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: you never know what might be in the beakers at another chemist's station. you never know which of your colleagues might come along just in the knick of time to become the only antidote to your affliction.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut! (dub con due to sex pollen), semi-public sex (because technically someone could have walked by but unlikely), guilt/hesitance, kinda pining??, fingering, creampie,

a/n: yes, this is an accurate depiction of emergency shower protocol in a chemical lab and yes it is every lab technician's worst nightmare. thankfully the other stuff is not an accurate depiction of any known chemical, lol.

You wiped your forehead with a tired sigh, staring down at the calculations in front of you before using your pen to scribble over them before tearing out the page and throwing it away.

“You still do that by hand?” Bruce interjected, making you look up at where he was leaning in the doorway to the lab, watching you work.

“Oh, Dr. Banner!” you greeted with a smile, wondering if it was too ecstatic. You weren’t so good at the ‘playing it cool’ thing like he seemed to be.

“We have all those fancy screens and digital whiteboards, you know,” he explained as he stepped in and looked around at your work. “Not to mention the computer can do that stuff for you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but I always feel better doing it myself, on real paper. Not that I’m having any luck at the moment…”

"Here, I'll give them a quick look while you take a break," he offered, glancing at the numbers from over your shoulder. "You just get up and stretch your legs for a minute, doc."

You always thought it was sort of silly for him to call you that when he was a doctor as well, but you didn't complain.

Regardless, you were about to tell him that it was fine and you didn't need a break, but he was leaning in closer to take your seat and the proximity was so intimidating that you hopped up and went along with it anyways. He sat down and pondered your calculations while you circled the lab, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to stand up and move around after sitting for so long.

"Your handwriting is…" Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Feminine and graceful?" you finished sarcastically.

"Sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah, just like me—" you started to quip, but mid-sentence you (ironically) stumbled and tripped, using a nearby table to catch yourself— but you accidentally grabbed onto a beaker, which tipped over and smashed onto the ground. The liquid inside spilled onto the floor just before you did, and you winced as you fell into the puddle of the unknown substance.

“Shit!” you hissed as you scrambled to get up, looking down at your clothes and seeing they were covered in the fluid, which was beginning to evaporate, or steam, or something. Remembering lab safety protocols, you instantly began to strip, closing your eyes and wishing Bruce hadn’t come in just before this. As you shirked your lab coat, shirt, and skirt, you walked to the emergency shower, pulling the lever and gasping when the chilly stream of water poured down on you. Bruce looked at you with wide eyes before being kind enough to turn around as you shivered and removed your bra and underwear, now completely naked and weakly scrubbing yourself with your hands in hopes that none of the chemical had gotten onto your skin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously, turning his head back enough that you could hear him over the flow of water, but hopefully not so much that he could see anything important.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “it’s not mine. It’s something Dr. Sutherland was working on…”

“Is it… are you in pain at all?” he asked, even more concerned, and you tried to decide if you could feel any effects.

“N-no…” you answered hesitantly. You felt hot, and strange, and you were covered in rolling chills, but you figured that was just the situation you were in— naked in a tepid shower in front of your coworker who just so happened to be incredibly sexy.

“I should call poison control,” Bruce offered as he reached for his cell phone.

“No, I’m fine,” you denied as the water flow slowed down and you wiped your face, confident that you looked like a complete mess— but at least you saved yourself from whatever was in that beaker, right?

“Here,” Bruce offered an emergency blanket to you after pulling it off a nearby shelf, and it was not at all absorbent but it helped with the draft as you stepped away from the shower which was still leaking the last few drops of water onto the drain on the floor.

“Thank you,” you nodded nervously, shivering and dripping and looking back at him with no idea what to say at all.

“Do you feel alright? I should check you for burns,” he suggested. “I— I won’t look…”

“Please,” you sighed, pulling the blanket a bit to expose your chest and stomach. He brushed his hand over the skin there, making you instantly whine as heat burned just under your skin, clouding your mind and making you crave even more.

"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously, pulling away, but you stepped closer.

"No it's… it's good, it's so good."

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at you, putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up, doc, you must be running a fever of 105."

"Touch me more, please," you whimpered. It was like you were in a dream, everything foggy and distant, and the only time that anything made sense was when he touched you. Or maybe it was that his touch sent you further into delirium; you couldn't be sure.

He gasped when he looked at your quivering legs only to find slick arousal running down the inside of them, threatening to drip onto the floor.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Please," you begged mindlessly, "Dr. Banner, I n-need you…"

"No, you need medical attention."

You whined and grabbed as his shirt, humming at the feeling of his warm skin just beneath. If the forearms that he often left exposed in rolled-up sleeves were anything to go buy, his chest was probably toned and tanned, lightly dusted with dark hair… you were all but drooling at the thought. "Please, Bruce… just help me," you pleaded, looking up into his eyes which were swirling with conflict.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'd be taking advantage."

He must have seen the heartbreak of rejection make you wince, because he tried to soothe you with his hands resting on your arms— even just that contact making you suppress a moan.

"I've wanted this for so long," he explained, "and you— you haven't. You're unwell, you need to go to a hospital."

You sobbed a little at the idea of being taken away from him and examined by strangers, when you knew the solution was right in front of you. "No, no Bruce they'll touch me! Nobody can touch me but you, I only want you."

He scoffed, but you heard the weakness in it and you needed him to give in soon before you melted from your own hear. "You're deranged— delirious," he reiterated.

"It'll feel so good, please Bruce, I'll be so good for you— anything you want, I'll do it, I'm yours."

"Stop talking like that," he winced. "I can't… I can't."

"I need to feel you inside me, Dr. Banner, I need it more than anything. It's just gonna get worse… please, help me. I want you. I trust you."

"You'll hate me in the morning," he asserted. "God, this is so wrong…"

But much to your relief, he reached down and hesitantly slid his thick middle finger through your folds, gasping gently as he felt how wet you were. "I should t-take you somewhere private."

"No, need you now— right here," you pleaded, trying to chase his touch with your hips.

"But if someone came by—" he began to fret, glancing at the door; but his attention was turned back to you by your hands weaving into his hair.

"Nobody else stays this late, god, Bruce please I just need you so bad—"

He cut you off with a sudden kiss, which was enough on its own to make warmth bloom in your gut, but then he started to move his finger again and you shuddered with a moan that was muffled by his lips.

"Maybe I can make you come like this," he offered as he pulled back just enough to whisper to you, "would that help you? It'll take the edge off."

You bucked and moaned against his fingers, just those subtle touches driving you wild. "N-no, it has to be inside! You have to fuck me, I need your cock."

He breathed through his teeth, like he was almost considering it, but then looked away. "I can't," he shook his head.

"Can't or won't?"

He frowned. "Won't. I'll get you off with my fingers, otherwise it would be… too selfish."

"Bruce, I'm literally begging you for it," you sighed, the irritated tone that you'd intended lost in the moans he elicited by rubbing your swollen clit.

"I know," he winced, "I know and it's killing me that I can't give you what you're asking for… I swear if it wasn't like this…" he trailed off as you looked up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What would it be like?" you asked lowly. "Tell me how you would fuck me."

For all his shyness before, there was a brief switch in his demeanor as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck as he whispered, two fingers sliding into your channel at the exact moment that he spoke.

"So fucking hard."

You whimpered, knees wobbling a bit as you tried to ride his fingers— but he wasn't pushing back, wasn't giving you enough force to balance against when you sought more friction. "P-please, Bruce— I know you want to, please, please baby I need it so bad…"

"I know," he breathed, free hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, and it was so needlessly compassionate, so effortlessly soothing that your heart had no choice but to clench at his tenderness. Other parts of you clenched as well, in much more literal ways, but the heart thing was more important.

You gingerly reached forward and palmed his cock through his pants, moaning when you felt how hard it was. "You're desperate, too," you informed him with a little smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? It aches."

"Yes," he answered tensely.

"I'm hurting too. I'm aching, for you. Please, Bruce, help me."

As he pulled back and examined your face, he chewed his lip and contemplated. He couldn't stand to see you in pain, but he couldn't comprehend what he had to do to help you. Well, okay, that's not totally accurate because he had actually "comprehended" the idea of making love to you plenty of times. But that was just a fantasy, a very misguided one that he only indulged in in his weakest moments. And in those fantasies, shockingly enough, you were always completed lucid and of sound mind and body. He sadly could not say that for you at the moment, and of course he couldn't because of course when you were sober and healthy, you didn't see him that way.

Bruce prided himself on his logic, his integrity, his patience. Suddenly, those qualities were falling prey to a much deeper, carnal instinct that saw this not as a predicament but as an opportunity. Logic states, after all, that it would be wasteful to have everything he wanted thrown into his lap and to let it go to waste.

"Fuck," he groaned as he kissed you again, fucking you faster with his fingers. You moaned and went for his belt, barely managing to open it with your hands shaking so much; part of you had considered just trying to rip the leather off of him, and with the force of your need it seemed almost plausible.

Finally getting his trousers opened just enough to reach inside, you purred as you reached in and navigated past his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. It was so thick and smooth and hot and you almost wanted to drop to your knees and take it in your throat right then, but you had better plans.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, grinning against you at the way you whined, before wrapping his arms around you and quickly instructing you to jump.

It was infuriating, how easily he caught you when you wrapped your body around him. Infuriating and so painfully sexy.

He never broke the kiss as he walked the two of you to your lab table, sliding the papers aside and onto the floor to set you on it. You started on his aggravatingly-small shirt buttons while he pushed his trousers and boxers down the rest of the way, and god his cock was right there between your legs, so close but very much too far away for your liking.

You didn't have the time or energy to get his shirt off, settling for just running your hands over the exposed skin instead. He grinned and watched the path your hands made, hissing slightly when they wrapped around his shaft— for a second you swore you could feel it throb.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you whispered your plea, sighing a little when he nodded.

"Okay baby," he agreed.

"Been waiting so long," you whined.

"Me too," he nodded, and with a little push, his cock slid all the way into you and filles you to the brim. Even when you were completely drenched, the girth of him was so wide that it stung, that it tore you open, but you loved it. Your head fell back and just from him being inside you, you came. The substance had you so needy and sensitive that that was all it took. It wasn't enough yet, of course. You knew you needed more. But God, he felt so good you could hardly breathe.

"Baby," you heard Bruce gasp, his fingers digging into your hips. Your chest twisted when he laughed a little, breathless and just teetering on the line between complimentary and mocking. "Did you just come?"

You considered playing dumb, but nodded instead.

His smile was apparent when he pressed his lips just below your ear to suck on the delicate skin there, his teeth trailing up to nibble your earlobe lightly. You hoped he would leave a mark, you hoped he would leave lots of marks that you could remember this by for weeks to come.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" he asked breathlessly, whispering so quietly you could barely hear it over the beating of your own pulse which echoed in your ears.

"You feel so good," you justified, "so fucking good, Bruce."

"You too," he sighed as he finally pulled back and slid into you again, the friction making your back arch instantly. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips, forcing him to push deeper with each thrust. When he pushed you to your limits it felt like you might just fall apart right there, but it was so worth it.

As if that wasn't enough, he reached down and circled a thumb over your overstimulated clit, grinning down at you at the sight of you writhing and bucking wildly in his arms.

"Fuck!" you cried as you tightened your hands on his shoulders into fists hard enough to risk tearing through his shirt.

"Too much?"

"More," you pleaded instead, crying out when he gave you exactly what you wanted with fast, rough thrusts into your drenched walls. "Yes," you sobbed, "yes, fuck— m'gonna come, Bruce, gonna come again."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, voice so much rougher than normal, "show me how good it feels, baby."

It felt like his words were the thin that pushed you over the edge, as if your body somehow both understood and obeyed his command. You could feel a renewed wave of slick leak out from you, enough that you could hear the wetness in each slap of his hips against yours. His name was somewhere in the litany of curses and praises that spilled from your lips, your mind too clouded with hazy pleasure to keep track of what you were actually saying.

"Just like that," he groaned, "doing so good, fuck, say my name just like that every time I make you come."

An easy enough stricture to follow, especially when it seemed like he was all you could think about. He looked so different with his clothes half-shorn and his eyes dark with lust. He hadn't taken his glasses or labcoat off and you weren't sure which of those you were happier about.

His lips and hands were all over you; you couldn't even keep track of everywhere he was touching you, that's how overwhelming it was. "God, you're so fucking perfect," he groaned against your skin, finding a hardened nipple as his tongue explored you and wrapping his lips around it. "You are so goddamn sexy, you know that? I love seeing you with your legs spread for me like a needy little whore. I love hearing you moan and knowing I'm the one making you feel this good."

He took a moment to look at you and soak in your shocked reaction to his words before leaning in to continue.

"I love feeling you come for me," he purred in your ear.

"Then you're gonna really like what I'm about to do," you shivered.

"Yeah? You can gimme another one already?" he smiled. "Such a good girl…"

You really couldn't help it, it felt like everything he did only enhanced your pleasure— his words, his hands all over you, not to even mention his cock inside you. As much as the hedonistic corner of your brain was happy to let this go on forever, the ramifications of constant orgasms were finally catching up with you as you wondered how much more of this you could take.

"F-fuck, are you close?" you asked weakly. "Want you to come for me, Bruce, please."

"I-I'll pull out," he suggested, although the way he looked down at his length sinking into you and pulling back out, covered in your abundant arousal, didn't exactly indicate that he was willing and able to actually make good on his offer.

"No!" you yelped, pulling him closer by his unbuttoned shirt. "It needs to be inside, Bruce, please come inside me."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth.

"Please, Bruce, please, promise you'll come inside."

"I will," he sighed, "fuck, I will baby, I promise I'm gonna fill you up so good, you're gonna have my come so fucking deep inside you…"

"Yes!" you moaned, completely unabashed as the unknown substance had apparently absolved you of any shame whatsoever. "Yes, I want it, Bruce, I want your come."

The moment you felt his seed start to paint your walls, you felt relief begin to wash over you. Your mind and body relaxed, the overwhelming heat under your skin subsiding into a comforting warmth, the desperation that had burned in your gut satiated at last.

And that left you staring up at him in realization of what you had done, just as he looked back at you with the same.

"God, I'm so sorry—" he shuddered, moving to pull away. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips again, holding him close.

"N-no, wait," you groaned, "it's okay. Don't go."

"You don't hate me," he said, the exhaustion in his tone making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Never," you sighed with a weak smile, sitting up to clutch his face and kiss him again. "God, Bruce, now I'm just wondering what took us so long."

"Our lab safety is just too good, clearly," he smiled as he kissed you again, pulling back a little too soon to examine your face where he held it in his hands. "Are you okay? You should still probably go to a doctor…"

"I'm already with a doctor," you smirked, "and his treatment was very effective."

"Yeah, that was…" he trailed off, wide eyes as if he were reminiscing about what had only just transpired.

"Sorry for being so… desperate," you cringed. "I didn't mean to… um… impose…"

He just laughed and kissed your forehead, making you feel your cheeks warm a bit; ironic that with everything that had just happened, this was what made you blush. "A beautiful, amazing woman that I've been dreaming about for months begs me to take her in the laboratory… really inconvenient."

"I mean, cleaning up these papers and the broken glass is gonna be pretty tedious, along with the incident report," you frowned.

"I'll help you with it," he offered.

"Tomorrow," you decided. "Right now, I'm taking you to my place."

"Is that so?" he asked with a bemused smirk.

"Yep. We both are in serious need of a shower, and then I wanna go again," you grinned wickedly.

"I thought you said you weren't feeling the effects of the chemical anymore," he recalled, voice tinted with concern.

"I'm not," you reassured, "I'm just feeling the effects of you."

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x y/n

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abovethesmokestacks · 3 years

Text

Hidden Love

Title: Hidden Love

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: All audiences

Warnings: None. Or me, probably butchering the Victorian era. Also, you know, slight angst, because I can’t help myself

This story sparked from a moodboard I made a while back, of Victorian King!Bucky and maid!reader, and it kinda got away from me, as everything tends to do these days. And listen... I know. The term Victorian really only relates to the history of the United Kingdom during Queen Victoria’s reign, but please bear with me on this and suspend belief and step into a world where during this era, Bucky is king, and enjoy the stay.

The sounds of crystal clinking together should be like silver bells carrying over the din of hushed conversation, but to his ears, it's like nails on a chalkboard. The food before him is rich and each bite seems to swell in his mouth, forced down in thick swallows and gulps of wine. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and his feet itch to leave, to stand up and walk out. He could.

"More wine, your highness?"

He could, he is king.

The server's voice is low, bowed down appropriately to only be heard by him. He shouldn't have another glass, for the sake of his mental faculties. He should, to keep up appearances. He can already sense his mother's eyes on him, the calculating gaze he has known his entire life. The dowager queen, a mother only as it serves her image in the kingdom than anything else.

"Everything all right, James?" she asks, and oh, that tone is deceptive. Kind on the surface, but weighed just so with the barest hint of concern to draw the attention of the other guests.

He wants to grimace, his name sounding contrived and wrong in his ears, granted with the weight of legacy, set aside for a few blessed years of childhood and then thrust back upon him when illness took his father and forced him back into a mold he would much rather escape. The coronation had his stomach in knots, a chill persisting in his bones and a simmering dread as he was crowned - anointed by God, what god would place their faith in someone so flawed as man? - His Majesty James, by the Grace of God, King of the Nation, Defender of the Faith.

"Nothing, mother. Pondering my choice of drink."

He tries for amicable, jovial. It is the annual Christmas feast, why shouldn't he be happy? His mother quirks an eyebrow, holding his gaze just long enough for the hairs on the back of his head to stand on end before her eyes glide from him to take up the conversation she left.

Some defender of the faith he is, he doesn't even have faith in himself.

An eternity seems to pass as dishes pass before him, plate after plate until he feels nauseous. Around him, the atmosphere has relaxed, emboldened by wine and spirits, and even his mother is no longer sparing him a glance to keep track of him. Somehow, he would have thought being king would have meant finally being free of her shadow, but she is still there. No longer a shadow, but a presence right behind him, a metaphorical foot on his robe to remind him of his place, and hers. He wonders if anyone has noticed that his glass of wine has not been refilled in a long time, that he has been nursing it steadily and that his boisterous laughs have all been hollow.

He could leave, but not without drawing attention. Just a little while longer. He glances at the opulent grandfather clock, feels its ticking like a heartbeat. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

Each tick of the clock is an endless journey. Through rigid traditions, glasses of brandy, sweet sugarplums and fragrant pines, all he can feel is the passing of time, one second after another without an end in sight. Gifts are exchanged, crackers pulled with cloying glee and he feels more like a fool than a king when one of the footmen is coaxed into slipping the thin paper crown on his head. His mother bows out with effortless grace, sparking hope that maybe, just maybe, he can make his escape.

"Let me accompany you, mother," he asks, begs, voice low as he stands up to offer his arm for her.

Take it. Please, for the love of all things good and holy, take it.

Her smile is not exactly smug, but it hides a kind of joy that he thinks must be sour.

"Nonsense, my dear. Don't leave on my account, stay, be merry."

It's loud enough to be heard, for plenty of people to hear her deny him his exit under the guise of a mother not wanting to spoil her son's fun. He tries not to let his gaze harden or his forced smile to weaken, instead kissing his mother's hand and bidding her good night. Propriety will keep him here another hour at least. The clock ticks, chipping away at the span of time before he can have his freedom.

He thinks he might finally be going out of his mind when the clock strikes midnight. His other guests are either half-asleep, lulled by brandy and the late hour, or eagerly playing cards for the trinkets they received in their crackers. Enough. He takes his leave, wanting to roll his eyes at the hasty displays of respect and deference. No matter. He is free. A quick trip to fill up a plate from the abandoned dinner table, something for the road, as he jests with his escort. The palace is quiet when they traverse the corridors to his private chambers, their footsteps echoing ominously with nothing but a candelabra to light their way.

"I think I'll manage myself tonight," he tells his escort when they're outside his door. "Go sleep, I won't tell on you."

They put up the token protest, but still leave, hastening down the dark hallway while he lets himself in. The world feels more manageable inside. It's still a constant reminder of his privilege, of the opulence of his station, but it's his. No one can enter without his permission, no one can disturb him without just cause. Sometimes he wishes this was his entire kingdom.

Setting down the plate on his bed, he loosens the ascot, glad to be rid of the strangle-like hold around his neck. Off with the tailcoat, unbutton the waistcoat. Breathe.

Thunk.

He whips around, gaze falling on the large armoire in the corner. The silence that follows is deafening, but he knows what he heard. With a smile curling his lips, he swipes a treat off the plate, hiding it behind his back while he closes the distance, pulling the doors open in a rush, only for his ears to ring with a piercing shriek.

"Hush! Good god, you'll wake the entire wing, calm down! It's just me!"

The girl cowering into the corner of the armoire claps her hands over her mouth, eyes that had only moments ago been wide with fear now glaring at him as she breathes through her nose to calm down. It’s strange, how his heart beats quicker, how the heaviness of his mind lightens under her fierce gaze. Years ago, they met by accident, he was still prince, young and cocksure, and she was, as she is now, a maid in the vast household that served his father the king. It wasn’t prudent, but he enjoyed giving her his attention, little flirtatious exchanges that somehow grew into a tender love with stolen kisses in hidden nooks. She has never asked for anything, much as he has offered to help her. She has declined promotions, slapped him for trying to sneak a small pouch of coins into her apron, made him promise not to do anything that would change her status in or outside the court.

He extends his hand to her, helping her up and out, twirling her around the room, making the skirt of her black dress flare around her, and his soul soars at the way her face settles into a sweet smile. With an exaggerated bow, he holds out his hand with the hidden treat, a sugar plum. She plucks it from her hand, delight colouring her features as she takes a small bite.

“I thought you were…” she begins, swallowing before dropping her gaze, slipping the rest of the sugarplum into her apron pocket. “I wasn’t sure you were alone. I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

They come to a halt by the window of his room, and instinctively, he positions his back to the window, protecting her presence with the frame of his body. This may be his private quarters, but the palace has eager eyes and ears.

“My mother.”

It’s answer enough. Their love lives in the shadows, in the small kingdom of his room, in the hidden passages of the palace and with notes tucked into cracks only they know about. His heart aches, because she deserves so much more, wishes the world knew about this generous soul that holds his heart in her palms, whose smile lights up his presence even during his darkest days, who will take nothing but the reassurances of his affections and the kisses he bestows freely.

“I came as quickly as I could,” he adds, bringing up her hands to kiss her knuckles. They’re cold, worn from hard work, but he loves them as dearly as the rest of her.

“She knows.”

It’s simple. A statement, not a question, and her hands slide from his grip as she takes a step back.

“We don’t know that. She enjoys tormenting me, we’ve known that for quite some time. And even if she knows…” He closes the space between them again, wraps her up in his embrace, and nudges her chin to make her look at him. “Even if she knows, she won’t do anything overt. She can’t.”

“She’s the-” his love starts, eyebrows knit together, mouth set in a way that he knows she won’t let this go.

“She thinks she owns me. She thinks she controls me. In her eyes, I am as much a servant to her as anyone on staff. And I’m happy to let her keep her delusion, if it means I get to be with you, if it gives me time to…”

“To what?” she asks, tilting her head. “If it gives you time to do what, Bucky?”

To fight for that, he wants to say. His nickname, falling sweet from her lips and making him feel like a person. It’s a treasure from those happy childhood years, when he’d only hear it from his string of governesses and teachers, a concession to play pretend at a normal life. It felt like stepping out of a pleasant dream when he had to leave it behind, had to step into the heavy legacy of James, into the title of king. He looks at her, the only one to call him Bucky these days, and feels courage rise with the beating of his heart.

“To figure out a way for us to be together,” he tells her resolutely, continuing on his next breath. “We’ll go away, I’ll make sure we’ll have means to live until we can settle down. We’ll go far away, we’ll cross the sea if we have to.”

He twirls them around in a dance, away from the window, away from vulnerability of unseen eyes. Away. Gone. Together.

“Bucky…”

“We’ll live in a cottage, you and I. I’ll… I’ll learn a trade. I can tend horses. I can hunt. We’ll have a life that’s… that’s ours.”

“Buc- Your highness!”

The title cuts him down, poleaxes him and pulls him out of the dreams like someone has poured a vat of cold water on him. She’s no longer in his arms, once again removed, three solid paces between them, and she looks so small, so despairing, hands folded in front of her. This time, she finds her voice before he can find his.

“I can’t ask you to do that. You’re king. You… You have responsibilities. You have a realm that depends on you for guidance and rule. You can’t just… I’m no one. I’m not important. I’m- You are king, and kings marry queens and live happily ever after. I don’t fit into that story, your highness.”

He takes a step forward, she takes another step backwards. Even so, it hurts more to hear the way she talks about herself, makes herself small while he grows to something fabled and grand, when truth be told, he feels like all this time, he’s been walking on stilts and wearing a costume to hide the person he really is.

“Neither do I,” he starts, winces inwardly at how trite it sounds. “I didn’t want this. To be king, I mean. It’s not for me. I don’t care for politics and mind games, I don’t care for frivolousness and rigid customs. This is a prison to me. It’s beautiful, and grand, but it’s a gilded cage nonetheless. Outside this room, away from you, I am not myself. I am weak. I am a pawn in a game. My desires don't matter. You…” He takes a careful step forward, hope springing when she stays where she stands, “are everything I want. Everything I need.” Another step. “And I will do anything to be with you, anything to make this my story. I’ll bide my time, I’ll weigh my options, I’ll make every preparation, but one day…”

Another step. He’s back in front of her, and though she avoids his eyes, she’s not running, not putting distance back between them.

"Your highness…"

“My love,” he interrupts, offering her the depth and width of his affection, his voice low and ardent as he kneels before her, prostrating before the only person worthy of him. “My sweet, my… my everything. One day, I’ll find a way for us to be together.”

#Hidden Love #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Victorian king!Bucky #maid!reader

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asongofmarvelanddc · 4 years

Text

Nothing Will Ever Change (This Love of Mine)

PAIRING: Marcel Gerard X Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,335

WARNINGS: None. Just fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

SUMMARY: Marcel returns from war to his estranged family, and his fiancée. When Klaus threatens her, Marcel realises it’s time to come clean about who he is.

A/N: Title taken from the song by Jimmy Jules. Also, I have a headcanon that Marcel is fluent in French, so translations in italics.

JANUARY, 1919

Whoever said money couldn’t buy status had clearly never met the Mikaelsons.

You didn’t know much about them other than what Marcel had told you: that they were farmers who were orphaned but managed to find some way up the social ladder by acquiring property all over the United States. It would be a heart-warming story if they weren’t so...arrogant.

Everyone could see it when they walked into a room - the way they always expected to be approached and never the other way around. Sure, some of them were always polite for the most part, but they all maintained an air of superiority, spoke to you in a way that reminded you that you’d never be them.

You weren’t fond of the Mikaelsons, and it seemed like the feeling was mutual. They’d reluctantly invited you to the party they were throwing in honour of Marcel’s return from the war. Elijah - being one of the few who tried to make you feel like a part of the family - asked on his family’s behalf which made it difficult to say no. Still, the party was for Marcel, and you’d been waiting four years to see him again, so you graciously accepted the invite.

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. You looked around, searching for any familiar faces, but found none other than the Mikaelsons. They were surrounded by people - the mayor being one of them - who were tripping over themselves to be gracious to the Mikaelsons and gain favour with them.

Not wanting to join the other guests in fawning all over the family, you stood alone at the bar, nursing a stiff drink. All you could think about was Marcel. Before long, you began to feel eyes burning a hole in the back of your head and turned to find Klaus Mikaelson staring at you. It wasn’t obvious all the time, but you got the feeling that he didn’t like you very much.

Ignoring his glare, you returned to your drink - impatiently waiting for Marcel’s return. But alas, Klaus couldn’t take the hint, and within seconds he was standing by your side.

A charming smile graced his lips as he greeted you, “Y/N. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

“Is it?” you cocked a brow, “Because I think you only invited me because Elijah asked you to. Not that Marcel would’ve stayed longer than five minutes if he found out I wasn’t here. ”

He chuckled.

“I see you’re not in the mood to exchange pleasantries,” he said.

“What gave it away?”

His smile dropped and he leaned in closer, “Look, whatever I’ve done to upset you-”

“It’s not what you’ve done to me, it’s what you did to him,” you snapped, “Do you realise we wouldn’t even be having this party if it weren’t for you people?”

He avoided your eyes, his confident stance wavering.

“You drove him away.”

Klaus was silent for a moment as your words sunk in. It was clear by the guilty expression on his face that he knew you were right. You expected him to leave you alone after that, but instead, another Mikaelson approached - a smirk on her lips and a champagne glass in her hands.

“My, my, you could cut the tension with a knife.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the bar, “I’m not in the mood Rebekah.”

Klaus smiled as he looked at his sister, “Yes, she’s feeling a bit pissy this evening.”

You glared at him.

“Leave the girl alone, Nik,” Rebekah said, “She has enough on her mind.”

He shot a glance at you, a thoughtful look appearing on his face, but then he let out a quiet sigh and walked away.

A breath of relief escaped your lips once he was no longer in your presence. Rebekah stepped closer to you and tilted her head as she looked at you.

“So, what’s got you in such a mood?”

You let out another sigh. “I just need to see him, Rebekah,” you said, your voice sounding desperate, “It’s been so long and I just...I just need him here.”

She nodded and placed a hand on your back. “I understand, dear,” she smiled, “Come find me later, yeah?”

You cracked a smile and let out a sigh of relief when she walked away, thankful to be left alone. When you went to down the rest of your drink, the ring on your finger caught your eye and your thoughts immediately travelled back to Marcel.

Putting the glass down on the table, you twirled the ring on your finger, deep in thought. You never did manage to get it resized, there was never any time. Marcel had given it to you the night before he left. You’d been going out of your mind with worry since he decided to enlist, fearful of what could happen to him while he was gone. He called it a proposal, but it was obvious that it was more of a promise that he would come back to you.

And tonight he finally would.

You were reminiscing about the days before Marcel left when you felt arms circle your waist, and a face nuzzle into your neck. Heart hammering in your chest, you reached up slowly and touched the man’s cheek.

“Marcel?”

He hummed in response and placed a kiss on your shoulder. “It’s me, baby.”

A gasp escaped your lips as you closed your eyes and turned around, pulling his lips against yours in a fervent kiss. He grinned as you kissed him, a laugh even slipping out as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your hand resting at the nape of his neck.

You’d thought as soon as you saw Marcel you’d feel relaxed, but instead, your heart was beating out of your chest. Every inch of your body was lit aflame when he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer.

“God, I missed you,” he mumbled against your lips just as you broke apart.

He rose one of his hands to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear that had rolled down.

“Hey. No tears, okay?”

You wiped them away, unable to stop smiling. “It’s just so surreal,” you said, “I can’t believe you’re here. I feel like I can finally breathe again.”

“You think you missed me?” he scoffed, “I practically drove the guys in my unit crazy talking about you.”

He still had his arm around you, not wanting to let go. You let yours fall from his neck, one hand resting on his chest, “Four years.”

“Four years.”

You shook your head in wonder as you looked at him again. From his perfect, dazzling smile to those loving brown eyes. Even after everything he’d been through, he looked exactly the same.

“You don’t look like you’ve aged a day.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “I could say the same about you, pretty girl.”

You looked away, heat rising to your cheeks, “Sweet-talker.”

He laughed again, surprised that he could still fluster you even after so long together. Glancing down, he noticed the sparkling ring around your finger.

“You’re still wearing it,” he said and raised a brow, “I take it I haven’t been replaced yet?”

“As if anyone could ever replace you, Marcel Gerard.”

He held your loving gaze for a moment before shaking his head in incredulity and leaning down to kiss you again. It was softer and much more tender this time.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “Let’s get outta here,” he whispered, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing as he pressed quick kisses from your cheek down to your jaw and neck. He took your hand, leading you towards the exit, when Klaus suddenly appeared in front of you.

“Marcel,” he said, his hands clasped together behind his back, “I didn’t see you come in.”

Marcel let out a heavy sigh, but the grin on his lips never faltered. “Klaus. Nice to see you.”

Klaus looked taken aback by the response. “On your way out?” he asked, clearly offended, “Didn’t think to pop over to your family and say hello?”

Marcel rolled his eyes. “I just wanted some private time with my girl, Klaus, it’s really not a big deal.”

You noticed the sudden change in Klaus’ expression. In a second, his polite smile and mischievous eyes morphed into a look you could only describe as evil. You’d heard rumours about the Mikaelsons. About Klaus. Rumours you didn’t believe. But if there were monsters in New Orleans - you had definitely just seen one.

But then like a storm cloud passing, his polite smile was back. “Well, perhaps you and I could have a drink upstairs before you leave, Marcel.”

“Klaus, I really just want to-”

“Or...we could take Y/N out for a drink.”

You felt Marcel’s body stiffen under your touch at those words. His jaw clenched as he gripped your hand tighter, taking a more protective stance in front of you.

Eventually, he sighed deeply and shook his head, turning to you. “Attends ici, ma chérie,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be right back.” (Wait here, sweetheart)

Klaus’s smile widened, clearly satisfied by Marcel’s decision. The two disappeared up the stairs and into the Mikaelson family room.

__________________________

“So, Marcellus,” Klaus began as he poured himself a drink, “We throw you this party to welcome you home, even invite your little girlfriend to make you happy, and yet you can’t even grace us with your presence.”

“You visited me while I was gone, it’s not like you haven’t seen me in years,” Marcel said, “And she’s not my girlfriend, she’s my fiancée. And I haven’t seen her in four years.”

“So, you’d rather spend your first evening back with her than you would your own family?”

Marcel didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes.

“I see,” Klaus nodded and downed his drink, “Perhaps if the girl is taken out of the equation you’ll remember exactly where your loyalties should lie.”

Marcel sped in front of the door, blocking it as Klaus stormed towards him.

“You are not touching her, Klaus!” he yelled as he shoved Klaus back, “You’re gonna kill her because I wanna spend time with her? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I assure you, Marcellus, my reasonings for getting rid of that girl are just.”

“Like they were when you daggered Rebekah for five decades?”

“You haven’t been the same since she entered your life,” Klaus said, “She has been tearing you away from your family.”

“She is my family.”

Klaus’ face hardened. “Is that so?”

“Damn straight.”

He stepped closer to Klaus and began speaking in a scarily low voice. “I let go of Rebekah for you, Klaus, but I am telling you right now,” he said, eyes burning with anger, “I would see this city burn before I do the same with Y/N.”

Klaus was silent for a moment as he mulled over Marcel’s words. It seemed he had lost the fight, until a thought occurred to him.

“And what if she lets you go?” he said, the hint of a smile on his lips and a glint in his eye, “I wonder what she’ll think when she finds out just what kind of monster you are.”

Marcel’s jaw clenched, “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” he smirked, “I do believe that lasting relationships must be built on honesty and trust. I’d consider me telling her the truth a favour.”

Marcel balled his fists, looking away from Klaus to control his anger. He knew there was no winning a fight with an Original - even if he was burning with rage.

Klaus chuckled to himself and walked over to the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll allow you this one night with her,” he said as he walked out, “Welcome home, Marcellus.”

__________________________

Marcel was silent as you watched him put his hat down on your coffee table. He hadn’t been himself since you left the party. You twirled the set of keys in your hand, unsure of how to proceed.

“You haven’t said a word since we left the mansion.”

He didn’t respond.

You let out a heavy sigh as you walked towards him slowly. “You know, I talked to a couple other ladies whose men came back from the war too,” you began, “They said that they weren’t the same. The things they saw over there...it changed them.”

You waited with baited breath for a response, almost afraid of what he might say. He hadn’t seemed different when you were at the party, but the quiet was making you think his mind was elsewhere.

“I’ve seen worse than I did when I was over there,” he said, his back to you, “That’s not it.”

“Then tell me what’s on your mind.”

For a second, you thought he wasn’t going to elaborate, and you felt your heart sink. Then he turned around slowly, a thoughtful look on his face as he spoke.

“You and I have been together for six years,” he said, almost like he couldn’t believe it, “And yet, there’s still stuff about me - my past - that you don’t know about.”

A nervous smile emerged on your lips as you moved closer to him. “What are you talking about? You’ve told me about your past.”

“Not about my parents. Not about the way I grew up.”

“You told me all that,” you argued, “You told me you never knew your parents. That Klaus’ family adopted you when you were young and you grew up with them as your siblings.”

He shook his head slowly, wiping his mouth with his hand in frustration and placing a hand on his hip. It was clear that he was wrestling with something in him - it was tearing him apart.

“Marcel,” you said as you took his hand, “Tu peux me dire ñ'importe quoi.” (You can tell me anything.)

He looked down at your hands, his eyes staying on them for a long time before he finally spoke. “I wasn’t honest with you about that,” his voice wavered and he paused to take a breath, “Klaus’ family didn’t adopt me...Klaus did.”

You froze for a minute, trying to understand what he just said because it made no sense.

“That’s impossible,” you said, “He would’ve been a boy himself.”

“I was born in 1810 on a plantation here in Louisiana,” he explained, “My mother was a slave, and my father, the Governor...he was her — our master.”

“What? If you were born in 1810 that would make you like—”

“A hundred and nine.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you snatched your hands away from his and stepped back, “Mon Dieu...” (My God...)

He reached out for you, but you took another step back, turning away from him to compose yourself. The stories you’d heard as a child, the ones every child in New Orleans has heard...they were all true.

“Demon of the night,” you whispered, “You’re one of them.”

“Yes.”

“And the Mikaelsons?”

“They’re all like me.”

You took in a deep breath and turned to look at him, arms folded as you eyed him nervously. He was standing a few feet away from you, clearly giving you space to digest everything. It wasn’t working however, because you had a million burning questions and no clue how to feel.

“The things they say about you, your kind...are they all true?” you asked.

“Some of it, yes. But not all of it.”

“So, the blood drinking and the mind control-”

“That’s all true.”

You sucked in a sharp breath once more and looked to the ground. All of this was difficult to hear. But it hurt more to know that he wasn’t honest with you.

“There’s a lot that I want to know,” you began as you lifted your gaze to meet his, “But I only have three big questions.”

He stepped towards you, surprised when you didn’t move back, and took your hand in his. “Anything you wanna know, just ask and I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

You nodded, mustering up a small smile before looking down again. “Have you killed people?”

“That’s a difficult question.”

“How is that a difficult question?”

“I’ve been a vampire for eighty-four years, Y/N,” he said, “During that time, I’ve fought in two wars. Yes, I’ve killed people, but never innocents. Not even when the hunger was unbearable.”

Again, you nodded slowly. You couldn’t deny the relief you felt after hearing that.

“Does Klaus? Kill innocents?” you asked, deciding on a follow-up question.

“He’s lived a lot longer than I have,” Marcel sighed, “I don’t think you get to be a vampire for almost a thousand years without getting some blood on your hands.”

“Wow,” you whispered. You’d always known there was something about that family, but you never would’ve guessed this. Suddenly you could understand the arrogance — you too would feel superior to everyone if you’d lived a thousand years of strength, speed, and the ability to get whatever your heart desired.

Marcel cocked his head at you, “You’ve been quiet for a minute. You wanna ask the rest of your questions?”

You blinked back into reality. “Yeah, uh...” you looked up at him, hesitant to ask him the next question, “This isn’t easy to say, Marcel, but I have to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

You bit your lower lip nervously, “Have you ever drank from me? Or used your compulsion on me?”

“Wow, um...” Marcel stepped back, your hand falling from his. He was taken aback. “No, I’ve...I’d never do that to you.”

“Marcel, I’m sorry, but I had to ask if-”

“I get it.”

“-we were ever gonna be comfortable with each other again.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I understand. It’s fine.” He spoke the words quickly, hoping to sound like he didn’t care, but it was clear by the way he dropped his shoulders and avoided your eyes just how much the question had hurt him.

You walked towards him, this time being the one to take his hands, “Je suis désolé.” (I’m sorry)

“C'est pas grave.” He placed a hand against your cheek and smiled softly. You leaned into it, closing your eyes as you sighed deeply. Even after all you’d learned, he still felt like home. (It’s alright)

“Final question,” you said as you stood up straight and looked at him earnestly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a vampire?” you repeated, “J'aime tout de toi, tu le sais. You’re my family, so why didn’t you trust me?” (I love everything about you, you know that.)

“I trust you, I just—” He paused to collect his thoughts. “At first, I was being selfish. You liked me as I was, and as a bonus, had a wit sharp enough to leave even Klaus speechless,” he chuckled as you rolled your eyes while fighting off a smile, “But soon enough it became about protecting you from all of that death and darkness.”

“Tu aurais du me le dire.” (You should’ve told me)

Marcel frowned and pulled you close, “Je t'aime et je ne voulais pas te perdre.” (I love you, and I didn’t wanna lose you.)

“Mon coeur,” you smiled as you placed a hand against his cheek, “There is nothing about you that could make me love you less.”

The way he looked at you when you said that — perfect and loving as ever — tugged at your heart strings. He didn’t say a word. He simply wrapped his arms around you and leaned down to kiss you. Your heart racing as he did so let him know that the truth hadn’t changed anything between you.

You pulled away and rested your forehead against his, “Dieu, je t'aime tellement.” (God, I love you so much)

“Tu es mon coeur, mon amour, ma vie,” he whispered against your lips, “Je t’aime.”

#marcel gerard #marcel gerard x reader #marcel the originals x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaleson x reader #rebekah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson x reader #the originals #the originals x reader #the originals imagine #the vampire diaries

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eleven-times-lively · 4 years

Text

Blood Relations

I would love a George x reader fic where the reader is Draco Malfoy’s older sister so she’s the same age as George and they’re secretly dating because they don’t know how their families would react. A lot of fluff, some angst with a nice ending @andineversawyoucoming

Summary: You’re in love with George Weasley, much to the dismay of your brother Draco. Word Count: 2487 Note: This fic has so much angst I love it. Also a ton of fluff! 💕

You tugged on the sleeves of your Malfoy blazer - an article which your parents had insisted you and Draco wear - and prepared for your final goodbyes. It was unusually hot for September, and the woolen garment certainly wasn’t helping.

“Be safe, be cordial, stay intelligent, and do our name proud.” Your mother gave you a warm smile before wrapping you in a hug. “And please watch out for you brother.”

“Fifth year, mum. I think he can handle himself.” Your father shot you a look as you gave you the typical handshake.

You stood on the first step of the train, waiting for Draco to receive his farewell. “See you at Christmas!” Your mother waved you both goodbye one last time as you disappeared in the train.

“You're going to be alright?” You looked at your brother, speaking more of a statement than a fact. He merely rolled his eyes and entered the cabin with his friends. Chuckling lightly, you went to go find your own compatriots. You found the tufts of fiery red hair a few cabins down from Draco’s. “Merlin it’s been a while!” You smiled from ear to ear as you eyed the twins for the first time in two months.

“Can you believe it’s seventh year already?” Fred exclaimed, standing to wrap you in a warm embrace.

“Crazy isn’t it?” George gave you an equally warm hug, kissing you lightly. Fred pretended to gag from behind you. “Missed you darling.” He had a raspy voice, akin to that of the early mornings, only spoken when he was either deeply turned on or deep in thought.

“Missed you too my love.” You captured him in another, longer kiss, relishing in the moment. The pair of you finally sat back down, and you curled up into George’s side. “So tell me about your summer!”

***

A while later, the train screeched into the station and students were flooding off from all angles. Passing the horde of Slytherins, you reluctantly let go of George’s hand. He understood, looking away coyly. You absolutely detested the secrecy of your relationship, but you knew it was out of necessity. All you had to go was graduate, then you’d be away from the scrutiny of your family and fellow Slytherins.

After Dumbledore’s long speech and grand feast, all of the students were dismissed to their dorms.

“Night Georgie,” you whispered, giving your boyfriend a quick kiss outside the Gryffindor common room.

“Will I see you later?” He raised an eyebrow, giving you another kiss as he pulled you in closer.

“I don’t know, Georgie. Maybe let’s get settled in first yeah?”

“Sure.” Relishing in one last kiss, the two of you bid goodnight.

***

The weeks passed as you enjoyed your final year at Hogwarts. Your relationship remained a secret, Christmas break was only a week away and you couldn’t wait for when you could love George freely. You were trapped in your thoughts as you wandered down to the quidditch pitch. It had become commonplace for you and George to sneak out at night, able to be a couple without the chance of anyone seeing.

You wrapped your arms around George’s waist, jostling the snow off his hair. “Hi,” you murmured.

He turned around in your arms, smiling brightly. He gave you a tender, warm kiss that lasted a wonderfully long while. “Missed you.”

“Georgie, it’s been a few hours,” you chuckled, giving him another quick peck. “But I missed you too.”

“I have something for you,” he said, smile never faltering, eyes never leaving yours. He could sense your confusion. “I know it’s close to Christmas, love, but I wanted to give you this in private.” He fished around in his pocket, emerging with a smallbox. He held it out to you, trying to suppress his excitement.

Growing up a Malfoy, you knew a jewelry box when you saw one. You opened the small velvet case to reveal a golden bracelet. “George,” you gasped, picking up the accessory to examine it. You noticed two small heart shaped charms, one emblazoned with the Weasley crest and the other with the Malfoy crest. “Merlin how did you afford this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, silencing you with a kiss. He slipped the bracelet from your fingers, reaching to clasp it onto your wrist.

“I love you so much.” You captured his lips in a loving kiss, both of you moving together in perfect harmony. His hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“What the hell!” Your kiss was interrupted by a shrill scream coming from across the pitch. You turned to see the beet red face of your brother, looking on in awe.

“Draco!” You shouted, quickly pulling away from George. The three of you were frozen in fear and confusion, no one knowing how to proceed. “What are you doing out here!?”

“I should be asking you the same thing!”

“Just some quidditch practice! Doesn’t matter!”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. Did the great Draco Malfoy need some help?”

“Oh shut up! You, y/n Malfoy are snogging a Weasley!”

“Oh go to bed rat face!”

“Wait until father hears about this!” He stormed off, red in the face.

You groaned in frustration, thudding into George’s chest. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” you mumbled. He rubbed your back, attempting to calm and soothe you.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, love.”

“It’s my father, George. Surely it won’t be.”

“We just have to make it through Christmas and hope Draco doesn’t say anything.”

You sighed, trying to clear your thoughts. George gave you a final kiss before leading you back inside.

***

You stared out the window of the train, mesmerized by the rolling hills zooming by. George drew you out of your thoughts, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Everything, okay, love?”

You hummed in response, pulling away from the window to lean into George. “Just nervous.”

“Don’t be, y/n. I’m sure Draco’s forgotten by now and everything will be fine.”

“You underestimate the memory of my brother.” You sighed, letting your eyes shut. George’s rhythmic breathing and the soft thumps of the train lulled you to sleep for the remainder of the trip.

“Y/n Malfoy!” Your mother shouted as you stepped off the train, still laden with sleep. You groaned, continuing your descent from the train as George handed you your bag.

“See you later, Georgie,” you whispered, “love you.” You approached your pair of parents. “Mother.” You gave her an attempt at a smile.

She gave you a small hug. “Your father wishes to speak with you.” With that, she drifted off, presumably to find Draco.

“Father.”

“How is school, y/n.”

“Well, thank you. Still top of my class, you’ll be happy to know.”

He nodded, eyeing you up and down. His gaze was daunting, he looked as if he was about to bend down and swallow you whole. His act only lasted for so long once he realized you weren’t going to speak first. “A Weasley, y/n? Honestly what has gotten into you!”

“We can discuss this later father.” You looked him up and down with the same stern expression, noticing your mother and brother appear behind him. “We’re in public.”

“Very well. Come.” Gripping your forearm, he led you off, apparating the four of you back to Malfoy Manor. You stepped inside, trying to scurry up the stairs quickly. “Y/n,” boomed the stern voice of your father. He hadn’t forgotten. “Front room. Now.”

You sat down on the large velvet couch, your father perched on the chair by the fireplace in front of you. He turned his head sharply, hearing the sharp snicker that could only belong to your brother. “Draco. To your room now. Nosiness will get you nowhere.” You sighed dreading what was to come. “Y/n, I’m very disappointed in you. I’m sure you know why.”

“No, father. Please explain it to me.” There was a sharp annoyance in your voice, and you made sure your father could hear it.

“For years!” He boomed, standing over you as his inherent grandiosity took over. “For years, no, generations the Malfoy name has struck fear into the hearts of those unworthy! Dozens of our own ancestors long before myself have spent centuries growing the power of our name, and all for you to ruin it!”

“I’ve ruined nothing, father!” Your lips were pursed, ready to fight any sentiment he had to throw at you. “You're too stuck up to see past yourself!” You immediately shrunk backwards, realizing your mistake.

“Upstairs, now!” He was read in the face, pointing across the room at the grand staircase. Huffing, you shuffled upward.

Slamming the door behind you, you flopped down onto the bed. Hot tears began to stream down your face as you tried to keep quiet. You thought of George, his bright face, his tender kisses, his warm hugs. He gave you the world, and you couldn’t even welcome him into yours. You didn’t deserve him at all.

***

You hadn’t even noticed it was morning when you rolled over in the bed. Groaning, you untangled yourself from your robes and stood. You stretched, peering out the curtains at the lush gardens spanning for nearly a mile. The same guilt and dread from last night was struck bad into you, and every became heavy. Dragging your feet, you pulled on a comfortable cashmere sweater and some more casual pants. Twisting up your hair, you headed towards your door, preparing to face your father. Before you could even push open the door, your mother was entering the room.

“Mum,” you gasped, clearly caught off guard.

“Sit, honey.” She spoke gently, warmth in her tone. A welcome change compared to the icy harshness of your father. “Can we talk about last night?”

“Mum, I’m terribly sorry for-”

“None of that, dear. I’m sorry about your father.” She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You know he just wants the best for you… and the Malfoy name. You can’t take it personally.”

“I know, but it still hurts.” You tried to fight the few tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

“Of course it does dear. Naturally, your father is a stubborn man, and all you can do to make him change his mind is forcefully prove him wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s invite George Weasley over for dinner. I’d love to meet the man you’re so enamored with, and perhaps getting to know the boy will allow your father to reevaluate his positions.”

You smiled weakly at your mother, trying to hide how truly excited you were. “Thank you so much, mum.”

“Of course, dear.” She kissed your forehead, leaving you in your room.

***

The hours went by dreadfully slow as you waited for dinner. You had put on one of your nicer dinner dresses, and even done up your hair and makeup. You wanted to look good for George, and of course make a good impression on your father. You had written George immediately, and received a prompt response in return.

Soon enough, the grand doorbells were going off and you were running down the stairs. “Georgie!” You exclaimed as you threw open the door. You jumped into his arms, not caring who saw. “Missed you,” you muttered, giving him a quick kiss. Your father cleared his throat behind you, pulling you and George out of the haze of each other.

“Mr. Malfoy,” George gave a warm smile, outstretching his hand.

Your father hummed, rather unimpressed. “Mr. Weasley.”

“George, hello,” your mother interrupted, thankfully cutting the thick tension in the room. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.” She shook George’s hand lightly, genuinely smiling at him.

“You as well, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for letting me into your lovely home.”She smiled in response, leading the group into the formal dining room. You all sat down, enjoying the meticulously prepared meal. “This is delicious Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Thank you so much, George, you’re frankly too kind. You know my children rarely compliment me anymore,” she quipped. You rolled your eyes, chuckling.

“So George,” your father interrupted the lighthearted mood. “Why my daughter?”

“Father!” You gasped, appalled at his harsh bluntness.

“Y/n, please. I’m serious Mr. Weasley. Of all the people at Hogwarts, there weren’t any other blood traitors to fraternize with?”

“That’s enough father!” You stood, wrapping a protective arm around George.

“Frankly, y/n, I’ve had quite enough with your attitude today!” He stood up, storming off and upstairs. Your mother hid her reddened face in her hand while draco cackled in amusement.

You let out a shout in frustration, collapsing into George’s chest. “We’ll be going now mother, thank you for everything.”

“Y/n, George, wait.” She cut you off just as the both of you were nearly out the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you Mister Weasley. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re a wonderful match for my daughter. Come back any time, hopefully we can do this again with Draco or Lucius.” He nodded, smiling warmly to silently thank her.

***

You groaned, pulling George into a tight hug once you reached the front steps of the burrow. “I’m so sorry George,” you muttered, “you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright, y/n.” He hummed stroking your hair gently, waiting for you to calm down in his arms. “There’s nothing you can do about your family. You’re a bloody wonderful person and I love you dearly, that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Georgie.” You leaned up, pulling him into for a warm, loving kiss. It had been far too long since you’d felt his lips on yours in such a passionate way, and it certainly felt amazing to have the intimate connection again. “Let’s go inside and get warmed up, yeah?”

He took your hand in his, leading you inside and removing your jacket. With a flick of his wand you each had a cup of warm tea in your hands. He sat on the couch, beckoning you towards him. You smiled, walking over and settling on his lap. You curled up, resting your head on his chest as his hand came to lay on your hip. He gave a light kiss to your temple before sipping his tea gently. “I love you so bloody much, y/n. Just remember, in a few short months we’ll be out of school, Freddie and I can start the store, and we can live our own happy life.”

You were already drifting into sleep, but his sentiments made you melt. “I can’t wait darling. I love you too.” You let your eyes close, savoring in his oaky scent. His gentle fingertips traced along your side, soothing you into sleep. His rhythmic breathing finally lulled you asleep, the last words in your ears being the sweet sentiments he was humming gently to you.

George and Draco Taglists: @it-was-three-am @hariosborn @bforbroadway @haphazardhufflepuff @msmimimerton @slytherin-chaser @chaotic-fae-queen @masterofthedarkness @dramaticdraco @nebulablakemurphy @abbiesthings @missmulti @katerinamikhailov @pauloonig @tinylumpiaa @sambucky8 @susceptible-but-siriusexual @blacklakeconfessions @levylovegood @notruercolors @dralf0yy @marauderswhisperer @stuckindilemma @pastel-filme @vintagecherrypie106 @crissdanvers @lunaloveshoney @rangerelik @hockeyzegras @cheapglitter @beauxbatons-babe @hess016 @whenpugzfly @sushi-yuu

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fic #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy angst

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teenage-mutant-ninja-freak · 4 years

Text

Thriller one shot

This is based off (and entirely a rip off of) of this post by @hagelpaimon so please go and show that more love

sub! Leo x fem! reader

Summery: You and Leo decide that it would be fun to break into an old, supposedly haunted, house and have some Halloween fun of your own but you both get more than you bargained for.

Warnings: NSFW, alcohol mentions, death mentions

((A/N: This is my first time writing sub! Leo so please be gentle with me, I’m still getting used to the idea of him as a sub and loving it tbh))

You don’t know how you convinced him, maybe it was the run chocolate bars or, maybe, it was the 7 shots of Jäger that you told him we “traditional” and “festive” to take on the spookiest night of the year. You may have....Overstated their importance on Halloween just for the fun of it. Either way, here you both are; standing, holding hands, inside on of the city’s oldest and supposedly most haunted houses.

It was derelict and disgusting to be quite frank. Cobwebs hung from every corner of it’s rooms, dust everywhere, broken glass from kids who had come here to drink on a dare and old discarded pieces of clothing from the homeless who just needed a place to get out of the cold and rain of New York in the fall. The smell of must was thick in the air, almost tangible in it’s heavy, wafting nature.

The place must have been beautiful, once. But now it was long abandoned after its previous owner who showed no interest in renting or fixing the place up, had died suddenly of coronary issues last month. The place has become the sight of many rumours since then. Why had he died? At the age of 57 it’s not like he was ancient. Maybe it was his rotten heart from all the things he knew had taken place here? Maybe he made a deal with the devil and the devil came to collect?

You take Leo’s hand and move him closer towards what appears to be the living room of this ornate and decaying place.

“Y’know, I heard they practised witchcraft in the basement. Child sacrifices to Satan and all that”

“Don’t even start with that, you know witches creep me out!” He whispers.

“Well, it’s true! They say killing kids is what makes their broomsticks fly!”

You kind of giggle at the ridiculousness of it all and pull yourself closer to his form, trailing and hand down his shell to imitate a spider’s legs and making an “ooohhh” sounds as you do. He brushes you off with a laugh.

“What else you heard about this place, then? Since you’re the expert” He asks

His words are slightly slurred, as are yours, which only makes this trip more fun. That, on top of the fact that you were still riding the high of convincing him to do something as mildly illegal as trespassing on private property.

“Well” You begin “The seances that took place here were supposed to be something else. Business men who were looking for advice from beyond the grave, grieving widows, parents who had lost a child...They all flocked here to see what the old woman had to offer. And supposedly, always came away with a more dull and fearful look in their eye from what they found out. My friend said that if you walk around the living room 13 times, it’s supposed to open a portal to another world. One that our kind isn’t meant to see. Wanna try?”

He shudders at that, clearly your tales of the abhorrent and paranormal are getting to him. He takes another sip from his flask before ruefully shaking his head, clearly regretting letting you talk him into coming here.

“Hey, big guy, it’s ok!” you tell him as you place both hands on his shoulders and press your front to his torso. “I’m just messing with you, none of that stuff is real”

As if by cliche tv show timing, a group of birds fly out of the fire place making a huge, terrifying noise as they do and you and Leo crouch down, shielding your faces with your arms as you both let out small frightened squeals. Laughing afterwards at your own terror.

The half light makes him even more beautiful, his blue mask tightly pulled around his upper face and his big blue eyes shining in the light from the street lamps outside. You lean in and kiss him and his hands automatically go to your waist, trailing patterns in the exposed skin of your mid drift.

You pull away to make a theatrical “booOOoo” sound as you wiggle your fingers in a witchy way and you both laugh and shush each other as you do. You’re the only two in the house, as far as you know, but there’s no telling what spirits you could awake with your noise now that the veil between your world and the next is at its thinnest.

You tour the house a little more, both becoming very handsy with one another as you go from room to room, still trying to scare the pants of the other one.

No matter what you say or what horrors you make up, no ghouls or ghosts jump out at you, no banshees scream and the devil himself appears to be otherwise occupied in hell. There are no bumps in the night, just the gentle sounds of you and your lover giggling and whispering scary tales to send shivers down your spines.

You get to the hallway on your rounds and decide to give this place one new tale for people to talk about. You push Leo up against the wall which is no easy feat considering he stands at a good 6′5 and is all muscle. But you manage it no less and begin to kiss at his mouth and neck, trailing kisses down his jawline. He still tastes like alcohol and chocolate which is pleasant. His hands go to your ass, grabbing and pawing at it as if he can’t get enough of you.

“you’re such a good boy, Leo” you tell him as he bites at your neck in a needy way “always so good to me”

He churrs at your praise and you can feel a smile cross his lips. God when he’s tipsy it’s so easy to get him into the mood. His actions become more desperate and eager, almost ripping your t-shirt open but you waggle a disproving finger at him before taking it off and undoing his belt. Your underwear is a different story, however. The second your jeans come off his hands are at your crotch and ripping at the material of your panties. Another pair bites the dust.

Normally Leo is all romance and candles, but get a few shots in him and he becomes a yearning, aching mess which only turns you on more, his primal need for you. The kiss becomes more wet and intense as his tongue slides in and out of your mouth.

“Please, I need you” he begs

“are you going to be good for me? Like I know you can be” You ask

He nods enthusiastically and smiles that adorable little smile that he saves only for when you dominate him. Wrapping a tender hand around his throat and taking the other to his already hard member you line him up with your entrance while you both still stand in the hallway. It’s not the easiest position to fuck in but neither of you trusts the floor or couch of this decaying house so upright will have to do. You sink down on his cock and the moan he gives out is enough to make you wetter.

He pumps into you a few times, causing an unbelievable sensation but you have to be strong and tighten your grip on his throat.

“Uh uh uh! Who’s in control here?” You look into his eyes

“You are, miss” he replies.

“So, submit to me” you use that goddess voice you put on for when he needs to be put in his place.

“I submit” he finally says.

You bounce on his dick a few more times before returning to the kiss, placing your free hand against the wall behind Leo’s head to stabilise yourself. He’s so big you can feel him nearly splitting you open but it feels too good for you to care. Eventually you let him begin to thrust into you when your legs become a little tired and you can’t go as fast as you were hoping, but you make sure he knows that you’re still the one running the show.

“So handsome and strong, tell me, Leo, how’d you get to be so cute?”

He smiles at that and looks away bashfully but he can’t hide the little moans that rise from his throat.

“You’re always such a good boy for me, tell me how good you are” you demand

“I’m so good, but only for you. I’m your good boy” he pants, clearly nearing his climax

“No one can get me wet like you, no one makes me cream myself like you do, baby” you say breathlessly.

His movements become faster and more sloppy, more hungry. The way he hits all the right spots inside of you is like perfection and his hands are still firmly grabbing your ass to secure his position inside you.

He has the dumbest, goofy smile on his face from the praise you’re giving him and it makes you want to laugh, he turns into a fucking smitten teenager when you take control. It’s adorable. Your free hand moves to between your legs to rub your clit now that you’re both close and with a few more thrusts of his enormous dick you’re over the edge and yelling his name into the crook of his neck.

He’s still going, still panting and moaning as he nears him own release and the over stimulation is gives you is like nothing you’ve ever had before, no one can fuck like Leo.

But a few moments later he groans into your ear and it’s clear he’s just reached his high, too.

“Tsk tsk, blue boy. Did I say you could cum as well?” you scold.

He looks a little embarrassed and turns away but you can feel his cock twitch inside you from your telling off. He loves praise but rules are what makes him most heated.

After you’ve both separated and got your clothes back on (all apart from your ripped panties which you decide to leave, let other people make up their minds about what happened here with them) you take his hand once more.

“Wanna see what’s in the basement? Maybe something will jump out at us!” you tease.

He laughs you off

“Your obsession with ghosts will be the death of me” he jokes

“Well, in the immortal words of MJ, I think we just found out that I can thrill you more than any ghost would ever dare try” you say, raising a coy eyebrow and smiling at him. He blushes, thinking back to the events of a few minutes ago and rubbing the back of his neck.

You decide that maybe it’s best hat you both get back home and leave the ghost hunting to less horny professionals, besides the only wailing that came from this house tonight was from the throws of passion you and Leo were in.

You give him a quick, playful smack on the ass as you turn to leave which makes him jump

“What? It was a spirit” you say when he turns to look at you.

You both laugh before shutting the door behind you. You could tell Leo was starting to really enjoy Halloween, for once.

Fin.

#Leo one shot #sub! leo #sub leo #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles iamgine #tmnt bayverse #tmnt leo #halloween fic #halloween #my fic #thriller

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aperrywilliams · 4 years

Text

Couvade (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: The team having weeks full of work, traveling across the country. Tiredness is taking its toll on Reader and Spencer.

Word Count: 3747.

Warnings: References to headaches, stomachaches, and another “aches” as well. Couple discussions. Spencer losing his temper. Spencer and Reader clueless. But fluffy in the end.

A/N: Work has drained all my energy these last few weeks. Something from our favorite doctor to get me back.

——————–

In recent months the cases that were coming to the BAU were a true roller coaster in many ways: some simpler, others tremendously difficult and rough. Some local others far across the country.

With all this turmoil, there wasn't much time left for personal life. My advantage, if I had to compare myself to my colleagues, was that my boyfriend worked with me and at least we could see each other a few moments a day and spend some time together on the jet traveling from one place to another.

I think Spencer also saw it as an advantage, even though as the weeks went by following this same rhythm he was much more irritable and angry than usual. Not that Spencer is an irritable man by definition, quite the contrary, but the work’ stress was taking its toll on us and he was no exception.

One of the few mornings we were able to be quiet in the BAU offices, I approached his desk. It caught my attention that he had the palms of his hands covering his mouth.

“Spencer, ¿what’s wrong?”. Looking at him, I saw that he was paler than usual.

“Nothing , I'm fine. I just feel a little nauseous. Apparently the muffin for breakfast made my stomach funny”, he lamented.

“Baby , I'm sorry. I should have asked when it was made when I bought it,” I tried to apologize.

“It's not your fault. It may be that my stomach is more fussy than usual,” he said with a sigh. Sigh that was apparently interrupted by another nausea. In two seconds Spencer was on her feet running towards the bathroom.

Not that Spencer is a tremendously healthy person, but it was rare to see him sick, except for his headaches and his periods of insomnia, which we were both used to living with from time to time. But this was different. Spencer rarely caught a cold or had stomach problems, even given all the coffee and sugar she consumed daily.

In general, when men feel sick they are like children . And in Spencer Reid that was increased by three. Thus, throughout that day I was concerned with checking his condition, preparing herbal tea and doing everything possible to prevent him from drinking coffee. When we got to the apartment that we had shared for more than a year, I made sure to make soup for him and send him to bed early.

In the following days his stomach discomfort began to disappear. A relief, because my genius boyfriend was unbearable during all those days, so much that we argued about almost anything. I also felt irritable and overwhelmed by the amount of work we had, and besides having to take care of Spencer .

Another case, another trip. On the jet on the way to San Francisco, and after reviewing details of the case, I went to sit next to Spencer. I wanted to apologize for our last discussion that morning. When I got closer he was reading a book, but I knew he wasn't really reading since the pages weren't turning. I was sure he was attentive to how I approached his side.

“Spencer... baby...,” I said in the softest and most tender voice I could. I did not get an answer. “Spencer ... can you look at me please?”. The second call was less friendly. He raised his eyes to look at me.

“I'm looking at you (Y/N),” he replied with a bored expression that began to annoy me and even regret wanting to apologize.

“Thank you. Can you close your book too? I need to talk to you”. Not very enthusiastically he shut the book and put it to the side of the seat.

“Done. What do you want to talk about?”. Same look and same voice. I didn't want to be upset with him, but he was making it difficult for me. I took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I want to apologize for our discussion this morning. I know I said not very kind things to you. None of that was truth, you have to believe me. It's just that I also feel overwhelmed by everything and I understand that you are tired, but I am too and you know that I say things without thinking when I am like this…”. His gaze softened when he saw that I was genuine and tears even started to come out of me without my meaning to. He sighed and extended his arms for me to snuggle with him, which I did immediately burying my face into his chest.

“I must also apologize. I didn't react in the best way either. I yelled at you and that's not right. I also feel overwhelmed and tired, more than usual. Being sick last week didn't help me much either… ”. He hugged me tight so I felt his words were sincere.

“I'm sorry. I hope this job’s rhythm drops in the next few days, I don't want to live fighting with you”. I said giving him a soft kiss on his chin and drying my tears.

“I don’t want that either. In fact, I think we should take a few days off, just for us. At this point I am having a hard time separating work’s moments from our private’s moments,” he stated.

Spencer was right. What seemed to be positive also had its bad side: Which was the real boundary between the professional and the personal? We always tried our relationship wasn’t a problem for our job, but it was also important to do the reverse exercise: our job shouldn't be a problem for our relationship either.

All this time that we had been on this beat - more than 10 weeks and counting – we had no enough time to spend together like a real couple. The last time we had sex was before Spencer got sick and it was a quicky in my hotel room during a case in Denver. And before that, I don’t even remember well.

I hadn't felt very good either. Going from place to place around the country had me dizzy most of the time and with headaches for weeks. Of course, none of that managed to incapacitate me at work, so I didn’t take it seriously and didn’t tell anyone about it . I also had a few days with stomach pain and nausea, which I explained by the poor diet we were having between so much travel. After a few weeks I began to feel better from these discomforts, but irritability and tiredness continued.

I was still cuddling with Spencer when I felt him whine shifting for a more comfortable position into the seat.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?,” I asked lifting my head to look at him.

“Since yesterday I have a back pain that is killing me. (Y/N), I still have some years to go to turn 40 and I already feel like an old man!,” he complained.

“We haven't slept well either. Hotel beds are not the best. I have also had back pain some weeks ago. But I think I'm used to that and it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m complaining about my pain and you too haven't felt well lately. I'm failing miserable as a boyfriend”. He gave me a kiss on the forehead, hugging me tight again.

“I didn't want to worry you with those things. I know how you get when something happens to me, surely you would have insisted on me taking a leave. And it's not a big deal. The worst is the tiredness and the bad mood, besides that I feel that my body weighs on me. I gained weight grossly. I look awful,” I said, pouting.

“Of course you’re not. You look beautiful. Tired… but beautiful”. He took my chin and gave me a soft kiss on my lips.

“You say it just to not make me feel bad,” I replied when we pulled away.

“(Y/N), I mean it. You know I like everything about you,” Spencer replied as he stroked my back and rested his chin on my head. How I missed those moments with Spencer, even though I wish they weren't on the jet on their way to a case.

The San Francisco case was terrible. We were in the fifth day and couldn't identify the unsub yet. We were sleeping very little and badly. We couldn't even agree between ourselves on the profile, which triggered a heated discussion with Spencer while we were in the meeting room we had been assigned to work. The worst thing was having this argument in front of the whole team.

“You are not seeing the obvious (Y/N), it’s impossible this can be done by a single person. There aren't any hints of that in the evidence”. Spencer spat as he pointed to the board with the notes and photos we had.

“Are you saying I don't know how to do my job? I am seeing the same evidence as you, but you are so obsessed with your theory that you are not able to think of other possibilities”, I replied back.

“Obsessed? Oh no, no. The only one obsessed with a theory here is you. You have not put any evidence of what you are saying!”

“Don’t say that. Look at this board! What do all these photos tell you? Why couldn't it be a single person with a psychotic break? Can't you see the pattern? I began to despair and inadvertently tears I couldn’t control began to fall. That upset Spencer even more.

“Your crying isn’t going to convince me of this stupid theory (Y/N)!,” he shot almost making my heart shatter. Watching the exchange grow increasingly rough, Prentiss finally intervened.

“Reid! Enough!,” she said seeing how I couldn't control my tears and my hands started to shake. At the wake-up call, Spencer fell silent and realized my state. I started to feel dizzy. He tried to grab my arm and I avoided him.

“Don’t touch me!,” I yelled at him, as I headed straight to leave the room, but the dizziness intensified and I fell to the floor losing consciousness.

***

I managed to grab (Y/N)'s head before it hit the floor. At that moment I realized that I had lost my temper and had pushed (Y/N) to the limit. JJ immediately came over to help me. We checked the pulse and checked for any injuries. Meanwhile, Rossi went in search of the paramedics.

I felt a lump in my throat. Suddenly the nausea returned. I couldn't help myself and ran to the bathroom. I was cursing myself for not being able to control myself. My girlfriend had passed out because of me and I couldn't even be with her because I felt sick again.

When I came out of the bathroom I was intercepted by Emily in the hallway. She told me that (Y/N) had regained consciousness but they would take her to the hospital for a check-up anyway. I just wanted to go with her.

“JJ went with her and the paramedics. I'll let you go with her, but first tell me what's going on between you both. You two have been between fights and reconciliations for weeks. Your mood is a roller coaster, we no longer know what happens to you. I understand that we are all tired of this rhythm, but in you guys it seems like something unbearable! Are you okay? Can you tell me Spencer…”. Emily was right. We had weeks between discussions and mutual apologies. Now, I couldn't find a mildly convincing reason for the situation.

“I honestly don't know. I don't know what happens to us. Until a few weeks ago everything was fine and now… I don't know. I can't control myself. There are days when I feel tired, jaded. Others where everything seems normal. I have felt sick more often. I can't even stand myself sometimes,” I said scratching my head.

“Whatever it’s, I think you need to talk. This kind of outburst can't happen again, Spencer. Now go with her”

“Are you sure?... what about the case?...” I asked.

“Unbelievably, your argument gave us a clue. Rossi, Luke, and Tara are analyzing it now. So don't worry about the case, go. Talk to (Y/N)”. I nodded and ran to the hospital.

***

When I regained consciousness I was still in the meeting room, JJ was holding my head and a paramedic was checking my vitals. I felt embarrassed. I wanted to get up but JJ wouldn't let me. She told me that they would take me to the hospital to check me up even though I had already regained consciousness. I just shrugged. I didn’t know why so much commotion, for me it was just fatigue and the anger of the moment. Anger that still ran through my body, because I didn't even want to ask where Spencer was.

At the hospital a nurse came to my room and asked JJ leave the room for a moment. Then she took blood samples from me, measured my blood pressure, among other things. When she was doing that she asked me what happened. The nurse asked me too about my health in the previous weeks and I told her about my back pain, bloating, headaches, nausea and dizziness. She just nodded and told me that we should wait for the tests to rule out things and conclude if it was only fatigue and stress that triggered my fainting. Then she left the room and JJ came in again.

“What did she tell you?,” JJ asked me.

“Nothing yet. She took samples and said we have to wait,” I replied shrugging.

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. I guess it's stress. In the last two months we have not had a truce JJ, I don't know how you are still standing…,” I said with a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. We have had very intense weeks lately. But it looks like it hit you and Spencer a lot harder. Are you two okay?”. There was genuine concern in her voice, but honestly I didn't have an explanation beyond the obvious: stress.

“Yes , I guess. I mean, it's true that we've argued more often, but that doesn't change how I feel about Spencer. In the opposite. It's weird what I'm going to say, but I miss him. I mean, I miss our moments together without having to think about work or argue”. I hadn't realized that tears were already coming from my eyes. “Shit JJ, and now I'm crying and I don't know why… I should be mad! He yelled at me in front of everyone and called me stupid!”

“You need to talk about it, (Y/N). I'm sure he didn't mean it”

“He is an idiot, JJ. He is almost more insufferable than me…”. I crossed my arms over my chest frowning just thinking about what happened. And as if it were fate, at that precise moment Spencer Reid made his appearance in the hospital room.

***

I walked into the hospital room and saw (Y/N) on the bed with her arms crossed over her chest talking to JJ. They both looked at me standing in the doorway. I could see (Y/N)’s anger on her face. She had right, I wasn't going to blame her for that. I steeled myself and approached (Y/N). If I had to receive her anger, I was willing to accept it.

“How do you feel?,” I asked. I wanted to take her hand, but she quickly pushed it away.

“Fine”. She didn't even want to look at me. Her eyes fixed on her feet covered by the hospital bed’s sheets. At that moment JJ got up from her chair heading to the door.

“I’ll be outside calling the team. I let you talk for a while”. On leaving JJ closed the door. (Y/N) still didn't look at me.

“(Y/N)… I’m so sorry. Baby, I'm really sorry. I lost control. I don’t know what happened to me. Nothing I said I meant it. (Y/N), you have to believe me, I don't want you to think I don't value your job. That’s not true, you are invaluable to the team. You are an excellent profiler…,” I was looking at her with pleading eyes.

“You yelled at me. You treated me lousy. I don't know what is wrong with you. If you're as overwhelmed as I am, that doesn't give you the right to do what you did either”. She looked up and I could see that she was hurt. That broke my heart.

“I know. I'm sorry. I don’t know what's happening to me these weeks. I would like to give you a better explanation, but I don't have one. I know it’s wrong and I promise I will do whatever it takes to make up to you. I love you, (Y/N). I can’t stand see you hurt because of me”. This time she reached for my hand and squeezed it hard.

“I should hate you Spencer Reid. But I can't…” (Y/N) said shaking her head and huffing. “I guess I must believe you this time. You are not forgiven yet, though,” she warned me. I kissed her hand nodding in agreement. At that moment the doctor entered the room, still checking a folder with many papers.

“Miss (Y/L/N), good afternoon, I’m Dr. Anna Ragger, how are you feeling?”

“Much better now, thank you doctor,” the doctor nodded looking at me. “He is Spencer Reid, my boyfriend,” (Y/N) hastened to explain.

“Ah. Nice to meet you. Well, I have the results from your blood tests.” I was standing next to (Y/N) without releasing her hand.

“Is there something I should be concerned about doctor?”, (Y/N) asked.

“It depends on what you consider to be a concern, but I would say no,” doctor replied with a shy smile on her face. I looked at (Y/N) who had the same confused face as me. Before the doctor could say anything else, I felt my stomach twist again. Dr. Ragger looked at me strangely.

“Is something wrong sir?,” she asked. When my nausea subsided, I was only able to speak.

“I'm fine. I've only been with some stomachaches for a few weeks…,” I mumbled.

“What else did you feel? Fatigue? Headaches? Body aches? Mood changes?,” Dr. Ragger asked. I looked at her in amazement. She had perfectly described my symptoms of the past weeks. (Y/N) was frowning trying to understand what was happening.

“Yeah… ehm… all of them. Well, we've had very difficult weeks at work,” I replied. The doctor tried to hide a smile.

“Have you heard of Couvade syndrome?,” I thought for a few seconds and yes, I knew what it was.

“Yeah. Couvade syndrome is something that happens to men when their partners are pregnant. It emulates the symptoms that women experience during the first trimester of pregnancy,” I explained. The doctor nodded, smiling. (Y/N) dropped her jaw. Dr. Ragger, seeing I had not thought enough about my own words, intervened again.

“That likely explains your symptoms...”

“You mean I have that syndrome? I don't think so, because for that to happen (Y/N) would have to be... oh!”. The realization hit me like a freight train. “Oh!”, I exclaimed and looked at (Y/N) and then turned my eyes again to the doctor. “(Y/N) is...?”

“That's right, Miss (Y/L/N) is pregnant. Congratulations!”.

“Oh my God, are you sure Dr. Ragger?,” (Y/N) asked almost jumping out of bed. I started to feel dizzy. Dr. Ragger noticed my reaction and helped me to sit in the chair where JJ was before leaving the room.

“Yes miss (Y/L/N), your symptoms are consistent with pregnancy, and the blood tests confirmed it. My guess is that you must be in your 10th week of pregnancy, which would explain why your boyfriend would be experiencing similar symptoms. It doesn't happen to all men, of course, but there is always a possibility,” she explained. A little less dizzy I got up from the chair and stand beside (Y/N) holding her hand, still paralyzed. She was astonished yet.

“Well. Now that we are clear about the reasons for your symptoms, you are ready to go home miss (Y/L/N). Talk to your obstetrician about the next steps. Congratulations again,” Dr. Ragger stated before leaving the room.

Once we stayed alone in the room, (Y/N) shook her head in disbelieve. Maybe my face still didn't reflect it, but inside I was burning with happiness. Admittedly, it wasn't something we would have planned, but I was ecstatic at the news. I noticed tears began to roll down (Y/N)'s cheeks. I panicked. Maybe she was not happy with the news.

“Baby, what is it?”

“Spencer... we hadn't planned this. We hadn't even talked about the possibility of having children. And now it's happening... I’m happy, but I don't know if you want this. I can't force you to be with me for that. If you're not comfortable with this, it’s okay, I'll understand... really,” (Y / N) began to cry. I took her cheeks with my hands.

“Hey, look at me. Everything is gonna be okay. We will be okay. I love you so much (Y/N), and that's reason enough for me wanting everything with you. I want to be with you, I want to have children with you. I want you to be my wife. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me the happiest man in the world, and that is why it hurts when I see you suffer for something I did. Please forgive me for these days that I have put you through...,” I said kissing her forehead. I could feel her body relaxed at my words. She took a deep breath.

“Only if you're willing to forgive me for what I'm going to put you through in the next few months... and the rest of your life, Dr. Reid,” (Y/N) said now with a small smile on her face.

“Fair is fair. I'll face it happily,” I replied laughing. I was so pleased seeing the woman who made me so happy every day smiling again.

“I love you Spencer,” she said in a whisper into my lips before kissing me.

“I love you… both,” I replied when we parted. Both smiling and happy for what the future held for us.

——————–

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #couvade

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padfootagain · 4 years

Text

Girl Crush (XIII)

Chapter 13: Would It Be A Sprout?

Here we go with a new chapter!!! I hope you like it!!

Important chapter ahead. Like… hmm hmm…. Very important chapter, that I will let you discover by yourself but… yes, yes, important indeed. Poor Harry…

Tell me what you think about it!!

Word Count: 2749

Two months.

Harry hadn't seen you in two months, that was way too long.

If he had booked a flight for L.A. as soon as he had learnt that he would have a few days off between two shows, he still reckoned that in the future he would have to plan his trips to make sure he had more time to visit you.

Of course, the two of you had been on the phone almost every day. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same at all. Your voice was distorted by the waves transmitted through space, he felt the distance between the two of you in the way you laughed, and your face on the screen of his phone wasn't represented well enough for him to see all the details in your eyes.

Gareth wouldn't be around for the whole afternoon and evening, and Harry was rather happy to avoid sharing you for a while. Some of his friends had asked to organize a party, but he had pushed the occasion for 48 hours later. He wanted to spend the first day he was back to the city of Angels just catching up with you, and he would be dining with you and Gareth the next day.

And indeed, you did spend the whole afternoon together. You had taken the day off to go pick up Harry at the airport, and after dropping his luggage at his house, you enjoyed a lazy afternoon walking down the beach, talking about everything and nothing, eating too much ice-cream and laughing so hard your bellies ached.

You sat down in the sand to watch the sun set and disappear beyond the ocean, painting with red, gold and purple the heavens and the waters it sank in. Your toes were brushed by the waves, and you looked at a little crab running back and forth a few meters away with amusement painted all over your features.

And if he had missed you these past few months, Harry suddenly realized how much he had. He felt happier than he had in these seven weeks. Despite how much he loved performing, he reckoned that he wouldn't have traded this moment even for the rush of stepping on a stage and hearing a crowd sing his songs. If the second was exhilarating, exciting, this… this was soothing and calm. It felt almost like meditation, like connecting to the simple things that meant the most. When he turned to look at you again, he saw home in your features.

Funny that he felt that way. He had never really considered any place like a home since he had left his mother's house at 16. And yet, there was no other word to describe the warm feeling that grew in his chest as he stared at you. He felt like he was exactly where he belonged.

You felt his stare fixed upon you, and turned to him. He answered with a warm smile.

"What's going on in your funny head?" you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

"Nothing," he shrugged. "I'm just happy to see you. I've missed you."

The smile you offered him was worth a thousand suns, but it remained tender and delicate as one of these peonies you adored. The wind carried the salty scent of the ocean, yet he could smell your perfume over the salty fragrance of the waves: jasmine and summer skies, that was how he would describe it.

"I've missed you too, Harry. I'm glad you didn't forget about me."

You had spoken similar words before, but this time your tone was serious instead of teasing, so he frowned instead of laughing like he usually did.

"Forget about you, what do you mean?"

You shrugged, your gaze settling on the waves instead of his green eyes. It was easier to speak words you felt so deeply when watching a sunset than the two orbs you dreamt about from time to time.

"I don't know. You went away for so long, to live something pretty insane and amazing. And I'm just here, an ordinary florist…"

"Don't talk about it like that," he interrupted you with a bitter tone, and you were surprised to find a mixture of sadness and anger in his deep voice.

"I'm not blaming you or anything. And I'm not saying that I'm miserable either. I'm absolutely amazing."

He chuckled.

"You are. You are amazing."

"Doesn't mean that… you being away, sucked up in the craziness of it all… I was afraid you would stop thinking about your friend who lived thousands of miles away."

He shook his head, giving you one of his tender, lopsided smiles, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. And you hadn't realized before then, how much you had missed being in his arms.

"How could I ever forget my best friend, you silly? I missed you like hell. By the way, would you like to come to London for the holidays?"

Your eyes widened.

"What?"

"I'll be at my mum's for Christmas, but have to get back to London on the 26th. Thought you could come with me, as you didn't get the chance to walk around the town the last time you went there. My mum offered to let you stay for the New Year too, I'll go back to Holmes Chapel for New Year's Eve. You could come with me. A few others of my friends that you know will be there, so you won't feel alone, don't worry."

"I… I don't know…"

"You don't have to give me an answer now. Just think about it. And don't worry about money, I'll pay for the tickets, and you can stay at my place, so it won't cost you a penny. Or well, a cent here, I suppose."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're inviting me to stay at your mum's…"

"What about it? You're my best friend. Trust me, I talk about you all the time, she and Gemma know who you are already. Come on, say yes! It'll be fun! I'll be your guide in London!"

You had to admit that it was an excellent proposition, so you nodded, defeated.

"Okay, that sounds fun. I'll come."

"Wonderful! I'll get you tickets, you don't have to worry about a thing."

You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling.

You felt like you never had to worry about anything whenever he was around anyway…

"By the way, Harry…"

"Hmm?"

"You talk about me all the time?"

"Oh, shut up!"

It was late. Really late. Both of you should have been in bed, but none of you wanted to sleep. Harry was exhausted, but he didn't want to bid you goodnight just yet, and you were tired too, but you were too excited to have your best friend back to care too much about your stinging eyes.

Outside, the sky was cloudless and stained with a thousand stars, pale and distant lights lost in an infinite void. The moon was beginning a new cycle, its shape turned into a mere silvery line. But nor you nor Harry paid much attention to the beauty of the night sky.

In Harry's home, Notting Hill was playing, and Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant were breaking into a private garden in the centre of London. Both of you had changed into pyjamas, and you had stolen one of Harry's Treat People With Kindness oversized jumpers. Harry had settled for a pair of old shorts and an oversized green T-shirt. His hair had grown quite a lot since you had last seen him, and the dishevelled strands fell before his eyes. He had also clearly not shaven in a few days, and you were not complaining.

Two glasses of red wine, half empty, rested on the ground next to your feet, and the rests of some Chinese take-out were still scattered across the table. On the couch, Harry and you were facing each other, both of you sitting cross-legged on the comfortable cushions. Harry had just finished to paint your nails, and it was your time to decorate his.

You had chosen to match your nails with his, both of you sporting an alternance of pastel blue and lilac now. You were applying the final layer now, and you were quite proud of your work, barely any of the polish had wandered on his skin.

You had missed these evenings with him so much. The simple, quiet ones where all the two of you did was talk, enjoy each other's company, watch a film and do silly things like painting each other's nails or play boardgames in your pyjamas. You didn't reckon that there was anyone else with whom you would never grow tired of spending this kind of simple and yet intimate moments. Your memories brought you back to the first rainy afternoon you had spent together, the first time you had won against him at Scrabble, and he had never stopped raging about always losing ever since. The thought made you smile.

You were so lucky to have Harry in your life…

There was a slight frown on your features as you focused so intensely to not mess up your hard work. But he could read in your posture too that you were calm, absolutely relaxed. If there were things that stressed you out with your work, or your relationship with Gareth, your body language spoke loudly enough to leave no doubt that you weren't thinking about any of these issues. And as a result, you started to hum a random melody, without even noticing the gesture.

You always hummed when you were happy, without even noticing. An unconscious gesture that never failed to make him smile. He didn't recognize the tune, but then, he wasn't even sure it existed yet, maybe you were creating it now. Just the same way as you did while you were cooking together that day, and created one of his songs in the process. Would you create another tonight?

Through the low light of the room, the flashes from the TV screen painted shadows and shades across your features. Photons were caught in your hair and glimmered there, flickering fireflies shining brightly before fading.

You finished to paint his pinky finger, and let out a content sigh, before resuming your humming as you closed the bottle of polish. You wiggled a little, happy and proud of your work. Your smile radiated joy and kindness. And you were so… adorable? Beautiful? Perfect? It felt like all these adjectives weren't enough to describe how he felt for you in that moment.

His heart seemed to expand in his chest, in a way it had never changed before. It was as if… it was growing bigger and bigger, getting filled with something new that asked for nothing but to burst out and ignite the entire world. He had never felt this way, and yet, it didn't feel like Harry was completely foreign to it. It felt more like… something that had always been there, but never to this proportion, never to this intensity that blinded everything else the way it did now.

And the words that formed on the tip of his tongue and almost spontaneously tumbled past his lips showed him what the meaning behind this overwhelming feeling was.

I love you.

He did manage to bite his tongue before he could let out any sound though, but the urge to speak these words made his eyes grow round all the same.

What… what the hell was happening? What did that even mean?

Love? Well, obviously, you were his best friend, he did love you in a way, but not… not that way…

And he knew that as the words formed in his mind and heart, this time, they weren't intended to express a platonic love he would feel for a friend. They meant… something absolutely not platonic…

"All done! And may I say, I've nailed your nails! No pun intended."

He didn't even notice that you were talking. He seemed to have zoned out.

In reality, he was completely panicked.

What was going on? Why did he feel like that? Why did he want to say that?

"Harry? You're alright?"

You waved your hand right before his eyes in an attempt to bring him back to Earth, and he finally seemed to snap out of his trance.

"Huh? Sorry…"

"Are you alright? You don't like your nails?"

"What? My nails?"

He looked down at his hands and remembered what you had been doing.

"Oh, no, they're great. Well done!"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Uhm… yeah. I'm just… Very tired all of a sudden, with the trip and all that."

You nodded, and he could read in your eyes that you believed his lie.

"You should get some rest. It's very late."

"I'll prepare the bed for you in the guest room…"

"No, go to bed. I know where everything is kept in this house anyway," you laughed, already turning off the TV. "Try to wait a few minutes for the polish though, or else you'll put some all over your pillow."

"Of course. Thanks again, it looks great."

You grinned, putting the nail polish away.

"I'll clean up, you get some rest," you ordered, before leaning closer to him. "Good night, Harry!"

You dropped a peck on his cheek. A gesture you had done many times before, and Harry shouldn't have reacted to it the way he did.

Why was his heart about to explode again? Why couldn't he breathe? What the hell was happening to him?

"Uhm… Good… Good night, Y/N," he stuttered, blushing hard from his neck to the tip of his ears, and he hurried to get up and head for his bedroom to hide his reaction.

He could still feel your lips against his skin, a ghostly sensation lingering on his cheek, like a little tickle… Your lips were so soft…

He locked the door behind him, resting his back against the wooden surface, out of breath, his eyes wide in panic.

What the hell was going on?!

He replayed the scene in his head, trying to understand what could have happened?

You were sitting on the couch next to him, painting his nails, and you looked so beautiful and…

His heart started to race again, and he rested his hand upon his chest, as if it would make the organ slow down, but all it did was make Harry feel through his ribcage just as fast his heart was pounding.

He let himself slide down the length of the door to the floor, and sat there for a while, resting his head against the cold wood behind him.

You were his best friend. Nothing more. What the hell was wrong with him?

The next thought that formed in his messy head was a question: what would it feel like to kiss you?

He was horrified at his own mind… how could he think like that of you?

You were his friend. You trusted him. And you were in a relationship with someone else. His brain had no rights forming this kind of thoughts.

And yet, when he let his mind wander off again, the same question appeared again, and this time, he felt the burning urge to stand up, open the door, cross the house back to the living room and find out.

He did none of that, of course. Instead, he kept on panicking, burying his face in his hands.

But he reckoned that he was simply being tired and stupid. You were his best friend. You were… his friend. Nothing more.

He was simply stressed out with all his shows, and tired, and jetlagged, and he had missed you so damn much, and he was so happy to see you again and spend some quality time with you.

Yes, it was only the mingling of all these circumstances that was messing with his head. A good night of sleep, and he would be back to his senses.

What if it wasn't though? What if… what if the feeling didn't stop in the morning? What if he really was in love with you?

He dragged himself off of the floor and crawled into bed, collapsing on his pillow and closing his eyes, hoping he would fall asleep soon.

He didn't sleep very well through the night though.

You were haunting his dreams.

**************************************************

Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx @mellamolayla

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #series #writing

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krispydefendorpolice · 5 years

Text

The Demon’s Bride (4)

Call out to @vitaliciouscreations for their “Drop of Paradise” story. I’m using the same name Tiān but they came up with it (to best of my knowledge). Another fun read. Anyone interested in me putting up a random maribat recomendation in this part?

On to the story

Beginning Previous Next Masterpost

_________________

Chapter 4

After dropping Mari in front of the hotel she was staying at, where the teacher definitely had not noticed she was missing he fumed, Damian returned to the Bat cave. His father, all three of his brothers, his sister, Alfred and the rest of the extended Bat Clan were waiting.

“You never turned your comm back on,” Bruce commented.

“I needed to speak with Mari before talking to you,” Damian said, passing his father and pulling up files on the Bat computer.

“We had noticed. It would have been nice to know you were alright after she took down Jason the way she did.”

“Hence the reason I left my tracker on instead of disabling it. You knew where I was.”

“Who is this mystery girl the boys are talking about?” Barbara, aka Oracle, asked.

Damian ignored the question while he filtered through the files of the Wayne conference attendees for the school group staying at Mari’s hotel and down to the students on the trip. He pulled up the school picture of Mari and the information they had on her.

“She is a friend from my childhood,” he finally said looking at the information. He saw that her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, her parents on file were listed as Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. So they hadn’t changed it, he thought, disappointed in himself because he never looked.

Damian turned when no one said anything after his declaration. Leaning against the console he waited for their responses.

“Bull shit Demon Spawn. You’ve never mentioned friends other than Jon and the Titans before,” Jason said, “and even then it’s because they are not your friends.”

“I assure you she is,” Damian said.

“Then why is this the first time any of us have ever heard about her?” Dick asked.

“None of you have ever shown a particular interest in my childhood with the League of Assassins before now, so why would I have talked about her to you?” Damian answered with a question of his own.

“Because you bit off our heads every time we asked anything,” Tim argued.

Damian narrowed his eyes, “The last time anyone asked me anything about the League I was 11 years old, had just moved in with a bunch of strangers, and had witnessed my family and my whole life destroyed by a madman. Of course I fucking yelled at you. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t cry, yell or rage about the unfairness of watching my family, my family,” he emphasized, “die because I was with strangers and emotions make you vulnerable and I could not afford any more vulnerabilities with the unknown situation I was in.”

The entire clan was silent during his tirade, and a bit ashamed at what he was revealing to them years afterwards.

“I’m sorry Damian. We should have realized that and asked you how you were handling the changes at the time,” Bruce was the first to apologize.

“So you weren’t just rabid from Mom’s Tender Loving Care?” Jason asked.

“Master Jason,” Alfred chided while the rest of the clan just gave Jason a Really? look.

“In the 10 years I lived with her I probably spent less than two in her actual company,” Damian said. “I don’t think I would have responded well at the time even if you had realized,” he acknowledged Bruce’s apology.

“Can you tell us about her?” Bruce asked.

“I can but there’s a lot to talk about to really understand everything. I’m meeting her tomorrow for her free day, we can come here for dinner. I can give you some of that background information now and she can answer any of the questions about herself that I can’t answer.”

“Alright. So tell us what we need to know.”

“Might I suggest we move this discussion out of the cave and to the parlor where we might be more comfortable while we talk,” Alfred interrupted.

“That sounds like a good idea Alfred,” Dick said.

**************************

They did as Alfred suggested and moved to the sitting room so they could sit comfortably while talking about Damian’s past. They were all aware that before he came to them at the age of 10 he had lived with his mother and grandfather and with the League of Assassins. He had been volatile and reckless even while he was taking up the mantle of Robin and began following the others into the vigilante lifestyle.

But apparently there was more to his actions as a kid than just being a snobbish brat raised to believe he was better than everyone else.

Damian sipped at his cup of Black tea while settling his mind around what he was going to discuss. He had spent the last 7 years trying not to think of the other half of his biological family and believing the rest were dead so that he hadn’t had any other reason to reflect on his youth in the League. But that had obviously been a mistake. If Mari survived did anyone else? Can I get my family back? He wondered to himself while the rest of the clan settled down with their drinks of choice.

Finally everyone was settled. Bruce was the one to set the ball rolling.

“So what should we know?”

“Before I start about what I know,” Damian began turning to Jason, “I need to know more about what you know of the League, Todd.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and looked at him stonily. If Damian was quiet about the League as a kid (lies, he really wasn’t because he was an Al Ghul dammit) then Todd was a monk who had taken a vow of silence (slightly less a lie, he didn’t talk about it but he did rant about what a bitch Talia was). None of the Bats knew much about his time with the League other than he met Talia before returning to Gotham to seek vengeance on the Joker.

“Like what, Demon Spawn?” Jason asked.

“Well, first, did you have a designation?”

“A what?”

“That’s a no then. Consider yourself lucky, or not, since you were one of mother’s various pet projects then.”

“Damian,” Dick warned as Damian still had a tendency to be very blunt, to the point of being abrasive, when talking about other’s trauma’s.

Damian frowned before nodding in acknowledgement of the warning and in apology for his tone.

“I suppose the first thing you should know is that the League of Assassins is only about two hundred years old, while Tiān the city from which it was established is thousand of years old. Grandfather found it years ago and started to recruit certain prized and influential citizens and families into following him. Eventually the majority of the city were members of his cult and doing his bidding. We can get more into why the League as its own city is important tomorrow.

“Now, since the League is a cult and it was born out of an independent city how has it maintained it’s membership for so long? And I assure you it wasn’t because grandfather shared the secret of the Lazarus Pits with anyone” he asked.

“They recruited new members,” Dick answered with a shrug.

Damian gave him his own Really? look. “Recruits only account for about 25% of the new trainees and they are usually older teens and young adults. The people that are disenfranchised from the society outside of the League. Individuals with knowledge of the world outside shaped by influences from outside and not by Ras Al Ghul,” Damian said. “I was one of 79 children born in my year group. I was not raised by Talia no matter how she spins it. Despite having a personal bodyguard, private tutors and a nursemaid because I was an Al Ghul heir, I was raised with the other children my age in the al’akadimia*.”

“Talia didn’t raise you?” Barbara asked.

“She oversaw my training, instruction and education which seems to be her impression of parenting, but no, she was not involved in the day to day of my life growing up. I got more of that with Father in the first few months than I did from her in the entirety of my time with her,” Damian answered.

The Bats were silent as they digested this new piece of information from their youngest.

“In the cave you mentioned losing your family. It sounded like it happened in Slade’s attack. If not Talia, who were you thinking of? The girl?” Tim asked.

*academy- Arabic via Google translate

_________________

So, this chapter f*cked with my head. I was just writing and playing with the story and had to come up with a reason for Damian being such a little shit as a kid. And I threw in the line about him losing his family and moving in with strangers when I had an oh shit moment of enlightenment.

In the Son of Batman, Damian witnessed his grandfathers death. His mother brought him to strangers and essentially dropped him on their doorstep. Then we get into the fact that most likely he was essentially abused growing up (how else do you get a kid that wont show emotions) but they were still his family and yeah...

I try throwing in a flippant reason but really it kinda sounds like a canon reason too.

I had never thought about why canon Damian was the way he was especially in that first movie and now my head hurts. I’m curious if anyone else has ever given that a thought or if you’re just now having that oh shit reaction?

Taglist: I’m so happy so many are enjoying it. I’m trying to get everyone but if I miss you I’m sorry but it’s not intentional. Also, I appreciate the comments but unless you ask I won’t tag you so if you’ve commented and not been tagged it’s cuz you didn’t ask or because I overlooked it trying to find everyone who’s asking to be tagged. And I’m going to ask that you message me since I’m having trouble finding all the asks in the comments. Thank you.

And thank you all!

@ozmav @multifandomscribette @mochinek0 @inevitableenquere @zebrabaker @poshplumcot @tog84 @luciferge @sonif50 @ravennightingaleandavatempus @northernbluetongue @actual-human-disaster @clumsy-owl-4178 @aarushi-03 @bluerosette23 @g-arya @moonyloonyx @fertileleaf @shreky-boi @thanks-captain-obvious @panda3506 @hinata3487 @thequestionablyhuman @dontgiveaflyinflip @dast218 @chocolatecatstheron @asianfrustration13 @slytherinsheashire @weird-pale-blonde-person @yin-390 @mycupisbroken @vixen-uchiha @kuroko26 @autisticlinx @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mariae2900 @zalladane @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @tbehartoo @novicevoice @violatiger8 @thebookish3lf @fandomkitty8 @redscarlet95 @gingersnapnoir @chewbaccaatemythoughts

#daminette #maribat #marinette x damian #Betrothed AU #The Demon’s Bride #DLDR #Dead Dove Do Not Eat

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pandorica0011 · 3 years

Text

Heart Over Head

Word Count: 2, 565

Warnings: Cursing, intimate times. You know the kind.

This is my gift for @chibi-sketches for @spring-has-come 's Rusame Secret Santa Event. This is so incredibly late and I apologize greatly. I hope you enjoy it anyway and that you have a great day! I went with your Omegaverse idea and did my best to deliver!

Alfred fidgeted with the sleeves of his suit for the fourth time today, picking at invisible lint pills. Work was slow and there wasn’t much to keep himself entertained with. Well, there was one thing he could do..

A man with his long blonde hair in a bun strode out of the boss’ office behind him. He wore a sleek gray suit and a grin so wide he had to bite his lips back. He sauntered up to Alfred’s desk and placed a well-manicured hand on the unfinished paper in front of Alfred.

“The boss would like to see you, mon chou. You didn’t misbehave, did you?” he said with a wink.

Alfred chuckled, but didn't know how to react to that. Ivan wanted to see him and that’s all he needed to hear.

Alfred almost tripped against his chair as he scrambled over to the door.

He knocked softly, but only out of courtesy. He knew that Ivan wouldn't mind him walking in just like that.

"Come in."

He creaked the door open.

Ivan sat behind his large oak desk, hands splayed out in front of him and he wore a wide grin like Francis', but he didn't hide it.

“How is my little sunflower doing today?” Ivan cooed. He stood up and met Alfred at the front of his desk and took him into his arms, giving him a tender kiss on his head.

“Exhausted,” was his only reply as he returned the hug.

'Well, maybe I can help you with that." Ivan dipped Alfred's head back gently and pressed his lips against the side of Alfred's neck.

There was a knock at the door, making Alfred jump in Ivan's arms.

Ivan chuckled a bit and cleared his throat, "Come in," he said. He straightened up, holding the sides of Alfred's suit as the door creaked open and a co-worker, a man with a head of messy blond hair and an even messier pile of papers in his arms.

"Oh, pardon me," Arthur said, his face tinted pink. He backed up a few steps and was almost out the door before he remembered what he had come in here for. "These are for you."

He handed Ivan a stack of papers. The poor man practically rose a few inches in the air once the weight of the pile was taken off. He had been nose deep in those papers all week.

"Good work, Kirkland."

"Thank you, sir." He rushed back out the door as quickly as he had arrived without a word more to speak. He was such an odd, distant person.

Ivan set the stack of papers down and wrapped his arms back around Alfred, placing a quick peck against his forehead. "We can continue this later, after the company dinner, but I want to hold you for now."

Alfred had no problem with that at all. Man, he loved cuddling with Ivan.

As promised, Ivan brought Alfred back to his place to finish what they started and he wasted no time.

Ivan pushed him onto the bed, running his hands lightly over his sides. He bit down on his neck greedily, making Alfred groan.

Fuck, Ivan always knew how to make him lose control.

Alfred pulled the hem of Ivan's shirt up, and slid his hands up into the warmth of his soft chest. Ivan hated his chest, but Alfred loved every inch of it.

Their clothes fell away in a scattered mess around the bed.

They melted into one another in a blur kisses bite marks, rubbing and soft caresses.

Alfred couldn't help but cry out as Ivan pushed against him, into him. He let his eyes fall shut and let each wave of pleasure crash over him.

"Fuck, baby."

Every word, every noise spurred Ivan on further and it wasn't long until they were both desperately clawing and holding on to one another.

Alfred could feel himself reaching his limit, his head feeling light, his body tightening and relaxing.

Ivan followed soon after, resting his head against Alfred’s neck.

Alfred curled happily against Ivan's warmth, enveloped in the sweet, musky scent that was his alpha, his partner. Well, unofficial partner. They'd thought it best to keep from marking one another, to keep things private.

Ivan kissed his forehead and ran a gentle hand down his back. "My sunflower, there is one thing I have been meaning to talk to you about."

"What's that, babe?"

"It's about us. I was thinking, maybe we could finally tell our co-workers about us at tonight's dinner."

Alfred’s blood ran cold. "No, Ivan. We can't."

"No? But Alfred, it would be the perfect opportunity to open people up to the idea of us."

"No, we can’t. Ivan no."

"Alfred, listen-"

"But you haven’t been listening to me, you know how I feel about that!"

"It's no big deal, things like this have been happening for years now-"

"And people still get ostracized for it! Especially here! If you do this, I could lose my job, my family would disown me!" Alfred was angry now. This wasn't right. Ivan should have consulted him about this earlier. There was so much at stake.

"They wouldn't do that-" Ivan tried.

"How would you know?! You have nothing to lose here! You own the company, you can pay everyone off if you wanted!" Alfred was getting frustrated now. How did Ivan not see how this was a problem?

"Alfred that’s not fair-"

"No, Ivan! None of this is fair!"

Alfred pushed Ivan off himself and grabbed his clothes off the floor. He pulled them on in a hurry, paying no mind to the fact that his shirt was inside out and threw his sweater over his shoulder.

Ivan sat up in bed, with a sigh. “Alfred, please don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t leave, let’s talk about this,” Ivan reached his hand out, but Alfred turned away. “Please.”

“Not now, Ivan.”

Alfred walked out, slamming the door harder than he had intended to. He had to stifle a sob, barely managing not to trip over the table against the hallway wall through the tears stinging his eyes.

For a few days, he avoided his phone like the plague. He wanted to reach out to Ivan, to talk about what was bothering him, but he had betrayed his trust. Why would he think he’d be okay with telling everyone about them when he knew Alfred wasn’t ready.

It wasn’t until he got to work one day that Francis came to join him at his desk. "You seem so down, mon cher. Is there something you need to talk about?"

Alfred shook his head. "I'm lost." Was his only response.

Francis nodded, but didn't press the issue.

When it came time for their lunch break, Francis didn’t try striking up a conversation. Instead, he put a reassuring hand on his back and took one of Alfred’s hands in the other, encouraging him to stand.

"Come, you can join me and Arthur for lunch. We can talk then if you’d like."

Alfred smiled a bit at that. “I’d really like that.”

“Great, we’ll take my car.”

The car ride was a bit awkward, neither him or Arthur said much, but Francis happily chattered away about anything and everything he could.

They went to a nice bakery not too far from their workplace. It had a simple, but comforting atmosphere that eased Alfred.

"So Alfred, tell us, what is bothering you so much?" Francis supplied. It was better just to jump into it, Alfred supposed. Francis was never one to beat around the bush.

So, for a good twenty minutes, he went on to explain his relationship with Ivan. It was the first time he had told anyone about it, but even though Francis was intrigued, he wasn't surprised. And damn, did it feel good to get everything off his chest.

He explained how Ivan wasn't seeing his point of view, and wasn't being fair to him. How he was hurt by the one person he thought would never hurt him.

“Oh, mon petit,” Francis tutted. “It takes time to build a tolerance to the world. There is no sense in being so hard on yourself now.”

“Yeah, but I just wish he had given me more time, or even waited until he knew I was ready to even think about telling anyone."

"We all make mistakes, but he meant well. It would do you both some good if you heard him out. Just a bit."

Francis took Arthur’s hand and placed a light kiss to it before holding against his own knee. Arthur smiled and ran his thumb across Francis’ knee before returning to his tea.

It didn’t strike Alfred until that moment, that Francis and Arthur were awfully close for two co-workers. That meant..they were a couple. A couple of alphas.

Alfred didn’t get it. They were so happy, so..carefree. Weren’t they worried someone would come along to cause them trouble?

“How do you guys do it?” He couldn’t even explain to himself what “it” was. Everything was just so complicated.

“It’s completely normal to be afraid in situations like this. Some people even go as far as changing their scents to avoid suspicion.” Arthur supplied. He said it in such a tone that made it seem like he had done the same. “Although, there is no need for it. People will say what they say, and as long as they don’t interfere, they shouldn’t matter.”

Francis gave a firm nod in agreement. "The point is, cher, don't think too much about it. This is a situation in which your heart must rule over your head."

Alfred wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that the world didn't matter and that only he and Ivan mattered. The problem was, he couldn't. Not when Ivan almost went behind his back and risked costing him his job, his family, his entire life. Not when the world was so close-minded.

He just couldn’t do it.

Could he?

Later that night, just as Alfred was ready to pass out, his phone rang.

Through his bleary vision, a jolt struck his heart when he read the collar ID.

It was Ivan. Against his better judgment, he answered.

Ivan’s voice filled his head and he could have cried. He really missed him. But, why did he? Why miss him after he hurt him so bad?

"Alfred, why don't you come to dinner with me? Please, give me another chance."

He wanted to say no, he wanted to hurt Ivan the way Ivan had hurt him. But he couldn’t. He missed him so much. Then he remembered what Francis told him. Naturally, he agreed.

Ivan was the first to speak after an awkwardly silent car ride.

“I’m really sorry, my sunflower. I should have taken your feelings into consideration before thinking of telling anyone about us. I know how hard it is for you.”

Ivan brought him to the same restaurant they had gone to on their first date. A modest, but beautiful looking place.

Most of the dinner was spent with Ivan trying to fix what he had done, and Alfred doing his best to see his point of view and Alfred feeling bad for not hearing Ivan out sooner, but still standing by his opinion that they should have talked about it first.

Alfred couldn’t help but shed a few tears at Ivan’s sincerity. He had overrated a bit, but it was nice to hear Ivan out and be heard in return.

After dinner, Ivan brought Alfred to a busy square, where they bought some drinks and watched as people wandered through the spacious area.

“This is nice.” Alfred said. Everything fell back into place as if nothing had ever happened. He missed this.

Ivan nodded, “Yes, it’s the perfect place to spend the rest of the day.”

He looked around for a few seconds before taking Alfred’s hand and leading him to a less crowded spot next to an intricate-looking, marble fountain.

“Wow, this fountain is beautiful.” Alfred ran a hand over the engravings on the surface. “What do you think, Ivan?” He turned to him, but was caught off guard.

Ivan gave Alfred a small smile and lowered himself onto one knee, making Alfred gasp.

Was he doing what Alfred thought he was doing? No. Could he be? But why?

Ivan pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a simple, but beautiful silver band. "Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, would you do me the honor of making me the happiest alpha in the world and be mine?"

Alfred nodded his head, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Yes. Oh my God, yes."

Ivan stood up and took Alfred's hand, slipping the ring onto his ring finger. He took Alfred’s hand and held it up to his lips. He spoke softly against his palm, just loud enough for Alfred to hear above the busy plaza.

“I love you, my sunflower. Nothing will ever change that.”

Alfred had to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. This was the first time he and Ivan had ever been this intimate in a public space. He looked out at the sea of people on either side of him, not a single one gawking at them save for the few stares of people that happened to look in their direction. Even then, they didn’t look like they really cared, and if they did, they whooped and hollered, clapping their hands together.

His heart thundered in his chest, his head felt light. This was really happening.

Ivan was right. There is nothing to be afraid of. There’s no reason they couldn’t be happy like this forever.

Alfred couldn't even remember how they made it back to Ivan's house, but that didn't matter when Ivan was on him, kissing him the way he was.

They disappeared under the sheets in a flurry of unbuttoned shirts and pants. Alfred took the reins this time, sitting in Ivan’s lap, and grinding their hips together.

He loved watching the look of pleasure washing over Ivan’s face, his cheeks flushing and head thrown back, exposing his neck.

He readily jumped at the opportunity to tease him and suck on the sensitive skin, making Ivan tense up and pull him closer.

Alfred was too impatient to wait to feel Ivan inside of him. He guided Ivan in, and watched as Ivan threw his head back once more and cursed. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Alfred smiled at that, and continued to ride Ivan, grinding against him and laying his head against his neck. “God, baby. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, my sunflower,” he said in between thrusts. “So much.”

Alfred could feel his head growing lighter, and his body tensing up.

It didn’t take long for that last wave of pleasure to envelope him. He collapsed onto Ivan, and Ivan came soon after with a grunt and one last thrust upward.

God, he felt amazing.

As they held each other under the sheets, both warm and content, Alfred couldn't help but smile at the odd feeling of soreness on the side of his base of his neck. He glanced at Ivan's matching one.

They'd finally done it.

They were partners. For real this time.

Nothing could have made Alfred happier. No matter what anyone would say.

#rusame secret santa 2020 #aph russia #aph ivan braginsky #aph america #aph alfred f jones #aph rusame #lemon #ish #my fanfiction #i really am so sorry for how late this is #T^T

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satonthelotuspier · 4 years

Text

🐰 Untamed Spring Fest 2020 🐰

Day 15 - Growth - 1.6k

More Jiang-Wei family feels, back in the main timeline though. It’s not easy being the youngest sibling in the newest relationship.

CW for implied past manipulative relationships.

With Patience Comes Growth

Jiang Cheng was always particularly fast out of the changing rooms and into the swimming pool; if the three Jiang-Wei siblings hadn’t been such water babies and had a requirement to be submerged in water at least three times a week there would have been no way anyone would be able to coax him out of his clothes in public.

Wei Wuxian trailed more slowly behind him, accompanied by a chattering Jin Ling and a carefully listening Lan Yuan.

It was early and the pool was reasonably quiet, only a few other people swimming careful lengths and one or two with children around the same age as the 8 year old boys.

Jiang Yanli was already in the pool too, she completed her current length with quick, strong strokes, and came to hang off the side next to Jiang Cheng while Wei Wuxian and the boys climbed in.

She waited until their excited chatter drowned out her quietly spoken words, before she reached over to press at the bruise on Jiang Cheng’s collar bone.

Wei Wuxian grinned, he’d already been told to mind his own fucking business when he took the opportunity to tease the other about it, but Jiang Cheng wouldn’t dare tell Jiang Yanli anything of the kind

“I was going to ask how you’re doing, A-Cheng, but I don’t think I need to” she teased, and as expected a look of half-embarrassment, half-frustration crossed the other’s face, along with the hot flush, as he clapped a hand over the telltale mark.

“A-jie” he exclaimed, a soft whine in his voice. How frustrating for Jiang Cheng to not be able to respond with his usual vitriol.

She chuckled softly, then patted his cheek, “I can’t believe you still get so easily embarrassed A-Cheng, do you think we don’t know what happens between adults in a relationship?”

“I would think you’ve both been married for so long you’ve forgotten” was his quip, to which Jiang Yanli slapped him on the shoulder with a look of surprised amusement on her face, one which Wei Wuxian mirrored. Honestly, if he wasn’t a respectable parent now he would have taken great amusement in disabusing Jiang Cheng of that notion, to the point his flush turned ten times brighter. Unfortunately Lan Wangji had trained him to respectable fatherhood.

They chatted and swam while the boys fooled around and had mini races and competitions, then after they had tired themselves out Jin Ling called out, “It’s time for your race, uncles”

A staple of their swimming sessions.

Wei Wuxian swam over to the edge of the pool.

“Ready to lose again Jiang Cheng?” he teased as the other joined him on the edge.

“In your dreams Wei Wuxian. A-jie is referee and has final say”

“Agreed, but it won’t help you”

They were fairly evenly matched in the water but Wei Wuxian was probably ahead on overall wins, and today went true to form with him hitting the side half a second before Jiang Cheng, who reacted with his usual drama of just sinking below the water.

Jiang Yanli dived after him and dragged him back to the surface.

“So dramatic, Jiang Cheng, such a sore loser” Wei Wuxian mocked.

***

They followed up their swimming session with a trip to the park, and Jiang Cheng collected coffees from the shop on the corner across the road.

“I don’t know where they get all their energy from” Jiang Cheng murmured as he sat between them on the bench while they watched the children scamper over the climbing frames and sipped at their drinks.

“You were twice as energetic” Jiang Yanli teased him, “if we didn’t bring you and A-Xian to the park every day to run your energy down none of us used to get any sleep” she patted his knee. “Anyway, Jiang Cheng, tell us how things are really going with Xichen-ge”

“What? Why?” Wei Wuxian had to admire how Jiang Yanli pinned him down on the subject, she was a master at getting information out of the pair of them. They’d never been able to keep secrets from her.

“Because we’re your family, and we want to know you’re happy”

Several expressions crossed Jiang Cheng’s face. He had never been able to verbalise or demonstrate tender feelings well, and it made him just as uncomfortable to be on the receiving end. He liked being babied, he just didn’t like being told he was loved or cared about.

“It’s OK” he said tentatively, then he glanced at Wei Wuxian, chewing his lip thoughtfully, “it’s good” he added, then; “Lan Xichen made a couple of decisions without deferring to me this week, and he actually said he didn’t really feel up to it when I asked him if he wanted to go to the cinema”

Things that didn’t mean much in the course of a normal relationship, but actions that for Lan Xichen were quite momentous, considering the relationship he had come from.

“Nice” Wei Wuxian gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, then, because he knew that was probably about all Jiang Cheng could take on the sharing front, and after checking A-Yuan was still out of earshot, “No need to ask whether the physical side is any good at least” he flicked Jiang Cheng’s t-shirt, right over the spot where they’d noticed the love bite earlier that day.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng launched himself at Wei Wuxian, and they fell over the bench and into the grass, as Wei Wuxian laughed helplessly at the expression on Jiang Cheng’s face.

***

Lan Wangji zipped the last of his equipment away in his sports bag as Lan Xichen hefted his own. There was a soft smile on Lan Xichen’s face, one that warmed his eyes gently. It was the look Lan Wangji hadn’t seen on his brother’s face for too long, something real and warm and genuine.

“You’re happy” it wasn’t a question; it didn’t need to be with that look offering all the proof needed.

Lan Xichen startled, like he’d been lost in a particularly happy thought that Lan Wangji had interrupted.

“Yes, Wangji, I am” Lan Xichen took a drink from his sports bottle as he waited for Wangji to pick up his own bag.

“I’m glad, brother” Lan Wangji did so, and followed him out of the changing rooms. They met a couple of times a week, sometimes with Lan Qiren and some other board members, to play squash. “Are you going to Jiang Wanyin’s apartment tonight?”

Lan Xichen shook his head, “Not tonight, he’s having dinner with some old university friends. Tomorrow though” that soft smile again.

Although privately Lan Wangji still held some concerns for his brother, he was glad things were so obviously going well for him. Lan Xichen’s previous relationship had been terrible, and although Lan Wangji accepted that his brother-in-law wasn’t a bad person, Jiang Wanyin came with many complications; ones Lan Wangji really hoped wouldn’t hurt either of them as they tried to build their relationship together.

“Wanyin smiled at me yesterday, Wangji, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Have you ever seen Wanyin smile?”

Lan Wangji wracked his memory, and he could probably count on the fingers of one hand the times he’d seen his brother-in-law smile with anything other than self-mockery or sarcasm.

“He realised I was looking, and he didn’t kill it dead like he usually does when you catch him out. He just carried on. Then he hugged me”

Jiang Cheng initiating tenderness was also something worthy of note.

“I’m truly happy for you, brother” he said sincerely.

***

Later that evening as Lan Wangji held Wei Ying spooned against his front as they settled to sleep Lan Wangji passed on the good news.

“Brother told me this evening that Wanyin initiated a hug, and smiled at him without pretending he hadn’t afterwards” he nuzzled at Wei Ying’s ear and the other hummed in contentment.

“That’s good. We all agreed the person to take Jiang Cheng on would have to be patient with him. He’s a good man, just damaged”

“Like brother” Lan Wangji agreed, squeezing Wei Ying. The other held onto one of his forearms gently.

“If it soothes some of your worry, Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng said Xichen-ge hasn’t automatically deferred to him on all decisions this week, and he expressed a preference without being pushed on it”

That was very soothing; he hadn’t realised how groomed his brother had become until Wei Ying reported how utterly deferential to Jiang Cheng’s decision making he had been in the earlier days of their relationship.

It highlighted how little they knew of what happened behind closed doors when both parties kept their secrets; Lan Xichen otherwise was proactive, a decision-maker, and leader; he had even been the pursuer in the two’s relationship, but as soon as he and Jiang Cheng had settled into dating seriously he had turned into a completely different person. Although Jiang Cheng wasn’t the most patient person in the world it had seemed something he was willing to extend to Lan Xichen.

He was glad his brother-in-law was having such a positive effect on his brother’s happiness.

“It seems they’re being very good for each other, Lan Zhan, enabling the growth the other needed” Wei Wuxian murmured, “they’re doing each other the world of good”

“Mn” Lan Wangji couldn’t argue with that assessment at all.

#untamed spring fest #wangxian #xicheng #xuanli #yunmeng siblings #established relationships #family #Jiang Family AU #mo dao zu shi #mo dao zu shi fanfic #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #Shay's stuff #the untamed #the untamed fanfic #grandmaster of demonic cultivation

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weaverlegaspi · 4 years

Text

An October That Ends in August - Part 3/3

Kerry took a deep breath and pushed through the fence door. The sound on the other side practically knocked her over. It was loud. But joyus. Happy Birthday was being sung by a large number of people. Thankfully most of them were almost in tune.

Kerry watched as two cakes were brought out and placed in front of a pair of identical blondes. They blew them out and everyone hooted and clapped.

As the cakes started to be divied up by a woman who looked so much like the blondes that it could have only been their mother, one of the blondes looked up and met Kerry’s eyes. Then gave the other one a poke.

The second one strode towards Kerry with a purpose. “What are you doing here Kerry? I thought I was very clear in Chicago.”

“You were. I brought Sour Cream & Onion chips.”

Kim crossed her arms over her chest, “I’m going to ask you to leave now.”

“Nope.”

Kim sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Carol. This is a private conversation.”

Carol laughed, “Not in this family Kimmy. Kim, she brought three bags of Sour Cream & Onion chips. Of course we’re letting her stay.”

Kim stared at Kerry for a long moment, then without another word, turned on her heel and rejoined the party.

Carol took two of the bags and held out a hand, “If you couldn’t tell, I’m the grumpy one’s identical twin sister. I’m older by five minutes, and also, I’m prettier, but, we won’t tell her that. Carol Legaspi, formerly Smith, but, we don’t talk about that.”

Kerry shook Carol’s hand, “Kerry Weaver. I know I’m just dropping in, but…”

“Was it Mom or Dad who said you should join us.”

“Ah, Thomas Senior. Your father.”

Carol dropped her free hand over Kerry’s shoulder as they started back towards the party proper. “He would. He thinks that our Kimmy wasn’t as understanding as she could have been. Reminded her that even in 2001 or before not everyone has the chance to find themselves as a teen in a massively supportive environment. On the other hand,” Carol smirked, “our mother would very much like to drop you in a well and seal it up for in her words, ‘breaking my little girl’s heart’” Kerry looked over, concerned, “I don’t think she’d do it.”

“Ah, she’s the former police detective and your father is still a Congregational pastor?”

Carol put her two bags of chips and the one Kerry had on the snack table. “And here Kim claimed that you never listened to her.”

Kerry shook her head, “I heard everything she ever said. Especially everything she told me about all of you,” she paused, “including TJ.” Both women were silent. “I can go. I didn’t think that I would swoop in here and it would be Hallmark endings and happy feelings.” Kerry watched Kim play with one of the children. “But, I love her. I’m in love with her. I was just too scared to do anything about it until now.”

Carol took Kerry’s hand in her own, “C’mon. Let me introduce you to everyone. Once they get over hating you on behalf of Kim, they’re going to love you.”

oOOOOo oOOOOo

“Are you a baseball fan?”

“A bit. I went to some Brewers games with my father as a teenager when we got back to the states. The food was good.”

Thomas Sr. chuckled, “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine Reverend.”

“Tom, please. And that’s the answer that you give everyone. I love my daughter, but she is not always right.”

Kerry took a small sip of her drink, “Whatever she told you wasn’t wrong. I did nothing right during our relationship. You shouldn’t blame her. I don’t.” She took another sip, “Before that night I’d never shied away from a fight. Not even with Robert or Donald. I failed her and if she gives me the chance I would spend the rest of my life making up for my mistake.”

Tom shook his head, “That’s not a good way to have a life together. Love in a marriage needs to be unconditional and without imbalance.”

“If that’s what she believes too, then I probably shouldn’t have come here, because, there is no way I can make up for what I did.”

Tom waved a dismissive hand at Kerry, “You’ve gotten Carol on your side. That’s half the battle. Those two…”

Kim’s mother called to Tom. He clapped a hand on Kerry’s shoulder, then walked to his wife.

“Are you disabled?”

Kerry looked down at a towheaded boy that looked to be about eight or nine. “No. I was born with congenital hip dysplasia and so I use a crutch to make it easier on my hip.”

The boy studied Kerry. “Does it hurt? Your hip?”

“Sometimes.” Kerry paused, “More than it used to.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and Kerry realized that this must be Kim’s nephew Trip, Thomas Legaspi the Third. He confirmed it a moment later, “You hurt my Aunt Kim? Why?”

“I did. I was scared.”

“Oh--” He let his arms fall to his sides, “I’m scared of dogs and everyone at school makes fun of me for it. Why were you scared?”

“My entire sense of self changed in the span of a few months.”

“Oh--”

Kerry smiled, “You wish you hadn’t asked.”

“Yeah. So. Adult stuff then?”

Kerry nodded, “Adult stuff.”

“Do you like her?”

“I do, yes.”

Trip shook his head, “Adults are so stupid. I’m gonna get more cake. Want some?”

Kerry hid a smile, “No thank you.”

And he was off, replaced after a moment by Kim. “Why’d you come here Kerry?”

“Because staying in Chicago would have been the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“Because everyone knows you’re gay now.” Kim wrapped her arms around herself as if preparing for the answer.

Kerry took a step forward and unwound Kim’s hands, taking them in her own. Surprisingly the blonde didn’t pull away. “No. My heart went home to her family in San Francisco.”

Kim looked around, “You say that here, in my parents backyard, where no one really knows you, and no one cares that you’re a lesbian.” She paused, “Scream it.”

Kerry took a breath and lifted her head towards the sky, “I, Kerry Weaver, am in love with a WOMAN! Dr. Kim Legaspi is my soulmate.”

Everyone at the party went still, their heads swiveled to look at the two women. One of the older guys, either Tom or Kim’s Mom’s sibling gave an awkward thumbs up.

Kim cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean you should actually do it.”

Kerry laughed and brought one of Kim’s hands to her lips, kissing its palm. “I love you Kim. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” She let go of Kim’s hands, “So. I’ll go now. I’ve said what I came to say, but, I’m not going to pressure you.”

She turned and started towards the fence and front yard. “Wait.”

Kerry stopped and turned as Kim caught up, “Yes?”

“You don’t even like Sour Cream & Onion… anything. You actually very much hate the flavor combo. Why’d you bring it to the party?”

“Because you like them.”

“That’s it?”

Kerry nodded, “You have no reason to believe me, but me not standing up for you, for us in that damn meeting, that’s unlike me. It was so out of character.” She took a breath, “This last season of my life, this last year, was the best yet. When we’re together…”

“That’s just…”

Kerry cut Kim off, “I don’t mean the sex.” She smirked, “Although none of the men I’ve been with came close to what you made me feel. No. I am-- a broken puzzle piece, and you, you fill all the spots that are jagged so that we can fit into life together.”

Kim stepped into Kerry’s personal space and cupped her cheek, “You are not broken Kerry Weaver.”

Kerry swallowed, “See, I think you’re the only one in the world who would say that.”

Kim didn’t move her hand, but did close her eyes for a moment. When she opened them her other hand joined the first and she pulled Kerry closer, “Fuck it.”

Their lips met in a kiss that was tender and needy at the same time. Kerry’s arms went around Kim’s waist and it seemed like both women were trying to merge their bodies and souls.

They broke apart for a moment to take a breath, but, it was a short breath. They were oblivious to everything and everyone in the backyard.

On the other side of the yard Trip Legaspi, rolled his eyes. “Still say adults are stupid.”

His Mom ruffled his hair, “Just you wait kiddo.”

------

That’s all I’ve got for this fun ER Appreciation Week.

Thank you for reading (especially since I only sorta followed the rules 😂)

#kerry weaver #kim legaspi #kim legaspi's family #kerry/kim #ERaw20

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trollcafe · 4 years

Text

Dorado

Length: 2881 Words TW: Will Make Grem Mad At Me (None) Brief: After Leuken and Miykie get Magnus and Romune in contact with each other, the two finally meet. This is them meeting for the first time in forever. Credits: Leuken is @/the-lime-gangs Here’s the song I listened to while writing this!

Here’s the Google Docs link for easier viewing!

Deja Vu. A feeling of having already experienced a setting or situation. That was the best way Magnus could describe the feeling of leaving the ship that day. Everything seemed so familiar. The weather outside was just as nice, as still, as it had been the last time he saw Romune. There was no letter this time. And there was no Maldov- he was dead. How the times change.

Magnus waited by the ship, standing off to the side. He glanced at his palmhusk every three seconds, as if waiting for a text message that just never arrived. A slightly shorter rustblood eventually materialized from the bustling crowd of Fleet employees. Leuken had Maldo- Miykie, his name is Miykie now. Leuken had Miykie tailing behind him. Miykie was wearing Leuken’s Fleet jacket and scarf to prevent anyone from recognizing him.

“You’re late.” Magnus’ tone was flat. If he was worried, he showed no sign of it. His expression was stony and collected.

“There’s a lotta trolls runnin’ around, Magpie. But we’re here.” Leuken’s use of the familial nickname was obviously intended to make Magnus feel better about the situation at hand. The purple didn’t say another word, instead handing Leuken a set of keys. He locked eyes with Miykie and gave a nod before heading out. He was still in his Fleet uniform. It was a good thing though, there was a slight breeze. The perfect autumn weather.

Magnus arranged for an Uber to take him to Romune’s hive. It was the same hive he had been in the night Romune disappeared. Why hadn’t he ever thought to return? Was it really that easy this whole time? The entire trip to the hive, Magnus couldn’t stop shaking his leg. The driver made a comment but was cut short by Magnus’ glare. Why was he so angry about all of this? He felt….betrayed. Romune had been alive this whole time and never once made an effort to reach out to him. Hell, the blueblood even had his letter. He was confused, upset, and not entirely convinced that Romune was still alive.

He looked up at Romune’s hive. It was the same as he had left it. Except, there were some new plants out front. He thought that was interesting. He thought this whole thing was interesting. As he stood in silence, he wondered if this all was an elaborate prank. He’d knock and behind the door would be someone else entirely. Not his Romune.

Time seemed to slow down as he walked up to the door. He remembered the night Romune left clearly. The blueblood hadn’t answered the door, he just unlocked it. But then he had looked so surprised to see Magnus- was he expecting someone else instead? Had there been something Romune never told him? These thoughts and more swirled around as he knocked.

Behind the door, he heard growling. The seconds ticked by slowly, and all he heard was growling. Magnus gave up hope ten seconds in, and was about to turn and leave when the door lock shifted. He tentatively reached for the doorknob. It opened before he could.

---

A time. That was all Romune had been given.

The rusts he met only days prior had apparently given the mysterious Magnus his contact. Romune wasn’t sure what he had been expecting- small talk, perhaps? Some sort of communication beforehand? A warning? Explanation? But all he got was a time.

2:30pm.

What an oddly specific time.

Romune was conflicted about the whole ordeal at hand. He didn’t know if he should clean his hive, or if this Magnus would even enter. But Romune knew his lusus well enough to know she would get fussy if there was clutter with a guest over. The old Hyena seemed to know something was up. She usually rested on her bed in Romune’s block, but she chose to follow the blueblood as he tidied up. She even helped a bit, using her large muzzle to nudge some picture frames in order. By the time Romune finished cleaning, it was only noon.

The waiting would be the hardest part. He knew that well. Magnus held the key to everything about Romune’s past life, to everything he couldn’t remember about himself. As the blueblood warmed the kettle on the stove, he thought back to the only memory he held of Magnus. The not blue but not purple eyes, his messy hair, scruffy face. Rom gently traced his fingers over his metal jaw and felt a familiar sense of sadness rise up. The screaming of the kettle was able to shake away that sadness. He finished preparing a cup of tea while his lusus watched, and she followed him into his block.

Magnus’ shirt was folded up neatly on the end table. Romune paused as he passed, looking down at the shirt. The symbol on it. A childish feeling of excitement started to bubble in his chest. He would get to meet the man behind the shirt, and hopefully, it would go well. He set his mug down on the vanity so he could select a shirt for the occasion. For a moment, he had considered going without, but that just seemed wrong. He settled on a sleeveless hoodie, but not cropped. It was a little cold for cropped shirts right now.

Afterwards, he took his tea to the living block and sat on the couch. His lusus laid on the ground in front of him. Eventually, she drifted off. Romune found himself entertained by her sleepy yips. He wondered what hyenas dream about, if anything at all. It wasn’t long before he heard a knock on the door. His lusus woke up with a slight start and lifted her head to look at the door. She was the first one up, immediately going to the door. Romune had to nudge her out of the way with his hip so he could open it.

Behind the door was a man. At first, Romune didn’t recognize him. It took a moment for it to register. What got him were his horns…curved with spikes. It slowly fell into place from there. The square jaw, slightly unkempt hair pulled back in a bun, scruffy face. How did the Fleet allow him to be so messy? The blueblood blinked as a thick silence floated around them.

“Magnus?” Romune’s voice was small. He didn’t know his voice could be so small.

Magnus looked at Romune with a stone-cold expression. He took in the entire sight of him. Every metal limb, the way his hair was pulled in a bun rather than a ponytail, the sleeveless shirt, the way his hand held the mug. That wasn’t his Romune. This troll who stood in front of him looked like his Romune, sure. But everything from his expression, his outfit, his voice, to the mug in his hand; it was all different. This wasn’t his Romune.

It took him a moment to realize the growling had stopped. He looked down at Romune’s lusus and had to really fight the smile that threatened to form. Magnus knelt down, leaning on his knee and holding out his hand for the hyena to sniff. Romune stepped aside so HyenaMom could get closer. The first thing he noticed was her tail wagging. She very rarely wagged her tail. Even if Magnus didn’t confirm his identity, HyenaMom did.

Romune turned and headed inside his hive. A high pitched whistle snapped HyenaMom out of her greetings, and she padded towards the couch. Magnus stood up and entered the hive slowly, closing the door behind him. Everything was just as he had left it, ages ago. Nothing was out of place. While that wasn’t his Romune standing by the couch, this was his Romune’s hive. HyenaMom sat down in front of the couch. Her tail was still wagging, making a loud thump thump thump as it moved side to side.

“Can we go outside?” Romune asked softly, setting his mug down on the end table. “It’s too cold for her outside. We can talk in private. You can see the ships leaving and coming in, the lights are really pretty.” He forced himself to smile. Smiling took a lot of work, it wasn’t something he committed to doing often. But Magnus seemed like he needed a smile.

“Sure.” Magnus did not return the smile.

Romune waited for an extra few seconds, hoping Magnus would say something else. Anything else. But when he was met with silence, he just nodded and headed for the back door. His lusus jumped up on the couch and laid down when Magnus followed him.

Romune closed the door behind Magnus. The back of his hive consisted of a small backyard with a crumbling stone wall. Some spots in the wall were more sturdy than others. A few feet beyond the wall was a drop into a small river. Romune made his way to one of the more secure spots on the wall, and took a seat. Magnus slowly followed and sat a short distance away from him. The silence was still thick, but not as awkward.

Romune was the first to notice their hands were close together. He wasn’t certain what made him decide to move his hand closer, and closer. He gently rested his metal fingers on top of Magnus’ very real hand. Something sparked in Romune’s chest as he did so. Something warm. It was very similar to the sense of longing he had felt when he first opened the gift.

When Magnus realized their hands were touching, he moved his hand away and crossed his arms over his chest. And just like that, the warm sense of yearning was gone. Romune folded his hands in his lap, looking down at them. The metal had never bothered him before. But now it felt wrong, out of place. He wondered briefly what Magnus was thinking.

“....Penny for your thoughts?” Romune turned his gaze back to Magnus, only to find the purpleblood had been looking at him. Or, he was looking at his hands. Romune gently toyed with the ring finger on his prosthetic as he waited for an answer. One of the joints was a little loose and would wiggle. Romune never bothered to fix it because it made weird moments like this more bearable. Magnus was silent for a moment, as if he was gathering the right things to say. The silence didn’t feel uncomfortable, just uneasy.

“Does it still hurt?” The voice that had been so deadpan and flat prior actually had a tender worry to it now. Magnus lifted his eyes from Romune’s metal hand to his blue eyes.

His Romune’s eyes.

Despite all his time spent in space and all his time believing Romune had been dead, Magnus had never felt further from him than in this instance.

“Sometimes.” Romune hummed, holding his robotic hand up towards the sky to see it better, “They’re called phantom pains. It’s a psychological phenomenon where you feel pain in limbs that are no longer there. It’s different for each troll- I’ve dealt with a lot of different phantom pains. Mine specifically feels like burning….but some trolls say it feels like a dull ache. One troll told me his felt like ice. It’s a little funny when you think about it. Feeling pain in a limb that isn’t there. Occasionally I’ll stub my foot on something and feel pain for a few seconds before remembering the foot is fake.” Romune lowered his hand back into his lap, not realizing he had rambled on.

Magnus couldn’t fight the small smile that formed as Romune rambled on. The way Romune spoke was so familiar. It reminded him of the time he laid in bed with him while the blueblood spoke all about the book he had been reading. Even if Magnus wasn’t paying attention, the cadence in Romune’s voice had given him a sense of home. This was a similar sort of feeling. Magnus gently took a hold of Romune’s robotic hand, tracing over the seam of metal on the palm.

“Did you design them yourself? You used to be the lead engineer on the docks...you told me a few times that you wanted to retire and build limbs. You wanted to help trolls, rather than fix the things that hurt them.” Magnus swiped his thumb over the ball of Romune’s palm, noting how cold the metal felt.

“I didn’t. I don’t remember much from the incident.” Romune curled his fingers in around Magnus’ thumb. Magnus hesitated before tangling their fingers together. Even though the limb was metal and cold, it still felt like his Romune’s hand.

“What do you remember?” Magnus still didn’t meet his eyes, looking down at their hands. Romune tapped on his metal jaw with his free hand to help him think. The soft tapping finally made Magnus look up.

“I remember waking up in a lot of pain. Everyone says you don’t remember pain….but I remember it pretty clearly. I was in the hospital, and I was already….repaired, I guess would be the term. I was pretty out of it for most of the recovery process. Eventually I was weaned off the pain medications and could think….somewhat clearly again. Then came the process of learning how to walk and move again. And now I’m here.” He forced another smile. Two smiles in one night, that was something special.

Magnus chuckled a bit, “You don’t look comfortable doing that. Smilin’.”

“It’s difficult to do when your bottom lip is made of metal and silicone.” Romune chuckled softly to himself, closing his eyes for a moment. His laughter was interrupted when Magnus cupped his cheek with his free hand. Startled, Romune opened his eyes again.

Magnus looked...sad. His thumb traced over the seam of metal and flesh on Romune’s cheek with a somber expression. It was a tender act that shook Romune to his very core. There was a softness behind the sadness in Magnus’ eyes. Something in Magnus’ smile, and something in the tenderness in his gaze, left Romune speechless.

The wide blue eyes that stared back at Magnus solidified his feelings. This was his Romune. This was the same blueblood who rambled about ancient literature and fixed Fleet ships, who wanted to help trolls rather than build the things that hurt them. Only, he got hurt by those very things. The ships he worked so diligently on ended up causing all this damage. And then what? He suffered in a hospital, alone, without Magnus.

For all the times he had been back on the planet, Magnus never once decided to stop by his hive. Never to check on HyenaMom, never to see if Romune came back. Magnus could hear his own lusus calling him despicable. That old mongoose had been right.

“Romune Iscatu.” Magnus finally broke the silence. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I just gave up hope on you, and left you alone all this time. I’m sorry I knew where you lived and never came back. I’m sorry I wasn’t the quadmate you needed.” His voice cracked, and for the first time in sweeps, he felt like he may crack too.

Romune was silent. He moved his hand to rest on top of Magnus’, and leaned his face in closer to the other’s palm. He closed his eyes and relished in the feeling of physical contact.

“It’s okay. I for-”

“It’s not okay. You shouldn’t forgive me. I should- I should go.” Magnus pulled his hand away and stood up suddenly. He was stopped by Romune grabbing the corner of his Fleet uniform. Magnus didn’t look down at Romune, but waited to hear what he had to say.

“Stay the day, please. You can leave tomorrow. But for today...can you be the quadmate I needed? That I need?” Romune’s voice was barely heard over the river rushing below them. Magnus finally looked down at the blueblood, his Romune. He was silent as the blueblood’s request was processed.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Magnus removed Romune’s hand off his uniform. He held the other’s hand in his own for a few seconds. Those few seconds gave Romune hope that Magnus would stay. Just as the blueblood was starting to stand up, Magnus let his hand go. Romune, frozen where he sat, blinked in surprise as Magnus stepped back.

“I can’t, Moon. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Magnus didn’t wait for a response. Romune stood up and watched as Magnus went back inside his hive. He could hear his lusus yip in excitement from seeing Magnus again, and then the front door slammed loud enough to be heard from where Romune stood. The warmth in his chest was replaced with a hollow feeling. He looked down at his robotic hand for a moment, wondering what he had done wrong.

Romune turned back to the river that ran behind his hive and through the city. He watched the water rush peacefully below him. The moons and stars reflected beautifully on the rippling water. If the moons and the stars could be so unaffected by the chaos that had so suddenly entered and left his life, then he could be too.

#magnus #magnus cynict #romune #romune iscatu #ghost.art #drabbles

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 33)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count: 3359

Warnings: Fluff! I think this is one of the few moments you get it so enjoy it while it lasts.

Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

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

Tony and Shannon needed a break from everything. They hadn't had a vacation together in over two years, not had really had a vacation at all.

Until Tony had been hell bent on getting everyone some time to go out wherever they’d like and he could finally pop the question to Shannon. He’d waited a good long while to make sure that they were back to being happy and not having problems.

Fury was a raging ball of disbelief when he had been informed that none of the Avengers would be of help for the next month, but had relented saying that they deserved it to help themselves.

Tony had everyone's flights booked the same day, each destination different. He had planned to head down to a little cabin in Alaska that he’d had made six years ago for when he needed to get away and hide from everyone. Now he had other plans for that cabin.

“Shannon, are you all packed for our trip? Maybe bring that camera I got you three Christmases ago?” he said from the bathroom. He was very nervous about how he’d ask her to be his wife. He’d asked Bruce for some tips, seeing as he was the only person who he could tell about the proposal.

“Tony, I’m not even sure what to pack… you won’t tell me where we’re headed,” she said, completely confused as to what to grab. She stood in the walk-in closet looking at all her options. She felt guilt bubble up in her stomach because she’d gotten back on track to fixing things with you and her leaving would be as if she didn’t care about leaving you in an inescapable cell. “At least tell me how long we’ll be there! So I know how much to pack,” she yelled so he could hear from the bathroom.

“Babe, relax. It’s not long, just a month,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You need to pack warm for where we're going. You’ll need your snow boots.” He had turned her around in his arms love shining in his eyes.

“Help me pack then?” She looked up at him through her lashes. “That's the only way we’ll get my bag done fast.” She winked hoping he’d get the hint behind her words. She kissed his cheek.

“Oh you bet I’ll help you pack,” he growled, showing her he knew what she was up to. “How about we start with the lingerie?” he teased, going to one side of the closet and looked for some simple yet comfortable outfits.

“How about I pull out some outfits and you tell me yes or no?” she suggested, hoping to get things packed faster. “And I promise not to tease you this time.” She smiled going to some of the already prepared outfits.

The rest of that morning was spent packing and by midday they had already made their way to one of Tony’s planes. The whole team had left together, wanting to leave at the same time. They each were able to get their own private plane to their destinations. Bruce pulled Tony aside for a moment just before he and Shannon boarded their plane.

“So do you plan on popping the question soon? Or two weeks into the vacation?” he asked, wanting to keep things good for calm and happy on the flight to Alaska.

“I want to ask her soon but I think I’ll find the right moment,” he said while holding the box in his pocket. “Wish me luck, big guy.” He patted Bruce’s shoulder and walked away.

_______

“You don’t need luck!” he said loudly to reach him as he had already gone a decent distance.

“What was all that about?” Shannon asked him when he came back to her side.

“What, that?” He pointed at Bruce. “That’s nothing. He’s just being dramatic,” he said sounding calm even though his nerves were on fire. “Shall we head to our destination?” He held his hand out to let her into the private jet first.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” she giggled seeing how sweet he could be.

“Anything for you, my dear.” A smile reached his eyes from seeing her laugh. “Off we go!” He ran in after her.

“Tony!” she shrieked as she went to the back of the jet, he caught up to her and tickled her sides. “Stop... Stop, Tony, I give!” she said between laughs.

“Okay… okay I’ll stop, on the condition that you sit in my lap for at least part of the flight.” He smirked but it softened to a genuine smile he had only for her.

“Like I’d ever say no to spending some time with you.” She turned around hugging him close.

The flight was spent with the two of them watching movies. She had fallen asleep in his arms, he had pulled a blanket over the two of them. Feeling the sleep take over, he let his breathing match hers and they both slept. They hadn’t slept that well in what felt like months.

Once the plane had landed, the pilot announced that they had arrived. By then Tony had already woken up and was randomly searching through the channels. Hearing the pilot say they got there, he looked at Shannon’s still sleeping form and woke her up by peppering kisses all over her face. “Babe, wake up, we’re here.” He moved some hair behind her ear.

“Five more minutes…please.” She hid her face in his chest. Feeling that the plane wasn’t moving, she sat up. “Wait, are we here?” She looked to the windows but could not see a thing, they had all been closed.

Watching her look around to guess their destination was adorable. She looked like a kid on Christmas.

“Yes we’re here. Come on, the car is waiting to take us to where we’ll be staying.” He motioned for her to stand up and the captain had come to the back, holding out her jacket to put on.

“It’s a bit cold here, Ms. Shannon, you’ll need this.” The captain lifted the jacket so she could put her arms through the sleeves. He was holding a poofy looking jacket and had an equally poofy one on his arm for Tony. She moved to the side and watched as Tony got his jacket on too, it was comical seeing Tony wear a marshmallow jacket.

“You look ridiculous, Tony, like the Michelin man.” She laughed looking at him turn around.

“But there’s one thing different, I rock this look, he doesn’t.” He looked so proud of himself. “Come on, let’s get going.” He helped her get out of the plane.

To her surprise she saw the vast mountains of snow everywhere. She looked around in marvel. Her eyes were shining with awe, slowly turning to take everything in. Tony took the chance to snap a picture of her and how beautiful she looked with nature behind her.

“Tony, it’s beautiful here… I’ve always wanted to come to a place with lots of snow!” She walked back to him and giving him a tender kiss.

“Then wait till you see where we’ll be staying.”

They walked to the car waiting for them. Getting in, the driver had quickly driven off to get to the cabin that was a short drive away. The ride there all Shannon could do was look out the window and point things out to Tony. He was mesmerized with how much this was exciting her.

The car stopped and she got out quickly, not believing the sight she had in front of her. It was a big rustic looking cabin. She saw there was a small opening next to the main entrance. Looking closer she saw it was actually a doggy door. Confused, she looked over to Tony to ask about it when she saw him whistle and out came Lucky running through the entrance and jumped onto her knocking her down with his speed.

“Hi, Lucky, it’s good to see you too.” She laughed as he licked at her face and was running around. Tony walked over to help her stand when Lucky jumped on him too knocking him down right onto Shannon. They both laughed and stayed there for a moment, she looked up and saw that Tony’s eyes were filled with so much love that it made her melt because she never imagined that she would ever get this chance to be with him and it still felt like a dream she never wanted to wake up from.

“Here, let me help you.” He’d stood up and reached down to grab her hand. Once they were both on their feet, they walked into the cabin. It looked a lot bigger to him, but it could be the same seeing as it had been years since he’d been here. The driver had brought all the bags in and had left so it was just the three of them.

“When did you get Lucky here?” she asked as she walked around, memorizing where everything was so she wouldn’t get lost.

“The same time we got here, I just had someone drop him off here so that he could get used to his surroundings.” He walked over to closet to put away their jackets.

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

They spent most of their time skiing or out walking the trails. He mostly went to watch Shannon become hyper focused on the things she took pictures of. The little quirks she made when she was trying to get the perfect shot, sometimes not even aware of her surroundings unless he moved her out of the way.

They’d been at the cabin for about three weeks now and Tony was beginning to get anxious about popping the question. He’d figured out now was a better time than ever so he told her that he had the whole day planned for the two of them. He’d found a little nook somewhere in the cabin where the view of the mountains was spectacular, then followed by a dog sledding ride, he planned to have someone head into town to get some things for them for dinner. After dinner it would be seeing the aurora borealis. He hadn't told her that they were staying in Barrow, Alaska where it's one of the seven known places to see these lights at night. To end the night by the fireplace all cozy with hot chocolate, he would ask her to be his.

“Tony, I still can't get over this little slice of heaven being all yours!” she said while they were out in the little area near the cabin. “We should come back another time, maybe even invite the others?” The last part sounded like a question.

“I would love to come back here with you.” He watched her skate in the ice of the little pond. “Although I'm not sure about bringing the others here, specifically. Maybe I can find a bigger cabin for all of us?” He had been thinking that the others would like to come to a place like this to relax, maybe even to celebrate Christmas together.

“There’s already a lot of room here in the cabin. I don't see why you’d want to find another place.” She looked over her shoulder at him before turning to skate backwards.

“I want this to be just our get away, imagine it, just you and me.”

“Don’t forget Lucky!”

“And of course Lucky too, maybe even get a little friend for him to play so he’s not so lonely?” he suggested.

To be fair he had always loved dogs, just never had the idea to get one because of his busy life but once Lucky came into the picture he realized how much he had missed out on.

“That would be cute! Maybe get him like a little sister or brother?” They’d began walking back to the cabin by then. That got him thinking about having kids, he never thought about it but then again he thought about ever getting married but here he was about to propose to the woman of his dreams.

“Why don’t you go upload your photos onto the computer to edit while I get started on dinner?” He had everything in the kitchen ready for him to start cooking. Not that many people knew he was really good in the kitchen back at the tower.

“Sure, it’ll give me something to do since you won't let me help make dinner.” She stuck her tongue out at him while heading to the office.

“I already told you it's a surprise, so run along, babe.” He shooed her away. Dinner would consist of her favorite foods, he’s gotten some of the recipes from her mother. And the others were of things he’d gotten her to try.

Time flew by while both of them were busy doing things. She had stopped editing photos for a while and had gone to the living room to sit down at the piano to play one of her favorite pieces by Beethoven. It was a very popular piece on every classical piano cd. She could play it all day long if she wanted to. Tony could hear how she poured her heart into playing that song.

Once everything was cooked and ready he set up the table for the two of them.

“Dinner is served,” he said coming into where she had begun to play Bella’s Lullaby on the piano. She was so focused on the music that she hadn’t heard him coming up behind her he rested his hand on her shoulder. “Babe, come on, the food’s ready.”

The touch startled her. “Oh! Tony, I must've gotten sucked into the music again.” She looked up at him.

“Come on, my talented woman, it's time you get some food in you.” He laughed intertwining their fingers together.

“Tony, look at all of this! It’s amazing. You have all of my favorite foods.” She looked at the table with the food her mother used to make for her. “What’s the occasion? I didn’t forget any anniversary, did I?!” She looked over, worried she’d maybe missed something special for the two of them.

“None at all, babe. Just showing you how special you are to me.” He smiled while he pulled her seat out for her.

They were both dressed comfortably and once he had her sitting, he went to sit next to her. They had dinner, comprised of some puerto rican food her mom would make. There were a few comfort foods they both enjoyed and he had learned to make a dark chocolate mousse sprinkled with white chocolate shavings and inside the mousse was a bit of caramel.

“I’m glad you got me to go on vacation, Tony. These past few days have been amazing not having to worry about work or projects or things we’ve been working on.” She entwined their hands together.

“I’m just glad that I convinced you that it would be nice, I feared it would just be me and Lucky,” he joked and patted Lucky when he walked over from hearing his name. “I think we all needed some time away from working and make time for ourselves.” He looked up at her with loving eyes.

“You’re right. Everyone has been too wound up from everything that's happened in the past two years.” She drew circles on the back of his hand with her thumb.

“Babe, us here has been the best moments of my life.” He sounded honest, making her look up at him.

“All the best moments are when your at my side, Tony, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He could hear the adoration in her voice.

The rest of dinner was spent with casual chatter, at one point Lucky sat in one of the chairs and it made them both laugh and they set a plate for him to eat with them. She felt that it had been an amazing night and couldn’t think of any way it could get better. Little did she know her whole night was about to get better once it hit time for the hot chocolate after watching the Aurora borealis.

“There’s two more things I want to show you.” He led her to the back deck where he had set up a cozy looking area. “Come here, it's almost starting.”

“What’s almost starting?” she asked as she sat down next to him and she felt his arm go around her shoulders.

“Just look.”

“Okay, okay.” She turned over just in time to see the northern lights begin to appear. “Tony, look! It’s beautiful.” The shock and awe very visible in her face.

“Surprise! I was hoping to show you this soon.” He was admiring the light but kept turning to look back at her. He knew that right this moment was exactly when he should ask her. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“Come back quick so you don’t miss this!” She pulled out her camera taking the opportunity to take a few shots so that she could save this with her memories.

He ran quickly to grab the hot chocolate and making sure he had the ring in the little box in his jacket pocket. “Here goes nothing, Lucky. Wish me the best!” he said to the dog who had been laying on the couch. “Okay, I'm back,” he huffed, a bit out of breath from running inside. “Here’s some hot chocolate.” He handed her a mug once she set her camera down.

“Thank you...mmmm, this is really good,” she hummed while sipping on the warm drink.

“Actually there’s something that has been on my mind for a while now.” He put his mug down and turned to face her.

Hearing the slight nervousness in his voice she turned around. “Well you know you can tell me anything right?”

“That’s one of the many reasons that I love you. Because we can tell each other everything.” He moved his hands into his pockets and she noticed, thinking that he’s getting cold.

“Are you cold?” She started taking off her gloves to give them to him.

“No, no I’m not cold. I just want to get something from my pocket.” He pulled his hands out but she couldn’t see what he pulled out.

“Okay if you say so,” she said, sounding unconvinced of his hands being cold.

“Listen we’ve known each other since you were a college student and we got together just short of two years ago.”

“Tony, you big sap.”

“I’m not done yet, Shannon.”

She nodded understanding and let him continue talking.

“In the span of these two years I’ve realized that you’re the person for me. I never thought about settling down until I met you...” He stopped to take a moment, looking at how surprised she looked. “I knew that there’s no one else but you.” He had gotten off his seat and got down on one knee.

“Tony…” She had no idea that he had been feeling this way. She never told anyone but she felt the exact same way.

“Shannon, will you marry me?” His eyes were full of hope and a bit of worry seeing as she wasn’t saying anything.

“Tony, I..I don’t know what to say. I’ve always dreamed of this happening,” she was babbling.

“I’m hoping you’ll say yes.” He laughed nervously.

What he wasn’t expecting was to have her land on him, landing them both in the snow. He laughed.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Tony!” she exclaimed, looking down at him and moving a bit of hair out his eyes. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” She moved to kiss him and they spent a few moments simply kissing until the cold finally got to them and they both got up heading inside.

“Here, let me put the ring on your finger.” He grabbed her hand and was able to slip the ring on her finger with ease seeing that it was the perfect size.

“It’s beautiful,” she said as she admired the simple engagement ring.

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

Tag List: @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaelingoat @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo @damalseer @heyitscam99 @yknott81 @sorryimacrapwriter @glitterquadricorn @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm @alyssaj23 @sea040561 @princess76179 @thisismysecrethappyplace @sarahp879 @malfoysqueen14 @ellallheart @breezy1415 @marvelmayo @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles @marvelloushamilton

@paintballkid711

Loki: @lostinspace33 @ultrarebelheart @lenawiinchester @esoltis280 @tngrayson @wangdeasang @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice

UC: @lokis-high-priestess

#unforeseen chasm #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson #loki fic #tony stark #tony stark fic #tony stark x ofc #bruce banner

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let-me-love-you-loki · 4 years

Text

In A Day or Two--Ch. 12

Chapter 12

I hummed quietly as I ran a towel through my hair. The mirror was so foggy that I could just barely see myself grinning amidst the steam. I’d finally gotten used to Japanese time, and I was loving everything about Tokyo.

My phone buzzed on the sink, Kenny’s face popping up on the screen. I surprised myself by letting out a faint sigh as I picked it up and swept toward the bedroom. Switching it over to speakerphone, I answered. “Ohayōgozaimasu!”

His chuckle was infectious. “Ohayōgozaimasu, koibito,” he said smoothly. “And you pronounced it perfectly.”

I couldn’t help but burn with pride at his praise. “I’ve been working very hard. And I’ve had a fantastic teacher.”

“I’ll teach you more when I get back next week,” he replied forlornly. “Are you going to be okay in the city while I’m gone?”

My brow furrowed at the thought of being without him. Not because I was afraid… but because I enjoyed his presence more than I cared to admit. “Hai. I can ask for help, I know my address, and the lady at the Shinkowa knows me enough by now to help pick out my groceries.”

“And you’ve only been here a couple weeks. I’m proud of you, Shaye-chan.” I could hear the emotion in his voice. I wanted to call it something, but I was afraid of those four letters. “I’m only going to be in California over the weekend. I’ll be back Monday afternoon.”

“I’ll miss you the whole time,” I said, immediately surprised as the words slipped out.

Kenny sighed. For a moment, I wished he was there. That I could hold him. “Me too.”

***

“I’m doing fine, Mama,” I said, standing over the stove as I made dinner. Well, tried to. I wasn’t doing as well as the instructions said I should, but it smelled pretty good. “How are you guys doing?”

My mother sighed, and I could hear the clink and clatter of china. It was early morning in New York. If I knew my mother, she was sitting down to breakfast at the table in our smaller dining room. I heard Cheryl’s voice in the background as she brought my mother her food.

“Your father is leaving for London again in this evening. The deal was almost done, and then his idiot of a junior partner screwed up. He has to go smooth things over with the investors,” my mother replied, venom hidden just below the surface of her words. “And your brother is going to be the death of me. Why can’t he be like you, my darling girl?”

I rolled my eyes. This was a common refrain from my parents. I was the good child, the one who did everything as expected, who graduated valedictorian from an elite Upper East Side prep-school and went to NYU. I worked for the family company, interned with my father’s associates. There was nothing about me that was rebellious.

My baby brother, Damon… he was something different. He’d been kicked out of four elite private schools, two parochial schools, a public school, and was well on his way to spending the rest of his education at a military school or boarding somewhere in Europe. My parents were embarrassed by him more often than they were proud. I hated it for him, but at the same time, I knew that he brought some of it on himself.

“Maybe he needs a gap year, Mama.”

The laughter that hit my ears sounded like the screech of the Wicked Witch from Oz. “God no, Shaye. The second your brother ends up somewhere with no structure…” She quieted for a moment, her next words taking on an air of sadness. “I’m afraid I’m going to find him dead one day. Those people he calls friends are only going to get him into trouble.”

“I’ll call him this weekend. Maybe I can talk a little bit of sense into him.”

“If only it were that easy, darling.”

***

Curled on my side, I pulled up the playlist of videos I’d found of some of Kenny’s matches. I’d watched several of them whenever I was alone, surprised each and every time at how amazing and beautiful he was when he was in the ring. He was so fluid, so animated, so graceful. It had been embarrassing when I’d told him that I was watching his matches. But we hadn’t watched one of them together.

I wondered what it would be like to see one of his matches live.

I snuggled into the blankets, arms curled around my spare pillow. My heart skipped sideways as I breathed deeply, surprised to smell the lingering traces of Kenny on the fabric. Had he slept in this bed so much? I thought.

The melancholy swept in like a tidal wave. I could hear his voice on the video. If I closed my eyes, I could almost convince myself that he was there. And I didn’t want to admit to myself how much I wished it were true. Even when my vision was blurred with tears, even when I couldn’t breathe for the weight of the sadness, I couldn’t admit to him—let alone myself—that I was falling in love with Kenny.

It terrified me more than anything else ever had.

***

My knee bounced nervously as I watched the LED board change, flight details updating as planes took off and landed. I remembered that first moment when I landed, the panic that shattered the mystique of Japan. Barring any emergency, I didn’t think I would see the inside of the airport until the end of my trip.

But I wanted to surprise Kenny. I’d missed him so much that it scared me. Even if I wasn’t ready to say those four little letters, I wanted to…

“What am I doing?” I whispered desperately. “This is crazy. This is stalkerish. This is some Joe Goldberg bullshit.”

I wrapped my arms around my middle, dropping my head in shame at how stupid this plan was. Before I could think twice, I turned and started back through the concourse to the train station. I wanted to go home and act like none of this ever happened.

Panic piqued my senses. It felt like I could hear every little sound, see every shape and line and color. I thought I was going to pass out.

“Shaye?”

His voice was the only sound in the world. My body turned without my permission. I wanted to curl into myself and hide even as I wanted to run toward him and fling myself into his arms. He looked tired. But he looked beautiful to me.

Kenny crossed the space between us in a few strides, dragging his suitcase behind him. Every step he took toward me sent my heart racing into overdrive. I stopped worrying about what he thought or how terrified I was of the strength of my feelings for him. All that mattered was that he was there.

Suddenly, he was within arm’s reach. Tall, broad shouldered, two-toned curls, scruff along his jawline. My fingers itched to reach for him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. For some reason, I needed him to make the first move.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly, propping his suitcase up against his leg. His blue-green eyes lit up as he shook his head, making his curls bounce. “It doesn’t matter… I’ve missed you so much.”

Before I could say anything, Kenny gathered me up in his arms. A slow smile spread over his face. Roughened fingertips brushed hair behind my ear as his gaze skipped over my face. I shivered beneath the intensity of his inspection.

“Kenny…”

He didn’t respond in words. Instead he slithered his fingers into my hair and pulled me close. He settled his mouth against mine gently, the kiss as chaste as it was breathtaking. Every cell in my body vibrated with the tenderness of it.

“Anata wa watashinoiedesu,” he murmured against my mouth. He buried his nose against my hair, nuzzled against my neck. I let him hold me as tightly as he dared. One hand delved into his hair, cradling his head against me. The other fisted into his shirt, tugging him closer. “Home.”

When he finally released his hold and looked down at me, his cheeks were bright red. He looked young and boyish, even with the tiredness that clouded his eyes. He smiled again, pressing his forehead against mine. I breathed in the scent of him, glad to just have him back again. Even if the strength of my missing him scared me.

“This was a nice surprise,” he said as we disentangled from one another. He reached down, took my hand, and led me toward the train station. “I’ve missed you.”

I fidgeted with the ends of my hair, trying to hide the heat that rushed beneath my skin at the idea that he’d been thinking of me while he was away. Even just for a few days. It made me giddy to know that I meant enough to him to miss.

“I’ll pay for the cab this time,” I said playfully. I couldn’t help but grin as he gently, perhaps subconsciously, drew me closer to his side. “You look like you could use some sleep.”

The sweetness slipped out of his smile, turned into something wolfish. “I could use way more than sleep.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making me giggle.

#in a day or two #idaot #kenny omega #kenny omega fanfiction #romance #travel #japan #japanese #shaye walker #kenny x shaye #fluff #ofc #oc #multi-chapter #real person fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction

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egoludes · 5 years

Text

sunkissed.

note: i promise i’m still working on updates for my series; but, after this pic showed up on my dash over the weekend, i’ve been in a tropical vacation!shawn frenzy and, well... here we are. big love to @dylshoney & @shhhawnmendes for letting me scream about this and giving me thoughts on the final product! i hope you all enjoy! wc: 3.5k warnings: nsfw, sex without a condom (i swear, i support safe sex), extremely mild reference (if you can call it that) to breeding kink

The sun is warm on your skin, rays in pretty patterns over your arms, tummy, thighs. There’s something rejuvenating about it, like all the energy from the sky is soaking in to displace what’s left of a brutal winter. You hadn’t realized just how badly you needed that until this second, and now that you’re here, well, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Shawn seems to share the sentiment, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in months with his head tipped back and fingers resting on your legs in his lap. You’re in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company as your eyes drink in all your private villa has to offer. The view, shaded here and there by palm trees, is breathtaking. There’s a pool and hot tub below, their water as vibrantly blue as the sky above, and the contrast with the grass cut neatly around them is like something out of a painting.

When you'd first arrived, Shawn joked about all the ways you could enjoy yourselves with that much space and so many facilities ( you bite your lip just imagining it ) ; but, at the moment, you’re content to just take it all in.

“This is nice,” you murmur, gaze turning to his face and the bare expanse of his chest. He hasn’t changed since a swim this morning and neither have you. Call it too lazy, or too comfortable, but you’re in no rush to let go of the soft start to your day. The glow of it still lingers, in the way you’re resting now and in Shawn's faint smile and hint of a lazy eye as he nods his agreement.

“It is.. don’t know why it took us so long to finally get out here.”

You both know the answer to that question, but choose not to dwell on it. After all, this isn’t the place for responsibilities or obligations (both of which had delayed this trip a few months each). That’ll be for some other time, four or five days from now, when you’re back in Toronto and the world’s returned to its usual chaos.

Right now, you’re in paradise, salt water dried on your skin and lips, and Shawn’s fingers starting to move along your calves. He does this a lot — trace shapes against you when you’re resting and his mind is elsewhere. So, you don’t even bat an eye, relaxing further into the balcony sofa while he explores.

In the distance, you can hear the ocean, waves to shore in an erratic, but calming, rhythm. And between that and Shawn’s touch, you feel as if you’re floating — like being lightheaded with none of the unpleasant side effects. The airiness guides your head back in a loll and your eyes flutter a few times before closing completely.

His eyes, on the other hand, are too busy looking over you to be distracted by anything else. They start where his fingers are, watching the pads flatten on your skin in a muted sort of fascination. Then, they follow the curve of your legs, over your uncovered thighs to the spot where your bikini starts. It’s the first time you’ve worn this one and he still can’t quite handle how stunning it looks on you. His new favorite, he’d confessed on the beach.

His gaze keeps rising over your stomach, your chest, the underside of your jaw. And what'd started in appreciation slowly becomes Shawn working himself up too fast to catch himself, cheeks pink as gears start turning in his head. You’re none the wiser, humming to yourself while you bask in the tranquil moment. Which makes it easy for him to grow bold, fingers moving up over your knee, thumb bumping along the hinge, until they can find your thigh. A sharp breath rises from you and he smiles, teeth sinking into his lip - he loves seeing his affect on you.

It’s what leads him to do it again, fingers moving back to your calf before repeating the upward motion. A rhythm forms naturally, Shawn spending less and less time at the lower part of your leg with each swipe ---- and it doesn’t take long before he gets more than a breath out of you.

“Think you’re playing with fire there, Mr. Mendes.” The comment is cheeky, one eye cracked open to watch him as a grin plays at your lips.

His expression is equally as playful, an eyebrow arched as he smirks down at you. “Think that’s the point, babe…” He leans forward, maintaining eye contact until his lips meet your knee. It’s a simple gesture, innocent even — but the way his eyes are darkening, and the fingers nudging under your swim suit to find your hip, makes his intention clear as day.

He wants you.

Your body tightens from the mere thought.

There’s a moment where you weigh your options --- where you consider the chances of being caught and how much you really care if you are. But, the look in his eyes, halfway between expectant and needy, stops that in its tracks. You're too enamored to tell him no, and too brave to care about what anyone thinks about when and how you want him. So, permission comes easy, a quick nod against the cushion, and your other eye opens just as he undoes the knot securing your bikini bottom to your body. One side is enough to get it off you and Shawn’s purring when the fabric falls aside, allowing you to open your legs to him. “Oh, honey… look at you..”

The awe in his voice makes your heart swell — how does he manage to be so tender in a moment so filthy? It’s a talent, that’s for certain, and you almost coo reaching to find his curls. He falls forward into the touch, pressing another kiss to your knee before letting his fingers dip to find you too. They settle on your clit first, the press of his thumb making your mouth fall open in a gasp. Your hips lift instinctively for more pressure, but Shawn doesn’t let you chase him. His free hand moves until it can guide you back down, a curt shake of his head accompanying it.

Immediately, you let out a sheepish giggle, shrugging it off because really, who can blame you for getting a little ahead of yourself? And Shawn laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest and against you where your bodies are pressed together. “Adorable,” he muses, flicking your clit with his thumb with a little mischief behind the eyes.

“Shawn,” you hiss, hips bucking as best as they can. You want to pout, but you refuse to give in, eyes narrowing instead as you tug a curl. “Don’t be a tease.”

“‘m not,” he fires back, though that shit-eating grin tells a different story. As if proving his point, he starts to rub circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, licking his lips when you arch off the sofa. He’s deliberate in his touches, pressing down hard but keeping his movements slow; and as much as you’d wanted to complain a moment ago, everything about it feels right. His name leaves you a second time, but this go is more sensual than indignant, a drawn out moan that spurs him on. “There we go,” he mumbles, lips finding the top of your knee once again, “gonna let me enjoy you, eh?”

You don’t know if he actually expects an answer, but the earnest makes you nod all the same, a half-dazed look on your face. The sight of it makes his groin throb and his thumb picks up its rhythm, eyes hungry as they follow the movement. You’re intoxicating enough on your own, but the way you look right now — stomach tightening and chest rising as you unravel for him — would be enough to bring him to his knees if he wasn’t sitting already. Blood rushes between his legs and he scoots closer, lap supporting your right leg while the left falls to the ground to give him more room.

Room he takes full advantage of with a finger sinking into you, all the way to the last knuckle. One stroke is enough for him to see the mess you’ve already made on him and he licks his lips, wrestling, for a moment, with the urge to taste you. After a few pumps that send you reeling, though, he sets that aside for another day (well, later on in this one, really).

A second finger joins the first, the sight of you all spread out too good to resist. And as his pace quickens, his attention darts between watching his fingers disappear inside you to your face twisted in pleasure: two images he wants to seal away for safekeeping. It’d be impossible to decide what he wants to see more — until you break the string of softer moans with a strangled whine of his name. Then, his eyes are snapping up towards your face so fast, he’s almost dizzy.

You have your head tipped back, mouth in an ‘o’ as another, raspier whine pushes its way out of you. It’s all too much for you to handle — his fingers, his mouth, his eyes picking you apart through his lashes. Your orgasm is mounting faster than you’re used to and you want to ask him to let you go so that you can search it out, give the final push on your own terms.

Shawn, as intuitive as ever, reads the familiar desperation on your face and gives in quickly, fingers leaving your hip to brace you by the thigh instead. “Come on, honey — give it to me.”

The encouragement strikes a chord, something in the naughtiest parts of your mind, and you’re off, shifting your weight over the cushions to meet every stroke of his fingers. Shawn moans as loud as you do at the uptick in speed, eyes lidding at how good you look, how good you are. Your need is contagious and he’s rubbing your clit faster to meet the pace you’ve set, breathing heavy as though he, too, is almost there.

Your orgasm doesn’t take long after that; a blindingly intense sensation that ripples from your head to the soles of your feet and has your fingers so twisted in the cushions that you leave them wrinkled. Wanting to be close, Shawn moves to find your mouth, dropping a couple sloppy kisses between soft nothings and encouragements: “That’s it… that’s it..."

By the time you catch your breath and let your eyes re-open, Shawn’s sat back up, his fingers still squarely inside you. When he sees he has your attention, though, he grins, moving them to his mouth to drag his tongue over and between them. Your stomach does flips at that, but you press the already re-emerging urges aside to tug him down for another kiss. “You really are such a tease,” you mutter with a nip at his lip. Tasting yourself on him is a bit odd some times; but others, like now, it’s electrifying, lighting something in you that just wants him closer.

That desire has you reaching a hand for his lap, pride rising when you feel how hard he is in his swim shorts. He makes a sound when he feels your palm, guttural in the back of his throat; but, before you can get very far, he regains his senses and reaches to stop you, much to your chagrin. “Nn, not yet... let me just kiss you for a little.”

You could melt right then and there - but Shawn doesn’t give you time to when he fits both hands under you and tugs you the rest of the way onto his lap. You settle with your legs swinging and his cock pressed against your bare ass, and he tips his head up to find your mouth again. Anticipation’s already rising, turning in your tummy like butterflies. But, this time, there’s no rush — no adolescent neediness steering the ship. It’s like the island’s energy has made its way into even this, leaving your kisses languid and heady.

It keeps Shawn at bay for at least a little while, his focus on kissing every inch of you instead of the ache in his lower half. Your bikini top’s shifted quite a bit since earlier and with the new position, it finally finds its way off, his fingers brushing your skin as they work. When the fabric falls to the ground, he pauses to appreciate you, lips pursed in a hum, before his attention falls to the skin along your neck. The kisses are light at first; but the lower he goes, the more teethy they get and before long, he’s sucking as hard as he needs to leave little marks all over you.

“Heeey,” you pant, fingers landing on the nape of his neck to disappear in the hair there, “people will see those.”

Lidded eyes find you through his curls, a hand patting your bum to a beat only he hears. “I know — ’s the whole point.” He places another kiss for good measure, prompting an endeared eye roll and a mental note to return the favor later. For now, he’s off the hook, especially with his mouth reaching your breasts too quickly for you to focus on anything else. The fingers at his nape tighten, and you give a strong tug as he wraps lips around one of your nipples. It’s all tongue to start, but Shawn gets eager fast and teeth graze your skin once or twice before he finally commits to a little nip. When you gasp, he chuckles, amused with himself even as he soothes the sting with another lap of his tongue.

This little game goes on for a bit longer, Shawn nibbling wherever he can reach and getting more lost in you by the second. “Why don’t we stay here forever,” he mutters eventually, breath fanning out over your skin. It’s much warmer than the sun had been and you turn into the closeness easily, arousal swelling in every part of you. “Could buy you this house, marry you, give you some pretty little babies...”

You both know there’s no way you could stay, but the fantasy is nice to entertain, fun to flirt with. You keep it going with the fingers in his hair guiding his face to yours until your noses are bumping lightly. “Think we could get started with at least one of those things...”

You’re going for subtle, but Shawn’s immediately catching on, a needy groan rising out of him at the thought of what you’re offering. “Yeah..?”

“Mm... yeah.” There’s a shift of your hips then, calculated to rock your ass back against the bulge in his shorts. You only manage it a second time before Shawn surges forward, falling headlong into this, into you with a sigh. His hand comes up to the small of your back to help lay you onto the couch; and once you’re settled, legs parted for him again, he’s between them, shorts partly off his hips as he fits his mouth over yours.

You kiss him back with the same fervor, fumbling to get his shorts the rest of the way off. You only manage to get them as far as mid-thigh, but when you feel his cock against your hip, you decide that’s good enough, and your hands move, instead, to tug him in by his sides.

“Still feel ok, baby?” The words are muffled against your jaw, where he's sponging kisses all over as he settles in over you. “I can...” He finishes the question with fingers teasing between your folds, a quick, suggestive touch.

The contact is overwhelming, deliciously so, but you still manage to refuse him — there’s something else you want much more. “No, no, just...want you.”

It’s hard to tell if it’s the lust in your tone or the heat behind your eyes when you say it — maybe even a combination of the two — but something about your confession flips a switch in him. All at once, Shawn’s positioning you with one hand and pumping himself with the other, a sharp exhale as he drops his hips and presses forward.

Your hands tighten on him when you feel his tip against your inner thigh, and it’s all you can do not to rush him. The anticipation had felt exciting before, but now it’s almost exhausting, reducing you to impatient squirms the longer it takes for him to be inside you. Shawn, as always, feels it as much as you do and lets his hand between you guide him until he can fill you up.

He bottoms out almost instantly, and the sensation of being stretched - or in his case, squeezed - so fast takes your breaths away. Up to now, he’s been supporting himself with a hand near the side of your head and fingers curled into the cushion. But, when Shawn’s head starts swimming from how hot you are around him, he can’t help but fall forward, arms bent at the elbow to let him press his weight into you.

It’s nothing you can’t handle, though. In fact, you love it when he’s so close; it lets you feel him deeper, harder and your arms find a place around his neck, bracing you for what’s to come.

“Fuck, baby,” he lets out against your skin as he takes his first proper thrust. The movement’s careful, almost tentative, but that doesn’t stop him from filling you to the hilt and earning a quiet whimper. There’s a brief pause - long enough to guide your legs around him and angle your hips - before he’s taking another long thrust, shivering on top of you. He’d wanted this to be slow, a complement to your week in this easy paradise. But, he’s too far gone for that now — the moment he can tell that you’re adjusted and ready, all self-control dissipates, leaving nothing but a Shawn that’s desperate for everything you’ll give him.

His hand presses hard into the flesh at your waist as his thrusts become more pointed, hips snapping forward to send him deep into your core. You’d seen the change in pace coming, but that doesn’t keep you from crying out for him with nails dragging down over his back. The pain, while jarring, just winds him up more, a hiss against your throat that he muffles with a half-kiss.

“S-Shawn—“ You gasp out, head thrown back to give more access to your neck. It’s already sticky between you, the breeze no real match for the way your bodies are tangled and the temperature rising with every rock of his hips. This one is going to be sloppy —- and, if you have to guess by the tension building in your tummy, it won’t last long either.

Not that Shawn is faring much better. You can’t see much of his face with his head tucked against you, but you know that hitch in his breath by heart. He’s not completely close, but is getting there fast, and the build-up has his thrusts growing more and more haphazard. “Hon, I can't—“ he cuts off in a moan, the words strangled in the back of his throat by how good you’re making him feel. It takes him a moment to try again, sucking in quick breaths until he’s coherent. “Wanna cum—“

You nod quickly to acknowledge it, squeezing your legs at his hips as if to keep him from moving away. “I-inside me... don’t forget —“

He groans loud at the reminder — as if he could. As if there’s anything he wants more right now than to fill you up and watch the way you keen when he does. Just thinking about it does a number on him and you can tell that he’s on the brink when his thrusts get messy.

There’s no way he’s leaving you behind, though, and his fingers find your clit the second he knows he’s near his limit. They work over the nub fast and hard to match his thrusts and you arch to press closer to him, eyes rolling back from the flood of pleasure. “O-oh god—“

Shawn is just as reverent, teeth sinking into your shoulder as one last thrust has climax bowling him over. He whines out your name, fingers stuttering -- but not stilling -- over your clit; not even when his hips press down to spill everything he has inside you. Your peak, then, doesn't take much longer, more intense than the first and twice as good when you can feel him cumming too.

You’re both hungry until the very end of it, nails and mouths over any inch of skin they can get to as you ride out your orgasms. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with marks a little earlier than you intended, and by the looks of his face when he catches his breath enough to look at you --- and every place he’s been --- he may be expecting the same.

Coming down in comparison is gentle and tender; marked by little kisses from a clearer-headed Shawn who's worried he might've hurt you. But, when he sees you beaming up at him, love glinting in your eyes like the sun, he starts to calm and runs hands over your sides with a smile to rival yours.

He never forgets how much he loves you, but he's always reminded in moments like this; in the private little pockets of time ( in stadiums, on flights, and even after making love ) that the two of you just exist.

He really could stay here forever.

taglist (perm + fic): @sinplisticshawn / @heyits-claire / @honestey / @justanotherfangurl272 / @dylshoney / @softmndes / @bolognashawn / @unwrittendestiny / @shes-soparticular / @mendescurl / @mndes / @shhhawnmendes / @someoneunimportantxx

#shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fiction

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