#I HAVE NEVER PROPERLY CLIMBED BEFORE AND SUDDENLY I WAS JUST UP THERE LMAO

[thisultraviolet]

Pole dancing classes update: I TOUCHED THE ROOF 🗣️🗣️🗣️

#I HAVE NEVER PROPERLY CLIMBED BEFORE AND SUDDENLY I WAS JUST UP THERE LMAO #I managed to do it like 4 times but at the end when we had to clean the pole my foot cramped and I could NOT get back up there #so the teacher had to do it for me I felt so bad 💀💀 #my post

[soleilnomoon]

Sooo.... there's no way I could ever resist submitting a request in one of your events. +_+ Been hurrying to get up from bed for this, I hope I'll still catch a slot :D so excited you're doing this!!!!

Can I please have some mangos and strawberries, with a Mai Tai (Ace)? <3 I'd love to listen to any combination of the songs #3, #9, #39, #43 (sorry, but this SCREAMS of Ace; also any variant of it, like talking to a 3rd person about it), #38 (couldn't resist the combination). OMG. It's soooo hard to choose....! There's so many combi-ideas! +_+ I absolutely love this! Thank you so much for doing this event! :D

omg hiiii 🥰️ that pic is killing me 😭😭 lmaooo *shakes u* so i rewrote this like 10x i think, but it’s finally done and i am v excited for you to read it. also i’m so happy you requested, you always pick good prompts lmao anyway, ty for being patient 😊 as u know i’m slow as hell when it comes to writing — also the fluff almost killed me!!!! 💗

3.5k words (pls pls i know i know!!!! it's not my fault, i blame ace), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; fluff (it's there i promise, somewhere) & smut (and angst that u didn't ask for <3); modern au! feat. ace being a menace as usual, reader in denial (serious serious denial) of her feelings, reader's a lil shyyy ok, public sex, (slight) public exhibition, public sex, choking, rough sex, hand job, oral (m receiving), ace being shirtless is a warning, childhood frenz 2 lovers (who am i), mutual pining, reader is foolish & needs to be honest, ace needs to calm down but he never will. idk! probably more stuff idr yk the vibes. (if u see spelling errors/grammar mistakes, no u didn't bb 💕)

a warm breeze wraps itself around your arms and legs, languid and loving — a heavy embrace that unjustly suffocates, with a light sheen of sweat that belatedly appears on your forehead. your denim shorts ride up higher on your thighs the more you move around; for some reason, you just can’t seem to get comfortable. loud music wafts from your parents’ house through the open sliding doors, the beats catchy and mesmerizing, lulling you into a much more relaxed state as you continue to lounge on the hammock in the backyard. another breeze glides along your skin, making you roll over onto your back, the rope from the hammock rough but comforting.

to keep yourself from spiraling, you close your eyes and soak up as much of the sun as possible. your lips are a little red and sticky from the popsicle you ate just a few minutes ago; it helped to cool you down for a bit, but the heat is relentless and oppressive.

after graduating from college, you left home and traveled for a few years; you’ve always had that itch, a desire to roam about freely without having anything — or anyone — tying you down. it’s why you left so quickly; it’s why you didn’t say goodbye properly; and it’s why you’ve been on edge all afternoon.

you groan loudly before covering your face with your hands.

“this is so stupid.” your words are muffled and strained, your frustration rising along with the temperature outside. it’s simple — all you have to do is casually strike up conversation with him and act like nothing’s changed.

so easy, right?

you desperately want it to be, but the universe has a penchant for bad jokes and the punch line is currently on its way to disrupt your life.

“he probably won’t even come by anyway,” you continue to mumble before dropping your hands. a frown climbs onto your lips afterwards. the idea that your parents might actually be wrong, that he isn’t going to come by like he promised he would, is all too much for you to deal with.

and suddenly, you feel like you can’t breathe; the air grows thick enough to choke on, an obnoxious thudding growing louder and louder in your ears—

but before you can succumb to your unfortunate demise, someone pinches your nose, disrupting the chaotic flow of thoughts pummeling into you one right after the other. squirming around, you stare, wide-eyed, at the last person you thought you’d see today.

despite pressing his lips together, it does nothing to stop him from laughing at you — not maliciously, but he really can’t help it. your look of genuine shock and confusion is cute. really, really cute. adorable, even. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in so long, or maybe it’s because he’s been waiting for a moment like this to pop up so you both can finally have that one conversation you keep running away from.

you are wholly unprepared to see ace this soon; words rush from the pit of your stomach up to your mouth, ready to fling ace’s way without restraint. but, as always, you hold back. you’ve gotten quite good at biting your tongue, at stamping out certain emotions; it’s better, easier that way.

no one gets hurt, right?

right.

with a sly smile, ace slides his sunglasses away from his face, upwards onto his hair; you were in such a daze that you barely heard him walk over. which worked out fine for ace, because he could look at you freely without you hiding from him like you usually do — a thing he hopes you’ve grown out of in the time you’ve spent apart.

if you thought you couldn’t breathe before, you’re definitely gasping for air now. lips parted, you inhale deeply as a completely different kind of heat surges through you faster than you’d like. he pauses for a moment before gently swiping his thumb along your plush bottom lip.

an insidious thudding echoes loudly around your ears, and you realize, in fear, that it’s the sound of your heart — beating erratically at his proximity and touch. talking feels impossible, so you remain silent and stare at him in disbelief.

it feels like an eternity passes before ace smiles again, your eyes track the way his lips slowly curve upward, bringing about that familiar dimple in his right cheek. something possesses you to reach up to touch his cheek, the tips of your fingers barely grazing his skin when you realize what you’re doing. you snatch your hand back quickly, a light-headedness descending upon you right after.

on impulse, ace leans down until his lips ghost over yours, the familiarity of the gesture triggering a memory so strong that goosebumps unceremoniously prickle your skin without remorse. you remember exactly how skillful his mouth is; you remember how your limbs were tangled with his; and you remember how you almost blurted out a hidden truth that you refused to admit to. he’d gone still, nearly statuesque as an unreadable look morphed onto his face; fear of rejection had you scrambling away from his embrace, nearly out of breath as you darted out of his bedroom without looking back.

remorse finds its way to you again, but your thoughts are too scattered to properly feel it. if you don’t figure something out soon, you’ll give in to him all over again — and you simply can’t do that.

however, ace has a way of diverting your plans with his whims and spontaneity.

“hey, pretty,” he says, voice low and husky, with a hint of that mischievous and boyish charm he’s well-known for; his hand on your hip is practically scalding, his thumb coasting dangerously on your soft stomach, but you don’t push him away. a soft whimper dares to slip out of your mouth when his grip tightens and you’re so sure that he’s going to kiss you — but he doesn’t.

ace straightens up and sticks his hands into his pockets, all innocent-like, completely disregarding the fact that he’s the reason why your heart is beating loud enough to rattle your bones. his cologne lingers — a rich and heavy, spiced scent with hints of blackberry — and you get drunk from it, mind a little hazy. you’re in too much shock to feel any sort of shame, and if he wasn’t so intent on teasing you for a bit longer, he would’ve already succumbed to the temptation of kissing you.

he really just meant to say hi, but you were being cute while talking out loud to yourself, your voice traveling further than you probably wanted; it was the sight of your exposed legs — curvy and soft, skin glistening almost flawlessly under the sun — that really fueled his audacity. since you’re prone to running, he did the only thing that made sense: invade your personal space. it’s the only way to keep you still long enough to talk.

or, so he thought.

“w-what are you doing here?” you ask in a panic, moving around on the hammock, eyes widening again as you shamelessly stare at his chest. he still has that peculiar habit of walking around shirtless, which is your justification for why you keep looking at him like that — his abs look more defined than before, but you refrain from touching him again.

ace completely ignores your question and instead says, “you’re hot.” he tilts his head a bit, that sly grin finding its way onto his lips again when you stumble over your words.

“i—what?”

you sit up and climb off the hammock with clumsy and hurried movements. thankfully he has the decency to not laugh this time, but that pesky dimple resurfaces, and you have to ball your hands into fists and sink your nails into your palms to keep yourself from saying something unnecessary and embarrassing.

“why are you—” you cut yourself off, take a deep breath, and try again, “i don’t understand.”

is he joking? he has to be, there’s no way he’s forgiven you for leaving him like that; and even though he called you pretty earlier, you’re sure that’s just his way of wanting to rile you up for his own amusement.

and while you’re not entirely wrong about that, he was being serious.

he lifts his chin and motions to your chest; sweat glides down your neck and sneaks in between your cleavage. you realize, then, that he meant that you literally looked hot. pressing your lips together firmly, you decide against speaking and opt to march past him instead. you don’t get far, if anything ace only allows you to move a few feet away before wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you back.

your mouth dries and you try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let up.

“you’re hurting my feelings, y’know,” he says quietly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. you bite your lower lip before rolling it in between your teeth, contemplating his words. you know you’re being ridiculous, and you know you owe him an explanation — your cowardice nearly wins out, but you settle down and sigh softly.

“you’re right, i’m sorry.” for so many things, but you keep that bit to yourself.

ace only laughs again at your austere demeanor. “just kidding, i just want to be selfish right now.” something about that sets your skin on fire, although it probably doesn’t help that ace places a kiss on the side of your neck before you can respond to him properly.

suddenly, all that fight that you had — that determination to avoid him completely — leaves your body. on a sharp inhale you turn around and look up at him curiously, to see if he’s actually being serious or not; ace stares at you intently, adoration saturated in lust clouding his vision. he holds onto the back of your neck and kisses you, his tongue playfully licking your bottom lip, grinning at how sweet you taste.

you shiver and open your mouth for him as he kisses you again, slow and sensuous, your legs nearly giving out from the intensity. his hand travels down your back, its descent searing and playful; you kiss him back with fervor and enthusiasm, lips moving against his as if this is a common occurrence for you two.

his tongue swirls around yours and when his large hand moves lower to grab your ass, you nearly lose your mind. there’s an intense, unavoidable ache in between your thighs as you cling onto him desperately, whimpering softly against his lips. he told himself he’d take it slow, but the way you’re reacting to him only confirms what he’s always known: you want him just as much as he wants you.

it’s in between heated tongue kisses that ace suggests a change in location. dazed and slightly confused, you feel yourself nodding as he tugs you along with him, anticipation making you stumble over your sandaled feet. he has half a mind to just carry you back inside, but you eventually keep up with his long strides. you hide behind ace when your parents step outside, boisterously chatting with a few of their guests as they sit at the table on the deck underneath the large awning. you’re glad they barely take notice of you — they’re halfway drunk already — and ace laughs at your demure behavior, prompting you to pinch his arm playfully and shushing him. it’s your feeble attempt at sneaking by without anyone interrogating you.

when you successfully make it back into your house, you let out a sigh, embracing the cool air.

“that was close,” you say out loud and at ace’s puzzled expression, you motion to your parents outside, “they almost saw us.”

he blinks slowly and lifts a brow. “so?” ace has never been one to hide like that, so he’s unsure why you want to.

“what do you mean ‘so’?” your face burns as soon as the words leave your mouth; you’re not sure why you’re feeling bashful, but it becomes harder and harder to look at ace. maybe it’s because you’re so aroused that you’d let him fuck you in the kitchen without complaint, or maybe it’s because you can’t come to terms with your feelings for him.

or, maybe it’s a combination of both.

either way, ace doesn’t know why you care.

sighing loudly he walks out of the kitchen, fully expecting you to follow — and you do. you’re unsure if you’ve said the wrong thing; actually, you know you’ve said the wrong thing, but before you can apologize, ace pushes you against the wall, hands placed on either side of your head as he cages you in.

“who cares if anyone sees?”

he’s right, you know that; it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. but when he presses places a kiss on your neck, you melt — heart beating faster than necessary, making you dizzy with want. you place your hands on his chest, his muscles firm under your soft touch; ace inhales sharply when you bring your hands lower, his cock stiff and heavy in his shorts, an irritating reminder that his self-restraint is dissipating quickly.

later on, when you reflect on this moment, you’ll chastise yourself about how impulsive you both were — fucking in your hallway while your parents entertain guests not even forty feet away — but for now, you just want to indulge in the fantasy and not think about anything.

ace grabs your wrist clumsily, suddenly remembering himself while halting your movements. you blink at him, confused and anxious; maybe he changed his mind about everything? maybe this was payback for the last time you were together — and, if you’re honest, you can’t exactly blame him. swallowing hard, you relax your face and opt for a more neutral expression.

normally much more forthcoming with his wants and desires, ace hesitates, momentarily, dark brows furrowed as a frown settles onto his lips.

“maybe we shouldn’t…,” he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply, your perfume immobilizing him temporarily before he speaks again. “you deserve better than me.”

you sit with his words for a moment but it’s not long before your hands work at tugging his shorts and underwear down. he looks at you, light brown cheeks flushed slightly when he notices the way you’re staring. you knew he was big, but goodness — still, you don’t let that deter you, and wrap a hand around his cock and slowly stroke it. ace lets out a quiet groan and it encourages you to move your hand faster.

with a soft peck on his lips, you say, “that’s not for you to decide.” which is all you’ll say on the matter. your feelings for him were too big for you to handle before, but now — now that you’ve been forced to confront your own damn self, a belated sense of clarity falls over you. it was never easy to convey your feelings into words when it came to him, but you’re very sure that he’ll understand you now.

ace’s hips jut forward when your grip around his cock tightens; he lets out a low hiss, doing his best not to be too loud since you’re so adamant about not getting caught. pre-cum spills from his slit, down onto your hand; a fascinating sight that has you sinking to your knees without much thought and replacing your hand with your mouth.

at that he moans much louder than he means to, but once your plush lips wrap around the thick head of his cock, he stops caring.

“fuck,” he breathes, leaning against the wall for support as you flick your tongue against his slit — a dangerous move, but one that you make with the full confidence that ace would, in turn, fuck you like you’ve always wanted him to.

you run your tongue down his length with gusto, as if his cock was an addictive summer treat. and, maybe it is, because you open your mouth and bob up and down his length. you use your hands for what you can’t fit in your mouth, moaning around him as you press your thighs together. your mouth is sinfully warm and wet — forbidden, almost; he grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you steady as he thrusts his hips forward.

holding onto his thighs, you slacken your jaw and keep your tongue flat, arousal building as he fucks your mouth. he knows he should be gentle, but he’s reached his limit and you’re being so compliant — he can’t really help himself. not that you mind, your panties are already damp from your slick arousal; his movements are rushed and purposeful, but you enjoy the way he’s seemingly lost control of himself.

you gag around him, breathe deeply through your nose, and ignore the tears that spill down your round cheeks. ace moans your name and your heart expands pitifully in your chest, warmth traveling all along your body. he knows he’ll never last if he keeps this up, so he pulls out of you without warning. you nearly fall over but you hold onto him, looking up at him curiously, long lashes tantalizing and mesmerizing as your tears start to dry.

he pulls you up to your feet and kisses you again with a hand wrapped around your throat; he gives it a teasing squeeze and you moan against his lips. it doesn’t take long before you unbutton your shorts and pull them down with your panties — your thighs trembling with each passing second. you wrap your legs around him possessively when he picks you up; the kisses grow more urgent and sloppier, your heart threatening to kill you mercilessly with how hard its beating.

this must be what dying feels like, you tell yourself, although when he rubs the tip of his cock in between your slick folds, you buck your hips forward and beg him to stop teasing you.

since he’s not that cruel, ace lines the head of his cock with your entrance and inches forward; sucking in a bit of air, you hold onto him tightly, and when you relax, ace thrusts into you. the moan you let out is absolutely indecent, your pussy a lewd, greedy thing that swallows his cock without much issue. with long strokes, ace knocks his hips against yours, a strangled cry slipping out of you unexpectedly. ace kisses you again and again — an attempt to keep you quiet — but soon, his strokes get shorter and frenzied as he fucks you harder, almost like he wants to incapacitate you with an orgasm.

you wouldn’t mind going out like that, especially when ace is fucking you like that, balls slapping against your ass loudly, mouth hungrily searching for his while you harshly drag your nails down the back of his neck. he doesn’t mind as the pain is minimal, and he likes the idea of you marking him the way he’s marked you.

it becomes increasingly difficult to keep quiet, but you’ve long forgotten why you needed to keep quiet in the first place. your saving grace is that your parents and their friends are more intoxicated than you originally thought and are in their own world as they laugh and dance outside. somewhere down the line, you lost your common sense — you suppose it happened when ace came to find you earlier — and because of that, you let go. your cunt squeezes around him tightly, your arousal coating the length of him; ace angles his hips and his cock reaches a spot that’s deep enough to make you babble at him incoherently.

he laughs and drops a playful kiss on your lips, his hands gripping your ass as he powers into you. a flash of white robs you of your vision, a liquid heat swirling around your lower abdomen as you cum hard with his name in your mouth. hips rolling forward, he bites your neck recklessly and your orgasm intensifies.

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. yes!” you chant without restraint, throat hoarse, voice raw. he breathes unevenly, thrusting feverishly into your puffy pussy, his own orgasm finding him shortly after.

ace groans as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your throat, your whines saccharine and enticing; there are so many things he wants (and needs) to say, but he pushes that aside, deciding to enjoy this moment with you instead. you pant lightly and hold onto him, heartbeat slowing until it matches his. you should probably hurry up and get dressed, since there’s no telling when someone will come through that hallway, but you can’t be bothered right now. you’re much more interested in the way ace kisses you again, leaving you breathless and terribly in love.

if you were privy to his thoughts, you’d know that he feels the same way and has felt that way for a long, long time — and sometimes he feels like he loves you a little too much. still, you feel much lighter now, sighing softly as you arch against him; the intimacy of it, surprisingly, doesn’t scare you, and now you wonder if maybe you were thinking too much about everything before. it seems that your problem has always had a simple solution, but you’re just glad that ace pushed you to figure it out. it isn’t something you’d normally do, but for ace you have a tendency to think and act impulsively without warning; he likes that side of you, and hopes that you’ll keep acting like that in the future.

#1.3k followers mini event #🔆💕🌴 feels like summer event 🥭💕🔆 #milestone event #fic request #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece fluff #one piece smut #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace x y/n #portgas d. ace fluff #portgas d. ace smut #ace x reader #ace fluff #ace smut #i need y/n to bffr bc!!! this man would have me on my knees WEAK #i'm a clown just like y/n; cut from the same clown cloth #ace x y/n

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.5

masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for your patience! Honestly I struggled so hard with this chapter and I don’t know why, I wrote and deleted things so many fucking times (overthinking, as usual), so I hope this lives up to your expectations! ☺️ and thank you for all of your love for this fic—you’ve all truly made my heart explode! 🥰 also, really sorry if I’ve missed any tags! Okay, here we go!

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catish’ Morales x f!reader

Word count: lmao... just under 5.6k I’m sorry

Warnings: okay, let’s see... swearing, ✨ smut—finally ✨ 18+, no minors! fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving) unprotected p in v sex (wrap before you tap people), masturbation (f), cum shot, cum eating, Frankie’s a messy pussy eater and no I will not be taking constructive criticism because he’s a thirsty man and you know I’m right. I think that’s it! (please let me know if there’s something I should add!)

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.6

+

Fuck. He was really here.

He was really here, in the dim lighting of your tiny apartment, hands buried in his pockets as he watches you shuffle on the spot.

Well shit. Now what?

“Um, so... this is my apartment.” Duh—you idiot.

You frown a little at yourself, palms clamming up with nerves. Your usual moves had all but vanished from your mind. You used to be good at this, so fucking good, but now, with Frankie standing right in front of you in all of his fucking glorious flannelette perfection, you felt a little out of your depth.

How did this shit usually go? You can’t remember. Fuck, you can’t remember. How did you get from point A to point B? Shit. You’re going to embarrass yourself. You can feel it. Oh my god, are you sweating?

Oblivious to your inner turmoil, his gaze flickers around at your words, taking in the many small personal details that make the space your own which he had missed earlier, before landing back on you, eyes darkening as your tongue slips out and runs along your bottom lip.

“It’s nice.” He comments, voice coming out a lot huskier than normal. You can’t help but clench in response, insides twisting pleasantly as his raspy tone settles in your ears.

“Can I—can I get you anything? Coffee?”

Stop. This is ridiculous. The both of you were damn near close to combusting in the truck and now you’re offering coffee? You might as well just show him his way out.

He senses your nerves then, relieved he wasn’t the only one seemingly unsure of how to move this along, but keeps his eyes on you, testing the waters as he speaks, “Maybe in the morning.”

Well, fuck. Okay then.

You swallow, chest heaving slightly as you inhale, heart fluttering away in your chest. God, just kiss him. You don’t need a build-up, just do it. You could feel the ghost of his previous kisses along your lips, could feel the heat of his hands run across your body from when he had pressed you up against the windmill. You needed it all again.

It’s quiet as you both study each other, lost in feeling of growing arousal as your clock ticks slowly somewhere in the background, and then something just snaps.

You both jump forward at the same time, Frankie’s arms immediately wrapping around your waist and bringing you flush against his body while your hands tangle in his hair, tugging sharply and pulling a low groan from him as his lips eagerly mash against yours.

The strength that you meet each other with throws you both off balance, and you stumble into your dining table, breathing a quiet chuckle at the apology he mutters against your lips. You shift to sit on the edge of it, widening your thighs to make room for him as he steps closer and presses his hips tightly against yours.

Your hands shake as you desperately attack the buttons of his flannelette shirt, all but ripping the damn thing down his arms when it eventually parts, and making a small noise of impatience when your hands slide along cotton instead of skin. He briefly pulls away from your mouth, hands quick to tug the plain t-shirt he had worn underneath his shirt up and off his torso, melting back into you the second he drops it to the floor.

Holy shit.

His skin is warm and smooth under your palms as they hungrily feel along his chest and dip along his stomach, grabbing desperately at his waist when his tongue slides into your mouth. He responds eagerly to your touch, pushing your dress up and out of the way to run his hands along on the bare skin of your legs. They stop just below the line of your panties, his thumbs tracing along the inside of your thighs and smoothing dangerously close to your covered pussy.

He feels your muscles move under his touch, feels the whimper fall from your mouth and into his when he squeezes your thighs. Your hips roll forward automatically, needing his touch to go just that little bit higher.

“Please touch me,” you plead quietly, lashes fluttering as you gaze up at him and his chest tightens.

His fingers are quick to move the lace aside and fuck—

He watches your face with open wonder; watches how your eyes close when his fingers lightly trace over you, watches how your breath catches when his thumb swipes through your arousal and spreads it over your swollen clit, rubbing soft insistent circles that have your toes curling in your shoes.

“Frankie—”

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against the skin of your throat, tongue circling over your pulse point before his nose trails up and along your jaw, pressing a kiss at the corner of your lips while your face pinches in pleasure, brows burrowing and grip tightening on his arms.

“More… please—”

He hums lowly, a finger soon swiping through your folds and prying at your entrance, sliding into the wet heat of your pussy with no resistance. You’d been ready for hours, practically dripping for him the second he first laid his hands on you. Your breath catches when he curls it, curious and searching, his lips twisting into a smug grin when your back suddenly arches, a startled cry falling from your lips.

“There we go.” And then he’s pressing soft kisses along your temple, adding a second finger into the mix and thrusting steadily, grinding his palm along your clit as he does so.

He drags it out and you hate that you fucking love it.

With the patience of a saint, he works you slowly, more than happy to drag out your pleasure as long as he likes. He holds you close with his spare hand supporting the back of your neck as you arch into him, lips never straying too far from yours as his fingers drive you closer and closer to the edge.

And then he changes something, moves his fingers just the right way, and it hits you out of nowhere.

Slamming into you like a freight train, the blissful torture hits its peak, and then you’re crashing down, nails digging into his arms as your pussy gushes around him and he’s quickly leaning in, swallowing the cry that flies from your lips.

His fingers slow before he gently pulls them out and then your hands are desperately reaching for his face, teeth clashing slightly as your mouths meet harshly.

“Bedroom?” He mutters hoarsely, throbbing in his jeans and aching to spread you out somewhere more comfortable, to see and feel more of you properly.

It takes a moment for your mind to catch up and register what he says, but when it does, you’re slipping off the table onto unsteady feet and grabbing his hand, stumbling in your haste to get to your room. He works the dress from your body on the way, hands eagerly spreading across the newly bared skin as you spin in his arms, meeting his lips as he backs you to the bed.

“My turn?” You question sweetly against his mouth, hands trailing lightly over the bulge digging into you before landing on his belt, fingers making quick work of the buckle.

He grins, stilling your hands. “Not even close—get on the bed.”

As soon as your ass meets the bedding, he’s on his knees in front of you, warm hands smoothing up along the soft skin of your legs and gently spreading your thighs. You brush a stray curl from his forehead softly as you recline onto your elbow, fingers gently trailing along the side of his face as he smiles at you, turning to kiss your palm softly before his hands are greedily grabbing at your panties and pulling them down your legs.

There’s no working up to it this time… no patience, no soft strokes.

Frankie dives in like a man starved, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he spreads your legs and licks a long, wide strip along your pussy. You feel him groan against you, your hips squirming on the bed as he tries to pull you closer against his mouth, tongue probing at your pussy and hungrily lapping up the mess he had made of you on the table.

Your hand moves to wind into his soft hair, whimpers falling from your mouth as his facial hair tickles at your thighs and tongue rubs relentless strokes over your clit.

Body still strung out and sensitive from the orgasm he had all but ripped from you before, it doesn’t take long for the gentle strokes of his tongue to build another, your stomach clenching as he tightens his hands, feeling the unsteady shake of your legs in his hold.

You dance precariously on the edge, stomach clenching in anticipation. “Frankie, I—fuck—I’m—”

His mouth works you faster, “Fuck, please—”

You shatter at his softly spoken plea, back arching and hand tightening into a fist as you tug harshly at his hair, crying out and drowning the sound of his own groan as you flood his mouth. He takes everything you give him, tongue diving to push into your pussy as you ride out and come down from your high. He pulls off of you with a small pant, licking his lips and brushing his chin with the back of his hand.

You make a small noise of contentment, “Thank you.”

He chuckles quietly, grinning at the look of blissed out mortification that washes your face following your words as he climbs over you. “You’re welcome.”

You grind your hips against his when he presses into you, hissing when your sensitive clit rubs against the rough denim, but your message gets across loud and clear, Frankie’s eyes darkening as he moves in to kiss you slowly. He breaks away for a brief moment to kick his jeans off, and then he’s covering you again, warm body pressing you into the mattress.

“I have a—”

You make a noise of refusal, hands reaching around to grab at his back to keep him on top of you. “Wanna feel you… ‘m safe—”

He can’t help the small groan that falls from his lips, nodding as he dives in for another kiss. “Me too—”

You whimper when he shifts his hips, slotting further between your thighs. He slides the head of his cock between your slick folds, slowly rocking back and forth across your clit and your chest heaves in anticipation, eyes falling shut when you feel him start to slowly slide into you. Fucking finally—

He fills you slowly, cock rubbing deliciously against your walls and you arch into him when he finally bottoms out, his face falling to rest in the curve of your shoulder. He shudders under your hands when he pulls out, thrusting softly into you and cursing quietly when your pussy flutters around him.

You whine, “Fuck. You feel so—”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish. He starts moving, hips moving back before slamming forward again and again, the breath escaping your lungs as he moves to rest on his forearms, lips seeking yours for one more bruising taste of your mouth before he pulls completely away. A hand grabs your thigh, hitching it high around his waist and groaning quietly when he hits deeper on the next push.

You’re lost in a hazy sea of pleasure as he starts to move, frantic in his thrusts, the incoherent mumbling falling from your lips driving him to push harder. You have to smother your mouth with your hand to stifle your scream when he grabs your head board, using it as leverage as his hips start to ram harshly into yours.

He knocks the hand away from your mouth, eyes fierce, “I want to hear you.”

“Fuck—”

A thumb starts rubbing at your clit and you sob from the overstimulation, the burn of it sending shocks throughout your body as your body tenses beneath him, fighting the overwhelming sense of it being too fucking much while clinging to the heat of climax quickly building in your core.

“Come on—”

Your body responds to his words immediately. You’re not even sure what sounds comes out of your mouth when your body completely shatters from the inside out, stars blinding you as your pussy clamps down around him. His hips stutter and then he’s quickly pulling out and away from you, fisting his cock with a quiet groan until his cum is painting your pussy, covering your clit and sliding down your slick folds, mixing with your cum leaking from your entrance.

He all but collapses on top of you, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You’re too tired to open your eyes and watch him as he moves away, bed dipping as he stands and disappears.

A wet warmth covers your thoroughly wrecked pussy, and you blearily blink your eyes open to watch him softly clean you with a face cloth, smiling lazily at him when he glances up at you softly. He throws it into the laundry basket by the door and climbs up next to you, gently manoeuvring your tired body under the sheets before wrapping around you.

You blindly reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers as your body slowly calms and melts into the mattress and into the body radiating warmth behind you. The last thing you feel are soft lips pressing against your temple, a hushed goodnight ringing in your ears.

-

Soft fingers tracing down along your nose drags you gently from sleep the next morning. The smile that stretches your lips is automatic as your eyes focus on Frankie, dressed in his clothes from yesterday and perched on the bed next to you.

“I have to go.” He mutters, eyes soft and apologetic as the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheek.

“Oh,” you try not to let the disappointment flood your tone, but your face doesn’t get the message as it falls into a pout.

“I know—I’m sorry.” He smiles, fingers still caressing the skin across your face. Your chest tightens the longer he gazes softly at you, something shining deep in his eyes that makes your heart race. “Can I take you out for dinner sometime in the week?”

Delight radiates from your chest as you smile, nodding eagerly. “That would be nice.”

“Last night was…” he trails off, unable to find the words to describe what he felt about the evening before, and a flush of pink grows along his cheeks, his stomach flipping as your moans echo in his ears.

How the fuck is he meant to go about his day and run errands when the picture of you spread out beneath him and crying out his name as you cum keeps playing over and over in his mind like a fucking prime time movie?

“Incredible.” You provide softly, blinking shyly up at him as he grins.

“Incredible.” He agrees just as quietly, feeling like a complete idiot with how hard he was smiling. What was it Benny said the other day? Whipped.

You hold your breath when he leans down, nose scrunching slightly when his moustache tickles your upper lip, his mouth moving unhurriedly as his tongue slides against yours and quickly turning your brain to complete mush. You hum as he moves away, nose brushing softly against yours.

“Are you sure you have to go? You can’t stay for just a few more minutes?” You breathe against his lips, heat spreading across your skin as his eyes darken and slowly lower to where the sheets only just cover your breasts. He groans quietly, flicking a hand out to check his watch and brows pinching as he studies the face of it.

“A few minutes,” he finally decides, hand ripping the sheet away and lips curling up as you yelp in surprise.

He spreads your legs with firm hands, shuffling onto his stomach as he flings your thighs over his shoulders. You sit up onto your elbows, laughing quietly.

“This wasn’t what I had in—oh.”

Fuck—

His finger’s part you gently before his tongue is softly moving over your clit in wide, lazy strokes, and you fall back onto the bed with a whimper, unable to resist grinding against his mouth. Your hand blindly reaches down and soon warm fingers are interlacing with yours, his thumb rubbing across your skin as his lips wrap around your clit.

Fire erupts in your core, electric heat spreading throughout your body as he steadily works his mouth against you, nose brushing your clit as his tongue dives into your pussy, his groan muffled as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck Frankie, so good—”

His movements turn frenzied, face pressing up harder against you as his tongue swirls sloppily around your clit, the sounds filling the room obscene as he hungrily laps and sucks at your pussy. All you can do is hold on, the hand intertwined with his tightening as your other flies to his ruffled curls, tugging sharply.

Holy shit, just like that—

You struggle to fill your lungs, struggle to feel anything other than his mouth and how it works savagely against you, pushing you higher and higher until you’re right fucking there—

He feels your legs tense, and anchors himself to you with an arm across your hips, groaning when you cry out and gush around his mouth, coating his tongue and chin.

His mouth is still on you when the wave of bliss dissolves into a dull tingle, hurried movements now languid as his tongue smooths through your folds, his head resting against your inner thigh. You watch him through tired eyes, hand gently brushing his hair from his forehead as his eyes close at the soft caress, tongue curling one more lazy swirl over your pussy before he presses a light kiss to your clit and sits up.

“Now I really have to go.”

-

“Where the fuck have you been?!” Benny yells across the café, ignoring the heads that turn to frown at him. Frankie rolls his eyes, hand running through his hair as he quickly advances to the small group and slides into the booth.

“Sorry—truck wouldn’t start.”

“Mhm.” Santiago hums lowly, hiding a grin behind his cup as he sips his coffee, eyeing Frankie with a critical eye. “What was wrong with it?”

“What?”

Benny crosses his arms on the table and leans forward, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Your truck—what was wrong with it?”

Frankie shrugs, eyes falling to browse the menu in front of him. “Battery.”

Now fucking drop it.

Pope raises a brow, “Was it flat?”

Fucking Pope—

“Sure.”

Will snorts across the table, grinning wryly as Frankie glares at him. “’Sure’? It was either flat or it wasn’t.”

Fucking Miller—

“Look—I’m here now, let’s just eat so I can go and get Mena.”

The table goes quiet and Frankie sighs in relief, his eyes falling back to his menu. It stays quiet for so long that Frankie actually starts to think the subject has been dropped.

He should’ve known better.

“Fish got laid.” Benny coos softly, Pope and Will snickering behind their menus as Frankie sighs deeply, lips twitching as he fights the grin spreading from their teasing.

-

Rain softly pelts the roof of the truck as you giggle against Frankie’s lips, his dark gaze softening as you smile up at him. You brush a hand softly across his cheek, pressing another zealous kiss to his lips which he returns eagerly, hand smoothing along your thigh and pushing under your skirt to squeeze your thigh, grinning when you whimper into his mouth.

You had said goodbye a few times already, each time ending the same way—lips locked in a bruising, passionate frenzy, neither of you quite ready to let the night come to a close. You break away with a sigh, head tilting as his mouth trails greedily along your throat, tongue soothing the sudden sting away as he nips at your skin.

“I wish you could come up.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. He shouldn’t be—it’s not like he didn’t want to. He had a toddler to get home to. You understood, of course, but it didn’t make the goodbye any easier.

“It’s okay.” You smile at him, his chest tightening as you do.

“You could...” he trails off, chewing his cheek in thought as he looks out of the windshield before turning to you, eyes showing the nervous uncertainty that had flooded him. “You could come back to mine, if—if you want to.”

You blink, pulling away to look up at him searchingly. “What about Mena?”

Would he want you out before dawn or something? Sneak out of the house like you were teenagers or some sort of one night stand? You know he meant no harm by it, but the thought of having to grab your clothes and disappear in the middle of the night had you feeling a little insulted.

“I don’t mind you staying... if you want to meet her. You don’t have to, I was just... I don’t know. I’m just saying it’s—it’s on the table, if that’s something you’d be interested in.” His hands rub along his jeans, wiping the nervous sheen of sweat that had gathered on his palms.

You’re quiet, letting his words soak in and thinking over it seriously. You had no kids, obviously, and no friends that had kids, either, but... wasn’t it a little early for something like this? Although, she was still young—it’s not like she’d know any different.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said anything. I know it’s early—”

“Can you wait while I pack a bag?”

His heart speeds up as he nods. Shit—was he nodding too fast? He returns your grin as you quickly hop from the truck and rush through the light rain and into your building, disappearing from his view as the door slams behind you.

Did he do the dishes? Fuck—he left his folded laundry on his bed. Why didn’t he just put it away earlier?

It’s fine. It’s fine. Maybe he could fake going to the bathroom and just throw them into his cupboard before you saw anything. Yeah—that’ll work. It’s fine.

You reappear sooner than he expected, a small overnight bag slung over your shoulder and he can’t help the elation that floods his face, grin making his cheeks ache as he quickly leans over the seat and shoves the door open for you. His hand doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way to his place, your fingers drawing random patterns on the back of it as you listen to him sing softly to the music playing from the speaker.

The first thing you notice when he pulls into his driveway is how perfect his house seems to fit him, and he chuckles when you tell him as much. You stay wrapped into his side as he holds his jacket over your head to keep you from getting too wet, quickly ushering you up and onto his porch just in time as the rain comes down heavier.

He ushers you in when he finally gets the door open, and your giggling stops short at the amused gaze you get from the dark-haired man shrugging his jacket on in the entryway.

You wave politely, feeling like an idiot, standing close to the door as Frankie steps in behind you. “Hi,”

The man fixes his jacket on his shoulders, his dark knowing eyes sliding from you to Frankie as a sly grin starts to work its way onto his face.

“Hi. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He replies, grin widening as Frankie comes to stand next to you, nervously fiddling with his keys.

How the fuck did he completely forget about Pope? Jesus Christ—

Santiago reads the message rolling through his friend’s eyes—a big fat ‘get the fuck out now’, but instead of heeding the unspoken warning and disappearing, he leans his hip on the back of the couch, thoroughly enjoying the twist of Frankie’s features as he makes himself comfortable.

He holds a hand out, “I’m Santiago—the good looking one of the group.”

Frankie rolls his eyes as you give your name in return and shake the outstretched hand, turning to throw his keys in the bowl sitting on the table next to the door, and hissing a quiet insult under his breath.

“That’s debatable,” is your immediate reply, your eyes shooting to land appreciatively on Frankie with a smile, watching the angry flush of pink rise along the skin of his throat as he grins back at you.

Pope watches quietly, eyes flickering between the both of you before he chuckles. “You guys are cute. You need a rubber, Fish? Whoa—hey—okay, I’m going—”

You bite your lip to stifle the laugh bubbling in your chest, watching Frankie immediately wrangle Santiago under his arm and all but shove him out the door. Pope throws you a wave over his shoulder, grinning as he mutters something you didn’t catch in Spanish that had Frankie straightening up and growling a retort.

Your eyes roam around the room as the two men bicker behind you, taking in the comforting warmth that oozes from the space.

You step forward to wander the lounge quietly, smiling as you study the many pictures hung perfectly square on the walls. Your eyes find the familiar faces of Benny and Will in a few of them, along with Santiago and another taller man.

You pause on one, heart fluttering and chest tightening as you study Frankie, darks eyes locked on the blanketed bundle in his arms. The one next to it is newer, more recent—a bright eyed little toddler perched on his hip as they both grin at the camera, colourful streamers hanging above them and a giant ‘1’ balloon in the background.

Fatherhood suited him. He was glowing.

The sound of the door closing has your attention returning to him, eyes fond as you watch him start making his way to you.

“She’s a mini-you.”

He grins, looking at the photo of him and Mena, and nodding. “I know—poor thing.”

He laughs when you slap his chest lightly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before leading you further into his home. “Would you like anything?”

“I won’t say no to another kiss, and maybe something else.”

He turns on his heel instantly, brow rising as he winds an arm around your waist and dips you slightly back with a curious ‘oh?’. You grab at his arms, giggling as you clutch his sleeves, “Frankie!”

He chuckles deeply, lips pressing softly against yours. You sigh at the feel of them, your hand cupping his cheek as his tongue slides out to meet yours, his hand grabbing a greedy handful of your ass and bringing your hips flush against his. You’re both completely oblivious to the door reopening behind you.

“I forgot my phone—don’t mind me.”

“Pope—” Frankie barks, frowning over your head as Santiago jogs to the couch and holds his phone up, wiggling it in his hold.

“What? I’m not looking.”

Santiago disappears, the door clicking softly behind him and you grin, kissing the corner of Frankie’s lips as he eyes the door, half expecting Pope to come waltzing right back in with some other bullshit excuse.

“Frankie…”

His dark eyes meet yours instantly, his stomach flipping at the mischievous shine in your gaze.

“There is something I’d really like.” You continue quietly, straightening up and slowly pushing him back towards his couch.

He’s putty in your hands, wide eyes blinking at you in awe as you run your tongue along your lip. He drops onto the couch with a small exhale when you push him, heart thundering in his ears as you drop to your knees in front of him.

“Can I?” You reach for his belt, fingers running along the cool metal of the buckle.

Fuck. You’re so pretty.

He must’ve spoken aloud because a shy smile curls your lips, eyes briefly falling before flickering back up at him from beneath your lashes. Your fingers move when he gives a shaky nod of consent, quickly working the belt open and diving for the button of his jeans.

Wait—

“Hold on a second?” He stands, carefully stepping around you and walking to his door, locking every latch and bolting the deadlock securely before turning and making his way back to you. “I don’t need Pope interrupting this.” He mutters in quiet explanation, lips twitching at your chuckle.

He settles himself back in front of you, inhaling deeply when your fingers work his jeans open and pull them down his legs. He’s already half hard, the mere idea of your mouth going anywhere near his cock enough to stir a hunger deep in his belly.

“You didn’t let me have a turn when you stayed over.” You accuse quietly, hand wrapping around him and giving a slow tug, working him softly until he was fully hard and pulsing in your hand.

“’m sorry,” he mutters, tongue running his lower lip as you continue to work him gently, his hips squirming under your ministrations.

“I think about this all the time.” You admit, eyes watching his cock throb in your grasp. “How you’d feel, how you’d taste.”

Holy shit—you did?

He makes a quiet noise when your thumb brushes over the head of his cock, collecting the small drop of precum that beads there and smoothing it along his skin. You watch it glisten, pussy clenching as it smears silkily under your thumb.

“Can I taste you, Frankie?”

He’s nodding before you even finish.

The wet heat of your mouth envelopes his cock and he exhales sharply, hands flying to grab at the cushion beneath him. He can’t help but buck into your mouth when your tongue slides along his slit, collecting the precum you had spread there, before running it along the underside of his cock.

You moan at the salty taste of him on your tongue, hands finding purchase on his thighs as you push yourself to take him deeper, fighting the resistance at the back of your mouth and taking him down your throat, holding steady as he curses above you.

Pulling back, you inhale sharply before starting to bob your head, lips wrapping tightly around his cock and sucking lightly as your hand moves to pump what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, so perfect—”

Your panties feel slick as your thighs rub together, your arousal soaking the fabric as Frankie moans quietly, head dropping to fall back against the couch in bliss. You run your free hand under your skirt, whimpering when your fingers press against your clit through the lace and start to rub little circles in time with the movement of your head.

You take him deeper, saliva pooling and spilling from your mouth as you gag around him, your pussy aching with the need to have something, anything, filling it. You hear nothing but Frankie; nothing but the small whimpers and whines that fall from his lips, and your fingers slip into your panties, swiping along your slit before thrusting them into your pussy, your moan muffled as you take him down your throat again.

His eyes fall to the hand disappearing under your skirt, your hips moving in time to whatever the fuck your fingers are doing and his stomach tightens.

“Fuck. Are you—” his eyes flicker up from your hips to watch your brows pinch together in pleasure and then he’s fucking done for; the thought of you getting yourself off while sucking his cock completely tearing him to pieces.  He groans loudly, cock throbbing and twitching as cum spurts from his tip and floods your eager mouth.

His hot release hits your tongue and back of your throat, and paired with the incoherent praises spilling from his mouth, it triggers your own body shattering climax. You choke out a moan from around him as your walls tighten around your fingers, his cum overflowing and spilling from your lips as you struggle with the fullness of him down your throat.

You slip your fingers out from your fluttering pussy and sit back on your heels with a heaving gasp once his cock starts to soften in your mouth, tongue messily lapping at the cum that spilt over your skin.

He dives forward eagerly, lips wrapping around your fingers and groaning as your familiar taste floods his tongue. He soon moves to your mouth, tongue catching the drop of his cum from your chin before he’s pushing it into your mouth, groaning when your tongue eagerly swipes along his.

Your kisses soon turn tender, gazes gentle as you part from each other.

Something’s happening—you can feel it in your chest. A feeling tugs at your heart, soft and insistent. It grows when he smiles, radiates warmth when his hands take yours as he helps you from the floor. You briefly wonder what it could be before shaking the thought from your head, devoting your attention back to Frankie as he walks you through the house to his bedroom.

+

Tags: @anu-simps​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @withasideofmeg​ @you-got-me-starry-eyed​ @mouthymandalorianalso​ @frannyzooey​ @wyn-dixie​ @intu-witch-tion​ @amneris21​ @mad-girl-without-a-box​ @pinguinstudiert​ @sergeantbannerbarnes​ @betterthanbucky​ @emilykjh​ @peterhollandkait​ @sara-alonso​ @starlightsearches​ @bookishofalder​ @empress-palpat1ne​ @shadowolf993​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @canyonmirrors​ @eoz-stuff​ @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa​ @alberta-sunrise​ @goldielocks2004​ @linkpk88​ @afootnoteinyourhappiness​ @livilottie​ @hailmaryyramliah​ @kesskirata​ @blueeyesatnight​ @a-perfct-stranger​ @melaniermblt​ @dragcn-queen​ @gracie7209​ @mrsparknuts​ @janebby​

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x afab!reader #frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #more than words

[frostedfaves]

Holiday Spirit

Masterlist

Pairing: dom!Wanda Maximoff x sub!fem!reader

Summary: Wanda decides to make an ordinary day in December very special for you.

Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY (daddy kink sorry top followers, dirty talk, choking, spanking, oral, penetration, sex toy use)

A/N: there are like...two seconds of plot in this lmao. also I didn’t edit this because I just finished and wanted to post it before I got busy again. so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t

-

For the first Saturday in a very long time, you and Wanda were playing the role of a ‘normal couple’.

There were no missions for her to be whisked away on, and you were off work for the next few days. You were tucked away within the soundproof walls of your apartment under a blanket on the couch, far away from the nosy eyes and ears of Wanda’s superhero family. Lit candles scented the air with vanilla that blended with the aroma of the cookies Wanda baked earlier, and the gentle snowflakes that passed the windows behind the Christmas movie on the television only further set the scene.

“Can you pass me another cookie, baby?” Wanda chuckled when you held it to her lips without breaking away from the screen, taking it from you with the hand that wasn’t holding onto your hip. “Thank you.”

She kissed your head lightly before turning her own, not wanting to drop any stray crumbs into your hair. If there was one thing she loved, it was having the time to hold you against her for longer than a few minutes before she fell asleep, and she refused to let you go until she was forced to do so.

“Are we getting old or something?” you suddenly questioned, and if Wanda was still eating, she would’ve choked.

“What?!”

“We never watch anything this wholesome and sappy, so I just assumed this is our transition into wrinkles and knee pain.”

Your girlfriend covered her face with a laugh. “Baby, it’s the fourth day of December. Where is your holiday spirit?”

“Right here.” 

You turned your head briefly to show off a cheesy grin as you pulled her arm further around you. Despite the exaggerated theatrics of the film, you were enjoying the plot of it, and you’d come to enjoy it even more as the scene changed. The two main characters were suddenly stumbling into bed as clothes were ripped away, and you usually didn’t get riled up during sex scenes in a movie, but you definitely felt something this time.

You were suddenly aware of how long it’d been since you and Wanda had been tangled together in such an intimate way, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly your need for release began to build. Despite your best efforts to hide it, there was no going back once your hips wiggled back an inch or two to rub your ass against Wanda’s core.

Wanda could tell before you that the scene was affecting you from the moment your muscles tensed against her, and she was more than ready to play by the time your body pushed against hers. She was subtle at first, a hand slipped under your long sleeved shirt and innocently resting on your bare stomach, slowly transitioning to the more obvious approach of trailing kisses from the tip of your ear to your clavicle while you squirmed.

She slipped her right leg between yours with ease, tensing her thigh and brushing it back and forth against your clothed center in a way that had you thrusting in time with her movements within seconds. Your eyes fluttered closed and your hand slipped into her hair, little whimpers escaping you as her soft pecks turned into sucking the skin of your neck between her lips.

“You seem like you need something, baby.” 

Her deepened tone came directly behind your ear and you shivered, biting your lip as you continued to rub against her thigh. You were just about to speed up to chase your release when she stopped moving, pressing her hand into your stomach to keep you from moving as you faced her with a whine.

“Did you forget how to use your words, princess?”

“No, Wanda.” Her brow raised and your eyes widened as you corrected yourself. “No, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” She pulled her hand away from your stomach to pull the blanket away. “Go strip down and wait on the bed.”

You scrambled to your feet and down the hall as the sounds of the scene that started everything faded into the background. Articles of clothing hit the carpet as you moved at the speed of lightning to follow her order, sitting on the edge of the bed with your hands folded when you finished. You could hear her turning off the movie, blowing out candles and cleaning the rest of the mess, and her prolonging only made you more desperate for her touch.

Eventually her footsteps grew louder as she approached, and you tried to be good and still as she entered the room. Her casual smile grew wider at the sight of you waiting patiently, and you looked up at her sweetly as she stood in front of you, cradling your cheeks in her hands.

“You’re so good for me.”

Her voice passed her lips in a husky tone that had your thighs squeezing together, something that didn’t go unnoticed by her at all. Her smirk was pressed to your skin while she kissed along your jaw, leaning down to part your thighs to step between them.

“How do you want me to fuck you first? Mouth or fingers?” she questioned lowly, occasionally nipping at your skin between her words, and your own got caught in your throat. “If I have to ask again, you won’t get anything.”

“Mouth please, Daddy,” you finally choked out, bucking your hips forward when her wandering hands brushed past your clit.

“On your hands and knees.”

You turned over and positioned yourself as she instructed, biting back a moan when she slapped your ass before gripping onto both cheeks firmly. A dark chuckle escaped her as she lowered herself to your soaked core, watching the muscles clench around nothing as you waited to be touched. You were just about to beg when she dove in without warning.

You shuddered and moaned when she licked a long stripe from your clit to your hole, crying out when she dipped her tongue in for a moment before bringing her attention back to your clit. Her lips surrounded it as she licked and sucked, quickly bringing you to the edge while you moaned and begged her not to stop.

She held your shaking form up by your waist as she lapped up your juices with her tongue, swallowing briefly before pushing her tongue back into your hole as her thumb began circling around your clit. You gripped the sheets as she began to tongue fuck you, the combination of the two motions making you cum even faster than the last time.

“Fuck,” you cried out when you were able to breathe properly again, yelping when her hand smacked your other ass cheek.

“Such a dirty mouth, princess,” she teased you as her hand landed on your stinging skin again and you whimpered. “Scoot up toward the middle.”

You moved forward on the bed, knowing she was up to something when you heard her digging into her overnight bag. She climbed onto the bed behind you a minute later, and the fabric of her sweatpants brushed against your naked calves. Before you could get a word out, a ribbed length was slowly pushed into you, and you were a shuddering mess all over again.

Wanda thrusted into you slowly, her hands sliding from your hips to your arms and pulling them until your bare back was pressed against her sweater, and you moaned at the feeling of being so exposed while she’d only taken off her rings. She let go of your arms to wrap one of hers around you, her free hand closing around your throat as she began pounding into you.

Your moans echoed around the room as you gave into the absolute railing she gave you, holding onto her arm for stability and sanity as her strap rubbed against your walls at an unforgiving pace. Sounds of pleasure caught in your throat and your eyes rolled back as her fingers squeezed, affecting your airflow just enough to drive you crazy. As if she hadn’t done that enough already.

“You gonna cum for Daddy?” she inquired as she pulled you a bit closer, and you nodded while struggling to function with the building pressure in your core. “Be a good girl and let go.”

Your orgasm hit you as suddenly as if she pressed a button to make it happen, strangled noises resembling sobs escaping you as she continued to thrust into your sensitive hole as your legs seemed to transform into jelly.

“I know you can cum again, princess. You’re taking it so well, keep going.”

You whimpered out your best attempt at a response, squeezing her arm to let her know your brain was still somewhat working as she brought you to another peak. She slowed down this time, shifting the hand around your throat to run her fingers around your nipple. You gasped and moaned as she kissed your neck while you came down, muscles relaxing as she moved her arm and allowed you to fall onto the mattress.

The toy dripped onto your legs and the sheets as she leaned over, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. She wrapped one hand around your ankle, guiding your leg up as she rested it on her shoulder, and a devilish grin appeared on her lips as she pushed into you again. You were free to moan as loudly as you wanted this time, and you took full advantage of it as she worked her way back up to forcefully drilling the ribbed length into you again, a few curse words mixing in with the nearly pornographic sounds.

“You’re using that pretty mouth all wrong, princess.”

She slid her middle and ring fingers into your mouth before you could respond, and you happily closed your lips around the digits as your tongue rubbed against her skin.

“There you go, sweet girl.”

You sucked harder as she kept pounding into you, nearly biting down as you reached your fifth climax and opening your lips to whine a bit when she continued.

“I’m gonna make you cum again because I know I can. Isn’t that right, princess?” You closed your eyes and she shook her head, pulling her wet fingers away and moving to rub them across your clit instead. “What did I say about using your fucking words?”

“Yes, Daddy!” you managed to cry out between loud moans, a few more calls of her name blending into incoherent sounds as stars filled your vision and welcomed you to a new high.

Wanda slows her pace as she works you through your orgasm, coaxing you gently to breathe as you shake in her hold and rubbing soft circles into your thigh as she lowers your leg from her shoulder. A cross between a groan and a sigh leaves your lips as the toy drags against your walls and pulls away, and you watch as Wanda’s blurry form unbuckles it from her waist and tosses it aside.

“Still in there, baby?” She chuckles as you nod tiredly. “Okay, stay here and I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the bathroom and the sound of running water followed her exit, continuing as she came back to help you into the bathroom. You watched as she gently washed you once you were in the tub, a sleepy smile shaping your lips as you met her gaze.

“Can we have peppermint cocoa after this?”

“Thought you weren’t in the holiday mood?” she teased, and you let your eyes fully close as you laughed.

“The movie wasn’t so bad after all.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @creepingwolfberry 

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #avengers #the avengers #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagine #avengers fanfic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Part Ten) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Tom is straight-up not having a good time right now. 

Word count ↠ 3.9k

Warnings ↠ The romantic cliché of your dreams, alcohol, references to past intimate times, swearing. Pretty tame overall though!

A/N ↠ I can’t believe we’re at the end of the series! V (mischiefandi) gave me some really good ideas for this part with Tessa - I hope you’ll like what I did there lmao. I’m going to leave my extended thank yous for the epilogue, but just know that I am so grateful for everyone who’s stuck with the series from the beginning until now... Thank you for reading and coming on this journey with me. I hope you’ll like the final official part! Epilogue next week :’))

TEN: Come Home (T)

As the front door to Tom’s house shuts behind you, Tom finds himself slumping against the wooden frame, grief overcoming his senses. He’s tired and his arms hurt, everything hurts, but he peers up through the windowpane at the top of the door and watches as you run out through the sheets of rain. Paparazzi flashes illuminate his garden, capturing you as you stride purposefully to your car, duck down and enter it. A moment later, the car pulls away from the pavement and disappears.

Tom kicks at the door.

“Fuck!”

His hands curl into fists as he turns around and leans with his back against the door, frustrated eyes falling onto his jacket and his keys. For a moment he contemplates picking them up and making a mad dash after you, reckoning he could probably beat you to Heathrow if he drove recklessly enough, but then he sags.

Tom has to give you space. You’ve asked for space. He has to respect it.

His hand twitches as he walks out of the porch, as if his very fingers can feel how badly he wants to reach out and grab the keys, but he leaves them. Instead, Tom climbs the stairs and walks straight into the spare room, throwing himself down onto the bed and burrowing his head in the pillows. He groans - loudly.

It was always a long shot - telling you how he felt. And in some ways, Tom’s admission of love had gone quite well. You reciprocate his feelings, which, really, is the most essential part of it all. But that reciprocation is only the tip of the iceberg, and it goes far deeper than that - because you still left. Tom is still alone, curled up on the bed that smells distantly of you, clenching his fingers feebly around the sheets that he’d refused to let Harrison change, even months after you’d left. Your perfume lingers on the cotton.

There’s the small pattering sound of paws moving over wooden floors, and Tom’s lips quirk up ever so slightly as he pulls his face from the pillows just to see Tessa trot into the bedroom. She plods towards the bed but hesitates, sniffing around the wardrobe. One of the doors hangs half-open, and Tom notices that you’ve left it barren.

Tessa whines.

“I know, I know, girl.” Tom looks at the dog, smiling sadly. Tessa looks miserable. “I miss her too, yeah? But it’s going to be okay.” His words hitch, and Tom reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he feels his heart clench. “It… It’s a bit fucked up, but it’ll be okay. She… She loves me, at least.” He breaks off, laughing awkwardly. “And she knows now, too, that I love her. And yeah, she still left, but… Maybe one day I’ll see her again.” Tom sighs. “Probably not, though. Bloody hell, I’m so… I’m so stupid, Tess.”

Tessa looks up at Tom. Tom sighs.

“And now I’m talking to my dog like a lunatic,” he mutters. Tom sits back against the pillows, hands settling over his stomach. “This is actually pathetic.”

Tessa emits a loud whine before jumping up onto the bed, her wet nose jutting into Tom’s neck. He sighs, smiling as he reaches up to run his hands all over her sleek body.

“You wouldn’t leave me, eh, Tess?” He mutters. “You love me?” He’s sitting up properly, smiling as Tessa basks in the cuddles, releasing happy yips. “Thought so.”

Tom stays in the spare room - your room - for almost an hour, cuddling with Tessa, pondering his predicament. He’s wallowing in it, miserably staring at the ceiling and torturing himself with the ins and outs of the conversation he’d had with you. He loves you, but he understands why you wouldn’t believe him. Tom understands that he’s hurt you and that he needs to respect your choice to leave, but that doesn’t make it any less gutting.

With a sigh, Tom stands from the bed. Tessa whines, and he rubs her head fondly before walking down into the kitchen. He spots his phone on the counter and picks it up, his heart clenching as his lockscreen pops up.

It’s a photo of you both, from many months ago. It feels like a distant memory now, but when you’d first been in London, you’d gone out bowling with Tom’s family. Afterwards, you’d all retreated to the pub, and you’d shared pints all evening. At some point, Sam had taken a photo of Tom with his arm wrapped around you. You have your cheek on his shoulder, and though it’s a little blurry, it has to be his favourite photo of you together. The way you’re looking up at him is with warmth in your eyes, and it makes Tom’s heart skip a beat to remember how nice it was to be resting at your side.

Swallowing down the resentful lump in his throat, Tom opens up his texts and clicks on your contact. With cold fingers, he types out a message, altering and adding bits for a shameful amount of time before sending off the completed thing.

Tom: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

With that done, Tom takes himself off into the living room and throws himself onto the sofa. He grumbles as he grabs a pillow and wraps his arms around it, holding it close. He keeps checking his phone, wondering if you’ll reply. The message changes to read almost as soon as he’s sent it, but after that, nothing. It only makes his heart ache more.

So, with nothing else to do but wallow in his misery, Tom closes his eyes. He tries to sleep, and after a while, Tessa curls up beside him. Slowly but surely, the noise in his head and the pain in his chest ease off enough for him to rest, and Tom lets the world of heartbreak drift away.

Knock knock.

Tom stirs, slowly.

Knock knock knock.

“Eh?”

Knockknockknock.

Tom sits up, disorientated and dizzy. It’s dark outside, but through the blinds in the living room, he can make out that the front light is on. Someone is at the door.

With a grunt, Tom stands up. Tessa wriggles around, and he pats her head softly as he stumbles towards the porch, frowning as he tries to remember if he’s ordered anything recently. He doesn’t think he has, but maybe Harrison’s been making impulse purchases in Liverpool. Tom hopes it’s something he can eat. Fuck, he’s hungry. How long has he been asleep?

Tom pulls the door open without a second thought, still groggy and tired from his nap, and he gets the shock of his life when his eyes catch sight of the person standing nervously on his doorstep.

You.

Before he can get a word in, you’re surging forward, your arms wrapping around Tom’s figure before he can process it. A short huff leaves his chest as you hug him tightly, continuing to push him until Tom’s back is up against the wall. You kick the door shut behind you, coat dripping rain onto the floor, and then you grab his face and kiss him.

Tom kisses you back, his brain waking up the moment your lips touch his. He’s slow, but he matches your movements eagerly, his palms going to your shoulders as he kisses you messily. You’re practically vibrating, your mouth curving into a smile so prominent that Tom can feel it brushing up against his face.

You came back.

Tom pulls away, his eyes prickling with tears of surprise. “Wh-What?” He stammers, smiling when you laugh. “But your flight?”

You shake your head softly. “I couldn’t do it,” you say. “I couldn’t leave, Tom.” You brush a hand through his hair. “I love you too.”

Tom kisses you again, his hands going to your face. He cradles your cheeks as he presses his lips to your mouth, over and over again, dazzled by the lightness in his chest. His heart has never felt so warm before.

“You are spectacular,” he mumbles, gushing mindlessly against your lips. “You are- you are wonderful. You are brilliant.” He breaks off as you giggle, pausing in his dialogue to kiss you again. “You are my favourite person.” Tom pulls back, looking at you fondly. His eyes trail the familiar lines of your face and he swoons, overcome with positive emotion. “I love you.”

You kiss his cheek softly. “I’m also very wet,” you say, shaking off a dripping arm. A sheepish expression crosses your face. “I, um, might need to borrow some clothes,” you murmur. “I kind of just… Turned around and ran out of the airport.” You grin nervously. “I think my suitcase is halfway to America by now.”

Tom scoffs, nodding. “That’s okay, love. I’m just so happy that you’re here.” So happy that you came back, that you don’t hate him. So happy that you love him too.

Tom reaches out and takes your hand, kissing over your knuckles gently. A thousand stars seem to twinkle in your eyes as you look at him.

“I’m happy too.”

An hour later, you’re both sitting on Tom’s living room floor, boxes of empty takeaway stacked around haphazardly. Tom’s leaning up against the sofa, legs outstretched in front of him. His arm is wrapped around you, and you have your head resting on his shoulder, and he feels more content than he’s ever felt in his life.

“I can’t believe you left your suitcases on the plane,” he murmurs, voice gentle. You’ve been sitting together and talking all evening. He’s been spacing every few sentences with another kiss to your temple, enjoying the expressions of fondness that find your face each time his lips touch your skin. You look very cute in one of his oversized hoodies. “Did you tell anyone that you left?”

“Nah.” You sit up, stretching suddenly and yawning. You turn around to look at Tom, eyes flickering out over him until you smile mischievously. You move closer, swinging one leg over Tom’s thighs before settling in his lap, your hands falling to his shoulders. A wave of your perfume washes over him, and Tom sighs contentedly as you kiss him quickly. “I told the flight attendants, but they couldn’t get my stuff off the plane. I thought it was worth it, though.”

“Oh, definitely.” Tom can’t stop kissing you. The urge to press his lips to yours whenever he wants is too powerful to ignore. “I’ll replace it all for you, if you want,” he mutters, distracted by your mouth. “I’d buy you a whole bloody house if you wanted, darling.”

You laugh against his lips. “That’s unnecessary, Tom, but very sweet.” You pause, pulling away with a bewildered expression on your face. “My lease expired on my flat,” you say, processing the words, “So I actually don’t have anywhere to stay.”

Tom wiggles his eyebrows. “Well, luckily for you, I know someone who just so happens to have a house all to himself.” He walks his fingers over your shoulder, smiling at you. “You might be able to convince him to let you stay. I hear he’s a very generous landlord.”

“Oh yeah? Happen to know where I can find him?”

He nods, grinning. “He’s right here, love.”

Tom goes back to kissing you for a while, both of you growing giddy off chaste pecks. His lips are numb and puffy but he loves it, loves the ache and the way the back of his neck hurts from all the tugging of his hair.

There’s a phone ringing, out in the porch. Both of you ignore it, even as it rings a second and a third time. When it dies after the fourth, you pull away from Tom’s lips to roll your eyes.

“It’s mine,” you mutter, “Just ignore it. I don’t care about whatever it is.” There’s a hunger in your eyes, and Tom smiles.

“Whatever you say, boss,” he teases, earning himself a flick on the shoulder.

“Don’t call me your boss,” you scowl, scrunching up your nose. “I’m not your boss.”

“Oh, do you want me to be the boss, then?” Tom returns.

You glare at him. “No. You’re not my boss. You’re…” You trail off, and Tom tilts his head to the side, smiling softly.

“What am I, darling?”

A smile curves out across your lips. “You’re my boyfriend.”

The warmth that unfurls in Tom’s chest as he hears those words almost brings tears of relief to his eyes.

“Yeah.” He brings a hand to your face and you nuzzle your cheek into his palm. “I am.” He kisses you, softly. “And I love you.”

“Love you too, boyfriend.” You look at him for a moment before tilting your head and kissing the flat of his palm. “I am overjoyed to be your girlfriend. Your real girlfriend.”

Tom laughs, nodding his head in quick agreement. “Yeah, I-”

His phone starts ringing. It vibrates over the glass coffee table, clattering noisily, and a shadow of irritation passes over his face. You turn around, craning your neck and screwing your eyes together as you get a read on the screen.

“Shit,” you mutter, grabbing the phone and passing it to him. “It’s Rebecca.”

Tom feels his mood sink. “Fantastic.” He looks at his phone before glancing up at you. “Should I answer it?”

You sigh as you nod. “She’ll just keep phoning.”

Rather reluctantly, Tom swipes his finger over the screen, accepting the call and then putting the device on speakerphone.

“Hello?” He says.

The line crackles for a moment. “Oh, hi there, Tom,” Rebecca says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Tom glances at you. You clear your throat before replying.

“Yes, I’m here. You’re on speaker.”

Rebecca swallows so loudly that it’s audible. “What have you done?” She whispers. “Paps got you leaving the airport.”

“I changed my mind,” you say. Tom reaches down and takes your hands in his, squeezing your fingers when he hears the waver in your voice. “I didn’t want to go back to LA.”

“They also got you going back to Tom’s house. The tabloids are going crazy. Nobody knows what’s going on.” Rebecca pauses, and then sighs, deeply. “What is going on?”

“I’m staying in London,” you tell her, eyes on Tom’s face. Your lips curl into a nervous smile, and you continue to look at Tom as you speak. “We’re not… We’re not breaking up, Rebecca. I don’t care if it’s not part of the plan.”

“So… You’re actually dating?”

You hum. “Yes.”

There’s a tense few moments. The sound of rustling papers comes down the line, and Tom tries to ease you by rolling his thumb over the back of your hand. He can see the nerves in your shoulders, understands that for you, the prospect of being scolded, and possibly even dropped by your management is terrifying. He knows just as well as you how much power they have over you.

“Okay.” Rebecca sighs. “Tom?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll take care of Y/N in London?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” There’s a brief moment’s pause. “I’ll get someone from the office to call you tomorrow, Y/N. You’ll need to come back to LA to shoot your next film, but I don’t see why that needs to be immediately.”

A relieved smile splits across your face, and Tom exhales.

“Thank you, Rebecca,” you say. You lean down to rest your forehead on Tom’s shoulder, and he rubs a hand over your back. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do,” she responds. “Congratulations, you two. For what it’s worth, I think you make a lovely couple.”

The line disconnects and Tom grins, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You squeal as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder, kissing the base of your neck over and over again. He works his way up to your lips, pausing briefly only to suck a light hickey just below your ear, and by the time he reaches your mouth, you’re pushing back against him, eager.

“I can’t believe that this has worked out,” he says. Tom lets you pad your thumb through his ruffled eyebrow.

“Neither,” you admit. “Feels almost anti-climactic. Every other part of this relationship has been so dramatic.”

“Oh, don’t tempt fate,” Tom says, eyes wide. “We’ve had enough drama.”

You laugh, nodding in fast agreement. “You certainly have a point there.”

You crack open a few beers and end up chatting in the kitchen together, the hours slipping away. Tom sits across from you, holding your hand as you talk, and talk, and talk, covering every topic beneath the sun. There have been so many taboo subjects that neither of you have felt confident enough to bring up over the course of your fake relationship, and you take the time to work them through - together.

Tom finally admits that he’s had a crush on you since you first met. You tell him that you’d only suggested the one night stand because you’d wanted to be close to him. He counters that by opening up about how stressed he’d been before his failed revelation of love.

You laugh together, you cry together. Then you move on, together.

“C’mon, Tom.” You stand up, smiling, and walk around the table to pull him up. Tom gets to his feet, his body full of a nice, lulling buzz from the beers he’d drank. You lean in and peck his cheek before tugging him towards the patio doors. “It’s too hot in here, isn’t it?”

Tom hums. He can feel the red flush to his cheeks. “We could go shower.”

You turn around to grin at him. “Or…” Dropping his hand, you twirl the lock on the patio doors and pull them open. You look back at Tom, smiling. “Care to take a dance in the rain with me, lover?”

Tom blinks a few times, looking at you curiously. “Sure,” he agrees. As you pull off your hoodie, he pulls out his phone and then turns on one of the bluetooth speakers that sits by the door. “What do you want to listen to?”

“Something romantic,” you respond.

There’s a frown of concentration on Tom’s face as he scrolls through his Spotify, but it clears when he finds a playlist of some classic love songs. He shuffles it and Elvis drifts through the air as he puts down his phone and shakes off his hoodie.

“This is very random,” he tells you, accepting your hand. You tug him out onto the patio, into the night sky, and Tom feels his t-shirt begin to dampen. It’s no longer pouring with rain, but it’s still drizzling enough to be noticeable.

“Well, I had a reason,” you murmur. Together, you do a bit of a dance. Tom grins as you spin around, laughing brightly as droplets of water stick to your face. You have fun for a while, and you even spin Tom around too, but then you both get dizzy and settle back into a loose slow-dance position, your arms around his neck as Tom perches his hands on your waist. Your foreheads press together. “I used to think about this,” you admit.

“Dancing in the rain?”

“No, no.” You pause to kiss him. Your lips are warm against his skin. “We’d used to see one another at all the shows. Oscars, BAFTA, Golden Globes… And we’d argue, or brood, and just generally be miserable.”

“I’m following.”

“Well.” You shift your face into the crook of Tom’s shoulder, kissing his neck a few times. “I always wondered what it’d be like to sneak off with you, and just… Have fun. Do something crazy. Have a couple drinks and dance. I didn’t… I didn’t like you, but I always thought we’d be able to have fun together. If you weren’t always such a dick.”

Tom hums, resting a hand on the back of your head. Raindrops pour down his face, but it’s nice. He can feel the weight of his heart pouring onto the ground, swept away with the water.

“Well, I hope we can have many fun nights together, love.”

You pull back to look up at him, water droplets clinging to your eyelashes. Both of your hands shift to Tom’s face, and you smile. It really is very romantic, swaying together in the rain, soft romantic tones in the air. You feel so warm wrapped up in his arms.

“I hope so too.” You have mascara running down your cheeks. “Plenty more nights in London like this, please.”

Tom nods. “Plenty more nights together.” He brings you back in, hand soft on the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest. Tom lets his lips rest against your head. “I love you,” he says. He can’t seem to stop saying it, thinks you must be fed up with the number of times he’s sprinkled the three special words into conversation. He just can’t help it. Now he’s open with his heart, he wants you to know, completely and without any shred of doubt, that he loves you. He never wants you to question it again.

Your hands sink into his hair, and Tom sighs happily as you play with his wet curls.

“Love you too.”

The two of you last another ten minutes before getting too cold, and then you take a shower together. Tom lays you down in his bed and you kiss some more, before things get a little raunchier. He tells you that he loves you in every way he can, and it feels like the two of you have knitted your souls together as he holds you afterwards, the bedroom full of a tranquil glow.

Tom’s hand is on your cheek, fingers stroking gently over the soft skin of your face. You look so beautiful, hair a mess, eyes bright.

“Isn’t it funny,” you say, softly, “how we’ve ended up like this?”

Tom hums, his pinky nudging against your hair. “We’re lucky. Such a mad world we live in.”

You release a warm chuckle, nodding. “Our world is crazy. Fame is… Insane.” You pause for a moment. “It’s the whole reason this happened. Management wanted me to stay on top, didn’t want my image to get shattered because of that kiss. They wanted me to win the game.”

Tom tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“The fame game,” you reply, smiling. You inch nearer to kiss him quickly, and Tom finds himself chasing your lips. For a few moments, you’re both distracted, and you further intertwine, Tom’s arms hooking around your waist as he holds you close.

“The fame game,” Tom repeats, nose nudging yours. “That’s a funny way to put it.”

You shrug. “Just the way I like to think about it. Making it seem like a game made it easier when this started. It was all just a performance until it became real.”

“I like that.”

“Me too.” Your hands are on his shoulders, fingers trailing Tom’s warm skin. “The game always has its winners and its losers, Tom.”

“And what are we?”

You kiss him, softly. Your lips linger against his. Tom feels so much gratitude and love for you that his eyes prick with tears.

“The winners, of course.”

↠ EPILOGUE

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #i feel so !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #yes i cried. and what about it. #tfg #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Finale

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 10 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; slight reference to past sexual abuse; fluff 

Word Count: 6,700+

Author’s Note: Guys... the finale! I’m crying actual tears lmao. Thank you for reading my words. It means the world.

~

The New Compound, July 2025, 7:09pm

      The extra hour of sunlight this time of year was the easiest excuse to use for lounging on the roof to watch the sun set slowly. The compound no longer touches the clouds, but it still provides a rich view of the landscape across. There is no blowing of horns or shouts of the road hecklers; it’s a simple hour of solace to rest your chin against your arms, eat your snacks, and watch the sky change colors until nothing remains but the possibility of counting the stars. 

“Hey… can I sit here?”

Your heart does a little jump at the sound of his voice. Traitor, you want to say to the pesky organ, but remain quiet as Steve wanders over to stand by you. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Do what you will, Captain.” It’s simple enough of a response, you figure. You look down at the granola bar in your hand, turning it over a few times before rolling your eyes at the silly gesture. “Granola bar?”

He nods, watching as you snap it in half, and grabs the piece. “Thanks.”

You eat in cooperative silence. You take small bites, saving the granola bar so you have something to focus on during the length of time Steve decides to stay up here. He seems to be doing the same. “So what brings you out here? Another depressive episode?”

“I happen to have the perfect amount of depressive episodes, thank you very much.”

You snort, “Ditto.”

He takes a small bite and rolls the granola over his tongue. “No, I uh… I actually came out here to watch the sunset.”

“That’s sweet.” You shrug and admit your reason to him without a second thought. “I came out here to be sad, so.”

“Thor’s visit isn’t doing you any good?”

Thor is genuinely looking better. He’s started braiding his hair again, exercising with the help of Quill and Bruce, and participating in conversation without being addressed first. Seeing him makes you happy, but there’s still a glint in his eyes that reminds you of the lowest point of his life. And his lowest point was also yours. Sometimes you just want to forget. “He looks better. Healthier, got some light back in his eyes. It’s just whenever we look at each other we think of the same thing, I guess.”

Steve hums low and his shoulder brushes yours. “Loki.”

“It’s good to reminisce and all but I’ve got my limits,” you say.

“What was the special connection between you and Loki anyway?”

You grin at such an innocent question. Steve had never been close to Loki, didn’t really like him much, but he tolerated the God wandering about. You figure he genuinely wants to know. “I met him a little bit before I was assaulted. Everyone in the compound had their suspicions but no one asked. It was like they were avoiding me but also trying to help, I don’t really know. It was a weird time. And Loki, after we caught that dragon thing and really, really properly met, just straight up asked me why I was so distant all of a sudden.” Your chest warms at the memory.  “I told him. And you know what the first thing he said to me was?”   

Steve shakes his head a little and his eyes follow the tilt of your mouth. “‘What a cunt’.”  

He startles himself into a laugh, the rough word not expected. You continue, “It was the first time I laughed in four months.”

Steve follows your gaze out to the sunset. He suddenly feels guilty, out of the loop, sad. You had only mentioned your assault to him once when you discovered Tony’s afterlife gifts, and he never brought it up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were-”

“Bucky had just moved into the tower and all of your attention was on him. I don’t blame you for not seeing me.”

It’s true, but Steve doesn’t forgive himself. He’s had two years to check up on you and because of his own selfish choice, he’s let you slip from his fingers. A question bubbles from the back of his mind — one that he doesn’t think twice about finally asking. If he does, he won’t ask.  “Do you miss… me?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Sam put the idea in my head and—”

You sigh, “Steve, it’s the fact that he had to put the idea in your head. I can lie and say I’ve been all fine and dandy, or I can tell the truth and say I’ve been all fine and dandy. Take your pick.”

Steve stares at you for a long moment, mouth parting around invisible words. You’re staring at the sunset, avoiding his gaze but aware of his eyes on you, and he misses you. He truly, terribly, misses you. He decides he’s got nothing more to lose — he’s already lost you. “Well, I miss you. Do with that what you will.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes: wind in your ears, legs shifting when too much weight has been applied, tiny sniffs of the nose. You don’t really know what to do with that information. Steve misses you. And you miss him. But he doesn’t deserve to know that. There’s been no apology from him, just things he’ll do to appease Sam. 

At the three minute mark, you groan quietly and turn to him. “Are you seriously still going to watch the sunset up here?”

Steve smirks and watches you from his peripheral. He really has missed being on the receiving end of your various tones of voices. “I have been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

His company isn’t all that bad.  

Present Day, 2025, 9:07am

      Perhaps there were good things that came from being locked up for over two weeks, alone. Last time you were locked up with the team and there was absolutely no special treatment after that. Now you’re resisting the urge to burst out laughing as Steve piles on the seventh massive pancake on your plate; or rolling your eyes as Sam keeps asking if you want more maple syrup — ‘What flavor? We’ve got six!’ — and Peter’s drowning Bucky with questions about who he encountered at the wedding. 

“Is it the same as Netflix Narcos?”

“No,” you say bluntly. 

“Is the Amazon series legit? Like, did Omar really kill the DEA agent?”

“No.”

“Is Omar as evil as they say?”

“No.”

“Damn,” Peter groans, piling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “Nothing’s as exciting as it seems, huh?”

Everyone looks to him, then to each other.

Steve clears his throat, “I was literally shot.”

Mouth full, you follow. “And I was abused for years.”

“And I had to deal with them while with HYDRA,” Bucky says with his mouth full too.

“Man, they shot at me. That counts,” Sam adds.

“And I finally got to use the shield. While being shot at,” Scott says.

You interject, “Technically I was being shot at.”

Even with such a cloud of violence, with gruesome memories — memories that would just be shoveled into the pile of things that no one is ever going to talk about again  — you all begin laughing. Poor Peter missed out on a lot, but he can put two and two together. He knows this is his only chance to ask before you all lock it away and call it just another mission. It doesn’t hurt to humor him. 

And even though you won’t mention it to any one else unless they ask — this wasn’t just another mission for you or Steve. Things have changed and the both of you know it. The aches within your chest are no longer negative or a bother, but instead are blooming flowers that have laid dormant for years. You’ve been plucking petals for as long as the two of you can remember, and it’s about damn time you both end up on the same page. 

Everything has been quiet. Sure, there are bounties on everyone’s head but when is there not? You’ve pissed off more cartel leaders and gang leaders and political enemies than you can count on two hands, so this enemy territory is not all that foreign. You recognize the high trees, the gray skies, the mud beneath your boots. But you’ve got friends on your team that know how to climb those trees; friends on your team that know how to move the clouds and make the sky the talk; friends on your team that would hump through mud and snow watching your six. 

You can’t believe you even thought about leaving after the mission in the first place. This is where you belong, where all of you belong, because you’re the only ones with good hearts who qualify for the job. 

As breakfast winds down, Steve takes the opportunity to sprinkle in moments of long-awaited public displays of affection. When you go to refill your orange juice, he sneaks a kiss on your cheek. When you go to wash your plate, he makes sure Peter is looking the other way before patting your ass. And when you’re the one to envelope his slim waist from behind, he melts in your combined warmth.  

“So, about our date,” Steve inquires, cheeks turning pink but voice unwavering. He looks brand new, refreshed, and there’s a shine in his eyes that you haven’t seen since forever. You can’t remember the last time you have, but you figure it must have been back when the world hadn’t yet swallowed him whole. Now, he’s burning bright with the youth his soul has missed. 

You jump up and down, “Ooo, exciting!”

Steve takes you by the waist, swinging you in every direction. It’s uncoordinated, messy, and not exactly dancing but it’s pure. “Chinese? Pizza? Just fries?”

“¿Por qué no los tres?” Pursing your lips, you wait for his answer. 

“That can be arranged.”

You gasp dramatically, “You’re spoiling me.”

“Well I have two years to make up for it.”

That startles a laugh from deep inside your chest. “That’s gonna be our inside joke now, huh? Two of the worst years of our lives and we’re joking about it.”

He blushes along with you. “I think that describes our relationship perfectly.”

“Our relationship…” Your voice comes out like a melodic whisper and Steve feels it in his bones.

He grins down at you but before he can respond, someone enters the common room rather cautiously. 

“Oh, now what the hell are you doing here?” Steve demands, pushing you to stand behind him. The gesture is nice, but completely unnecessary. Friday would have alerted the team if someone entered the grounds armed. 

Agent Kavert raises his hands, “Relax. I’m not here to arrest you or anything.”

Steve tries to move his shoulders in a way where Agent Kavert can’t see your head. But you maneuver around him, somehow ending up peeking your head through Steve’s underarm. “If I know the law, and I think I do, you can’t really arrest someone in their own house anyway, right?” You pat Steve repeatedly on his side. “Right?”

Before Steve can respond, Agent Kavert speaks. With Steve guarding you, it seems the only thing Agent Kavert wants to do is get in and get out as fast as he can. “I just came to apologize. Ballistics came back and the evidence does show that you didn’t kill Ernesto Vega. It was Ramirez’s issued gun.”

Yeah, you think. The gun Seda stole.

“Oh, what a breath of relief! I almost forgot I was there.”

He sighs and his lips pull into a small smile. “You’re not gonna tell me where Ramirez is, huh?”

Steve takes this as his cue to leave you two alone, but not before squeezing your hand on his way out. He nods over to Peter, who’s still crouching in the kitchen, unseen by Kavert. Peter gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up,  happy to spy for his Captain. But you know he’s really asking Peter to take care of you while he’s gone.  

You let out a heavy sigh. Omar has been wanted for years for another murder he didn’t even commit. And now, he’s wanted for another. He may be a giant with morals, but even he can’t escape the gruesome reality that plagues the wicked. 

“I don’t even know where he is. If you came looking for answers—”

“No, I just… Everything’s been so fucked up since half the universe came back. And the possibility of an Avenger being bad, having played us for years — I think it just scared a lot of people.” Agent Kavert actually looks sincere. He adjusts his footing and chuckles a little under his breath. There’s a fine line creasing his forehead, but it isn’t formed from stress. He’s smiling, an honest look, and his eyebrows pull inward. “And Shakespeare? Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug and lean back against the counter. “When half the world disappears and takes your family and friends with it, there’s really not much else to do.” 

And besides, Loki was really into Shakespeare.

You continue, deciding at the last second to throw Agent Kavert a bone about your past. “Shield didn’t know but Nick Fury did. So did Pierce. And when Shield fell, Fury just hid it even more.” You give him a half smile. “We weren’t helping the cartel. We were slowly taking it apart.”

Agent Kavert nods, thinking it over. “The deal Jackeline made with us was pretty simple. She’d tell us all the inside secrets that she knew and in exchange, no charges against her and none so serious for you.”

Your shoulders slump and you shoot him a blank stare. “Was it really that simple? Like, I could have just used her as my one free call?”

“Joke all you want. You should have called us when Shield fell. The double agent thing was risky and everyone needs help taking down a giant like that.”

“I did have help. Involving more people was never planned.”

“He was just as much our mission as he was yours.”

Agent Kavert, as sorry as he looks, still doesn’t seem to get it. But that’s fine, you think. Not everyone can. And you’re not in the mood to argue anymore. “No… he wasn’t.”

He seems to read your mind because he simply accepts your answer. “I really am sorry for accusing you. And for the government arresting you alone and letting the white man go free.”

A tiny snort tickles your nostrils. Agent Kavert is white, and it’s even more amusing considering he’s being serious. “Thanks… I guess.”

He turns to leave, seemingly normal, until he spins on his heel and claps his hands. “Oh! And by the way — don’t leave the country. The charges of conspiracy and murder have all been dropped. But there’s evidence of drug smuggling. So, you’re on house arrest.”

Your eyes widen and you reply with a sarcastic yell. “Thanks!” He turns to leave again. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

He glances over his shoulder, “Could not have let you just get away with it. Some of that smuggling was under no order from Shield at all.”

“You know I can easily disable that ugly ass ankle bracelet you’re about to give me?”

He chuckles low, and finally waves goodbye. “Goodbye, Agent Y/LN.”

You stand dumbfounded, slightly annoyed, but you figure it’s better than actual jail time. Peter rises from his hiding spot and walks over to you, blowing air from his mouth. “Friend of yours?”

You whip around to point a finger, scream and laugh mixing into one. “No friend!”

Peter finally hears that accent Steve can’t stop talking about.

       It’s a tiny portrait, sealed in a tiny frame and hidden in a tiny room. The frame is black with professional wooden carvings that make the sides look like perfectly detailed tree trunks. It’s in between the portrait of Tony and Natasha’s bracelet. Tony wears the same AC/DC shirt Steve has somehow stolen and claimed as his own. He’s got this sarcastic grin, some type of wrench in one hand while his other rests on his hip. He stands in his lab, glasses pushed up onto his head and black soot smudged on his cheek. You think Peter snapped the photo back in 2017. 

But the middle portrait is your favorite. It’s the only photo he ever allowed to be taken of him. Brushing your index finger against the glass, you trace the small outlines of Loki’s jawline, to his thin pink lips, to the bulb of his nose, to the waves of his hair. He sits caught off guard, book in his hand and in regular human clothing. He shoots a rather annoyed but joyful look over his shoulder as the camera was shoved in his face. You know for sure Wanda took that photo.

“You’re not dead,” you say as you study the blue of his frozen eyes. A God doesn’t die, you remember him saying. Loki was wrong about a lot of things, but you pray he wasn’t wrong about this. There’s a small part of you that wants to speak the same words to Tony and Natasha, but there’s only so many times the world’s axis can shift for a miracle. You tap the glass, sighing a breath of acceptance, and finally let go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Smiling up at the ceiling, you think you’re right about this one.

      It’s quiet. The only sounds are the mild ripping of wrapping paper and small ‘thank you’s’ from the team. Everyone got each other something — granted, everyone got something small for everyone. No matter how much Tony joked about still splurging on Christmas shopping, his promises weren’t exactly kept. He’s gotten everyone things they actually need or wanted. Steve, a new drawing pad; Natasha, a bright pink knit sweater; Rhodey, a new watch; Bruce, a pair of sunglasses; Nebula, a dark blue knitted sweater that she immediately presses against her cheek, eyes focused on the ground as she savors the soft brush; you, the full collection of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. And he finally presents the baby’s crib to Pepper, constructed three weeks after she originally asked him to. 

“I know how much you like to reenact A Midsummer Night’s Dream in your room,” Tony grins at you. Biting your bottom lip, you throw yourself at him and hug him tight. He returns the hug with just as much strength, if not more. 

As the night goes on and midnight rings, your small group exchanges tight-lipped merry Christmas’s and happy holidays. Natasha retires to her room, a distant look in her eyes as she says goodnight. No one knows where Clint is.

Steve nudges your elbow with his once the room empties. He holds out a box with festive wrapping — snowmen with carrots for noses and a variety of pebbled smiles. “From me and Okoye.”

“You got me a gift?”

Steve’s brow furrows as he nods like it’s obvious. “Of course. You’re my friend.”

“Well, now I feel inadequate,” you laugh. It comes out wet and it’s then that you realize you’re tearing up. “I promise to reenact Midsummer for you, okay?”

Steve chuckles, “You got it.”

You unwrap it slowly, half wondering why Steve and Okoye teamed up to get you a present. You. Your stomach churns an innocent whirl. 

It’s a long sleeved vest… or sweater. You can’t really tell until you pull it from the box. It’s intricately designed and it takes a moment for you to finally see it, to finally understand, and the moment you do you exhale a wracked breath. 

It’s not Wakandan fashion. It’s threaded with the colors and swirls of a place you haven’t called home in years. It has red flowers down the vest portion and multicolored rows down the sleeves and back. It’s made from a thick fabric that’s rarely used this century. Vintage — home.

“Steve…”

Steve clears his throat, “Now, I only did the flower parts. Okoye found it unfinished in… um…”

And there, where tags from brands would usually be, is a small threaded engraving. 

‘From Bucky, To our muñeca.’

“He didn’t get to finish it so I thought I would — you know, help? — so it’s really from Buck. Probably an apology for not letting you visit him in Wakanda.”

Steve tries to push out a laugh at his poor joke, but you can see how he’s faltering. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down so his knees bend, and pour as much nonverbal thank you’s into the hug. He hesitates at first, arms floating awkwardly, until he swallows his fear and wraps his arms around your waist. He holds you to him tightly and breathes in the sweet scent of your vanilla shampoo. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is small, but Steve regards the delivery as powerful.

You wear it once, that Christmas night, enveloped in its warmth as you slept. In the morning, you hang it in the back of your closet. 

        A knock on your bedroom door sounds through your headphones. Bucky peeks his head in, “Is now a bad time?”

Sitting up, you pull the headphones from your ears. “Nope. Just thinking about how I’ve lived several years in the span of one week.”

Bucky lugs in a sports bag in one hand and a manila file in the other. He places them at the edge of your bed and proceeds to bounce in the available space near you. “Yeah, that can be annoying.”

You attempt to shove him away as he tries to steal your blanket. “Did you need anything?”

“Yeah.” He lets you take it, and simply turns on his side to face you. “What’s gonna happen between you and Steve?”

It’s an innocent question, but you know Bucky well enough to notice when he’s stressed. Steve probably told him to mind his business. “We’re good.”

He inspects your face with squinted eyes, “I know what you’re thinking so cut that shit out. This isn’t one of those missions where the feelings will just go away.”

“Funny thing is, I believe you,” you admit, watching as his face does something unexpected. His smile drops suddenly, like he didn’t expect you to agree with him, and then it’s immediately back full force. 

“Peggy and Steve - right person, wrong time. You and Loki - right person, wrong time. You and Steve, all those years ago — right person, wrong time.” A weird thing happens: you agree with him again. “But now, after everything — right person, right time.”

“It’s just weird feeling like it’ll actually work.”

“That makes us seem like we’re all broken, doll. We’re not.”

You turn so you’re facing him; two mismatched parentheses. “We’re just tired.”

“We’re just tired,” Bucky agrees, smiling. “I’m not saying don’t look over your shoulder whenever you feel like it. Hell, I still look over mine.”

Snorting, you roll closer to hug him. He pulls you into his chest. “You give amazing pep talks.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they gave that trophy to Steve.” Bucky shares the intimate moment for as long as it takes before the blanket starts overheating. He groans as he sits up to retrieve the things he brought with him.  “By the way, our mutual friend sends one last warm regards.”

Bucky throws the sports bag onto your lap. “What’s this?”

“Your shit.”

You don’t even want to ask him how he packed your things without your knowledge. “Kicking me out, Barnes?”

“Clothes, toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner, pads, the quilt I just finished knitting thank you very much,” Bucky lists and hands you the file. “Maribel found him.”

“Ramirez?”

“Your dad.” 

You snap your head up to look at him. Bucky expects to see anger, hurt, maybe even betrayal. He was prepared for it. But you just look confused, lost for words, maybe even scared. “Goes by Richard these days. Lives with his wife in Wisconsin, no kids, keeps to himself.” 

You flip through the files, holding your breath. The file is small, Richard’s information only covering the first page, the rest just drabble. He seems relatively normal, looks normal even; normal job, normal credit score, normal upbringing. It doesn’t even seem real. You close the file and set it aside. “So you are sending me away?”

Bucky smirks, “It’s a suggestion. But I took the liberty of doing the hard part for you.”

“Yeah, because packing my lady products is the climax of this story.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that Bucky called Richard your ‘dad’. Everyone either referred to Ernesto as ‘your father’ or by his name. Steve had said ‘dad’ a few times before he met him, then he never said it again. Hell, even you did sometimes. 

It’s a sweet distinction and you’re certain Bucky said it on purpose. Bucky takes your hands in his, “It’s been a long time coming. But at least we can both say that the people who hurt us can’t hurt us any longer.” 

You can. You really can.

       Bucky’s already packed Steve’s shit as well. Steve’s just shoving extra socks into his bag when someone knocks on the door. He expects Bucky or Sam, final words of encouragement, but it’s Scott. And he’s standing there grinning like a mad man. 

“So, what’s the verdict, Rogers? You going after her or not?”

Steve huffs a laugh, “Think you already know the answer to that, Lang.”

Scott closes the door behind him and leans back against it. He shoves his hands in his sweater pockets, “Not that it should matter, shut me up if I cross any line, but everyone supports this.”

“Weirdly, I think it does matter. We’ve had you guys picking sides for two years. Selfishly. Like we were having a fucking civil war after everything.”

“Yeah, well.” 

Steve huffs a laugh. It’s always going to surprise him just how comfortable Scott is around him now. Not afraid to tease him or call him out on something he doesn’t agree with. It’s refreshing.

“I’m not giving up on her, Scott. Not again.”

Scott nods. Perhaps breaking the mission ethic code wasn’t a bad thing after all, Scott thinks. He gives Steve a proud smile, genuine. “Then I hereby declare our hanging conversation officially closed.”

        Steve wanders from his bedroom, to the conference room, to the main living room without an end destination in mind, seeming to just follow his quick feet as they lead him around the halls of the compound. He’s proud of himself, really, because he truly believes he’s learned to swallow his pride, has opened himself up to the possibility of being happy, and accepted that the world has changed and will continue to alter whether he likes it or not. He was, is, and will always be a man out of time — he’ll never fit but goddamn does he feel settled. He hasn’t felt this sane since before the war — which one? — so he relishes in the feeling for a few calm seconds. 

He feels tears well-up on his water line and feels the pressure in his temples. He’s at a crossroads — both proud of himself for finally choosing the path he wants and relieved that this week, this mission he has dreaded for almost ten years, is over. He doesn’t know if he should sleep for a month or occupy his time with other things awaiting repair. A build up of five years, grief and loss and happiness all weirdly mixed into one pot, and Steve simply hasn’t noticed the improper portions of each ingredient. 

It’s too much.

He thinks about his mental health. Shot to Hell, he jokes with himself. He’s already got the virtual therapy appointments scheduled. He figures he’ll get better with time and if Steve knows one thing for sure, it’s that he’s got a whole lot of that.

He thinks about Sam and Bucky and Scott — his three best friends that have gone to the ends of the Earth and back for him, and who would proudly do it all over again. He thinks about their kind words, their gentle touch, their devotion that Steve still sometimes feels he doesn’t deserve. 

And he thinks about you. To anyone else, this was written in the damn stars. No, there wasn’t anything extremely obvious in the first few years. You were friends. Friends that grew to consider each other teammates. Teammates that drew a drop of blood while fighting on opposite sides. Teammates that recognized the true endgame, teammates that helped each other escape, teammates that went silent for two years. Two years of no contact, no signal of survival. Then again, teammates who stood by as their world crumbled around them. Teammates who grew to be friends again, leaning on free shoulders and seeking help through happy conversations and long nights. Friends that brought the world together again, only to rip each other from their own. Friends into the most bizarre of enemies. And enemies back to teammates. 

Steve wipes a hand down his face as he fixes the strap over his shoulder. The common room is empty — he likes it this way. That means everyone is either napping, getting food, visiting friends or family, simply living life. The silence is therapeutic. 

His eyes fall on a crooked picture frame near the television. He tries to ignore it, almost to the door and ready for another road trip, but he steps back. Then forward, then back again. He groans in frustration of himself and moves to turn the frame back in place, holding it for a few seconds until it stays. But as he lets go, it tilts once more. He tries again — it tilts back. 

He pulls the frame from the hook and turns it over. He rightly freezes, the presence of a small pink paper airplane taped near the edge knocking the wind from his constricting lungs. He pulls it off, careful to not tear the delicate post-it. 

He never found it. Natasha probably placed it behind this very picture frame in the other compound for him to find. Surely the explosion should have destroyed it — but it didn’t. It’s right here, perfectly intact, just a smudge of dirt on one of its wings. The frame hadn’t been damaged either. It’s real. 

He holds the thin piece of paper like it’s the most precious thing in the world. 

Steve turns it over between his fingers a few more times, before he carefully folds it back in half and puts it in his wallet. “You’ve got some nerve, Nat. But I hear ya.”

       Steve decides to write you back. He hides the letter in that sweater he knows you don’t wear anymore, in the far back of your closet, and marvels at the intricate stitching while he can. He poured his heart out, even if it’s not guaranteed you’ll ever see it. 

     ‘Yes, I found your letter. I found it when I was looking for perfume in your suitcase. The tape was loose and I violated your privacy. I’m truly sorry for that. 

But I felt compelled to write you back, in case the reverse happened and I died instead of you. I didn’t write it then, when you were drying your hair in front of that impossibly small mirror you so weirdly called ‘a stupid little bitch’. And you looked so beautiful. But I’m writing it now and maybe I’ll share it with you in person when we’re both ready.      

When the world turned to dust, I held on to you. I know exactly why. Natasha bugged me about it also, teasing me whenever I would glance at you too long, or give you the last remaining Oreos I was planning on eating, or whenever I would leave your room in the mornings after a nightmare. She knew nothing was happening between us, but she had this smile whenever she caught me. Like she was happy I was comforting you, and in turn seeking comfort for myself. 

You remember how her smile would tilt up more on the left side? 

There isn’t a proper way to truly apologize for hurting you. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it. You at least deserve that. 

I returned a different man. And I think that was for the better.

Yes, I wanted the quiet life. I still think I do. And I think you know this — you have always seen right through me.      

I now know what Natasha saw. You irritate me, you damn near make me want to choke myself out, but I care for you. We hold each other up, and I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.      

You’re my best friend — I hope I’m one of yours.

Steve.’

       There’s no one currently in the compound who really knows how to change the battery in your car. Bucky tries, does a rather good job too, but he claims he’s winging it and that you should call a mechanic just in case. He leaves you there with two random batteries on the ground, hood of your car open, and without any idea of what to do next. So you chill and wait for the mechanic you hope isn’t going to jack up the price just because he knows who you are. 

But he doesn’t seem fazed by you at all — or at the fact he just had to drive through countless checkpoints and security checks just to get on Avengers property. He changes the battery and changes the oil, hooking you up with as many upgrades he can. He even offers to wash it until you thank him repeatedly and that Really, really, you don’t have to do that. Thank you so much!

“Quite a garage you got here.”

There are unfinished projects and random wires falling from the ceiling and enough tools to supply five garages. It’s messy, but it was Tony’s. You accept the compliment and see him out. 

“Eh, make sure those windshield wipers work. I hear it’s gonna rain tomorrow.”

You thank him again. The clouds to the west are gray, getting darker as the expanse stretches, but from where you’re standing everything’s blue. You figure the mechanic was right: it’s gonna rain, and it’s gonna rain hard. 

The mechanic did good, all things considered. You never thought your old, beat-up Honda could look a few years younger. You flick one of the wipers lightly, testing its strength. It holds, as does the other, but when you go to lift it up it stops halfway. Without wanting to break it, you don’t force it. There’s something blocking the switch. 

You grab it before it can accidentally fall into a deep slot; the figurehead of a man, curly hair and beard that matches Steve’s, who also has a prominent and strong nose. You turn the coin over a few times before looking around the garage, down the street, at the remote area where the mechanic has just left. Standing there, mouth agape, you wonder just how in the world you missed the mechanic placing it there.

You were lacking in the spy department nowadays. Oops.

You know you’re not going to find Ramirez. But him giving this back to you? It was his way of saying he’s alright and that he owes you many thanks. 

You pocket the coin and accept the fact you just got bested.

It should take a few hours before you hit the first motel. Wisconsin isn’t that far, but you do have to pass through about hundred “middle of nowhere’s”. You pull out of the garage and check your mirrors — completely unaware of the super soldier running full speed to the passenger door. Steve carefully throws it open, somewhat aware of his strength, and lands into the seat beside you.

You hit the brakes hard. “Oh my! Rogers!”

Steve sucks in a few heavy breaths, like he literally ran across the compound to make it. “What? I startle you?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing? Aren’t you on house arrest?”

You squint at him, “Touche.” Putting the car in park, you turn your whole body to face him. “Answer my question.”

“Thought you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Steve asks, expression much more teasing than serious.

“I’ll be gone for three days tops,” you say, waving your hand in the air. Steve smiles at you, seemingly waiting for you to speak again. You roll your eyes, “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

Steve lifts up the small duffel bag you hadn’t seen when he first got into the car. He throws it into the backseat and smiles lovingly at you. “I’ve been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

“Rhodey said that the ankle bracelet they gave me wasn’t a trusted model. Easy to break off, like they did it on purpose.” You lean toward him, holding your chin up with the palm of your hand. “Should be able to drive free for a few weeks before they suspect anything.”

“Already booked us a cabin for Thanksgiving.”

“What makes you think that I even want you to accompany me on this road trip? Did you like the first one?”

Steve clears his throat and mimes like he’s writing on paper. The next words out of his mouth make your legs turn cold. “No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.”

You blink multiple times, as if that would fix your ears. “...You. Fucking. Didn’t.” Steve reaches over to try and hug you. “No, don’t.” He squeezes harder, smooshing your face in his chest. “Steeeeve!”

“It fell out of your suitcase during the mission and I just… looked,” Steve reasons. He allows you to escape his grip.

“You just looked?”

Steve sighs. He really does look guilty. He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers tickle your skin. “I’m sorry I read it. I’ll get out of this car for real if you want me to.”

You arch an eyebrow, “You’re a little shit, but I’m not mad. No one understands privacy these days.”

Steve smiles wide enough for his dimples to pop and his eyes to crinkle. “I’d follow you anywhere, doll.”

“Anywhere?”

“Just name it.”

Humming low, you lean forward. He follows your direction like you’re a lighthouse beaming with light, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. He hooks a large hand behind your head to press you to him harder. You smell like that vanilla scented shampoo he loves so much and feels his heart constrict with a pleasant pulse. 

You pull back for air and smile against Steve’s soft lips. 

“Well, I’m headed for the middle of buttfuck Wisconsin—”

“Just drive!”

Bursts of laughter fill the car until you’re past the checkpoints and well onto the long roads. The clouds continue to turn darker but they’re inviting, alluring, and it’s not insane that both of you desire thunderstorms because they remind you of family. 

Steve watches you from the passenger seat, memorizing the contours and edges of your profile. The roots in his heart begin spreading again; the meat of his heart filling with a soothing promise that his time on earth is no longer rootless. He’s dug his feet in, he’s watered all he’s needed to water, and he feels it spreading within him like newly blossomed flowers in the spring. He has a sudden urge to take out his drawing pad to immortalize the way your mouth tilts higher up on the right side when you smile, to record it forever. 

But he’ll remember it. He’ll remember well into this timeline, several years down the road, and even when he’s resting in his grave. So he leans his head back against the seat and chooses to watch the curves of every expression you grace him with. He immortalizes the sound of your voice, the taps of your fingers against the steering wheel, and the accented way you say his name. 

There’s a long drive ahead, but he’s excited for it. He’s excited for you. Steve promises himself that he’ll ask you a million questions, and give you a million answers, and share a million more stories. 

Right now, he just needs to sleep.

~

THE END.

Taglist: @dumb-ass-3 @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise​ @missnighttigress​

#captainsimagines #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfic #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #chapter ten #to topple a giant #to topple a giant finale #avengers mob fanfic #by Moni

[fanfickittycat]

Warmth

TITLE: Warmth

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: fanfickittycat

FANDOM: Haikyuu!!

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

GENRE: Romance/Fluff

FIC SUMMARY: You and Wakatoshi get caught in the rain when you wait for him after practice and he is determined to keep you warm

RATING: T  (no smut but kinda spicy at the end)

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: nudity and ushijima being blunt af lmao. You can also read it on AO3 here

Ushijima sighed when he saw you, which wasn’t the greeting you had wanted at all. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” You asked, feeling a little hurt. He told you that practise had been extended by a couple of hours and you had insisted on meeting him anyway, taking the opportunity to get some much-needed reading done in the meantime. “I’m always happy to see you” he said, not letting you continue with that train of thought “but I told you not to wait for me.” This was true. Wakatoshi was never one to mince words, always saying exactly what he meant, even if it was over text. “I thought it would be nice. We always hang out on Fridays.” You felt dejected now, and worst, embarrassed by how desperate you were to see him. You looked down at your shoes which were still damp from the rain and tried to silence the sad thudding of your heart. He was quiet, which wasn’t unusual, but you wished he would say something to ease the aching in your chest. “I don’t like when you’re out late” he said plainly “it’s dark, and all this rain isn’t good for you.” You huffed “I’m fine.” Ushijima always seemed to see you as smaller than you really were; fragile and bearing a label that said, ‘to be handled with the utmost care’. He would never let you clamber on the counter in search of something on the top shelf; always insist you wore a scarf when there was even the slightest chill in the air; and even if you were just tipsy off of wine, he’d make you drink a full glass of water. He was sweet but overbearing at times. “I don’t want you to get sick.” “I just wanted to do something nice for you” you mumbled, feeling yourself stiffen and then relax when he petted your head. “I don’t doubt your intentions” he said, and you peeked up at him, finally looking him in the eyes again “I appreciate it.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks flush despite the temperature drop from the evening’s rainstorm. He smiled too, letting his hand cup your cheek. It was warm, and rough from practise, but he cradled the side of your face like it was something precious. His thumb stroked over your skin softly, and you leaned into his touch happily like a cat.

“Come, let’s go.” He said, taking your umbrella from you and shaking it out. He opened it before taking your hand in his to walk to his apartment. It was a short distance away, but the rain was relentless, and the added gusts of wind made it worst. You winced, as the wind whipped your cheeks, and the stray raindrops wet your back, making you shiver. You heard Ushijima mutter something under his breath and looked up to see his teeth clenched as the wind forced the umbrella to fly up and turn inside out. He took his hand off yours to try and close it and open it properly, but the elements had taken your red umbrella and promptly battered it, making it impossible to open smoothly again.

“Let’s wait there” Ushijima pointed to an awning that hung over a closed store, and you rushed to be out of the rain. “Toshi…” you watched him struggle to work the umbrella again “I think it’s broken.” He joined you in looking down at the broken metal rib of the umbrella and pressed his lips together momentarily. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.” “It’s okay” you reached out to touch his arm “you’re soaked.” He looked down at you apologetically. “You are too.” He blinked when you giggled at your shared predicament. “We’re nearly at your apartment” you pointed out “we should run.” He raised an eyebrow “how will you keep up with me?” This was harsh but true. You weren’t built to run like he was, he actually trained, you just lay in bed and scrolled through Twitter. “I have a better plan” he announced, going to throw your umbrella in a nearby bin before returning to you. You watched as he shrugged off his sports jacket and handed it to you. “But Toshi!” “Put it on. You need it more than I do.” You knew he wouldn’t let up, so you conceded, putting your arms through and zipping it up. Only the tops of your fingers peeked out of the sleeves, and the bottom of the jacket brushed your knees. You felt ridiculous but the newfound warmth eclipsed it easily. “Here” he leaned down, squatting nearly to the floor. “Ummmm…” He turned his head so you could see one of his dark eyes “climb on my back. It’s more efficient than you running beside me.” You nearly choked on your saliva when he said that. You had never gotten a piggyback ride from Wakatoshi before, you weren’t even sure he knew the phrase ‘piggyback ride’. Gingerly, you put you secured your hands on his shoulders, feeling shy suddenly. You squeaked when his hand gripped the underside of your thigh, and he hoisted the two of you up. “Wow. You’re really tall” you said dumbly, looking down at the pavement from his height. No wonder he was always so concerned about you, you must have looked tiny to him. “I’m below the average height for spikers” he informed you patiently, but he couldn’t deny the swell of pride he got whenever you were in awe of his physicality.

“Ready?” he asked, adjusting his bag so that it wouldn’t be too much of a bother for you. You squeezed his shoulder in confirmation, holding on tighter as you felt him tense before breaking into a run. The rain hit instantly, soaking Ushijima’s jacket again, and the wind was persistently thrashing your hair, but it was exhilarating. You couldn’t help but break into a fit of laughter as you clung to your boyfriend. It wasn’t something you could explain. The rain lashing against you, the wind raging, the utter absurdity of the situation, the feeling of Toshi being so close to you. It was a heady, hysterical mix. When Wakatoshi bent down for you to climb off his back you almost stumbled, still giggling a little as you did so.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself” he said, putting his key in the door. “I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard” you said, shivering as you followed him to the lifts. He took your hands in his and breathed on them, rubbing his palms against the tops of your hands to warm you up. He led you into the lift, clicking the 3 before resuming his task again. “We’ll have to do it again” he said, “I like hearing you like that.” “Toshi” you mumbled his name, feeling butterflies spawn in your stomach again.

“Come, let’s get you warmed up” he said, pulling you towards his door. He opened it, ushering you in before closing the door. He was so methodical in his actions. With a practised hand he tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and hung his bag up. You unzipped his jacket, and he took it from you to hang up alongside his bag. “T-Toshi, what’re you doing?” you choked, watching as he pulled his shirt off. It wasn’t as though you’d never seen him shirtless before, you had been intimate with him many times, but it never failed to make your brain malfunction when you saw the smooth planes of pale muscle. You struggled to form a coherent word when he tugged off his sweatpants, looking curiously at your warm face. “One of the easiest ways to develop a cold is from staying in wet clothes” he informed, approaching you to unbutton your blouse. Your breath hitched as he undid each button carefully, not wanting a repeat of the time he pulled too hard and broke half the buttons on your shirt. You had to go home the next day in one of his t-shirts and a promise to buy you a new one, but you hadn’t minded too much, instead declaring that you should get to keep the t-shirt as compensation instead. He hadn’t argued against that and now you slept in it. “It is imperative that we shower as soon as possible” he said, tugging your jeans down, you leaned one hand on his shoulder as you stepped out of them. His hot breath against your thigh almost made your knees weak, causing you to grip him harder. You were almost afraid to let go of him when he remerged, holding a bundle of your shared wet laundry. “I’ll put these to dry, you start the shower” he said nonchalantly, turning to put them on the drying rack, as though the two of you weren’t stripped down to your underwear.

You tiptoed to the bathroom, starting the shower as you usually would, straightening up when you heard him pad towards you. “Do you want to go first?” You asked, feeling the water. “It’s more efficient if we go together” he said directly, he looked at your face “why are you shy? We’ve seen each other naked before.” You cringed “yeah but…” you struggled to justify your bashfulness, hooking your thumbs into your panties and nervously bringing them down your damp legs. “Here” he unclipped your bra expertly after seeing you struggle to do it with your numb fingers. Wakatoshi stepped into the shower first and then offered his hand to you to hold as you got in. The warm water was a welcome relief, but you couldn’t feel that much of it because Ushijima was in front of you. “Come here” he took the shower head down and sprayed you directly whilst you lathered your hands with soap. He hummed happily when you began to massage it into his taut arms, working your way up to his neck which you could barely reach, and then down his pectorals. “Toshi” you huffed, as your soapy hands pressed against his abs. He affixed the shower head and looked down at you. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” “No. Yes. I mean yes.” You cleared your throat, quickly stopping his hand from reaching for the shampoo “kiss” you said urgently, clawing at his abdomen for him to come down to you. He complied, leaning down and capturing your lips lightly with his. He made a soft groan into your mouth when you pushed yourself closer to him, tangling your digits in his wet, olive hair. His own hands curled around your waist, and your thighs pressed together as the warm stream of water flowed down his arms and then the back of your legs. You pulled away and smiled at his red, dumbstruck face “thanks for always keeping me warm, Toshi”.

#updates #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfickittycat #warmth #haikyu #haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #anime fanfic #ushijima hc

[sombreboy]

Who’s your king?♕MYG

♕18+ nsfw ♕ pairing: king!myg x female reader ♕ genre: pwp smut, fluff ♕ word count: 2.5k ♕ warnings: smut, blowjob, power kink, worship kink, he has long hair lmao, throne fucking, unprotected sex/creampie, dirtytalk, some fluff ♕ A/N: I want to thank @chimoona​​ for helping me out and supporting me when I couldn’t find the words because I lost sleep to get this done. I wouldn’t have been able to get this out without her, she’s the best. ily♡

“Does this please you, my king?” Your very words would be his undoing. King. My king. You said it like a prayer to the highest power.

‘‘Who’s your king?’‘

Your weight shifted between your feet as you stood in front of the man that owned every fibre of your being. It was just you and him, in his grand empty throne room, with the man himself comfortably seated on his throne.

‘‘You.’‘

‘‘Tsk,’‘ Yoongi clicked his tongue, the elbow resting on the armchair of his throne serving as leverage as he placed his chin on his palm. His feline-shaped eyes squinted slightly as his gaze pinned your feet to the wooden floor, ‘‘Don’t test me, princess… Try again.’‘

He knew you were quite the brat at times, and he loved it for the solemn reason of being able to put you back in your place. Which, in this case would be on your knees beneath him.

‘‘Hm..’‘ You played dumb, pretending to ponder on what words he possibly wanted, ‘‘Yoongi?’‘ you said his given name with a coy smile playing on your lips as you slowly rocked on your feet, hands clasped together in front of you.

Yoongi’s lips tugged in a playful smirk, an expression on his face that had never failed to practically melt your brain, unable to focus on anything but the growing desire for him to discipline you.

This was a game that the two of you would play more frequently than not. He thrived on the bratty attitude only you dared to utilize in front of him. The two of you were close, ever since he’d found you when he was on a stroll through his village months ago, hiding his face beneath a straw hat. He often stopped by your herbal tea shop to catch a glimpse of you, and after the third time you finally recognized the man that kept coming back…

However,  It wasn’t until he’d stared up at you with his intense eyes, not to mention the prominent line of a scar that went from his eyebrow down to his cheek, that you realized just who it was. It was an immediate, mutual gravitation, you were his from that very moment, and he was yours.

The fact that he was the scarred king only proved just how much power this man had. He was rich, ruling the nation, and a flick of his wrist made an entire country bow so low that their foreheads scraped the ground to worship the shadow of his footsteps.

But out of all things, you were his most treasured possession.

‘‘You know better than to address me by my first name.’‘ He stated with a deeper voice, a few octaves lower than normal. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, whether it be to annoy you, or to verbally break you down into a needy mess.

He picked up the sword idly resting by his side. It didn’t make a single noise as he unsheathed it with one hand, using his other to beckon you closer.

You obliged, a few steps brought you to stand directly in front of him, looking down at his relaxed posture with anticipation. Even though you played with him often, you never knew what to expect from him.

There was no time to react when the sword suddenly cut through the air with a whistle, slicing the fabrics of your dress in the middle, causing it to fall to your sides and simply only hang on to your shoulders like a robe. He was skilled with the blade, and one wrong move would’ve without a doubt sliced your torso as well.

But you trusted him with your life.

You held onto the clothes falling off your shoulders, attempting to pull the fabrics back up to cover your breasts, but halted your movements once you heard his hum in disapproval. Glancing up at him, he wiggled a finger back and forth, his shit eating grin widening on his lips, ‘‘Don’t hide what’s mine to look at.’‘

A small smile tugged at your lips, you could tell he was already adjusting himself in his seat from the mere anticipation of seeing your naked body. He’s seen you countless times, but every single time he made you feel like it was the first time. Passion ignited in his eyes the very second you let the fabrics slowly slide down your shoulders until they pooled by your feet, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

‘‘No bra, hm?’‘ He cocked an eyebrow, pointing the tip of his blade to the hem of your underwear before cutting it with a swift flick of his wrist, not wasting another second to reveal your most intimate parts for him, ‘‘You really walked around all day…. around people, without a bra, princess?’’

You nodded coyly, arms instinctively moving to cover your breasts once more.

‘’What did I just say about covering what’s mine?’‘

‘‘Sorry..’‘ You let your arms fall limp to your sides, breathing in deeply to keep yourself collected. But it was easier said than done when the tone of his voice made your knees feel weak.

‘‘Sorry, what? Hm? Tell me.’‘ Yoongi pushed further, his gummy smile flashing for a second, making him seem so harmless. Just like any other guy, a soft grin that made your heart soften. But it quickly fell back into his stoic expression when you didn’t reply fast enough, ‘‘Properly address me by my title.’‘

‘‘My king.’‘ You meekly whispered, feeling your slick juices slowly seep down your inner thigh. He truly had such a powerful effect on you.

‘‘Excellent, my darling. Now we shall continue.’‘ He nodded, lips pressed together in a vague smile as he carelessly tossed his sword to the side with an echoing clang, ‘‘On your knees, please your king.’‘

He loved the title, especially when it came from your lips. The power he felt when you obeyed his wishes beat any command he could ever give to any person within the nation.

You dropped to your knees as soon as he spread his legs for you to settle in between. His elbow was comfortably placed on the armrest, resting his cheek against his knuckles while his fierce gaze was fixated on your every move.

He remained silent when you looked up at him, as he had already stated what he wanted from you. And he didn’t like to repeat himself. 

You were thankful that his robe was already untied, making it easy for you to pull the fabrics to his sides, exposing his torso. Eagerly, you moved to the hem of his pants to pull them down just enough for you to be able to take his length out in your hand. You gave Yoongi another glance, he’s yet to say anything, unmoving, resting his cheek in his hand as he watched you with great interest.

But it was obvious that he wasn’t unaffected. While his face might show no signs of the way you drove him towards madness, his body couldn’t lie. The half hard length twitching in your grasp was the very proof itself.

‘‘Take it in your mouth, my darling.’‘ He urged, the stare in his eyes filled with an unsettling sense of power.

Without a word, you obeyed his command by guiding the tip of his cock to your lips, sticking out your tongue to give it a tentative lick, eyes on him for a reaction. But, the way he glared down at you proved that he was far from satisfied. A simple tongue job was not going to please your king in the slightest.

Even if he didn’t utter a word, the look he gave you was more than enough for you to know that he wasn’t in the mood for a tease. It was time to get serious. 

It was easy to fit him past your lips as he wasn’t fully hard yet, swirling your tongue around it inside of your mouth to pleasure him to the best of your abilities. You began sucking the way you knew he liked it. As the wet sounds from your saliva mixed with his precum grew louder, as did your king’s pleasure.

His cock quickly became turgid in your grasp, his girth making it almost impossible for you to take him as deep as you wanted to. You let most of his length slide out of your lips, keeping the tip inside as you swirled your tongue in the crease below the head of his cock, savoring the musky flavor of a long day as the king. Once his length was properly lubricated with your spit, you leaned in to push him deeper past your lips once more.

This time, you were adamant to take all of him, aiming to please. You pushed deeper over the veiny expanse of his shaft until your nose met his firm abdomen. Wanting to please him further, you kept going, your nose digging into his pubes as you felt the head of his length and more pushing past your throat.

In the midst of the sinful sounds sucking him off made, you swore you could hear Yoongi’s pleasure in the form of breathy grunts. This was his weakness, and you knew it well, especially with the way his cock twitched in the back of your throat followed with his deep, vibrating moans gradually growing with every suck.

You withdrew from his heavy length, clearly feeling every single inch being ripped from your throat as you did so with another lewd pop. It wasn’t easy to please him, but you were determined to. He was more than just your king. His pleasure was so much more than just pleasure, it was your life and salvation.

 You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.

‘’You’re doing so well, princess.’‘ He praised between heavy breaths, his unbothered expression threatening to crumble.

Between beleaguered breaths you forced his length down your throat again, over and over, never fully removing him from your soppy mouth. Pulling back once more to catch your breath, you wanted to make his patience of letting you breathe worth his while, lipping over the smooth head of his cock and swiping your tongue on it as if you were kissing him.

“You’ve done so well, my darling,” he praised through heavy breaths, petting the back of your head as he slides himself out. He’s close–unsure of how much longer he can last with you like this. “Need you to ride me,” he reclined a little, granting enough room for you to join him, “climb onto your throne.”

You placed your delicate hands on both sides of his seat and lifted yourself from the ground. Once you’re on your feet, your king guided you to straddle his hips and sink onto him right away with no preparation. Perhaps it’s for his own selfish needs, but he wanted to feel you wrap around him fully, paying no mind to preparing you. No matter–after the attentive service you gave him, you were already incredibly wet. He slided in with ease and stretched you for a comfortable fit. 

He’d never admit it openly, but the way you wrapped your nimble arms around the back of his neck as you circled your hips made his heart beat faster. He ached to hold you closer, so he does it with vigor. He grasped tight to your fleshy hips and assisted you, groaning deep into the crook of your neck. 

“Does this please you, my king?”

Your very words would be his undoing.

King.

My king.

You said it like a prayer to the highest power. 

“Such a pliant angel for her master,” he huffed into your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and lathing the rosy flesh with a soft tongue, “Do you hear that? Do you hear the way your tight little pussy takes my cock so well?”

You only gasped out your moans as a worthy reply to such a filthy mouth.

“That’s right, darling.” He held your hips with bruising force and lifts his own to fuck into you rapidly from below. “Listen to those sweet wet smacks filling my chamber, echoing off the walls. Do you like being filled by your king?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle the sultry sounds passing your lips, too reluctant to let anyone hear just how good he made you feel.

“Show me how much you like it. Let me hear you, nice and loud.”

He lifted your hips to slam down onto his lap, the skin of your ass slapping against his upper thighs. “Do it now or I’ll stop,” he taunted, knowing that’s just the words you need to give him anything he desires.

“I-I, my king–fuck,” your pitchy pants increased in volume the harder he thrusted into you.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Your thick cock feels so good inside my little cunt. Love riding you on your throne, imagining the room filled with all your loyal subjects.”

“What a filthy princess I have,” he stilled beneath you for a second, warming his length in your embrace to catch his breath, “You’d want others to see you in such a state? A sopping mess, tear-streaked, out in the open with your velvety walls crushing me?”

“Yes,” you simply replied, which seemed to be enough for him as he began humping into you as if his life depended on it. You sensed his urgency in his tensed muscles, burning hot against your bare flesh. He was desperately close and you were not far behind.

“This belongs to me,” he ordered, ramming into you, “Going to fill you until there’s no room left, going to show the whole kingdom you’re mine! Make you swollen with my heir and let every spectator know I fucked you long and hard, spoiling you for any man beside myself.”

“Cum inside me, Yoongi,” you breathed hotly against his neck, biting his pale skin and lapping the light bruises with your flattened tongue, “Claim me as your own. I want no one else.”

He pushed aside your defiant slip, referring to him by his first name. Instead, he pushed into you with a thrust so sharp he’s lodged as deep as you can bear, walls clenched around his length like a vice grip to hold him inside.

With a punishing nip to his tender neck, he groans his released out into the open, paying no mind to whoever heard his throaty moans. 

“This is mine, now and forever.” It was a promise and a proposition all in one.

“Be my wife and I will fuck you like this, right here on my throne, until the day you die.” 

It took not a second of thought to give him your answer, grinding your cunt onto his overstimulated cock to find your own euphoria. At the peak of your high, you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I accept,” you cried out your acceptance and pleasure in the same breath, “I’ll be your wife.” 

“No,” Yoongi corrected you, shoving his cum back into you as it began to dribble onto his thighs, “You’ll be my queen.’’

You crashed your lips to his and released the remainder of your pent of lust into a breathless exchange. You rocked your bodies together to ride out what’s left of your orgasms, allowing the afterglow to take hold. 

“My king,” you whispered against his lips. You pressed gentle kisses up his cheek until you place a final one over his scar, lingering for a moment, relinquishing your full devotion to every part of his being–the good and the bad.

“You have me at last.”

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x yn #suga smut #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x yn #yoongi royal au #bts royal au #bts smut #yoongi oneshot #king yoongi #agust d smut #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #suga scenario #dom yoongi

[tinyyoungblood]

pillow fort tragedy | peter parker

summary: what do you do when you have the entire compound to yourself? that’s right, you build a gigantic pillow fort with your boyfriend and the two dudes you have to babysit—an enhanced ex-soviet assassin and the god of thunder from outta space. good luck with that.

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

warnings: language, fluff, tiny bit of conflict and mention of injury

word count: 2.6 k

a/n: absolute crack fic lmao enjoy! x

* * *

It was another Sunday at the Compound which meant that something completely stupid had to go down at some point. This time, it was a real team effort and Steve would’ve surely been proud to some extent. Only, Steve wasn’t there and if he were, all of this wouldn’t have happened in the first place, which probably would’ve been better for everybody involved. Wherever you looked, miles and miles of pillows and blankets covered what used to be the comfort of their home. Now, it was a new empire.

Turning on the comm in your ear, you continued squeezing through the narrow passage of blankets that were poorly draped over some wobbly chairs and shelves. “Guys? Pete, can you hear me?” No answer. For a second, your back touched a blanket and the whole interior started to wobble, making you hold your breath. Who would’ve thought that a highly trained assassin and an invincible God were absolutely terrible at building something as simple as a pillow fort? Hah, not you.

It all started at 11 a.m. sharp when the others left for a mission that neither you nor Peter were allowed to join, but that wasn’t anything new. The two of you were used to it and almost always found something to occupy your time with. The same thing couldn’t be said for Bucky and Thor though, who were both incredibly offended to be treated like “dense punks”. Dense punks as in Peter and you. But then again, the only reason you both weren’t allowed to tag along was your age.

The former was denied because he kept forgetting to put down the toilet seat despite various warnings on Cap’s side and death threat’s on Nat’s and the latter wasn’t allowed to join because of the smell coming from his room that was almost tearing off the wallpaper in the hallway. They were practically grounded which was hilarious, especially since this was quite a rare combination of team members that the Compound had never witnessed before. So, to break the ice and get properly acquainted, Peter had the revolutionary idea to build a pillow fort with every godforsaken pillow, blanket and bedsheet that the Compound had to offer.

And so it began. Every bed, except for Thor’s because you were almost 100% sure that something lived underneath it, was brutally stripped off its covers and used to build the most atrocious and unsteadiest one of its kind. From the Common room to the elevator, every square meter was covered. Your heart race had honestly never been as high as when you tried to get yourself something to drink after having to dodge every pillow tower on your way to the kitchen. You still managed to end up with a wet shirt and a swollen ankle.

It was honestly all fun and games until the games turned into the mission of their lives. Peter had jokingly commanded them to not let this fort go down, under any circumstances—a stupid thing to say to the Winder Soldier and the King of Asgard. And it wasn’t because of their admirable determination and ambition, no—it was because both of them were stubborn idiots who would never dare lose a game.

And from there on, it kind of went downhill. Things started to escalate, highly expensive items were shattered, people were thrown, pillow fights happened inside the pillow fort—it was awful and you were just glad that nothing had caught on fire yet. Suddenly the subtle ‘click’ in your ear made you halt and you listened carefully. “Y/N? Babe, can you hear me?” Peter’s voice was shaky and you hastily answered. “Yes, I—I can hear you, Peter.” He let out a long sigh, relief flooding over his aching limbs. “Oh, thank god, you’re still alive—Where are you? Are you okay?” You nodded eagerly and looked around. “I’m fine…but I think I’m lost. Actually, I have no idea where I am. The tiles all look the same. Stupid Tony and his stupid monochronic taste in architecture,” you mumbled under your breath and you could hear him chuckle.

“Okay, that’s fine. Your ankle’s still swollen, right? Don’t move it, we’ll come get you. I think I can hear your heartbeat—“ He paused for a moment and you thought he expected some kind of reaction so you hesitantly responded, “…Aww?”

“Hm? No, that—sorry, Thor is holding an inaugural speech and he just started to list off his childhood best friends and one of them, you won’t believe it, is called Bob.” He snickered on the other side of the line and you furrowed your brows. “Bob?” He hummed. “Oh, well. Uhm, anyway, why exactly is Thor holding a speech again?”

“Oh, he just pronounced himself King of Blankard.”

“…Come again?”

“Blankard? Because it’s a pillow fort? But we also used blankets? And Pillowgard just doesn’t have—”

“—the same ring to it. Got it.” You glanced in each direction of the tunnel but it seemed like you were still the only one in this area. “Peter, when are you guys going to get here?” He didn’t respond and the only thing you heard was a slow clap and a whistle. You rolled your eyes. Your boyfriend was cheering for the new King of Blankard so you might as well have to start thinking about ways to fend for yourself once dusk would fall. You heard some shuffling before his voice came back. “Sorry, babe, I just assumed it’s bad manners to interrupt a God while they’re monologuing.”

It wasn’t biologically possible for you to roll your eyes any harder but you made it work.

“Just get here.” You sighed and he smooched a kiss into your ear. Your ankle started to pulse so you decided to sit down for a while until they would find you.

A few minutes passed and you finally heard distinct chatter. Crawling toward it, you felt like a big toddler when Peter’s eyes locked with yours and lit up. “Baby!” He cupped your face with both hands and excitedly planted kisses all over your face, making you giggle. Parting from you, you shot Thor a smile who gave you a friendly nod. “Please, do not expect a greeting of that same manner on my behalf, Lady Y/N.”

You laughed. “That’s totally cool, Thor, don’t worry.” Leaning forward to look past Peter, you realized that Bucky wasn’t with them. “We’ve lost him,” Peter explained as he watched your face turn into pure horror.

“…To death?”

He almost choked on air. “Dear god, no. He took a wrong turn and now we can’t find him. He’s still very much alive…I think.” You nodded swiftly and glanced at your watch. “Okay, guys, it was really fun while it lasted but I need to get to my room now to send in that Biology paper. And maybe put some ice on this bad boy.” You gestured to your ankle but they stared at you blankly.

“What?”

“You can’t get through the hallway, Lady Y/N.”

“What?” You repeated yourself, brows knitted. “Why?”

“Blanket collapse. Kind of like an avalanche,” Thor explained and you stared at him in disbelief.

“Guys, I don’t want to play anymore. I really have to hand in the paper now. The deadline’s in 10 minutes.”

“But you can’t get through.” Peter tried to reason.

“What do you mean? It’s blankets and pillows. You just…” You gestured a sweeping motion. “…push it aside.”

He pouted. “But then the fort will collapse.”

“Peter, I don’t care.” You sucked in a sharp breath to speak calmly. “Can’t we just tear the fort down?”

“No!!” The two suddenly shouted horrified as if you had just suggested to run over a puppy. The terror on your face turned blank.

“…What?”

“Y/N, I love you, but I swore to Thor that, as a rightful citizen of Blankard, I would put my life on the line for this fort. It’s my home now and he even made me swore over a pillow and everything, it was really cool, you should’ve seen it.” Thor nodded proudly.

You pinched the bridge of your nose to stop the steam from coming out your ears. “Okay, how about this? I’m not a citizen of Blankard, right?” Your laugh edged on insanity. “So I could just…” You imitated the sweeping motion again. “…right?”

Not meeting your gaze, Peter fidgeted with his hands. “Well…”

You let your head fall back with a groan. “Peter!”

“I’m sorry, okay! But you’re technically one of the Founding Fathers,” he explained sheepishly and you wanted to pulverize him. Your glare sent shivers down his spine. “Peter Benjamin Parker, I am not going to miss my deadline because of a pillow fort. Now, get me…to my…room.” With every word you inched closer to him until you were pressed flush against his chest, piercing eyes boring into his soul.

He gulped and didn’t found the right words, or any words really, to escape his mouth so he just nodded stiffly. Racking his brain with all the movies he had ever watched, Peter came up with a quick idea. “Okay, how about this…” As he started to ramble about his plan, you took notice of Thor who was comfortably sitting behind Peter while stretching out his arm with an open palm. You’ve seen that movement far too many times and thus knew exactly what he was doing.

Catching you look at him, he smiled brightly at you while giving you a friendly wave. You waved back and averted your gaze back to your boyfriend.

“…So once I’m outside, I can easily climb through your bedroom window, open your laptop and turn in the paper for you. There’s no way that we could fuck that up, right?” He laughed nervously and you had to suppress your shit-eating grin.

“Sorry to disappoint, Pete, but looks like Thor’s already on that case. Don’t worry about it.”

With furrowed brows, he whipped around and you could swear you saw his soul escape his body. “Thor, NO!!”

But it was too late. Like domino stones, each and every pillow started to collapse and pull the blankets with it. Everything was happening in slow motion as Thor realized what he had done and once Mjolnir was in his hand, he quickly scooped you up and threw you on his shoulder. Peter landed on the other one and with both of you protesting, he ran away from the falling pillows and toward the elevator. Right at the doorway where the paths were lower, he let the both of you fall to the ground, screaming “CRAWL!!”.

Doing as told, you crawled as fast as you could in front of them, ignoring the sharp ache in your ankle but once you rounded the corner, you bumped into a hard chest. It was a very confused Bucky. His hair was tousled, he had a scratch to his cheek and overall looked like he came back from wrestling a bear. In unison, the three of you yelled “CRAWL!!” and he whipped around to lead the way.

It was all for nothing though. The walls around you started to give in and in the blink of an eye, four Avengers were buried under a pile of pillows and blankets.

It was silent for a second, no one comprehended what just happened. In some way, it was like the deadly silence that followed after defeat—a battlefield of buried hopes and duvets.

But you couldn’t help it and started laughing.

Of course, it was muffled but you laughed hard. The realization that you had missed your deadline because of a pillow fort that you built with earth’s best defenders was comically genius to you. Your belly shook with laughter while tears brimmed your eyes and you knew you were seconds away from running out of oxygen when suddenly the distinct ‘ding’ of the elevator caught your attention and your laughter abruptly died down.

Peter caught your eye as he suddenly looked…very excited? He wasn’t sure what part of his biological whereabouts made him feel this spur of adrenaline for being busted, maybe it was the teenage set of rebellious hormones, but it was for sure questionable.

Rising with the others, an all too familiar voice bellowed from the hallway. “WHAT THE HELL.”

A faint ‘Language…” followed and the corners of your mouth quirked up. Dizzily looking around the room, you had to bite back your laughter again.

It truly was like a battlefield. The others were scattered close to you on the ground, still halfway buried under a few layers while sharing silent looks of fear. Well, except for Peter maybe, who looked like he was standing in line for a roller coaster.

The footsteps came closer and within a second, they all stood at the doorway, still geared and everything. As expected, Tony’s eyes roamed through the room with bewilderment plastered on his face. Steve just portrayed pure confusion whereas Nat and Sam both had an amused smirk dangling on their lips, some might even say they were impressed.

When Tony’s eyes landed on the four of you, sitting in the middle of the room, looking like lost puppies who had no idea what maniac instincts overtook them to create this beautiful mess, he was speechless. Tony Stark was speechless.

The others glanced at him sideways, anticipating another explosion but instead, he looked like 10 years were capped off his life and he let out a long sigh. “…Pillow fort?”

The four of you nodded silently. Another moment of silence followed but this time, he had just accepted his fate. That’s what he signed up for when he left two men-children and two actual children at home all by themselves. This one was on him really.

When he noticed that the others were staring at him and expecting him to handle the mess, he almost looked offended.

“She's crying—“ He pointed at you and then Peter. “He's excited, I'm confused, nothing new. Now are we going or not?” Not waiting for an answer, he whirled around and left the room. Sharing a collective look of confusion, Steve informed with an amused smile. “We’re going out to eat Shawarma. Let’s go.” He nodded in the direction of the elevator and walked away, Nat and Sam following closely behind.

The room was silent again as Bucky picked himself up and Thor dusted off his clothes, both avoiding each other’s gaze. It was like nobody wanted to admit or even believe what had happened for the past few hours. Peter helped you up and wrapped your arm around his neck to steady you before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled at him and together you walked, or more likely limped, toward the elevator. At the doorway, the four of you halted and turned back around to let your gaze fall on the remains of a fun afternoon. And just like that, it was another Sunday at the Compound.

* * *

this was so much fun to write and if i could make even one of you smile just a little bit with this one, it would absolutely make my day. thank for you reading! i’m playing with the thought of making a mini series just about the chaotic sunday adventures at the compound so a lot of domestic!avengers/au involving boyfriend!peter ofc so make sure to leave some feedback! xx

masterlist

taglist: @honeypie-holland  @nerdyandproudofitsstuff 

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #avenger!reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker funny

[twinkleton]

ok but what if... a spin off of your douxie x reader where we get the details on how douxie proposed 👀

Ask and ye shall receive! This takes place a year after my At the End of the Century fic, I’m considering call this series just Married!Douxie since any fics I do with this universe they will be married. I didn’t imagine them living in the castle anymore without Merlin, and I just wanted some cottagecore lmao. And yes, reader invents cat trees 😂. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tags: @clarencebells @purplesinnerw

“Archie, could you come over here?” 

The familiar pokes his head up from his proclaimed resting spot, a basket generally used for berry-picking, and lets out a big yawn. 

“I’m afraid I can’t, you’ve sucked all the energy out from me already,” he mumbles, plopping his head back down. Archie and the young witch had spent the morning organizing their belongings into their new home. As a show of gratitude and solidarity for the small family, the trolls of Dwoza had been building them a little cottage in the forest for the past year, between walking distance of their land and Camelot. They graciously accepted the gift.

“Please, just for a minute! Then you can continue your lounging,” Y/N pleaded from her and Douxie’s bedroom. Archie makes a low groan and rolls out of his makeshift bed, slowly making his way over to her.

“I swear if you ask me to fly over to a shelf you can’t reach one more time, I will-” His sentence stops short once he enters the room, eyes wide. Unbeknownst to him, while he was taking his little cat nap, the girl had been spending her time crafting up a tower for him, with all sorts of levels for him to climb, at the top of it being a cozy bed for him, made out of fabric she’d stolen from the castle. Old habits die hard. However, it was worth it for Y/N to see the look on her friend’s face. 

“Is..is this for me?” Archie climbs up to the first level. 

“Well I don’t see any other cat familiars lying around,” she replies with a smirk. 

“Always so cheeky,” he says with a chuckle. His nose slightly wiggled, detecting a fishy odor coming from the top. 

“Oh, you didn’t.”

“Oh, I so did.”

He swiftly leaps to the highest level, eyes gleaming with delight as his suspicions to what was there were confirmed. Y/N, being the angel in his eyes that she is, had prepared roasted salmon for him. How she somehow was able to hide all of this from him, he’ll never know. 

“Do-do you like it?” Y/N asked sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s weight on her chest, as Archie had flown over to her, trapping her into a bear hug that she quickly reciprocated. 

“I don’t understand, why did you do all of this for me?”

She laid her hand onto his head, gently stroking, “I don’t need a reason, Arch. You’re my friend, we've been through a lot. You deserve this.”

If it was in Archie’s nature, there would have been tears falling from his eyes. However, what felt right for him was to embrace her for a little bit longer, ending the hug with a simple, “Thank you, Y/N.”

Their bonding moment was cut short by the sudden loud bang of the front door opening, a disheveled and filthy Douxie stumbling in. His man bun had completely become undone, leaving his hair a tangled mess on top of his head. His clothes were covered in soot and his shoes were mysteriously soggy, leaving footprints on the floor. He leans into the door, slamming it shut behind him. 

The two rush over to him. “Oh, fuzzbuckets. What on Earth happened to you?”

“Stealing my catchphrases now, love? I knew I’d eventually rub off on you,”

An annoyed groan escapes Y/N’s lips as she walks over to assist Douxie in standing. “I thought you said you were helping Deya with a simple errand. You look like you volunteered to be her personal target dummy.”

“Knowing Douxie, that probably isn’t far off from the truth,” Archie smirks, giving Douxie an all-knowing look.

“So she didn’t give all of the details of her request, she’s a busy woman. She has a legacy of Trollhunters to begin, can’t expect her to be so thorough.” Douxie chuckles nervously, a laugh that tells Archie all he needs to know but seemingly raises no concern for Y/N. 

“All right. Arch, go enjoy your dinner. I’ll take care of him,” Y/N says, leading Douxie towards the bath further down the hall.

Once she has filled the bath up sufficiently, she sticks a hand into the water, muttering under her breath a spell. Her hand glows a vibrant scarlet shade, and soon the water begins to bubble up with steam rising into the air. Douxie, with clothes discarded onto the floor, leans onto Y/N for support as he slowly descends into the bath. He relaxes his muscles, the warm water helping ease all the aches he has in his limbs. 

“Have I ever said that I love magic? Because I do, I really do,” his girlfriend giggles at his comment as she softly brushes out his mangled locks. Afterwards, she pours some of the water onto his hair, washing away the sweat and grime. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“With you, never better.”

“No, I mean, with everything. I know it’s been a year since the battle, but we haven’t really talked much about what happened. How it’s been for you without...Merlin.” Y/N had been hesitant with bringing up his master, not wanting to cause him any stress or discomfort. Still, she figured it was better than the alternative of Douxie bottling up his feelings.

He adjusts himself so that he’s facing Y/N, looking up to make eye contact with her. Despite himself, he can’t help but get entranced by her eyes, so vibrant and full of genuine love and concern for him. He reaches over and brushes away hair, cupping her face. How he became so lucky to have someone as kind, beautiful, and thoughtful as her be in his life, let alone be with him, he’ll never understand. He doesn’t know what living would be like if she wasn’t a constant presence and he doesn’t want to know. 

So, he lets out something he’s truly been bottling up. 

“Marry me.”

Y/N can’t fully process what he’d just said to her. Her brain hasn’t caught up with her heart, which fluttered the moment those two little words left his mouth. 

“What?”

Douxie lets go of her face to grab onto her hands, pulling them close to him. 

“I wanted to pick a better time to bare my heart out to you, one where I’m not bare...myself,” that earns a little chuckle from Y/N, “But, I just can’t wait any longer.”

He instructs her to grab his tunic still lying on the floor and to check the inner pocket. Once she reaches her hand inside, she feels a small band of metal, pulling it out to see. It’s revealed to be a golden ring, with intricate carvings all along the band, and secured on top was a small emerald gem, so polished that light reflects beautifully off of it. The sight of it alone is enough to make Y/N’s eyes start to water. 

“You made this?”

Douxie gives a little nod, “Hence my very repugnant appearance earlier. I did go to see Deya, but it was to ask her for a favor, not the other way around. I knew they would have just the metal and stone I needed for the ring, however had they warned me that retrieving said materials would be so difficult, maybe I would’ve looked elsewhere,” he explains with a smile. “Go ahead, try it on.”

Y/N slides the ring down her finger, a perfect fit. She looks up at him, eyes brimming with tears.

“Why?”

The answer is simple for him, “Because I love you. It has been hard without Merlin. He was always who I looked to for guidance, afraid of any misstep I would possibly make without his advice, but with you, I’m not afraid. You’re so encouraging and loving that I believe I can trust myself and make my own decisions and they won’t lead to chaos somehow. I look forward to each day because I know you’ll be there. I can’t imagine life without you in it, and I never want to. I realize asking to be with me for the rest of your immortal life is a lot, but-”

“Yes,” she answers, finally letting the tears fall. The biggest smile she thinks she’s ever had spreads across her face. 

Douxie lets out a mixture of a laugh and a gasp of surprise. “Really? Hold on, I don’t want this moment to be me in a bucket the whole time,” he jumps out of the bath, quickly drying himself and tugging on a clean pair of pants. His hair is still wet, leaving droplets of water on his shoulders. Then, he walks in front of Y/N, picking up her hands again to bring them to be his chest. “You’re sure about this?”

Y/N waves her thumbs over his fingers, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, “All I’ve ever wanted was a family. People and a place I can consider home. I thought I had found that with Morgana, but I was wrong. Who I really found it with was you. You and Archie are my family. I love Archie dearly, and I’m so in love with you. An eternity with you still doesn’t feel long enough.” 

Now it’s Douxie who’s crying tears of joy. This has to be one of the greatest moments of his life. He gets to be with the love of his life forever and always. He picks her up effortlessly, spinning her around while the two joyously laugh and squeal. Still in the air, Y/N grabs onto his face to pull him in, capturing his lips in a kiss. Douxie sighs into it, not able to properly kiss due to him not being able to stop smiling. They come apart, still holding onto each other and giggling like teenagers.

“Ah, so he finally did it. He’s been worrying about it ever since we moved here,” Archie says, doing his well known habit of waltzing in unannounced.

Douxie lets her down, facepalming at his familiar’s interruption. “That was supposed to be kept a secret, Arch.”

“Apologies. But really Doux? In the bath? Even I could’ve thought of something more grand than that.”

“Why you little-”

“How was your dinner, Archie?” Y/N says before Douxie can have a go at him. 

“Absolutely delightful, you truly are amazing Y/N.”

Y/N thanks him. As Douxie and Archie continue their snarky banter with one another, she can’t help but feel so content in the moment. She realizes that that loneliness she used to feel before will never come again thanks to these two. She may have had to defeat Morgana in the end, but she will be eternally grateful for the gift of love she granted her.

#douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan #douxie casperan #douxie #tales of arcadia #married!douxie #at the end of the century #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #trollhunters

[obxfics]

The Lines We Cross

summary: you are topper’s brother and just happen to be secretly dating JJ when the truth gets out, and things get ugly

pairing: JJ Maybank x male!reader

word count: 5,076 (this one really... it really got away from me lmao)

requested by: @ueomega​

a/n: so this is a really, really long fic and i hope it’s good! i honestly dont know how it got this long lmao but it was requested weeks ago so hopefully this makes up for the wait!

Being a Kook definitely had its perks. Got to go the best schools, nice vacations, could basically buy anything you could ever want with Daddy’s money, and, most importantly, you had options others didn’t when it came to your future. On the flip side, there were also certain expectations that came with all the perks. For instance, you were expected to be well behaved, to do nothing that could reflect badly on the family, and you needed to be smart, or at least smart enough and accomplished enough to get into the best schools Daddy could pay for. And for you, specifically, to be absolutely perfect.You were known on Kildare Island for the longest time as Topper’s twin brother, his built in competition. As the two eldest sons, much was expected of you, but only one could come out on top as the golden child. And for the longest time, everyone thought it was you. Your father was certainly looking to groom you as the future heir to his company. And then you entered eighth grade. Topper found some pictures hidden under your bed and discovered your biggest secret: you liked boys. It wasn’t long after that until your parents found out, and suddenly you weren’t treated like the successful son you were. Your mother took over the job of looking after you, and your father in turn focused on grooming your brother for the role you were supposed to have. According to your mother, this sort of thing getting out could be detrimental for the company if you were allowed to take over. Having a gay son wasn’t bad, but having that gay son become the CEO? Unheard of.

So, you were to be perfect. Who would be upset at the sweet gay kid who shut his mouth? The one who didn’t stir shit up? So you kept as low a profile as you could. You hung around Topper and Rafe, accompanied girls to their debutante balls, and any relationships you had were either with other perfect Kooks or low profile hookups. Everyone learned to turn a blind eye at any parties at the Boneyard if they saw you standing maybe a bit too close to some handsome tourist. Relationships were hard to come by, and you never hooked up with someone from the Cut.

That is, until you did. It was at some party at the Boneyard, a kegger some of the Pogues were throwing, and you arrived with Sarah Cameron instead of your brother. While she had broken up with Topper, you still liked to spend some time with her. Gave you a break from having to act so perfect all the time. She led you towards the booze, her arms wrapped around your waist with your arm slung over her shoulder. None of the other Kooks you ran with where around yet, so you felt more relaxed than you had in months. She had helped you get ready, convincing you to keep your shirt unbuttoned to entice any cute guys at the party, and you had to admit, you were having a pretty good time. That is, until your eyes met those of JJ Maybank over by the keg.

It wasn’t that you hated the blonde, but you didn’t necessarily like him. You heard Topper complain about the boy enough times to know that you should steer clear of him. He was bad news. After all, wasn’t he always getting into fights with your friends? But he was best friend’s with John B, and Sarah was with John B, so you couldn’t really avoid him for much longer. So you allowed her to tug you over to the two boys who were serving the drinks. At least you’d be getting alcohol. JJ mentioned something about you being Topper’s better half, causing you to roll your eyes and down the drink he gave you. You were supposed to be the golden child, the one that caused people to remember Topper as your brother, but your parents had stolen that from you.

You didn’t really remember much more about that night, but you did remember the end. You and JJ had ended up getting into a heated argument towards the edge of the party, and others began leaving. Eventually there was no one around you when the whole thing came to a head; JJ grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you. To say you were shocked was an understatement. Before that, you had heard JJ would sometimes pick up male tourists, but you never even suspected he would ever go for a Kook like you, but there he was, kissing you like he was an addict and you were his next hit. What you two did later that night in the Volkswagen he’d borrowed from John B was supposed to be a one time thing. Until a week later when he appeared at your window and dragged you to a secluded part of the beach to have a repeat. And then a few days later when you showed up at the Yacht Club where he worked and tugged him into a storage closet. Then suddenly you were just talking and going on picnics until the both of you realized you weren’t just hooking up. You were dating. It was immediately agreed that it should be kept a secret; if it got out that you were dating a Pogue, your reputation, and that of your family’s, would take a hit, and JJ was known to hate Kooks. He couldn’t be seen having feelings for you. This worked for the two of for just over a month before you started getting sloppy.

One day you were spending the afternoon with Sarah, laughing as you lounged on her family’s boat. She had somehow convinced her dad to let her take it out with you, and it seemed like you had the entire intercostal to yourselves. You let out a contented sigh and stretched out your limbs like a cat in the sun. You glanced over when Sarah suddenly gasped.

“What is it?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows to properly look at her.

“Oh my god, when did you get those?” She reached out to touch your chest. You looked down to see love bites littering your torso. “When did you find someone to hook up with?”

“I, uh, it’s no big deal,” you tried to brush off her questions. “Just some dude I’ve been hooking up with from the next town over.”

“Wait, the same guy? For how long?”

“Sarah, it really isn’t that big of a deal. I’ve gone through most of the dudes here, and I’m bored of seducing tourists, so having a booty call half an hour away is the easiest thing.”

“Sounds pretty tedious, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly have a deep pool of potential lays, do I, Sarah?”She sighed and nodded, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “You’re right. I’m sorry for pressing. I just wish your family didn’t put this pressure on you to be so perfect. You should be happy.”

“They let me be out,” you tried to defend your parents.

“On certain conditions, y/n. You can no longer have the job you deserve, you can’t date anyone who isn’t a Kook, and they won’t even let you really be proud of who you are. You need to stay reserved, a respectable gay man, not gay teenager having fun.”

You shrugged. “It is what it is, Sarah. We can’t all rebel against our families.”

Oh but you wished you could. As you helped Sarah get ready for her date with John B, you wished you could be the type to rebel against your family. You longed to hold hands with JJ in public and kiss him whenever you wanted to, but you knew it wasn’t just about you. What about JJ? You never knew where he stood with possibly going public one day.

“What are you gonna do while I’m gone?” Sarah asked as you handed her a purse.

“I do have a life outside of you,” you laughed. “Maybe I’ll hit up my boy for a booty call.”

“Be safe!” she called over her shoulder with a smile.

“You as well, Miss Cameron! Tell your boy to keep his hands to himself or I’ll kick his ass!”

She threw her head back and cackled. “Because John B will believe that. Besides, we both know I’m the one with the wandering hands.”

You shook your head and checked your phone for any texts from JJ. Bingo. With John B and Sarah going for their date, JJ had the Chateau to himself, and he was inviting you over for some fun. You couldn’t keep the grin from your face as you climbed into your car and made your way to the Cut. You made sure to park a few streets over so none of the Pogues would see your car parked out front of John B’s and walked the rest of the way. By the time you stepped foot on the porch of the Chateau, you were covered in a light sheen of sweat. You spotted your boyfriend messing around in the kitchen and walked up behind him, sliding your arms around his waist.

“Glad you finally decided to show up,” he laughed, turning his head to look at you.

“Mm, I had to finish up with my tourist booty call,” you teased, rubbing your nose against his. “I’ve missed you.”

He turned in your hold and slid his fingers into your hair, smirking when your eyes fluttered shut. You felt his lips on yours, slow and sweet at first. It was nice, but you hadn’t seen him in nearly a week. You didn’t want slow and sweet. He groaned when you tugged him closer to you and deepened the kiss, your tongue slipping into his open mouth. His hands slid under your shirt to caress your chest. You separated just long enough to rip your shirt from your body and throw it over your shoulder, watching with hungry eyes as JJ did the same with his. Then you were attacking his neck, sucking and nipping at his throat before soothing the bites with your tongue. A smirk twitched at your lips when you heard the pants escaping from JJ, his head thrown back as he allowed you to mark up his beautiful skin. The both of you were so caught up in each other, his hands moving towards your belt, that neither of you heard the screen door creak open.

“What the fuck?” That you did hear.

You two sprang apart, lips swollen and chests heaving with the effort it took to catch your breath, and your eyes fell upon Sarah and John B. It was John B who had spoken. He seemed the most surprised out of the two of them. Sarah just looked at you with sad eyes. She understood what you were going through; she, after all, had attempted to keep her relationship with John B a secret too at the beginning. She knew the trouble that would follow if anyone found out.

“That… we, uh, we can explain,” JJ rasped, clearly trying to think of some lie, although he knew it was useless. How the hell was he going to explain why he and some Kook were practically grinding against each other in his best friend’s kitchen? He sighed and reached out to take your hand. “We’re together.”

Panic filled you when you saw the look on John B’s face. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t going to tell anyone was he? Sarah must have noticed the look on your face.

“You two should talk,” she suggested to the two Pogues. “y/n, why don’t you come with me?”

You quickly pressed a kiss to JJ’s temple before taking Sarah’s hand and following her out of the Chateau. She squeezed your hand as you walked towards where you parked your car.

“So… how long have you and JJ been together?” she asked.

“Um, a little more than a month. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We just… my parents… you know.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” she reassured you. “You know I understand better than anyone hiding a relationship with a Pogue.”

“What if everyone finds out?” you whispered.

“How would you feel if they did?”

“I… I hate all this hiding. And… I don’t care what my parents think. I would stay with JJ. I love him.”

“Everything will work out, I promise. Let’s get you home.”

Meanwhile, at the Chateau, a much different discussion was playing out. JJ, sick of keeping everything a secret, had agreed to invite Pope and Kie over to tell them everything, and he sat looking at his best friends after it was all laid out.

“So you… and Topper’s brother?” Kie broke the silence. “And it’s like an actual relationship?”

“Yeah.”

“JJ, you know we support you and love you no matter what,” John B said, “but… you can’t be with him?”

“What? Why?”

“Why?! Are you out of your mind? He’s Topper’s brother! The only one worse than Topper is Rafe!”

“He’s nothing like his brother!”

“JJ, being with him is dangerous,” Pope agreed. “Rafe and Topper almost killed John B for seeing Sarah. Everyone knows y/n was the favorite son. Hell, he probably still is, even with all the drama about him being passed over or some shit.”

“Exactly. He was the golden child. The whole Figure Eight will be out for you.”

“This is ridiculous,” JJ sighed. “What are your thoughts on this, Kie?”

“I… I knew y/n, at school when Sarah and I were first friends. He liked to hang around with us, even crash our sleepovers, but we never minded. I saw what he went through. He still carried around the hurt about being cast aside, about being second to his brother, about having to pretend to be someone he’s not. He’s a good guy, and JJ’s right. He’s nothing like Topper.” JJ was about to thank her when she said, “But I also know that Pope and John B are right. His family will never stand for this relationship, and from what I know about him, he won’t risk disappointing them. If it comes down to it, he’ll throw you aside to stay in their good graces.”

“That’s not true!” JJ couldn’t help but feel betrayed by both his friends and his feelings. Doubt crept into his heart and clouded his mind. Would you really not hesitate to leave him behind? His mom didn’t. “That’s not true… he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that.”

A sob escaped him when Kie wrapped an around his shoulder. John B placed his hands on his best friend’s thighs while Pope rubbed JJ’s back.

“The best thing, I think, is for you to just end it now before anyone else finds out,” John B suggested. “That way you can protect him from his family finding out, and you can protect yourself from him leaving you.”

You spent the whole night worrying. Every single time your brother got a text from one of your friends, you were terrified it was about you and JJ. You weren’t even sure how they would find out because it wasn’t like John B was going to send Topper a text like, “Hey did u hear ur brother is hooking up w my best friend?” But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Finally you got a text from JJ asking you to meet him in your backyard. You made sure everyone was asleep before sneaking outside.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a shy smile, “how did your talk with John B go?”

“It was… good. I told Pope and Kie about us.”

“And?”

“y/n,” he sighed, making your stomach clench unpleasantly. “We need to talk.”

“Did they… did they say anything?” You saw his jaw clench and how his eyes couldn’t meet yours. “What did they say? If they disapprove because I’m a guy—“

“Of course they wouldn’t disapprove because of that! My friends love and accept me the way I am!”

“So they do disapprove of me.”

“They… they had some important things to say.”

“Like what?” you whispered, afraid of what he would say next. “What did they say to you, JJ?”

“Nothing I hadn’t already thought myself. And they were right. What would have happened if it had been your brother who had seen us? He would have told your parents, or given you some ultimatum, right?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“And you would have gone along with what he said.”

“How can you say that?” You tried to hold back tears as you felt your heart break. “You know I love you. How can you say that I would just submit to my family?”

“Because that’s why we kept this thing between us a secret! Because you’re ashamed to be with someone like me! It would ruin your stellar reputation!”

You stood there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, and stared at JJ. You schooled your face into your Kook persona, looking at him with cold eyes.

“So that’s it, then?” you asked cooly. “We’re just… over because you want to listen to your friends over your own boyfriend?”

“Are you really going to say you would do something different?”

“Well what would be the point? You’ve already made up your mind. Nothing I say will change what you’ve decided to believe, so why waste my breath?”

Tears seemed to fill JJ’s eyes. “You’re not going to even fight for us?”

“Did you?”

“y/n?” you heard your brother’s tired voice call from the balcony that overlooked the yard. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing. Maybank was just leaving.”

You turned your back on JJ and hurried inside, waiting until the door shut before you broke down in tears. You could hear Topper stumble down the stairs and freeze when he saw you crying at the bottom.

“I—are you okay?”

“Just peachy.”

He sighed and sat down next to you on the bottom step. The two of you, despite being twins, were never particularly good at the whole supportive sibling thing. You cared for each other, but after your parents pit the two of you against each other since birth, it was hard to be particularly close. In this moment, however, Topper hesitated only a moment before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you close, allowing you to sob into his shoulder.

“I don’t know what’s happening between you and Maybank… but… I’m sorry. It didn’t look like you guys were making up.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Gonna tell Mom and Dad I was sneaking around with some guy from the Cut?”

“No. What good would that do? They would just get pissed and push you farther away. What’s the point in having them hate their favorite son more?”

“I’m not the favorite. Not anymore.”

“Well… neither am I.”

The two of you sat together for what seemed like hours, not really needing to speak to offer comfort to each other. Your parents ruined your sibling bond before it could really start, and you knew your brother could be an absolute asshole, but there was a sort of understanding between you now. You both had been broken by the constant pressure and judgement of your parents, and neither of you would ever good enough. Not anymore.

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like shit. You were supposed to meet Sarah for brunch at her place, but you didn’t want to tell her that JJ had broken up with you. She’d ask why, and you didn’t want to have to say it was because her boyfriend and friends got it into JJ’s head that you were going to abandon him. So you stayed in bed, curled up under your duvet with your phone turned off. You didn’t want to deal with anyone. You should have known your best friend would not stay away when she realized you weren’t reading her texts. You groaned when your bedroom door opened, Topper giving you an apologetic look before Sarah barreled in.

“Sorry, bro, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’ll just… leave you two alone.”

You glared at Sarah from underneath the mound of pillows you had created to snuggle with. Why was she ruining your pity party?

“What the hell is going on? Why haven’t you been reading my texts? We were supposed to have brunch!”

“Ugh, tone it down, Cameron. I’m clearly not in the best of moods.”

“Is this because John B found out yesterday about you and—“

“Do not fucking say his name,” you growled, your heart twisting at the thought of JJ. “I don’t want to talk about that Pogue ever again.”

“Whoa, okay, what is going on? Seriously, talk to me.”

You sniffled as you felt another round of tears coming. “Last night, he came here. And… and he broke up with me.”

“What? Why?”

Sarah slid under the covers beside you and wrapped her arms around your trembling figure, drawing you close so you could rest your head on her chest.

“Talk to me, honey. What happened?” she whispered in your hair.

“I don’t know. He was talking about some shit like if Topper found out, I would leave him to make my family happy. He didn’t even ask me. He just… said it like it was fact.”

“Did he mention anything from his talk with John B?”

“Just that they told him some important things.”

“Oh, I’ll kill that boy,” she snarled.

“No, Sarah, please don’t make a big deal of it! Please, I just… I just want to forget all about this.”

“Can you really move on so quickly?”

“…It fucking hurts,” you whimpered. “I thought what we had… it was special. I wanted to keep it secret so the people here wouldn’t fucking ruin it. But I guess we already did that ourselves.”

Sarah didn’t say anything else, just let you cry it all out in her arms. She would occasionally kiss your hair and stroked your back, trying her best to get you to feel better at all, but she knew this would take time. You were heartbroken. There was no quick fix to this. Except maybe…

A few days later, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. In a weird twist that no one saw coming, Sarah and Topper had taken it upon themselves to throw a huge party for the Figure Eight at the Yacht Club. You weren’t exactly sure of the theme, but Topper instructed you to wear the clothes he had set out for you, and so you stared at your reflection all dress up in slacks, button down shirt, suspenders, and the scuffed up Vans you decided on over the dress shoes Topper wanted you to wear. You hadn’t been in the mood for a party until Sarah told you with a wink that this would be the perfect time to get laid and forget your heartbreak. Probably not the healthiest way to cope with a breakup, but it sure beat getting blackout drunk and waking up with the world’s worst hangover.

“Yo, you ready?”

You looked over your shoulder at your brother and shrugged. You weren’t even sure why they had decided to plan this party, and you weren’t in the proper headspace to start the process of understanding how the fuck they had agreed to work together.

“Still can’t believe you and Sarah are throwing me a pity party.”

“It’s not a pity party. It’s a ‘y/n needs to get laid and stop moping’ party,” Topper grinned. “Come on, let’s get you to the club, shall we?”

With a heavy sigh, you followed your brother out of the house to his car. You weren’t sure what the official story for the party was, but you assumed it was not ‘hey let’s get y/n laid’ because you were sure your parents wouldn’t think that was good for the family’s reputation. How the hell were you supposed to pick up some dude if your parents were right there? Obviously Topper and Sarah had overlooked some things, but it just seemed like getting drunk was the move.

“You are seriously not about to make a beeline to the bar,” Sarah intercepted you. “You literally just got here.”

“Damn it, Sarah, I’m dealing with heartbreak here. Show some sympathy.”

“I’m not letting you get wasted in front of your parents.”

You watched as she snagged a bottle of champagne from the bar and motioned to the club with her head. She led you into the locker room and opened the bottle with a loud ‘pop!’ causing the two of you to giggle.

“Sorry about the party.”

“Sarah, it’s barely started,” you laughed. “Nothing really to apologize for yet.”

“Yeah but it was my idea. I thought it would help you.”

“Just having you by my side helps.”

“I yelled at John B.”

“Well why would you go and do something like that?”

“He deserved it. He came clean about what all the Pogues said to JJ. They all felt terrible because JJ looked awful. Like probably as bad as you.”

“I look stunning,” you grumbled before taking a long swig of the champagne. “But what did they think was gonna happen?”

“They’re all idiots. Even Kie. But I set them straight about you.”

“Ah, so they think I’m just some helpless Kook who only does what Mommy and Daddy tell me to do.”

“Once upon a time you might have been.”

“Then they decided that because of my sexuality I didn’t deserve to be an important part of the family. I was immediately relegated to the disappointment. And for what? For them to continue to control my life like I matter to them?” You took another sip of the alcohol. “I would have done anything for JJ. Even defy my family. They’ve already decided I’m no good, so what did it matter if I dated him? What difference would that even make.”

Sarah rubbed your back and took back the bottle of champagne. She stood up and offered you a hand.

“Let’s go dance and get shit-faced.”

You grinned and took her hand. “Hell yeah, Sarah Cameron.”

As you walked back out to join the party, you eyes fell on a familiar head of golden hair. What the hell was he doing here? You could see your parents notice him, and then security was headed his way. Shit. Against your better judgement, you hurried outside.

“What’s going on?” you asked, causing your parents and JJ to look at you.

“A party crasher,” your mother told you, looking at your ex-boyfriend with a look of contempt. “No doubt trying to steal some of our expensive alcohol.”

You caught sight of the Pogues hovering at the edge of the party. Seriously, what the fuck was going on?

“y/n, I came here to talk to you,” JJ said as he desperately struggled against security’s tight grip on him.

“And so you decided to crash a party? Honestly, what was your thought process here?”

“I… I,” his voice cracked as his eyes flashed to your parents. He looked at you as if asking for permission. A chill ran down your spine when you realized he was asking for permission to talk about your relationship in front of your parents. Intrigued, you nodded.

“What is going on here?” your father asked, cutting JJ off before he could even utter another sound. “Do you know this…” His lip curled as he looked over the boy you loved. “Do you know him, y/n?”

“Please, y/n, I’m sorry,” JJ whispered. “I shouldn’t have just jumped to conclusions. I should have just talked to you.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

“My friends are a bunch of idiots who don’t even know you… but… they want to. Get to know you. Without bias.”

“What are you—“

“I was a mess after the other night. I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t sleep and… I looked like shit.” His eyes met yours, and you were taken aback by the emotion in them. “I realized my life fucking sucks without you.”

You took a step towards him and asked, “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

The breath caught in your throat as your parents yelled at security to drag JJ away. He’d never said that to you before, and looking into his eyes… you knew he was telling the truth.

“Wait, let him go!” you demanded.

“y/n, what are you doing?” your father barked, his hand wrapping around your arm to keep you in place. “You cannot possibly be thinking about reciprocating this… this lowlife’s confession! Remember what we talked about.”

Suddenly Topper was coming between you two, causing your father to drop you. You could see the absolute surprise cross your father’s face. Never before had either of his sons stood up to him. Your brother gave you a nod. His permission, even if you didn’t need it. You hurried to catch up to security, who were close to throwing JJ off the premises.

“Wait! This is my party, and I say he can stay,” you told them, standing firmly in their way. “Let him go.”

The two guards looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Probably didn’t want to get caught up in some teenage drama, so they dropped JJ and backed away. You helped him up and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Did you mean it?”

He looked deep in your eyes and nodded. Tears filled your eyes, and he was quick to brush any that fell away.

“I’m sorry that I’m such an asshole,” he whispered. “I’m not good with emotions and abandonment… I should never have accused you of all that stuff. Obviously I was wrong.”

“You are an asshole… but you’re mine. And I love you for it.”

Then, with the cheers of Sarah and the Pogues in the background, he pulled you in for a kiss. You knew for sure you were crossing a line with your parents, but at that time you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care. You were way too focused on the beautiful boy you loved. The beautiful boy who loved you back.

#outer banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx #obx netflix #obx imagine #obx x reader #male reader #jj maybank x male reader

[cosmic-goddess-leo]

Show Me Your Teeth

Vampire!Kuroo x Monster Hunter! Reader

Chapter 1

Summary: Kuroo Tetsuro finds himself in quite the predicament when an injured monster hunter stumbles into his castle seeking refuge. 

Word Count: 5,762

Warnings: Violence, blood, smut in upcoming chapter

Author’s Note: Sooooo I’m rewatching Castlevania lmao

A cry of pain reverberated off the gargantuan trees and echoed into the night sky as monstrous claws tore through armor and flesh.

Taking on such a sizeable pack of werewolves was a calculated risk, but the rather large sum of money offered as reward for the alpha’s head was just enough for (Y/n) to throw logic and reason out the door and begin tracking the beasts.

Of course, the amount of villagers the pack had eaten or turned was taken into account as well. If no one stepped in, the village would surely be wiped out within the month. Innocent people, children, all suffering as their bodies were devoured by savage creatures of the night.

(Y/n) couldn’t allow it. The money was merely a perk. (Y/n) could rest well knowing she had done the right thing in helping the village as well as not have to starve while on her travels.

And that was the rough chain of events that led to this current shit show.

(Y/n) was now dodging attacks from the beasts left and right, which proved to be no easy task with her injured leg.

A displeased growl slipped through her gritted teeth as the huntress pulled her whip from her harness on her hip. “Since you want to play dirty...” She trailed off, cracking the whip once in the air, the moonlight catching on the bits of silver adorning the very tip of the popper.

This didn’t seem to intimidate the wolves as one lunged towards her. (Y/n) cracked the whip in his direction, the consecrated leather slashing at the beast while the silver carved into the werewolf’s skin.

Almost instantaneously, the wolf went up in wild blue flames and a horrendous cross between a scream and a howl ripped through its burning esophagus into the night.

(Y/n) smirked triumphantly, using the moment of temporary shock to put some distance between her and the pack. She broke off into a sprint, limping in a random direction away from the wolves.

She swore she could see a castle through the trees, and was relieved to find her vision hadn’t failed her once she exited the tree line.

The villagers at the tavern had spoken in hushed whispers about the abandoned castle past the great forest, how they wondered if anyone had taken up residence in the large structure.

Worst case scenario, a couple of vagrants had taken up residence in the place and would be displeased about a monster hunter bringing a pack of werewolves into their lodging.

(Y/n) grunted as she climbed the steps leading to the castle, the pain in her leg becoming increasingly evident as she put more weight on it. She attempted to heave the large wooden doors open, shakily exhaling as the doors refused to budge.

Whoever had left this castle locked it before they vacated.

The huntress cursed under her breath as she heard the wolves approaching, sparing a glance over her shoulder as she continued pulling on the large, metal ring handle on the door.

She was almost knocked off her feet when the locks clicked, the door finally swinging open towards her. Had (Y/n) not been running for her life, she would have thought to question how the doors suddenly unlocked.

(Y/n) clambered into the castle, shutting the large doors behind her and locking them in hopes of buying herself some time. She pulled a bottle from the pouch strapped onto her hip and poured the clear liquid onto her leg, the mixture numbing the pain enough for her to walk properly.

As she capped the bottle and began to place it back in her pouch, a dark figure at the corner of her eye caught her attention. She whipped her head in that direction, but the figure disappeared.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness as she continued searching for the shape in that direction, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as she swore she could feel something breathing down her back.

Before she could give it any more thought, the doors of the castle began to rattle and creak as the wolves attempted to get in.

(Y/n) got to work pouring holy water at the entrance and rubbing salt onto her silver sword, the mysterious presence now long forgotten as she prepared for battle. She then sheathed her sword and unfurled her whip, eyes glued to the door just as the wood began to crack.

The wolves burst through the door, the first to enter screeching as they stepped into the holy water. (Y/n) dispatched the immobilized wolves quickly with her whip, the room now illuminated by the blue fire burning through their flesh and fur.

The next wave of wolves leapt over the burning embers of their fallen pack members, only to be met with the crack of (Y/n)’s whip. She knew this plan wouldn’t stay viable for long, werewolves tended to be very craft creatures, their bloodlust only clouding their animal instincts for so long.

Just as she began to take a step back towards a nearby room, one of the large, stained glass windows beside her shattered. The biggest bastard of the pack, the alpha, came crashing through the glass right towards her.

(Y/n) raised her arm to shield herself on instinct, knowing the second the alpha had her head between his jaws this would all be over.

The beast took hold of her arm, its fangs clamping down on the limb and breaking through her chainmail like it was paper. (Y/n) screamed in anguish as her blood gushed from her arm and onto her body.

The alpha then tossed her body aside, as if she were nothing but a ragdoll, a ghastly laugh vibrating through its chest as it watched her body smack against the nearby wall.

(Y/n) struggled to pick herself up, arm limp at her side as she weakly gripped at her sword with her non-dominant hand. She whipped around to face the alpha, just as it began charging at her, unsheathing her sword weakly and holding it in front of her body at the last second.

The massive wolf pounced onto her, whimpering as the salted silver blade pierced its stomach. (Y/n) quickly pushed its limp body away, sending it to the floor with a loud thud.

(Y/n) looked down at her arm, a sense of dread filling the pit of her stomach as she examined the large bite. A bite from an alpha meant she would turn in only a matter of minutes if she didn’t treat it. She had no time to worry about the remainder of the pack as she pulled a pouch of salt from her hip and rubbed it onto the large wound.

She whimpered at the sting, knowing the worst was yet to come as she pulled a waterskin full of holy water from her belt. (Y/n) then doused her arm with the water, another violent scream erupting from her chest and echoing into the hall. The water bubbled against the wound, hissing quietly as it cleansed the torn flesh.

(Y/n) could feel her vision going blurry, her body beginning to wobble as her ears rang. She tried to will herself to snap out of it, tried to stand straight and prepare for the attack from the rest of the pack. But she couldn’t stop her body from collapsing onto the floor as she went into shock.

She could see the wolves slowly closing in on her, eyes practically glowing with hatred as they looked between the huntress and their slain alpha. (Y/n) never thought she would lose her life to a pack of werewolves, but at least it would be quick.

The blue fire began to dim as the burning bodies were now reduced to ash. Darkness consumed the room just as a large figure suddenly tackled the nearest werewolf away from (Y/n)’s limp form. (Y/n) fought to keep her eyes open so she could see who had saved her, eyes struggling to focus on the blur currently ripping apart what was left of the wolves.

The room was now silent, save for the click of her savior’s heels against the stone floors. (Y/n)’s eyes slowly fluttered closed as a pair of glowing gold eyes entered her field of vision. The last thing she felt was her body being lifted from the floor and into a pair of strong, firm arms.

———————————————————–

The first thing (Y/n) noticed about her new surroundings was the plush, comfortable bed she was currently laying in. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept in a feather bed... and one with silk sheets at that.

It was then that (Y/n) realized that she was, in fact, very naked. Save for the bandages wrapped around her injured arm and leg, her body was completely bare.

“What the fuck...” she croaked, her throat raw from her screaming the night before. She lightly rubbed at her neck, wishing she had some tea to soothe her worn vocal cords.

(Y/n) then caught a whiff of something delicious, turning to find a tray of cooked breakfast and tea resting on her bedside table. “... that’s oddly convenient.” She muttered.

Her body felt stiff and heavy as she pushed herself to sit up and take the tray of food. She set the tray in her lap and began eating. The bacon was a bit burned and the porridge was very soupy, but (Y/n) knew she was in no position to criticize the cooking of whoever was showing her all this hospitality.

“Good to see I didn’t poison you...”

(Y/n) practically choked on her eggs as she turned to the door of her room. Was the door cracked open like that the whole time? She could vaguely see a tall figure with its back to the door, a long, silk cloak hanging off his broad shoulders.

“Perhaps I spoke too soon?” he inquired, referring to her weak coughing.

“N-no... it’s very good. Thank you...” she said, throat still burning and prompting her to take another sip of her tea.

The man chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill up (Y/n)’s spine. “I am glad to hear it. I don’t host very often, so I am a bit out of practice when it comes to cooking for others.”

(Y/n) set the tea back on the tray, tugging the sheets to cover her chest despite the man’s back being turned to her. “Did you undress me...?”

He chuckled a bit awkwardly at that, “I had to dress your wounds properly... to do that I had to remove your armor and your clothing. I hope that’s alright.”

“I suppose I’d rather be naked and alive rather than clothed and dead,” she said, earning a rather loud laugh from the stranger. “Why won’t you come in?”

His laughter died down and he went silent as he seemed to ponder her question. “This is my home... am I not allowed to enter a room whenever I so choose?”

“I suppose that’s reasonable...” (Y/n) sighed, not wanting to press the issue further. It was quite possible he was disfigured, or burned horribly in some sort of accident, and didn’t want the random woman who had entered his home to see his face.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of hosting a huntress in my halls? I suppose you just wanted to use my home as some sort of stronghold against those werewolves last night...” He declared, clearly already knowing the answer to his own question.

(Y/n) set aside the tray before shrinking into the bedding. “I’m truly sorry. The villagers told me this castle was abandoned...”

The man chuckled once more, “They’d like to think so... This castle belonged to my family before the villagers drove them out long ago...” he admitted, “I am the only member of my bloodline left.”

(Y/n) frowned at that as she made a move to stand from her bed, only to be cut off by the sound of his voice.

“You shouldn’t be moving.” His tone was stern, like a father scolding his child, deepening the frown on (Y/n)’s face.

“Well I can’t just lay naked in this lovely bed all day. I may go mad.” she grunted, ignoring the pain in her leg as she attempted to stand. “I have to retrieve my reward for the dead alpha in your foyer... I’ll be damned if I almost got turned into a werewolf for nothing.”

Movement at the corner of her eye caused her to turn towards the door as she covered her chest once more. (Y/n) could just barely make out the man’s eyes in the dark hall, body shivering as his gaze remained fixed on hers.

“You’re very tired... you want to rest.”

A wave of fatigue suddenly rolled over (Y/n)’s body, causing her to lay back in bed despite her desire to get up. Her head weakly lulled to the side, eyes struggling to stay open as she watched him turn his back to her. “What... did you give me...?”

“I mixed poppy milk into your tea... to help with the pain.” He responded, listening closely as (Y/n)’s breathing began to soften.

“Your name...” she heaved, her drowsiness slowly getting the better of her and slurring her speech.

“Kuroo Tetsuro... I’ll take care of the alpha.”

Kuroo’s name lingered on the tip of (Y/n)’s tongue, something about it seemed familiar for some reason. But before she could further question it, she was drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Kuroo turned and entered the room once he heard that her breathing had evened out. He pulled the sheets further up her body to cover her chest. His gold eyes lingered over her throat, now exposed to him due to the angle her head was tilted at.

His tongue dragged over his lips at the thought of latching onto her neck and taking a drink... just one drop couldn’t hurt. Maybe a bit more. It had been so long since he had a proper meal, limiting the amount of people he fed on to avoid suspicion had taken its toll on him.

At least he had enough energy to compel the huntress to sleep. Kuroo lightly brushed the tips of his fingers over her throat, feeling the delicious rhythm of her pulse under his touch.

Kuroo knew once he started he may not stop... so he pulled away from her, gathered the tray of dirty dishes and left the bedroom.

He didn’t know what compelled him to save the huntress in the first place. The bloodsucker was perfectly content enjoying the show, watching her absolutely decimate the pack of werewolves she had lured into his home.

Though Kuroo hadn’t asked her to formally introduce herself, he knew by the family seal engraved onto her armor that she was a (L/n), part of a long line of monster hunters whose names were renowned throughout the land... until the church branded them as witches and had them burned at the stake for their knowledge of the supernatural.

He could tell she was perfectly capable of handling herself against those wolves, and even if she didn’t, it would be one less human in the world willing to stake him without a second thought.

So why step in? Kuroo scoffed at himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as he continued making his way to the kitchens. In all his years he had never questioned himself, why start now? All because of some huntress?

He decided that he would allow her to heal, maybe let her leave if he found her too amusing to suck dry. Out of the kindness of his heart, of course. Not many vampires would ignore their hunger just to appear kind. But then again, he wasn’t like other vampires.

———————————————————–

(Y/n) awoke to the smell of cooked meat beside her bed. Her confusion about when she had fallen asleep quickly was replaced by hunger as she sat up, reaching for the tray until she saw a large shirt folded and placed beside her.

Right. She was still naked.

She quickly put the shirt on, eager to get to her dinner as she placed the tray in her lap and started eating. The meat was a bit dry and some of the vegetables undercooked and crunchy, but she wasn’t about to complain about getting treated to another free meal.

(Y/n) jumped at the sigh she heard from the doorway as she bit into a particularly crunchy carrot.

“Apologies... I told you I’m not much of a cook.” Kuroo said, the embarrassment in his tone almost humorous to his guest.

“I appreciate your hospitality nonetheless... Truly I do.” She said through a mouthful of meat, washing it down with a sip of tea. “Since you’re clearly intent on keeping me here till my wounds are fully healed, I suppose I should give you my name...”

His lips twitched into a small smile at that, one (Y/n) couldn’t see with his back to her as it was earlier. Kuroo knew the second he allowed the huntress to see him fully, she would probably rip off one of the bed posts and shove it through his chest.

“Judging from the seal on the armor I had to pry off you, you’re a (L/n)... Never thought I would see one in person. I heard they had all died off.” He declared, absentmindedly running a hand through his messy hair.

“That I am...” (Y/n) confessed, glancing at said armor in the far corner of the room. “My sister and I were the sole survivors of the siege on our house… now I am all that’s left...I’m surprised you’ve heard of us,” she continued. “Usually only clergymen and older people recognize my family name and seal.”

“And what makes you think I’m neither of those things, (L/n)?” he chuckled.

“It’s (Y/n).” she corrected.

“Any clergyman would have quite literally left me to the wolves the second he recognized my seal...” (Y/n) trailed off, eyeing his figure in the crack of the doorway carefully before she continued. “And I don’t think any old man could have taken on the remainder of the werewolf pack on his own the way you did... are you a trained hunter?”

Kuroo leaned against the doorframe, making sure not to push the door open any further and reveal more of himself to her. “I was trained in swordplay at a young age... Once I arrived in the foyer you had already fallen and your sword was tossed aside. I took it upon myself to defend you with it.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but feel suspicious at that. Though her memory was fuzzy, she didn’t remember seeing him carrying a sword as he slayed the rest of the wolves. There were possible explanations for it: (Y/n) couldn’t see very clearly, the room was dark, etc.

“Well... thank you. Being ripped apart by a pack of werewolves isn’t exactly how I pictured my life ending.” She said, taking another bite of her carrot as she glanced around the room, eyes stopping on a stack of books placed on the bedside table she hadn’t even noticed. “And what are these?”

“Books? I thought that would be quite obvious.”

(Y/n) scoffed at his sarcastic tone. “I can see that. Why are they here?” She set the tray of food aside, replacing it with a rather hefty book that she patted some dust off of.

“Your wounds may take some time to heal... and I can’t have you wandering around the castle on that bum leg of yours. There are parts of this building that are dangerous...”

(Y/n) glanced up at him, quirking a brow at the back of his head. “Is that your friendly way of telling me I’m confined to this room for the duration of my stay?”

“That’s precisely what it is. Very perceptive of you.”

She almost choked at his bluntness, setting the book aside and resuming her meal. Kuroo technically wasn’t lying, there were parts of the castle that had been destroyed during the siege, leaving many staircases collapsed, bedrooms destroyed and floors unstable.

Plus it would be rather awkward if she ever stumbled upon him draining a squealing pig of its blood in the kitchen one day.

“I will ensure you have everything you need to heal... just please trust me, (Y/n).” He pleaded, hoping (Y/n) would agree to his terms. He imagined that this would be a rather lucrative deal. The only surviving child of an exiled and excommunicated family, loved by few and hated by many, being offered free lodgings while her wounds healed? How could she refuse.

He was pulled from his thoughts as (Y/n) heaved a sigh as she finished her dinner. “Fine... but I have some rules of my own.”

Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh at that, crossing his arms as he glanced at her over his shoulder, straightening out his posture once he remembered he was supposed to keep hidden. “And what are those?”

“Don’t undress me without my permission again. If you do I’ll bury you alive.”

‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’ he thought to himself.

“And cook your vegetables at least 10 minutes longer.” (Y/n) quipped. “Other than that, nothing else comes to mind...”

The vampire snorted through his nostrils, an amused smile on his face as he lightly shook his head. He was really going to take orders from a human? A huntress no less?

“You have a deal...”

———————————————————–

The next couple days consisted of (Y/n) waking up to her meals, exchanging short pleasantries with Kuroo until he eventually left to do... whatever it is he did. For the first couple days of her stay, (Y/n) made a game out of thinking up what he did when he wasn’t bringing her meals.

Maybe he crocheted. Or he painted. Or he ran a secret brothel in the bowels of this castle and that’s why (Y/n) wasn’t allowed to try and explore it. Once she reached that train of thought she quickly stopped playing that game.

She found herself going stir-crazy from the lack of interaction, and there was only so much the books Kuroo brought to her could do to entertain her.

(Y/n) was maybe a week into the healing process when she asked Kuroo to stay with her rather than leave. She couldn’t hold back her relieved sigh when he agreed to keep her company.

Kuroo figured if he humored her just once she would be satisfied. However, he himself had spent the past 60 years alone in that castle, no one to talk to. He had gotten used to the loneliness by now.

He didn’t count on actually enjoying their conversations they had that day, he especially didn’t expect to spend the night restlessly waiting for her to wake up in hopes of speaking with her again.

Sometimes they spoke about what random things they had on their mind, Kuroo had decades worth of unspoken thoughts he wanted to share, each one interesting, amusing, or bewildering her. If they weren’t going on tangents together, he would ask (Y/n) to read a passage of whatever book she was attempting to finish.

That would usually get her tired enough to nap and allow him to leave to make her next meal and place it beside her bed. He had gotten much better at cooking as well, but Kuroo dreaded the trips he would have to make to the market in the village, fearing he would be caught sooner or later by some nosey townsfolk.

It didn’t help that he had to make these trips during the day, when any clumsy child or old man could step on his cloak and expose him to the sunlight. But he very well couldn’t allow his guest to starve under his roof, so he continued his lowkey trips, satisfied that he had not been caught... at least so he thought.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and soon (Y/n) was healed enough to walk on crutches. Kuroo knew he couldn’t keep his secret much longer with her on her feet, so he would have to send her on her way soon... a thought that filled his undead body with dread.

He could never admit it to himself, but he found his chest aching when he wasn’t with her, and when he sat at the door of her bedroom he only wished he could be closer to her. Kuroo hadn’t felt such an emotion in decades... but he recognized it almost instantly, making the subject of having to send her away even more painful.

The pain only festered when he wondered if she felt the same... this longing to be closer to him, and to be with him always. Longing to hold him to her, press her lips to his... He never asked. So he never knew that the answer was ‘yes.’

Kuroo gnawed on his lower lip, wondering how he would even go about mustering the strength to ask her to leave until her voice interrupted his thoughts.

“You never told me why your family was chased out of here...” she murmured just low enough for him to hear, trying to occupy herself with repairing her damaged armor.

The vampire was thoroughly caught off guard by the question, his fingers slipping on the pattern he was currently sewing by hand and pricking his pointer finger.

“Well you never told me why your family was excommunicated...” he replied, hoping that would change the subject and take the spotlight off of him.

“You know why my family was excommunicated... everybody does,” she sighed, glancing at the doorway sadly. “I’m curious... and you’ve never told me when I’ve answered practically every question about myself that you’ve asked...”

Kuroo took his lip between his teeth once again, huffing as he tried to think up a delicate way to put it without getting staked.

“Your family was accused of witchcraft for their knowledge of the supernatural... Mine was actually guilty of it.” He paused, listening as (Y/n)’s heart rate quickened.

“My father... he was a man of science. He studied the world as we know it and everything it had to offer. He became enraptured with studying the supernatural... creatures that went bump in the night, and tales we told children to scare them into behaving that had hints of truth to them.

Eventually... he got his wish of studying one of these creatures up close when a vampire came to our door one night. She seduced him... turned him... my mother and I didn’t learn this until the mob with torches and pitchforks arrived at the castle weeks later. He and my mother were killed... I was the sole survivor.”

He was met with silence, causing him to glance at (Y/n) through the crack in the door and quirk an eyebrow at her. “Not the answer you were expecting...?”

(Y/n) slowly shook her head, staring wordlessly at her damaged armor until clearing her throat. “No... I figured it had to be something major enough for the village to take action against you... but I thought it would have been a misunderstanding, as with my family...”

Kuroo slowly shook his head, eyes now cast down at the fur resting in his lap. “No... it was all true... So much suffering and for what... his foolish curiosity...”

(Y/n) could sense his sour tone, partially regretting that she had asked him about it in the first place. “I’m sorry... it wasn’t my place to ask such a question.”

“You were curious,” he responded, all too quick to feel the need to comfort her.

“Yes well curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it?” (Y/n) sighed, continuing to fiddle with her armor.

“Well you’re a rather tough cat, aren’t you? It would take a lot more than curiosity to kill you...” he teased, hoping to bring the mood back up. A smile tugged at his lips at the sound of (Y/n)’s light laughter.

“My sister used to say the same thing…” (Y/n) chuckled, a sad smile playing on her lips.

Kuroo tilted his head towards the door, sensing the sadness in her voice. “You never told me what happened to her…”

(Y/n) gnawed at her lip, her work on her armor long forgotten now. “Vampires…”

HIs undead heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Fuck.

“We had never encountered them before… but she knew they were tailing us through a forest after we had been turned away from a village… She made me leave her behind as she attempted to fight them off…” (Y/n) explained.

Kuroo’s eyebrows knitted together as he processed her words, “Was that the only time you’ve encountered them…? Vampires, I mean…”

The huntress nodded. “Yes… I count myself grateful for that. I found her remains in the morning and- shit!” she hissed as the scent of blood filled the air. Kuroo froze in place already feeling his fangs growing at the mere smell of the blood dripping from her cut finger.

“Damn,” she hissed, taking her thumb between her lips and sucking at the small but deep cut in hopes of stopping the small beads of blood from staining the silk sheets.

One would think that would be enough to quell Kuroo’s hunger, but now he could practically taste the blood on her lips. He could feel himself aching, the need to feed overcoming his senses.

(Y/n) heard Kuroo scramble onto his feet before he abruptly left the doorway, his heeled boots echoing down the hall as he got further and further away. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, as she got up to retrieve an ointment for the cut.

(Y/n) didn’t see him the rest of the day, eventually falling asleep out of boredom and waking to find her dinner where it always was. But a note was placed beside her tea, directing her to open the parcel placed at the foot of her bed. She didn’t even notice it until then.

She tore at the parchment, smiling brightly as her hands ran over the large fur pelt. (Y/n) looked back at the note, chuckling softly as she read Kuroo’s complaints about having to skin the alpha after taking its head to the village for the reward. She then noticed the large bag of coins placed on the floor beside her armor.

But her attention was more focused on the pelt. No one had ever gotten her a gift before, and it was clear that Kuroo had put a lot of work into this given the intricate stitching and needlework. Perhaps her theories about him crocheting were correct...

(Y/n) happily ate her dinner with the pelt draped over her shoulders, protecting herself from the cold winter air that seeped through the walls and into her bedroom. She purposefully avoided the tea, knowing Kuroo always added poppy milk to the mixture to help her sleep through the pains her healing wounds brought her during the night.

Kuroo was a creature of habit... living with him for almost 3 months had made that very clear to her. It was obvious he came to take her dishes once she had fallen asleep, doing so to keep her from seeing his face.

Maybe it was that curiosity again, or her desire to look into the eyes of the man who had saved her and nursed her back to health. All (Y/n) knew was tonight was the night she would finally see his face.

She laid back in bed, getting comfortable once she had finished her dinner and waiting for him to enter her room. It was hard to stay awake with her belly full and her new fur pelt warming her, but somehow she managed it and a surge of excitement filled her body when she finally heard the bedroom door creak open.

Kuroo stepped towards the bed, overcome with relief that the smell of blood was completely purged from the room. The click of his heels came to a stop as he stood above (Y/n), admiring her peaceful expression as he gently brushed a strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear.

He glanced down at her throat, breath hitching for a moment before he forced his eyes onto the tray of food. He hadn’t processed the full cup of tea until he felt (Y/n)’s fingers graze his wrist, causing his body to jolt as he looked down at her in shock.

Kuroo didn’t know if he should be angry, mortified, ready for a fight, or all three. To his surprise, (Y/n) made no move to retrieve her sword from the other side of her bed. She didn’t even glance in the weapon’s direction. She only stared up at Kuroo almost in disbelief.

She really wasn’t lying when she said she had never encountered a vampire before. A (L/n) with no clue as to what a vampire looked like, possibly only hearing misleading tales about the creatures rather than facing one herself. Kuroo could have laughed at that, but he was too preoccupied with trying to read (Y/n)’s expression as she lightly gripped his shirt sleeve.

He was... the most beautiful thing (Y/n) had ever seen. Messy jet black hair, intense amber eyes and soft, pink lips, parted as he watched her with bated breath. Why had he kept hidden from her?

“I take it you weren’t in the mood for tea, tonight?” he gulped, watching as she slowly took his hand. If his appearance weren’t enough of a giveaway, his cold skin would be... right?

A quiet gasp escaped her lips as she felt his skin like ice against her touch. She slowly sat up on her knees, taking his hand and slowly cupping his cheek with the other. Kuroo shuddered at their close proximity, his undead heart hammering in his chest as (Y/n)’s thumb ran over his bottom lip.

“You’re so cold...” she whispered, sending another chill down his spine as her warmth seeped into him. “Let me warm you...”

———————————————————–

Tag list: @iwaxme @vventure @lydzisanerd @bb-noya @gemini-writes @ochacostrange @yams046 @tokyoghoose @madireyn @global---weaboo @achoohq​ @ardorwrites-hq-mha​

#Vampire!au #Show Me Your Teeth #chapter fic #chapter series #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurō #Kuroo Tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader

[keichanz]

Siren’s Song || Chapter 5

bet you thought i forgot about this fic didn’t ya? fuck probably half of you forgot about it lmao ja;osdjflashjdf

@sssuperbartola @ryupioupiou @cammysansstuff @dreaming-of-the-midnight-sun @meggz0rz @tsukinohimeusagi @eternalnight8806-3 @britonell @doginabirdcage @theangryuniverse @ideasthatbuildcities @umacaking @morikothehalfangel @shardetector @witchygirl99 @blackpearltotheright @hinezumi @feudalpriestess98 @wenchster @cstorm86 @clearwillow @danycontreras90 @sailorbabydoll92 @bearpluscat @dragonflyrin @lost-amidst-the-stars @kagolena @petri808 @desiree239 @akiza-hades-rose @inuyashaeienni @littlemissinukag @falcon-ikaros @jme-chan @blackfenris0 @insiespeckagain @alym16 @kuddle-cakes @madmonnette @artistefish @maikosan3 @fanfics-and-coffee @blerdette @ultra-honey-orchard @kareninne @dyaz-stories @brokenangelwings83 @creative-hanyou @juliatheanimelover7 @xfangheartx 

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5

Kagome wasn’t really surprised when Inuyasha led her to Kaede’s coffee shop and she ducked inside without hesitation when he opened the door for her. It was warm and the same scents she’d been assaulted with yesterday when she’d dropped off the note made her stomach growl, a reminder she hadn’t had dinner yet. Her face heated and she hoped Inuyasha hadn’t heard it, her gaze darting over to him to see if he noticed.

He didn’t give any indication that he had, his attention focused on Kaede as he lifted a hand and extended two fingers. He waited for her nod before turning and heading over to a corner booth. Kagome caught the elder shop owner’s gaze and offered a grateful smile before mouthing a silent “thank you.”

Kaede returned her smile with a knowing grin and winked. Kagome’s blush deepened but her smile didn’t fade as she scurried after Inuyasha. He chose a corner booth and he waited until she scooted onto the seat before shrugging off her violin case and carefully placing it on the table beside her. She shot him a thankful smile and to her relief he quirked a half-smile at her in return before heading over to the counter.

Watching him go, Kagome released a shaky breath and closed her eyes as she pressed a hand to her stomach, willing the butterflies currently rioting inside to calm. Well, at least he didn’t seem to be too mad like she’d originally thought. Maybe this would be a little easier than she’d originally anticipated? Of course she wasn’t so naïve to think it’d be a cakewalk and he’d forgive her right away, but at least he was willing to listen. For now, that was enough.

She was figuring out what she was going to say – hell, where she should even start – when Inuyasha returned with two steaming mugs, a cookie, and a plate that held a club sandwich. He put one of the mugs in front of her along with the sandwich and Kagome ducked her head to hide her embarrassed flush. Obviously he’d heard her stomach protest its emptiness earlier. Dammit.

He sat down across from her with the cookie and his own hot beverage--it smelled delicious and caramel-y. There was a pause before Inuyasha put his hand in her line of vision and tapped a clawed finger against the table top, a wordless request to look up.

Wrinkling her nose, Kagome sighed but nonetheless acquiesced, peeking up at him through her lashes. She was met with amused golden eyes and a knowing grin. She pouted and chuckling, Inuyasha sat back and nodded toward the sandwich he’d gotten her, teasing expression softening into an understanding smile.

Kagome’s lips twitched and slowly she relaxed She sat up a little straighter and murmured a quiet thank you before gratefully taking a bite out of her sandwich. She was a little relieved that instead of watching her Inuyasha directed his gaze outside the window as he nursed his coffee, his expression relaxed, however it gave nothing away in regards to what he was thinking. A little frustrating to be sure, but given the circumstances, Kagome could understand the need to be cautious.

She finished the meal in an embarrassingly short amount of time but didn’t allow herself to dwell on it, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. Idly she wondered when the last time she’d something so filling. Last week at Kagura’s? Probably, she mused with an inward snort.

Dropping her gaze to the mug of dark brown liquid in front of her, Kagome’s brow wrinkled and she wrapped her hands around the warmed ceramic, biting her lip. She could feel Inuyasha’s gaze on her but refused to look up, shoulders hunching a little. She still had no idea where to start, what to tell him and her stomach flip-flopped again as nerves made her tense and tighten her grip around the mug.

Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t be as easy like she’d previously thought. Her mind was a whirlwind of activity and the more she tried to latch onto a thought to begin with, the more difficult it became to put them in some kind of order.  Did she start with her feelings? That she’d been frightened? That she wasn’t used to having people be there for her, care for her, and be her friend? Did she start with the fire, how she lost everythi—

“Hey.”

With a quiet gasp Kagome jerked her head up and the deep blue of her eyes clashed with the rich honey of his. She was a little alarmed at the wealth of concern she found in them and the breath caught in her throat.

Inuyasha stared at her steadily for another moment before slowly shaking his head. “S’okay,” he rumbled. “There’s no rush.”

Kagome sighed and slumped back against the seat, closing her eyes as she gave a jerky nod. Her shoulders relaxed, her stomach calmed, and her heart rate returned to normal. A minute later her eyes fluttered back open and she gave a wan smile.

“That obvious, huh.”

His grin spoke volumes and too late he tried to hide it behind his mug as he took a sip.

Kagome snorted indelicately at his less than successful attempt to hide his amusement.

“Jerk,” she muttered and then quickly tried to hide her own smirk behind her drink as she lifted it to her lips.

Inuyasha snorted, ended up sucking in hot coffee with it, and then started sputtering as he tried to clear his airway.

Kagome had to put down her hot chocolate in order not to spill it everywhere from laughing so hard.

Inuyasha’s glare when he could finally breathe properly again spoke clearly that her amusement was not appreciated and it only served to make her giggle harder. He rolled his eyes, cleared his throat one last time, and then shook his head but not without a small, secret grin. Despite it being at his own expense, at least he’d gotten her relaxed enough where she was freely laughing and he’d count that as a win any day.  

Releasing one last snicker, Kagome shook her head and wrapped her hands around her hot chocolate again with a small but genuine smile curving her lips upward. She wondered when the last time was that she’d laughed so hard and without reservation. One year? Two? It definitely hadn’t been any time recently, Kagome was sure of that, and right now she felt lighter and freer than she had in a very long time.

It was weird; the instant Inuyasha’s words had registered in her frazzled mind, it was like everything had fallen precisely into place and Kagome suddenly knew exactly where to start her explanation and what to tell him. She had no idea if it had been intentional or a complete coincidence, but all the same Kagome was grateful he’d given her the chance to relax and collect her thoughts.

She was reluctant to break this comfortable air between them with something as heavy as her emotional baggage, however, so Kagome decided it couldn’t hurt to wait a few more minutes. After all, there was no rush, right?

Her smile broadened just a smidge as she lifted her mug and took a few sips of the chocolate beverage, peering at him over the rim to find him already staring at her. She was taken aback at the soft look on his face and she couldn’t decipher what it was exactly that flashed in his eyes as he regarded her silently, but it made her blush and her gaze to skitter to the side.

Then her smile dropped as she released a little gasp of wonder and her blue eyes widened in absolute delight.

Inuyasha watched the change in her expression with avid interest and already suspected what it was that had so thoroughly captured her attention. He followed her gaze and his suspicions were confirmed when his eyes landed on the bright splash of yellow perched high above their heads. He flicked his gaze back to her face and simply watched her, reveling in the wonder and delight he saw as she watched Nikkō spread his wings and shake himself.

Without warning Inuyasha issued a sharp whistle and lifted an arm.

There brief pause in which the bird swiveled his head to see who had called him before launching himself into the air and gliding smoothly down to land on the half-demon’s outstretched arm. He didn’t stay there though, instead opting to climb his arm and perch on his shoulder.

Kagome’s delighted gasp was music to his ears and Inuyasha raised a hand, running the backs of his fingers along the silkiness of his chest feathers.

“This is Nikkō,” Inuyasha told her, his voice low. “He belongs to Kaede and is a much loved patron of this shop. Say hi, Nikkō.”

Nikkō whistled then echoed, “Hi, Nikkō.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes while Kagome giggled. She leaned forward to tentatively stroke him in the same place the half-demon had.

“Nikkō,” she repeated, her smile growing. “Sunshine. How appropriate.” She laughed a little and tilted her head as she studied the magnificent bird. “He’s a...? Crap, what is it...”

“Macaw,” Inuyasha supplied as Nikkō started bobbing his head; he’d spotted Inuyasha’s cookie in which the half-demon had gotten for this sole purpose. He knew she’d be captivated by the parrot and wasn’t disappointed by her reaction.

“I’ve never seen a pure yellow one before,” Kagome mused, unable to tear her eyes away from the brightly colored parrot. “Aren’t they usually blue and yellow? Or red?”

“Yeah,” Inuyasha conceded. Nikkō started getting impatient and stretched his neck to nibble on his hair. “This glorified parakeet has a rare genetic condition that has to do with his pigmentation or something – dunno what it is exactly, you’d have to ask Kaede – and as a result he impersonates a banana.”

The aforementioned banana impersonator released a short, indignant screech and lifted a foot, wagging it back and forth.

Kagome giggled and Inuyasha shot the bird a deadpan look at the obvious reprimand.

Shaking his head, Inuyasha grumbled under his breath about misbehaving avians then turned his attention to Kagome. Unsurprisingly she was staring at the parrot still perched on his arm, her blue eyes bright and the smile that stretched across her face soft and wondering.

Inuyasha’s expression softened and he held out his hand. “Gimme your hand.”

Blinking, Kagome managed to tear her gaze away from the magnificent creature that was trying to climb up the arm he was perched on and locked gazes with twin pools of rich honey. She flicked a glance to his hand, bit her lip, and after a moment’s hesitation she placed her smaller hand in his own.

With a grin, Inuyasha lifted her arm and kept it there as he bent his other arm and coaxed the bird onto his hand. The Macaw deliberated for a second or two before carefully stretching a foot and finding purchase on the offered hand, followed by the other one.

Kagome’s eyes lit up when she realized what was happening and she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face even if she wanted to as Inuyasha carefully transferred the bird from his hand onto her arm. It took a minute since the young woman was someone the parrot did not recognize, but after some gentle coaxing Nikkō inched his way onto Kagome’s arm and puffed his feathers.*

Inuyasha snorted. “Show off,” he said and broke off a part of the cookie, sliding it across the table to her. “Give him this. You’ll be his best friend and won’t be able to get rid of him afterward.”

Beaming, Kagome nodded and pinched the small section of cookie between her fingers. Carefully, slowly, she lifted her hand and offered it to the magnificent creature watching her hand with avid interest. Nikkō bobbed his head, whistled, and stretched his neck, snatching the cookie with his beak and gobbling it up without hesitation.

Kagome gave a delighted laugh and Inuyasha didn’t think he’d ever smiled so hard before in his life.

Content to sit back and watch her softly talk to the golden bird as he nursed his now lukewarm coffee – she absolutely loved it when Nikkō responded to her – Inuyasha turned his head and caught Kaede’s knowing gaze. She grinned at him from behind the counter and he had the good grace to blush before quickly looking away, however his ears had no problem picking up her amused chuckle.

Ignoring the wily old woman behind the counter that liked to meddle far too much for her own good, Inuyasha finished off the last of his coffee and crossed his arms. He was openly staring now and wasn’t even ashamed about it. He let his thoughts wander and unsurprisingly they ventured toward the woman across from him, oblivious to his stare as she lavished the bird with attention and the damn parrot was soaking it all up, puffing his features and stretching out his wings. Show off.

When Kaede had slid Kagome’s note across the counter top with a secret smile and nary a word just that morning, Inuyasha had been wary as he opened it up, however it had quickly changed to astonishment, and then utter elation.

It hadn’t lasted. Shortly after rereading the simple note in Kagome’s neat scrawl – Meet me at the square, please? Kagome – Inuyasha remembered the blow she’d dealt him and the disappointment and anger had swiftly replaced any excitement.

His initial reaction had to be disregard her request and do what she’d done to him, leave her standing there for hours despite not giving a time to meet. He’d even crumpled the piece of paper up and cranked his hand back, ready to toss it into the trashcan across the shop, but something had stopped him and in the end, he couldn’t do it.

He’d only had one class this morning that was a mere fifty minutes long at 10 am so he could have left for the square afterward. Instead he’d purposely procrastinated, telling himself he was weighing the pros and cons as he wandered the campus, hung out with Miroku and Sango, and came back to Kaede’s for a lunch with his friends.  

Then suddenly it was 3 pm, Kaede had been sending him a nonstop stink eye, and Inuyasha was trying to convince himself not to go instead of the opposite. She clearly wasn’t interested; why should he give her the time of day? The satisfaction of heeding her request when she ignored his?

But then the stupid logical part of his brain started firing off perfectly reasonable explanations for her no show and with every one his resolved wavered. Maybe she got held up somewhere. Maybe she was with family or friends and couldn’t leave, or hell, maybe she just plain forgot. Nobody was perfect; it happens and Inuyasha would be the first to admit he didn’t have the best memory.

One last guilty glance at Kaede had sealed the deal and with forced sigh he’d gotten up and left for the square, telling himself that he was mad and would demand an explanation. It didn’t matter that he was picking up speed the closer he got and was practically running by the time he arrived; he was pissed, dammit, he was hurt, sad, confused, hurt, and he wanted to know why, why did she do that? Why didn’t she—was it something he said? Something he did? He’d take it all back, just please, let her agree to see him again—

He saw her and Inuyasha had come to such an abrupt halt he’d stumbled, nearly falling flat on his stupid face before managing to right himself. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, drinking in the sight of her, wearing skinny jeans, ankle boots, and a worn jacket that looked way too old and thin to be wearing in this chilly weather. Her hair was down and she was looking at another couple with such longing on her face it made him wonder what she was thinking about.

The thought that maybe...maybe she wanted the same thing he did had given him an odd sense of calm. Inuyasha had composed himself, reigning in his desire to run to her before walking over to lean against the fountain and waiting for her to notice him. All in all he was pretty proud of himself for keeping his cool and only letting a brief bout of anger show through. It had vanished quickly thereafter, however, because no matter what he told himself, what he’d previously thought, Kagome didn’t deserve his anger. What’s more, he found he couldn’t bring himself to even be truly angry with her, not when she was looking at him like that, so cautiously hopeful, and yet clearly nervous.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking why, though, needing to know, needing that clarification that there was still a chance... So when she’d requested they talk, he’d been surprised, but pleased and made the call into work. He’d already planned to call in anyway seconds after reading her note because he knew, even after all his pondering and convincing himself not to go, he’d end up going anyway. He was fucking weak for her, and it should have made him feel pathetic. But curiously all he felt was a burgeoning warmth in his chest that gradually spread outward with every shy smile she tossed his way, every little glance, and endearing blush.

Inuyasha sighed. He was doomed. Fucking doomed.

“I did show up, you know.”

Kagome’s soft voice snapped Inuyasha out of his thoughts and he blinked his vision back into focus. She wasn’t looking at him but at Nikkō, rubbing the pad of her fingers against his head. The Macaw was content to let her do as she pleased, dozing while perched on her arm, which rested on the table now, with his eyes half-closed.  

He digested her words in silence for a minute and then hedged, “...I didn’t see you.”

Kagome closed her eyes and nodded, giving a soft sigh of resignation.

“No,” she whispered. “I suppose you wouldn’t have. I only made it to just outside the door before I ran.”

Inuyasha swallowed hard and forced himself to ask the question burning on the tip of his tongue.

“Why did you run?”

She sighed. “At first I was angry,” she admitted and cut her eyes to his. “It was pretty rotten of you to swap out that fifty with a one hundred and stash it in my case.”

He grinned and shrugged, unrepentant. He had wondered if she’d found his little gift. But now he had to wonder if she was pissed enough to give it back—

“I thought about showing up just to give it back before leaving again,” she continued, answering his question and something in his chest ached.

“But...” Another soft sigh escaped her and she glanced at him again. “I thought about what you said before, how your donation is just as good as any other and I decided to keep it, but only as an emergency fund. That way I feel a little better about keeping it and your donation has been accepted, albeit a little reluctantly.”

She finally smiled and though it was small, it was genuine. “So thank you. I never did tell you that.”

Relieved, Inuyasha blew out a breath and returned her smile with a crooked one of his own.

“My pleasure,” he rumbled and enjoyed the soft flush that stole across her cheeks.

His grin quickly faded, however, and Kagome knew what he was going to ask without him having to say it. So she saved him the trouble and had Inuyasha known her words were going to cut him to the quick, he wouldn’t have asked.

“...I was scared.”

Ears flattening, eyes flashing with a pain so deep he nearly allowed a derived whimper to well up in his throat, Inuyasha grimaced and ducked his head, hands balling into tight fists. Fucking...hell, that hurt—

“No,” Kagome said quickly and something in her voice prompted him to dart his gaze to hers, holding his breath. She was looking at him now and her ocean eyes were pleading.

“Not of you,” she said firmly, shaking her head, willing him to believe her and he did, just like that.

Pussy. Whipped.

D O O M E D.

“Not you, Inuyasha,” she went on, refusing to look away. “Please believe me.” 

She seemed to be waiting for something and it was only after he nodded that she relaxed, the concern on her face giving way to a relieved smile.

“What were you scared of?” he ventured, studying her closely and searching the deep blue depths of her eyes.

Kagome gave a one-shouldered shrug. “That’s just it,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not...sure.”

Then she sighed and looked him straight in the eye. The vulnerability he found swimming within the endless azure of her eyes was staggering.

“I’m used to being alone, Inuyasha,” she told him, a note of defeat in her voice. “I don’t have friends, except for one that’s more family than anything, and I’m not accustomed to people...well, wanting to be around me.”

She shrugged and stroked Nikkō’s chest with a distracted air. “I’ve more or less been on my own for a few years now and I don’t exactly mind it. My social skills are sadly lacking and I forgot what it’s like to...do something just for the sake of doing it. I’m not outgoing, or fun, or—or even pleasant to be around. I screw up all the time, I get anxious, scared for no reason, and I’ve been told I can be really stubborn, you know since I made you take that fifty back but I guess it didn’t even matter because you still gave me—”

The longer Kagome went on, explaining about how horrible of a person she was to be around, how selfish and rude and just one big giant mess, the harder it was for Inuyasha to contain the smile that threatened to spread across his lips. She was rambling, and he found it utterly fucking adorable.

Of course he knew what she was doing; pulling excuses out of the air in order to feel less guilty about standing him up. She was working herself up, slowly but surely, to an apology, but it wasn’t necessary. He’d already forgiven her, the very instant he’d read her note that was at that very moment tucked in his pocket. Fuck if it wasn’t going to save it forever.

He also understood what she wasn’t telling him, hidden beneath every excuse and explanation she gave him and in the brief seconds her eyes connected with his before averting again.

Yes, she was scared; scared of letting someone get close enough to hurt her. Scared of the idea of being able to depend on someone after being alone for so long. Scared of letting someone rely on her and not being able to support them like she so desperately wanted to. Scared that she would not meet expectations, and scared that she wouldn’t be able to keep that newly formed bond from being destroyed.

Yeah, Inuyasha got it. He understood her fears and anxieties, her doubts and concerns, her suspicions and hesitations.

But to him, they were all unfounded anyway because he would be there to help her see that she had absolutely nothing to worry about. He would always be there to protect her for however long she allowed him to be. Even if he had to do all the work, so long as she wanted to be with him, too, Inuyasha would be happy.

She was still rambling, going on and on about zodiac signs and personalities, and he rolled his eyes because now she was just grasping at straws. Shaking his head, he put a stop to her word vomit by reaching across the table and grabbing her hand.

Kagome froze, blinked, and stared down at their hands with wide blue eyes and a dark flush.

The corner of his lips twitched upward. “Kagome,” he said, prompting her to look up and he caught her gaze, held it. “I’m not asking for a life-long commitment or anything. I just...I wanna be in your life. We don’t even have to put a label on it. We’ll just...be there. For each other. Alright? Will you allow me that? Please?”

Kagome’s breath hitched in her throat and her mouth suddenly felt dry. All she could do was stare at him silently for several seconds before drooping her gaze down to their joined hands and biting down on her lip.

Maybe...maybe she could do this. Maybe they could do this. He said no labels, right? God, it sounded so selfish, so...so superficial, but Kagome didn’t think she could do anything more without having a mental breakdown. Perhaps...someday, after they’ve had some time to get used to each other, but for now...

Kagome could live with just being there for him, like he’d be there for her. No labels; no responsibilities. Just...them. Together, but separate. Free.

Sucking in a deep breath, Kagome finally, finally smiled and wrapped her fingers around his, giving a single nod.

“I’d like that,” Kagome whispered and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t absolutely love the way Inuyasha’s face lit up and those amber eyes of his brightened with the depth of his joy.

Next ➤

#siren's song #chapter 5 #inukag #inuyasha #inukag fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #keizfanfiction

[wenttworth]

Anyone able to help me with a name for this thing lmao

Yuuri had almost chewed through his pen in the time it took Viktor to finish his phone interview. Viktor had given him a few odd looks during the interminable thirty minutes which, frankly, Yuuri couldn’t fault him for. He knew himself well enough to be aware that he had that particular expression on his face, the one Phichit called the ‘climb him like a pole look’.

So, sue him. He loved how his husband sounded when he spoke Russian. There was little reason for him to speak Russian now. They’d lived in Japan for five years after Yuuri’s retirement and Viktor had no real ties to Russia to stay in contact other than perfunctory congratulatory texts to Yurio following his competitions.

Viktor gave him yet another confused look as he answered another question as Yuuri hadn’t been able to help the shiver that ran through him. Giving a small sigh, he reached over from the other side of the sofa to pull the pen from between Yuuri’s teeth and threw it on the coffee table. Which was smart on his side; any more abuse and he would have been drinking ink.

Yuuri held back a laugh and tried once again to focus on the book he had discarded as soon as Viktor started talking. It was one of his favourite books; surely he could ignore his husband of ten years for a few moments as he finished the chapter.

Viktor laughed at something the interviewer said. Yuuri, accidentally dropping his book but barely noticing, gave in and stared again. Viktor had always been entrancing and, Yuuri swore, was becoming more entrancing by the day. He had the most delicate laughter lines at the corner of his eyes now, which Yuuri delighted in bringing forth, was almost jealous when anyone else caused them.

He could almost forget that little petty jealousy at the sight of him now, the sun beaming through the window behind him and lighting him with an ethereal glow as he laughed. Yuuri felt himself fall a little more. He’d been falling since he was twelve years old and never wanted it to end.

Vaguely, he recognised the familiar sounds that were Viktor’s customary sign-off and surreptitiously slid his glasses off and placed them on the coffee table in preparation.

Viktor hung up the phone and threw it onto the other sofa, turning to Yuuri. “Okay, what is--” He froze as Yuuri threw himself into his lap and kissed him with all the pent-up frustration which the past half-hour had caused. It didn’t last for long, a second later and his hands were in Yuuri’s hair and eagerly matching his intensity. Yuuri toyed with the buttons of his shirt before shifting to kiss his neck instead, smiling when Viktor whined his name.

“I like it when you speak Russian,” he admitted against his skin. Reconsidering, he added: “Really like it.”

He pulled away to look at Viktor, who was watching him with eyes a little wider than usual. “I-I can tell,” he said, and Yuuri grinned at the tremor in his voice. 

Viktor leaned forward to kiss him again, but Yuuri stopped him with a hand on his lips. “Talk to me in Russian?” he asked softly.

The red on Viktor’s cheeks that appeared when he said that was beautiful, and Yuuri touched it reverently. He was still in awe that he was the one who could paint Viktor’s cheeks such a colour.

Viktor gave a self-conscious laugh. “I’m not sure I can.”

Yuuri looked at him pleadingly, only the smallest hint of amusement hidden beneath. “You already do. Sometimes.”

It usually came out when he was close, and Yuuri was very fluent in Russian when it concerned the words ‘please’ and ‘harder’ and ‘more, Yuuri, more’. To the point that if he heard them in any other context it was liable to make him think of things not acceptable in polite company. Thank God they no longer lived in St Petersburg.

“That’s different. I never know what language I’m using then. I’ve never...spoken to anyone like that in Russian.” He mused for a second, and Yuuri only barely resisted kissing the furrow between his brows. “Actually, I’ve never slept with anyone Russian. Does that make me unpatriotic?”

“Don’t think of starting now,” Yuuri grumbled. “Regardless, you’ve been unpatriotic since you arrived in Hasetsu.” Viktor smiled sunnily before darting in to kiss him before Yuuri could stop him.

“I guess I could try.”

Yuuri’s hands tightened in Viktor’s shirt in anticipation, and closed his eyes when Viktor kissed his jaw, his hand moving to the inside of his thigh.

“Все счастли́вые се́мьи похо́жи друг на дру́га, ка́ждая несчастли́вая семья́ несчастли́ва по-сво́ему,” he said, and Yuuri shivered at the sound.

At some point, they had stumbled to the bedroom, Viktor whispering against his skin and Yuuri unable to keep his hands off him. The sun was setting now, though all they could see from their bedroom was the way it stained the sky above the sea hundreds of colours. Viktor ignored it, instead holding Yuuri as close as he could and basking in the afterglow. Yuuri marvelled over the colour his skin turned in the setting sun’s light, like it was reflecting the sky as much as the sea.

“What were you saying to me?” he asked.

Viktor’s eyes were suddenly a bit shifty, and he hid it by kissing Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri’s curiosity spiked, and he tapped the still-barely-thinning whorl on the top of his head. “Vitya?”

“Nothing in particular,” Viktor insisted. “The usual. You’re beautiful, I love you, etcetera.”

Yuuri shook his head, pushing Viktor back gently. He had noticed that Viktor was particularly mirthful, having to hide his smiles against Yuuri’s neck and thighs and back--now he really had to stop, or he would be pinning Viktor to the bed again--not that he’d minded. Viktor was always playful when he was at his happiest. “I know that much in Russian. Now you have to tell me. What did you say?”

“Um.” Viktor laughed, with a little embarrassment. “You don’t want to know. Don’t worry about it.”

“What, were you describing a medical procedure or something?”

Viktor laughed. “No, it’s not that bad.” 

Yuuri waited, but he resolutely kept his mouth shut. He pulled himself closer, playing with the hair at the back of Viktor’s head. It was a little longer than it had been when they first properly met. Perfect to run his fingers through. “Please?” he said pleadingly, only feeling a little triumphant as Viktor looked away with another blush.

“Just remember that you didn’t give me any time to prepare, ok? And I’d never done it in Russian. It sounds… wrong.” He stole another quick kiss from Yuuri. “I just...recited the first,” he pondered for a second, “five pages of Anna Karenina? It was all I could think of on such short notice.”

Yuuri always knew how intelligent his husband was. To the point of being scary, sometimes, with the range and depth of his knowledge of everything from the most common to the most obscure subjects. Sometimes it almost became habitual, that his husband could probably easily be classified as a genius.

“You have the first five pages of Anna Karenina memorised?”

“The first five chapters, actually. I’ve read it a lot.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know that?” His voice was breathless, and Viktor tucked a stray strand of hair back behind his ear with a smile.

“Because it’s a tragedy? Doesn’t seem right to quote it when we’ve got our happy ever after.”

Yuuri buried his face in Viktor’s chest. “I’d throw myself under a train for you.”

Viktor laughed, and it was like the setting sun was spilling from his lips. “That’s not why she… never mind.”

Yuuri had pulled away from his chest to watch him laugh, and moved to straddle Viktor’s lap. “Any more great Russian classics you’ve got memorised?”

A slow smile spread over Viktor’s mouth. “The first ten or so chapters of War and Peace. It has a lot of French in it too, however.”

Yuuri pretended to consider it. “I think I can live with that.”

#vikturi #viktuuri #yuri on ice #viktor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #it has been like a hundred years since i've written anything #my writing #this is exhibit S: saps

[cherryrogers]

bittersweet {8}

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death, very mild violence. sh*t is about to hit the fan guys.

synopsis: The world of boxing wasn’t something you knew much about, but after a certain boxer with blue eyes and an irresistible charm wove his way into your heart, you soon learned that it went far deeper than red gloves and gold medals. You thought that the boxer happening to be your brother’s best friend was bad enough, but unfortunately for everyone, the worst had yet to come.

a/n: hello, this fic isn’t dead !! i’ve shortened this part down; i was going to leave y’all on a cliffhanger but,,, since this chapter is like a million years overdue, i’ve been nice lmao. this part is also very steve heavy; bucky will have his time to shine soon guys !! 2/3 more chapters to go, hope you enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

“Oh, here comes your boyfriend.”

“Please don’t call him my boyfriend, Nat.”

Peter Quill was striding towards you after miraculously spotting you across the campus. With a bounce in his step, he shot you a shit-eating smile. You knew that this was coming, but that didn’t mean you were looking forward to it.

“Hey, girlfriend,” The boy slung an arm over your shoulder, glancing between you and Natasha. “(Y/N) and I are dating now, you know. She’s kinda always had a thing for me—”

The redhead narrowed her eyes at him, cutting him off. “I already know it’s just a cover up, Quill. Stop acting like an idiot.”

His smug expression fell along with the arm circling your shoulders. “Well, what’s the point of being your fake boyfriend if I don’t even get to act like it around other people?”

“The point is so that my brother doesn’t start asking questions.”

“So... you’re seeing someone else? I’m hurt, truly.”

“Peter—”

“Can’t you at least tell me who I’m covering for?” The boy whined. “What am I even getting out of this if you’re not properly playing the girlfriend part?”

You bit the inside of your cheek; you did feel a little bad, dragging him into a situation that he’d never asked to be in. There was no way you were letting him, well, get anywhere near you, even if you did end up seeing him in your brother’s presence. He was doing you a big favour though, you owed him something for that.

A knowing smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you pulled out your phone, flicking your eyes back up to Peter’s. “I can’t tell you who you’re covering for, but I can give you something else. You remember Mora, right?”

His eyes widened. “The hot girl from that frat party a few weeks back? Majors in astronomy?”

“That’s her,” You confirmed. “If you agree to stop asking questions and play the fake boyfriend part normally, I’ll give you her number right now.”

Outside of parties, you didn’t really see Mora that much. She was the whole package, though — smart, gorgeous, confident; anybody would be lucky to date her. You weren’t sure if Peter was necessarily her type, but he could be a nice enough guy at times. Perhaps they’d actually end up hitting it off.

It didn’t take long for the boy to shrug, muttering a ‘sounds good to me’ as he pulled his own phone from his pocket and punched in Mora’s number.

Natasha gave you a gentle nudge while Peter was distracted, nodding towards a car that’d just pulled up on the sidewalk not far from you. Your eyes widened at the sight of Bucky waiting for you, forgetting up until that moment that he picked you up from class on Monday mornings. Maybe you wouldn’t have forgotten if you’d actually heard from him after he left to see Steve the night before. You’d barely gotten a wink of sleep, not hearing from Bucky, not knowing if your brother was alright. Well, of course he wasn’t, but even a sugarcoated text from Bucky telling you he was ‘fine’ would’ve at least eased your anxiety a little.

“I’ve gotta go,” You shot Natasha a smile before turning your gaze to Peter, pointing a warning finger at him. “Don’t mess it up with Mora; use her number wisely. Don’t over-text, but don’t give half assed responses either—”

“I know, I know,” The boy cut you off. “Jeez, what do you take me for? An idiot?”

“Yes.” Natasha and you replied simultaneously, sharing a knowing grin while you backed away from your two friends before Peter could start an argument.

A pit formed in your stomach as you approached the car, feeling Bucky’s gaze on you as you climbed into the seat next to him. You didn’t like feeling that way around him, uncomfortably nervous. You’d trusted him when he said that everything was going to turn out okay, so why were you still so unsure that it would be?

Letting out a breath, you fiddled with your hands in your lap. “I didn’t think you were picking me up today.”

The boxer’s brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I? I always pick you up on Mondays.”

“Well, I didn’t hear from you last night, or this morning. I wasn’t sure that everything went okay with Steve...” You trailed off anxiously, not knowing what else to say.

Bucky bit his lip, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. A lot of things had came to light when he talked with Steve. Why he was in so much trouble, his own involvement with the ring... it hadn’t even occurred to him to let you know your brother was alright once he’d left, since his mind was wizzing with so much new information that his first instinct when he got home was to sleep it off and think it through in the morning. He should’ve known you’d be worried sick, however. The whole situation would worry anybody sick, and it was his responsibility to make sure you felt as at ease as you possibly could, given the circumstances.

“No, no, it was fine,” He assured you. Of course, everything was not fine, but that wasn’t something you needed to hear from him. Since he’d convinced Steve to finally let you in on the ordeal, he figured it was better that you heard the whole story from him. “I should’ve called you though, I’m sorry. Steve... he’s going to tell you everything.”

Your eyes widened. “He is?”

“He thinks you deserve to know, which you do,” Bucky nodded, patting your hand. “I’m warning you, though, it might be a lot to take in. Steve’s kept a lot of stuff to himself to protect you, it’s alright if it’s hard for you to understand...”

“I’ll be fine,” You quickly cut him off. You didn’t quite believe you own words, but what other choice did you have? Whatever situation your brother was in, you could assume that it wasn’t going to be an easy one to get out of. “This will all be over soon though, right? The secrets, the trying to protect me, the staying out of danger... tell me it’ll all be fine, Bucky?”

To that, Bucky didn’t have a certain answer. He’d said it to you before, though — guys like Brock Rumlow never win. The boxer liked to believe he’d get what was coming to him eventually, preferably soon. At this point, however, he wasn’t so sure how possible that was.

But for you, he’d do what he could.

He brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss reassuringly to the back of it. “It’ll all be alright, I promise.”

You were almost eager to challenge his words, to tell him that he shouldn’t make promises that can’t be kept, but you didn’t. You trusted Bucky, wholeheartedly. It was everyone else that you’d didn’t trust; Brock, his boxing gym, even Steve who’d managed to keep some massive secret from you for Lord knows how long. But Bucky... you believed he was the only one who wasn’t keeping something from you. He was the one who’d told you about Brock, about how Steve was in danger. Without him trusting you enough to tell you about everything, you’d probably be none the wiser.

Maybe it’d be more foolish to not trust him.

After picking you up, Bucky took you to get coffee from a small place only five minutes away from campus. While you sat together in a cozy booth in the corner of the cafe, the boxer was noticeably doing his best to try and ease your worries about your brother. He told you about the latest drama at the gym, which involved a new guy named Thor who was twice the size of every boxer there and seemingly had the most amazing blond locks that Bucky had ever seen — better than Steve’s, even. He did have one flaw, however; someone at the gym, after a good hour of social media stalking, found that Thor was having long distance relationship troubles with a ‘way out of his league’ girl at a college in Indiana.

You weren’t sure there was as much drama in all your years of high school compared to the scandalous affairs of boxers in Brooklyn. It took your mind off your brother for the time being, anyway.

An hour later, Bucky had dropped you back at your apartment. He offered to stay and keep you company, but you assured him that you’d be alright on your own. You assumed he was concerned that you were going to work yourself up over your brother all over again like the night you’d argued with him, and he had every reason to think that, because that’s exactly what you did around ten minutes after you’d been left alone at home.

Every passing moment without any word from him only made you more antsy. If you ever argued Steve, which was rare, it was usually resolved within a couple of hours. It’d been almost a whole day now, and the feeling of not knowing where you stood with him was slowly eating at you.

Before you knew it, you had impulsively hopped on a bus to the boxing gym.

Was Steve going to kill you for going there? Most likely. If he miraculously didn’t, would Bucky kill you once he’d found out you’d gone there? Definitely. But you were done waiting, done with being left in the dark for your own ‘protection’.

As you stepped off the bus, you couldn’t help but glance cautiously up and down the street, making sure Brock Rumlow wasn’t hiding somewhere, waiting to get inside your head again. Thankfully, you were able to get to the entrance of the gym without an issue, but that didn’t ease any your nerves about seeing Steve.

From the changing room on the left side of the corridor once you’d shut the door behind you, a familiar figure in his boxing gear came strolling out, and a wide smile set on his lips upon seeing you. God, not again.

“Hey, girlfriend,” Peter nudged your shoulder with his wrapped fist. “Just can’t get enough of me?”

“I’ve had more than enough of you today, Peter, which is why I’m not here to see you,” You narrowed your eyes playfully at him. “Do you know where Steve is?”

“Uh...”

On cue, a broad-shouldered blond pushed through the doors of the main gym, not exactly being as happy to see you as Peter was once he noticed your presence.

There was a scowl on his lips as he stalked over, and you could feel Peter tensing up from beside you. It’s not like the guy wasn’t almost the same size as your brother, but nobody liked being around Steve when he was angry. You could practically feel the holes he was burning into your skull with the way he was glaring at you.

He stopped just in front of you, completely disregarding the awkward smile Peter tried to greet him with. “What the hell are you doing here? You know you can’t be here, even if it’s to see your... boyfriend.”

“I’m here to talk to you, you jerk,” You stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s been a day, what the hell have you been doing?”

“I’m just... gonna go...” Peter laughed nervously, walking backwards slowly towards the main gym doors before spinning around and getting out of the situation as quick as possible.

Steve tried to stare you down, to get you to drop your guard and go home so that he could talk to you some other time, not in the one place you were meant to be staying clear of. When you refused to drop his gaze, he sighed heavily. Without another word, he nodded down the corridor and began pacing, motioning for you to follow him. He lead you down a few short corridors before entering an empty staff room, a small area with two leather couches facing opposite each other and divided by a wooden coffee table. There was a miniature kitchen area with a coffee machine and some cupboards, likely filled with old packets of cookies that’d expired long ago.

When he started training at the gym, his manager Tony offered him the job of cleaning the place some nights after hearing that he was strapped for cash. It was odd to you then; he was able to help pay your college tuition and get you your own apartment, but a few months later he was struggling to buy groceries? Where the initial money came from, you weren’t sure. Well, not yet.

Tentatively, you sat down on one of the couches, silently waiting for Steve to calm down and talk to you properly without that stupid crease between his brows and frown on his face. Back when he was in middle school and puberty hadn’t yet hit him like a truck, your mother was often called into school to collect your beaten and bruised brother after continuous incidents with bullies. He’d have on the same annoyed expression as he wore now, and your mother had to explain to him that being stubborn wasn’t the only option; he could get out of dangerous situations if he wanted to and that fighting back wasn’t always the answer. Ironically, he was too stubborn to ever listen to her advice.

When Steve finally let out a breath and sat down on the couch opposite you, you wondered if he’d pictured your mom telling him to wipe the sour look off his face. To talk things out and let go of his pride, because being too iron-willed never ended well. If Steve was really going to sit down and tell you everything, the dark parts, mistakes and all, you were sure she’d be proud of him.

“Look, I’m sorry for the way I acted last night, and just now.” He spoke, his tone a lot calmer than before which provided you with some relief.

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I know you think I’m naive; you say that you don’t, but I’m your younger sister, of course you’re gonna think I don’t understand things the way that you do. But that doesn’t meant you can just shut me out, Steve.”

“I mean this when I say it, kid. I don’t think you’re naive; there’s just... there’s a lot of things you don’t know about the past few years...”

“You can tell me, all of it,” You assured him. “At the end of the day, I know you’re a good person. There’s not a lot of things you could say that’d make me not think that.”

The blond’s eyes stayed trained on the surface of the coffee table, almost unable to comprehend that he was actually going to do this — tell you what he’d been on the run from for so long, what he’d done and agreed to to give you the best chance of a good life after your mom passed. With a hesitant swallow, Steve finally met your eyes, and he began to explain everything.

Starting with his feelings after the death of your mother, he told you how torn up he was, like there was an anchor tied to his heart and pulling at it twenty-four-seven, barely giving him a moment of peace. Art as a way of coping wasn’t working for him anymore, his pain was too much of a weight for the delicacy of pencils and paintbrushes. It was then that he joined the boxing gym, which was where he met Bucky. He’d told Bucky about needing a release, needing something to punch the life out of because he couldn’t bare beating himself up anymore, and the brunet was able to help him help himself.

Bucky had also informed him of the gym across town. Vaguely, he’d explained to Steve that boxers there made unholy amounts of money for matches, but a lot more brutally and not at all legally. The blond didn’t listen to that part, however. Money, he needed money. At that time, you were set to graduate high school in a matter of months, and while you acted like it didn’t bother you, you were sure that getting to college by the fall wasn’t on the cards. After everything falling apart once your mom passed, Steve wasn’t going to let things get worse for you. He was your older brother, and you were only seventeen — it was his responsibility to take care of you. He was getting you to college and giving you the independence you needed after leaving high school, that was all he knew.

And that’s when he took a trip across town and met Brock Rumlow, and that’s when Alexander Pierce started having him properly trained and doing his dirty work.

As far as he knew, Steve was fighting men under other managements every other week for a large sum of cash split between him and the gym if he won. There was a feeling in his gut that there was more to the story, but he actively tried to ignore it, even while every match resulted in almost broken bones and being close to unconsciousness by the end of it. In a couple of months, he’d made more money than he’d ever gotten in pocket money as a kid. When would he ever have the opportunity to make cash like that again?

It wasn’t until a match that took place on a cold night in late December that he realised what he was involved in; what kind of people he was making money for. The match that night was horrific, he’d barely gotten a punch in against the burly, heavily tattooed man that’d came from Florida to fight. Bloody and battered, Steve had went looking for Rumlow after the match had ended, only wanting to ask if he could head home for the night. It took him five minutes to finally find the man in the parking lot behind the building, gripping a girl no older than twenty on her upper arm, her wrists tied behind her back with a thick rope. She was shoved in the back of a large black van with blacked out windows, and before Steve could even reach Rumlow, the van was gone along with the girl.

It was then he knew; he lost the match, and there was a price to pay for that. That price happened to be that girl, her freedom. No amount of money was worth hurting innocent people like that. The fighting wasn’t just about cash. It was about power, and greed, and reputation.

“Steve, you didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to any of that for me. We could’ve worked things out together...”

“Maybe, but I wasn’t in a good headspace then, (Y/N). I thought ‘cause I was doing it to help you that what I was doing was for the best. I was the naive one.”

So, he told Rumlow he quit, and he was going to get the entire organisation shut down. The man only laughed in his face at that. Police could come in and out of the gym as much as they wanted, but they’d never find anything. That was the worst part; even if Steve left, there were people that didn’t get that option, that were trapped in the hands of the likes of Pierce to only be traded off for someone else to control.

The guilt would follow Steve like a shadow, but what use would it be to stay? Getting out of there looked like his only choice, and he was sure everyone that was part of the ring would get what was coming to them one day. He could only pray they did.

Then, the dreaded deal was made. Of course, they couldn’t just let Steve leave on his own accord. Rumlow wanted a match and he wanted a prize when he won, as he’d put it. Granted, Steve thought there was nothing he could give him that he didn’t already have, but accepted the deal anyway. It got Pierce and him off his back for the time being, and again, what could Rumlow possibly want that only Steve could provide him? The match seemed pretty pointless in his opinion.

The landslide of a story Steve was telling you already had your heart in your stomach. All you could do was sit stiffly and silently and hope that there was a happy ending to it all. It seemed as he explained the most recent addition to the whole ordeal, however, that the story wasn’t actually over.

Because then, he told you about the prize Rumlow wanted. You. If your brother lost, you were to become his property, like an object. That’s when you couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

“So they’ll just take me? I’ll have no choice other than to let them... do what they want with me?” Your bottom lip quivered as your hands gripped the leather of the couch next to your legs.

“Kid, you’re not going anwhere,” Steve said firmly.

“But—”

“No, listen to me,” He pressed, holding your glossy-eyed gaze. “You’re gonna walk away from all of this. They’ll have to kill me before they get to you—”

“Don’t even say that, Steve,” You jumped up from your seat, still unable to fully take in the gravity of the situation. How? How had all of this been going on in your brother’s life and you had no idea? You ran a shaky hand through your hair. “When? When’s the match?”

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Friday.”

“Oh my— shit,” You could barely believe what you were hearing. Four days. In four days you could possibly never see Steve again, or Natasha, or Bucky. You could be getting put in the back of a van, being taken to who knows where and never stepping foot in New York again. Shit. “Does anyone else know about... all of this?”

“Bucky, I told him the other night,” Steve responded, but you already knew that. Well, you knew he knew about the fighting ring, but not the fact that you were being used as a damn prize. “But I think he might be able to help us. I’m not sure how yet, but he used to be apart of the ring too...”

The remainder of Steve’s words didn’t register as you felt your heart clench. It didn’t feel real, none of it did.

Bucky, your Bucky, worked for Brock Rumlow? He was part of what Steve was desperately trying to run from, and he never told you? He never told you. Didn’t he trust you enough?

“You still with me, kid?”

Your brother’s voice startled you, but you nodded weakly, pushing Bucky out of your mind momentarily. “Isn’t there any way you can pull out of the deal? If— if you don’t wanna fight him, he can’t make you, right?”

A shaky sigh left Steve’s lips. “There’s something else I need to tell you. You should sit down, (Y/N).”

You did so reluctantly, wishing you could just suddenly wake up and learn that the last fifteen minutes had all been a dream. A horrible dream.

“If I don’t fight on Friday, or if I don’t follow their rules for the match, they’re gonna have me put behind bars for life.” The blond harshly bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his composure.

You shook your head in disbelief, brows crinkled. “But how? You haven’t done anything, they’re the ones breaking the law. They’re the ones with blood on their hands, Steve.”

“They’re not the only ones with blood on their hands,” He responded, eyes set hardly on the coffee table again. “For two years, the police have been looking for a missing man. John Preston; he was twenty one, had no immediate family alive, boxed at a gym in New Jersey. I saw it on the news when he first went missing, and I saw his picture. I knew him, and it took me a minute, but then I realised that I knew him because I’d fought him. He was one of the last guys I fought before I left the gym, and... it was an ugly match. It ended with him being knocked unconscious, and I wasn’t far off collapsing either. I never knew what happened to him until I ran into Rumlow outside of our gym; he told me John was dead. Killed the night after I’d knocked him out in the ring.”

“But that wasn’t you—”

“He needed to go to the hospital,” Steve interrupted, your argument being pointless. “But nobody would take him. There was too much of a risk that the police would get involved. So... they just killed him. Rumlow didn’t tell me what they did with his body, but he hasn’t been close to being found. The cops have probably deemed it a cold case by now, but... Pierce, the sick bastard, he likes to keep a video of all the fights. As proof of who won and lost, and probably for his own sick entertainment.”

You spoke up timidly; it was clear at this point what he was implying. “There’s a video of you knocking John unconscious, isn’t there? And they could use it to... to frame you for his murder.”

Whatever response Steve gave you, you didn’t at all catch it, your mind completely scrambled from what you’d just heard. You’d like to believe that there was some hope for the situation, that Steve would simply be able to win the match on Friday and finally cut ties with the ring and everything involved. But you doubted the odds would be in his favour, especially with Brock Rumlow controlling every aspect of the deal.

You needed to speak to Bucky. Perhaps he knew how to make things right. He said everything would be okay, and you wanted badly to believe him. Then again, what if he was in as much trouble as you and Steve were? Who knew what connection he still had with Pierce, what deal he had to agree to to get out of there.

And to think, a matter of months ago, you thought that Steve finding out about your relationship with Bucky was going to be your biggest problem. You’d truly been living in your own bubble then, utterly unaware of the darkness behind the most important people in your life.

From being distracted by an attractive boxer and being unwilling to let him go so easily, you’d somehow ended up needing a way to stop your brother being framed for murder and yourself being sold into the hands of criminals.

Yet amid the anxiety and the fear, there was still a part of you that hoped Bucky would know what to do. He swore to you that everything would be alright, that Rumlow wouldn’t win.

All you could do was trust that he didn’t make empty promises.

* * *

@kimvmarvel @printedpeterparker @buckyandsebastian @ilovesupersoldiers @asgcrds @bxrnsfeyson @peterparkerbabyyy @broco8 @hotheadbarnes @stormi-ames @founding-fuck-bois @fizzahocleirigh

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes au #boxer!bucky

[gingerwritess]

I’m really drunk and your reader Loki drunk fix is like my actual life right now minus I’m alone and drunk lmao

“Your…nose, Lucky.”

Loki’s sigh is royal.

“What about my nose?”

“It’s cute,” you giggle, rolling over and pressing your index finger to the tip of his nose. “It looks evil, though…still wanna kiss it.”

You do—with a very loud, over-exaggerated smooch.

“Can you go to sleep now?” Blanching, he wipes off the tip of his nose. “My nose will still be here in the morning, we’ll see how you feel about it then.”

“M’gonna still love it,” you mumble—and then pull your shirt off.

“Why…”

“I want to be free,” you sigh, stretching your arms over your head. “C’mon, you too.”

“I’m never allowing you to drink my mead again.”

Sure, he’s grumbling, but a few seconds later you’re seeing double—double foggy but impeccably chiselled eight-packs, that is.

“Tha’s mine,” you mumble, and your hand goes bumpbumpbumpbump as it drags over his stomach, a drunk giggle erupting into the dim room. “Where’d you get your abs?”

Loki blinks, pausing his attempts to pull the blankets up to your chin. “Uh…I’d have to say they’re from excessive training.”

“Oh, like exercise, mmm.”

“Sure.” He chuckles when you fling the covers off again and try to roll out of bed, only to be caught and plopped right back on the pillows by your lovely boyfriend. “Can you please go to sleep now?”

“Stay with me, eight-pack.” Your hand latches around his wrist.

“Is that all I am to you? My abs?”

“Duh, you sexy piece of meat,” you giggle sleepily, and you lurch forward suddenly to wrap your arms around his waist, squishing your cheek against his abs. “Comfy, too. C’mon, I wanna use you as a pillow.”

“I’m…offended,” he sighs, climbing into bed beside you, your happy little squeal making his heart somersault. “Being a pillow was never the intended use of a strong core, but here we are…”

He knows you’re going to drool all over him tonight, but the way you snuggle up against his cool skin stops his breath in his throat.

“What’d you train for then, not being my pillow?” You poke him a couple times, grinning when he squirms—ticklish, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. “You’re real good at it, lucky ducky.”

Ignore the name, get you to fall asleep. Simple.

“Ah…wars.” He smoothes a hand over your head. “Training for battles and raids and wars, anything I needed to use to protect myself, the people I love, and my home.”

“So…have y’killed anyone, Lucky?”

A lump catches in his throat.

You innocent little human. Daft, utterly stupid and clueless, getting yourself into a situation like this with a person like him, trusting him to care for you, but still so innocent.

Asking him to stay? Hugging him like this?

Stupid, did he mention?

“You know the answer to that,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek. “The more you think about it, the less you’ll want me.”

“Okay.”

Your arms around him tighten and you smile into his abs.

“You’re still a good pillow.”

“Thank you.” He smiles down at your squished-up cheek. “Will you please sleep now?”

“Sheesh, fine.”

Dim moonlight fills the room as his thumb brushes over your jaw, a gentle breeze leading the curtains lining the open window in a waltz…he’s stuck praying it helps you fall asleep quicker.

As quick as possible, actually, because he really doesn’t know how much longer he can last before completely losing his mind.

Your breathing steadies after a few minutes, slow, warm, open-mouth breaths fluttering over his skin.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, prying your arms from around his waist. “I’ll check on you in the morning, my love.”

He’s nearly to the door when you sit straight up and screech after him “WAIT, GIMME YOUR EVIL NOSE—”

This. close.

Turning back around with a half-hearted sigh, he trudges back to lean on the edge of the mattress, bowing his head for you to do as you please with his, uh…evil nose.

“Gosh, everything on your face is pretty.” You heave a dreamy sigh, draping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m gonna kiss it all.”

“Mhm. You’re going to be in so much pain tomorrow.”

“Don’t care. Tonight was fun.”

“Just kiss me and go to sleep,” Loki laughs, bumping the tip of his nose into yours.

“Don’t rush me,” you huff with a frown. “Gotta take it all in. ‘Purdy face.”

“Just get it over with.”

Face scrunched into quite possibly the cutest grin Loki has ever seen, you place both your hand gently on his cheeks, gazing up at him as he leans over you.

You squish his cheeks together, giggling like a child when his lips pucker and he frowns.

“I have a reputation I need to maintain, you know.”

He doesn’t move, though.

You jump forward and plant a kiss on his forehead. “Love you here, pretty boy.”

“Again, is all I am to you my looks??”

Your mead-stained lips trail down the bridge and smack against the tip of his nose. “Love ya here, too, mister sexy-pants.”

“I don’t approve of this,” he jokingly scoffs, still not even trying to move away from your reach. “Our love should be so much more than physical—”

One loud smooch lands on his lips.

“Really love you here. Over ‘n over ‘n over.”

Twenty some-odd more little kisses pepper over his lips, touching down neatly on the corner of his mouth and venturing down to make sure his chin gets the love it deserves, too.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful,” you mumble into his lips, still squishing his face between your hands. “I just can’t believe I get you, like, whenever.”

“Beauty is fleeting,” he whispers, weakly trying to brush away your compliments.

Your drunken gaze turns serious and you pull away to stare at him, eyebrows furrowed. “But you gotta know how beautiful y’really are, Lucky.”

“I’m lucky,” he repeats—if you weren’t drunk, maybe you would’ve caught the sentiment, but for now, you just burst out laughing again before kissing him.

The compliments are new.

“Beautiful, pretty, beautiful angel…” you’re mumbling again, fingers stroking along his cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. “With ‘n evil nose. Looks anger-y, Lucky.”

“My nose looks angry?” He laughs, bringing up a finger to bop your own.

“Needs a smooch.”

“Ah.”

His eyes flutter closed when you lean forward to “smooch” the tip of his nose…again.

You sit back and decide that no, that beautifully sculpted nose needs at least two more smooches, but when you lean back in to deliver, Loki tilts his head up to catch your kiss with his lips.

“Cheater.” Your lips squish together as you try to speak.

“Trickster,” he corrects, a hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. “That’s enough about my nose. Kiss me properly, darling, please.”

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

hope that helps with the (possible!) hangover ;)

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda 

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki x reader fluff #loki requests #boyfriend!loki #loki x drunk!reader #loki fanfiction #loki drabbles #loki laufeyson #loki fluff