#also just look at his long leggies ... gOD
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Bellllaaaaa hiiii:)
I’m hooked on biker/bartender bucky(even tattoo artist bucky) with fucking Tats right now and I’d totally love if you could maybe write him and chubby/plus sized reader having a flirty relationship, maybe they’re like a fling or something. She works at his bar/tattoo shop, whichever au you pick, and they’re just fucking flirty and so naughty together lol
Smut is always welcomed!!
Thank u bby in advance<3 mwahhh🥺💋
about how it started..
pairing: bartender!bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. pining. flirting. smut. a little tiny hint of voyeurism/exhibitionism. if i’m missing something pls lmk!
words: 3.1k
notes: thank you, mickey, for sending this and sorry it took so long! i kind of wanted to incorporate more mention of his tattoos but i felt like i kept screwing it up so i kept it very vague - i’m sorry. but i hope you like this! i really love the idea and i’d love to do more with them in the future, too (including more of his tattoos too 🥴), so thank you, thank you, thank you!! 🥰
also this gif isn’t necessarily the bucky i was picturing but the visible tattoo feels right so whatever 😌
i hope you guys enjoy this! thank you in advance for reading and reblogging. as always, feedback and comments are always welcome and so appreciated! 🖤
You know you should be checking tables right now. You know. But goddamn if you can’t take your eyes off of the brawny, blue eyed, six foot something beauty that is Bucky Barnes.
You’re leaning against the far end of the bar, eyes fixed on him with no plans of trailing anywhere else.
He’s making another Sex on the Beach for the less than subtle, leggy, bleach blonde who’s been fawning over him since she got here. When she and the other college girls showed up, seeming to have already been pregaming, you knew tonight wouldn’t be uneventful.
You could obsess over the fact that the twenty one year old, who looked like she stepped right off a runway, was currently pushing her chest out and twirling her perfectly styled hair as she continued rambling on and on to Bucky, but his disinterest was clear to you as he kept a polite smile and entertained her as he finished the drink.
That, and because you had no right or reason to obsess over who was flirting with him and when.
Right?
You pushed the thoughts away as you admired Bucky’s profile. The way some of his hair had fallen out of his bun and hung around his perfectly sculpted face. How his brilliantly blue eyes shone still through the dark strands. And god did you envy his perfectly shaped nose. Your eyes fell to his lips as he smiled at something the girl said, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care, you were so caught up in the beauty of it. He gave her the drink before he tucked the loose hair behind his ears.
You watched as the girl held out a twenty with a sultry smile and a wink before Bucky took it with a small laugh as she sauntered off back to her friends.
He put it in the cash box and then pushed up his sleeves as he took the time to count out how much the bar had made so far tonight.
You swear your mouth went dry as his tattoos were on display now. The dark ink that told story after story lining his forearm, and though you couldn’t see them right now, led all the way up his strong arm only added to the endless list of things that made him attractive. The artwork was mesmerizing. Just like him.
“You just gonna stare at me your whole shift, sweetheart?” he says to you without looking over, a smirk playing on his lips.
You take in a breath before pushing off the bar and walk over to meet him where he stands.
“Who says I was staring at you?” you question and lean over just slightly to glance at Torres who was pouring shots at the other end of the bar.
Bucky turns to follow your gaze and gives a laugh when he sees who you’re referring to.
“You and Torres, huh?” he plays along, smirk never faltering. He finishes his count and tucks the box back under the bar before he turns fully to you, blocking your view of the younger man completely, not that you cared.
Bucky walks into you, backing you up until you’re forced into the dead corner of the bar. You nearly stop breathing when he leans into you, his cologne invading your senses, his warmth surrounding you as he keeps you trapped between him and the bar, his thick arms on either side of you. Your lips part on an inaudible gasp when his lips brush against your ear.
“He know I was guts deep inside you last night? How you were screaming my name, begging me not to pull out? So fuckin’ desperate to be full‘a me,” he reminds you as his hands find your waist and he squeezes your softness before pulling you flush against him and letting his hands slide down to your ass. “How many times did you come again? I think I lost count,” he taunts as he leans over you and gropes you shamelessly.
You can see out past his shoulder as he nearly nuzzles into your neck, your eyes growing heavy with desire as your lips stay parted in heated awe.
Your eyes meet the blonde Bucky had just served as she looks on in a bit of a stupor before blinking and turning away with a hint of a blush warming her cheeks.
“Watch it, Barnes. You’re gonna lose out on tips if you’re not careful,” you warn playfully, if not a bit breathily.
When he starts kissing your neck, your knees become unsteady as a warmth starts to grow in your tummy.. and lower. Your hands latch onto the front of his shirt in an effort to stay steady.
You’ve noticed he’s been getting more brazen every day, more teasing and touching when he knows full well people can see, and the fact that he really doesn’t seem to care sparks a bit of hope that maybe this could grow into something more than what it started as.
But as Bucky nips and then gently kisses your pulse point, all thoughts fly right out the window as your main focus is solely on not melting into a puddle right then and there.
“Don’t care,” he says against your delicate skin, placing another kiss to your neck before you push him back just slightly. “What?” he asks as a half smile adorns his face when he stands up straight again, looking down at you.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish right now,” you say as you hold his smoldering gaze.
“You think I won’t fuck you right now?” he challenges, his seriousness sending a thrill up your spine.
You let out a nervous, disbelieving laugh as you push him to turn around. “I think you have some patrons waiting for your attention,” you say, ignoring the desire burning deep within at his words.
He sucks his teeth as he walks back over to the lively area of the bar, but not before eyeing you with a look that promises he isn’t done with you tonight.
You watch him back before spinning around and coming out from behind the bar to start checking tables.
—
You’re leaning over a newly emptied table close to the bar when you feel his heavy gaze on you.
The low cut scoop neck of your top already offered a generous view of your cleavage, but as you’re leaning over to wipe the table down, you’re sure he can see right down your shirt. You hide your smirk as you walk around the table and make a show of leaning over once more, your tight black skirt that hugs your tummy riding up your thick thighs as you do. You’d forgone underwear under your opaque black tights and wonder for a second how much he can see as you bend further over the table.
You don’t have much time to wonder as suddenly Bucky is right up behind you. You stand up against him, your ass brushing against his crotch. His hands are on your skirt as he adjusts it back down for you.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, voice low and husky.
“Cleaning a table,” you answer innocently as you stay where you are, enjoying the feeling of his large hands on your wide hips and his solid chest at your back.
“Yeah? Cuz from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re purposely being a little tease.”
“Me?” you say in faux offense, turning to face him. “I’d never. Just doing my job, boss.”
He pushes you back against the table just slightly, “So, you’re telling me you haven’t been thinking about how hot it’d be if I came up behind you, ripped your tights open and fucked you stupid right here on this table?”
You swallow hard as you feel yourself growing wet at the scene that plays out in your mind. The bar is near empty as you’re both getting ready to close up but the idea of Bucky taking you right here and now, onlookers be damned, has heat creeping up your skin.
“Say I have. What are you gonna do about it?” you whisper wantonly, eyes swimming with lust.
A sinful growl escapes him as he presses himself closer to you. You can feel his growing bulge against you and it takes everything in you to not let out the whimper that threatens to slip past your lips.
Joaquin left twenty minutes ago after him and Bucky served last call, so it’s just you two and the lingerers who are slowly making their way out.
“What am I gonna do about it?” he repeats as his hand comes up to hold your chin. He leans down, face to face with you as he continues headily, never taking his eyes off yours, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid. Right here. On this table,” he breathes each sentence before he finally takes your lips in his. It’s gentler than you expect as your eyes flutter shut and the sound of the entrance door closing behind the last patron signals that you’re alone now.
You sigh into his mouth before you pull him closer, the kiss growing more heated with each moment that passes.
You let Bucky ruck up your skirt as your hands fumble with his belt before you start working on his button and zipper. You stop him for just a second, grabbing his hand, “You rip ‘em, you buy ‘em,” you tell him, earning a grin from him.
“Deal,” he says before easily tearing your tights and turning you around, forcing you down against the table.
“No underwear, huh?” he taunts as he rips your tights even more, his thick fingers wasting no time in playing with your wetness on full display for him.
Your legs are spread as you moan at the delightful feeling of his fingers pushing into your sex, opening you up for him as he scissors his fingers inside your tight heat before curling them the way he knows you like.
“Fuck, Bucky, please,” you whine as you clutch onto the table, pushing your hips backs and trying to fuck yourself on his hand.
“Jesus, fuck, you’re perfect,” he swears before landing a stinging slap to your ass and pulling his fingers out. He quickly tugs down his jeans and frees himself from his boxers, his erection hot, heavy, and throbbing.
“Make me so fuckin’ hard, you know that?”
You only mewl in response as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, teasing you. He doesn’t have as much patience as he normally does, though. He’s been thinking of you nonstop since you left his apartment this morning. Been wanting you close again from the second you left his bed.
He knows this was just supposed to be a fun fling, but from the first time he kissed you, he knew he was done for. He knew he’d only want more.
And he was right.
He wanted all of it with you, not just sex. He wanted to spend his days cuddling you in his bed, watching movies, talking about nothing; hell, he even had to stop himself from texting you the other day to see if you were busy when he had to go get groceries because he wanted your company.
He was hooked on you completely.
But this “fling” was your idea and he didn’t want to run you off with the idea of commitment so soon. So for now, this would have to do. And who was he to complain about the nights he got to spend flirting with you, teasing you, taking you apart only to put you back together in his arms come morning.
He’s pulled from his thoughts as the head of his cock catches along your slick entrance, a hiss emanating from him as you gasp at the feeling.
He slowly lets himself push in, deeper and deeper until his hips are flush against your ass and he’s filling you completely.
Your soft moans urge him on as he begins to fuck you, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the quiet of the empty bar. As he starts to thrust harder, the squelching noises of your fucking grow louder and louder as you moan without care, your hips hitting the edge of the table over and over with his every thrust.
His hands frame your waist as he holds you tight, rutting ever deeper inside of you, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly as you whine and gasp in pure pleasure, the coil in your belly tightening with each glide of his cock along your walls and every nudge against your g-spot. Bucky slips a hand down and finds your puffy clit, circling it as he feels you getting closer, your walls squeezing him tighter and tighter.
Your toes are curling in your shoes as your feet arch and slip against the floor when the muscles in your legs and core tighten and strain as your walls clench down on his thick cock and your orgasm hits you hard.
In the same instance, Bucky growls as the swinging of the entrance door sounds. You don’t even bother to look up as you’re lost in the euphoria of your high.
“We’re closed,” Bucky barks, his hips never faltering as he continues to fuck you while your eyes screw shut in overwhelming pleasure.
You vaguely hear a fumbling apology and the door closing once more as Bucky buries himself inside of you, leaning over your bent body and rutting into you as his groans and moans tumble heavily from his lips. With one more thrust, you sigh breathily as you feel him spill inside of you.
The weight of his body on top of yours is a comfort you can’t help but revel in as he holds you still and gets all of his release out, your velvety walls milking his cock as he fills you with his hot come.
He’s breathing heavily as he comes down from his orgasm and gently pulls his cock out of you. You instinctively press your legs together, your thick thighs making it easy. You push yourself up off the table after a moment and turn around, fixing your skirt as you do.
“Fuck,” you breathe under your breath happily. “Maybe lock the door next time?” you suggest playfully, “Or, at least turn the ‘OPEN’ light off.”
“Next time?” Bucky says with a raised brow and a smirk as he fixes his pants. “You like getting fucked in the bar that much?”
“Well, you did say something about fucking me stupid.. And not that that was bad at all, but, I’m not feeling very stupid right now.”
He licks his lips as he takes you in, taking your hands in his and tugging you close. “Why don’t you come home with me and I’ll get you there,” he says smoothly.
“That’d make it three nights in a row,” you say, a little unsure. “You sure you wanna risk it? I might not wanna leave.”
“I might not want you to,” he says, surprising you by how soft and sincere his voice is.
You meet his eye and swear you could drown in the glimmering blues as he smiles that schoolboy smile. You let out a shaky, nervous laugh.
“You fallin’ for me, Barnes?” you tease playfully - just a hint of hope laced in your tone.
He surprises you again as he takes hold of your chin, peering deep into your eyes, before he brushes his nose against your, his lips inches away from your own as you breath each other in for a second.
And then he kisses you.
Soft, yet firm and as you lose yourself in it, a deep yearning for Bucky that you’ve kept down from day one rears her head once more.
You part for a second to breathe before you crash your lips into his again, pulling him closer to you by the front of his shirt.
Your tongues glide against one another as he slips his in expertly before kissing you deeply.
He lets his forehead fall to yours as he parts from you.
You're breathless as he wears a nervous smile you’ve never seen on him before.
“Say I have. What are you gonna do about it?” he repeats your earlier taunt, trying to hide his anxiousness as he waits for you to respond.
You suck your lip as you consider him, biting back the smile threatening to take over your face.
“I’d tell you that, maybe, I’ve fallen for you, too,” you admit shyly, looking up to see his cocksure smile back in full force, just the way it always is.
“Then I’d tell you to take me back to your apartment,” you say, leaning into him for another sultry kiss. “So you can fuck me stupid,” you breathe against his lips, “as many times as you want.”
You nearly squeal as you're taken off your feet in the next second, Bucky’s strong arms holding you securely as you wrap your own around him.
“That I will happily comply with,” he says, kissing you hotly as you smile into it. You pull away just slightly to speak.
“We didn’t finish closing,” you laugh.
“Don't care,” he says, kissing you again as he easily walks to the bar, holding you with surprising ease that you aren’t sure you’ll ever get used to before he sets you down. “We can do it tomorrow,” he excuses, grabbing his keys from behind the bar and flicking the lights out. You grab your jacket and bag from the shelf you kept them on and follow behind Bucky as he locks the doors, escorting you out and to his car.
Before you get there, he turns on you, both of you stopping in your spots.
“We really doing this?” he asks, wanting to make sure this is really what you want, too.
You smile and nod.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
He lets himself smile in return.
“So I can call you mine, now?” he asks, grabbing your hand, pulling you to him.
“I’d be good with that.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“You sure? Cuz once we make this official, I’m gonna let everyone know. I might never shut up about it.”
You can’t help but laugh at how excited and proud he sounds. “I think I’m okay with that,” you smile up at him, meeting his lips in another kiss before he leads you to the car and opens the door for you to get in.
You know you’re okay with that. It’s what you’d been hoping for from the first time you’d kissed, for this to lead to something real, something more. Now here you were.
He wanted to officially call you his, and Bucky was finally, truly yours.
#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x plus size!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x curvy!reader#bucky x plus size!reader#bucky x reader#bartender!bucky#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x plus size reader#bucky barnes x you
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Should Have Been Me, Lloyd Hansen
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: cheating/infidelity, mentions of smut, major angst.
Lloyd melted into a puddle as soon as his eyes landed on you; clad in your dress that somehow managed to feel all too bright, and not bright enough. While you were completely breathtaking, he couldn’t help but think that it didn’t seem to do you justice. You were a complete and utter vision in white. His own personal angel come to life; but he wanted more for you…so much more.
Lloyd knew that he was anything but deserving of seeing something so angelic and delicate, and yet, he couldn’t look away. He never wanted to look away from you. And he couldn’t remember a day in his life that he was so happy in his well-made, hand stitched Italian suit.
But he also couldn’t remember a day in his life when he was just as equally sad; knowing that the occasion that brought the two of you to the hallowed ground wasn’t his doing…at least, not directly.
Somehow though, he knew that he’d indirectly contributed to their current predicament. To those tears. To your sadness.
You had tears in your eyes.
While some guests may gasp lovingly, and gently pull their significant others towards themselves at how your tears glistened beneath your veil; he knew the reason behind them. They were big, fat tears that rolled down your cheeks while your father walked you down the aisle; and while many a guest would surmise that they were happy tears, due to your impending nuptials just a few feet away, Lloyd knew the truth.
Your eyes met his as the string quartet started a rendition of ‘Here Comes The Bride.’
And he felt his chest tightening.
“FUCKING SHIT!” Lloyd all but screamed as the lukewarm coffee spilt all over his cream-colored shirt. He had been running late to meet up with a hookup; practice having taken too long, and he was beyond pissed. But he was even more tired. And yet, somehow, Carmichael had talked him into grabbing a coffee to go, which admittedly didn’t end well. As a matter of fact, it made him miss the leggy blonde who was waiting for him in one of the labs during her free period. So to add to his achy body and blue balls, his favorite sweater vest had been ruined and the shirt beneath it looked worse for wear, “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING YOU GOD DAMNED IMBICI-“
But Lloyd’s words halted in his chest. His angry, husky baritone had come to a stop in a squeak, his mouth still partially parted as he was left to examine you.
He watched you, ignoring the spilt coffee, swiping it quickly away from the expensive textbooks that were undoubtedly yours. His eyes trailed up your bare thighs as your skirt spluttered around your body while you hurriedly tried to catch your notes that were rushing along with the gentle breeze. He was left in a breathless moment, nothing short of amazement as you gave him a soft doe-eyed look.
There was a sadness in your eyes that he knew in an instant he would burn the world down to make it go away. And he knew that his words were perhaps adding to it.
He hated himself in that moment.
He wasn’t Lloyd Hansen, a star on the football team. He wasn’t one of the men at the top of his class.
He wasn’t anything.
But he knew that he wanted you desperately.
The smallest of smiles played on his lips as you seemed to have the same realization. Your eyes held his for just a second longer. And for a moment, it was like time had stopped.
His insult and ruined shirt didn’t matter.
The coffee which was emptier than not didn’t matter.
Hell, your textbooks and notes skittering across the quad didn’t matter.
And nor did the fact that your skirt had bunched up to your mid thigh, barely covering your modesty while goosebumps prickled at your tender flesh.
The only thing that mattered to Lloyd Hansen was how beautiful you were; how sweet you looked! And how he couldn’t believe that he didn’t know a thing about such an innocent angel like yourself.
He wanted to ask your name, he really did. But he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to do such a thing. So instead, he dropped to his knees, his eyes making a mad dash away from yours while he scooped up your textbooks along with some leaves that had turned and fallen from the trees.
You were so transfixed on the adonis of a man with his chiseled frame and bright blue eyes that you found yourself lost in them; ignoring the man had managed to join the two of you.
“LLOYD!”
“Carmichael!”
Lloyd dropped your books, making you jump yet a second time in just those small amount of seconds that had passed since you ran into him. You quickly gathered your books and stood, a blush coating your cheeks, tinging that and the tip of your nose a light pink. Lloyd felt his heart jump into his throat and he nervously looked to his friend, “I-“
“And who is this?” Carmichael asked with a playful teasing voice. You instantly took a step back, your introverted personality falling back into line. Your mouth felt dry, too parched to speak, and you looked to Lloyd for help. Carmichael raised a brow at Lloyd, before nudging him, “thought you said your date was a leggy blonde…”
Your heart shattered as your eyes scanned over him once more.
Of course he has a girl waiting on him.
“I-I-“
“I should go,” you murmured softly as you looked away from him, “I-I’m sorry for running into you.”
“Wait…”
But you only shook your head, making up some excuse as you all but ran away from the two men. Carmichael sighed, leaning against Lloyd as the two men began to longingly watch her, each one for entirely different reasons.
“Wonder how the little minx sounds bent over one of our study desks,” Carmichael smirked, nudging Lloyd, “you got dibs on her or is she free game?”
“I-I don’t even know her name…” Lloyd muttered breathlessly, “I-“
“I’m gonna nail her,” Carmichael smirked, tapping Lloyd on the shoulder before going to chase after you, “don’t wait up, Hansen.”
“Do you take Denny Carmichael to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asked, looking up from his book.
There was a pregnant pause. It was so quiet in the church that you could hear a pin drop. Lloyd could tell that you were on the verge of a panic attack simply by the way your breathing sounded.
God, did he know every part of you.
“Tell me it doesn’t mean anything…”
Lloyd’s jaw clenched. He felt his chest tighten, his ribs aiming to throttle his still beating heart as he stared at you. He felt all of the emotions he’d ever felt about you, rushing to the surface.”
“I’m married to Suzanne…you-“
“Suzanne never mattered and you know it!” you offered quickly, cutting him off as you all but launched yourself into his arms, “Lloyd, tell me that what we did meant nothing and I’ll walk away…but I can’t marry Denny knowing that we had such a conn-“
Lloyd broke off your words with a singular action.
His lips came crashing down onto yours.
They collided in a heated passion. Your hands shifted down to his chest, while his tore at your dress, the buttons popping away at the ferocity.
“Lloyd.”
“I love you angel!” he growled out, pulling you even tighter to his chest for a moment. His arms slid down your body and you felt him picking you up, tearing away your panties in the process. You moaned as you felt his cock, restrained by the chinos he was in.
“Make love to me Lloyd.”
Lloyd released an animalistic groan as he held your face in his hands, your lips working in tandem. A tear fell down your cheek as you felt the cool metal of his wedding band caressing you, teasing you in a constant reminder that the man you really loved would never be yours.”
“Baby….”
Your eyes snapped back to Dennys. And it was only then that you realized you’d been staring at Lloyd, unable to answer the question.
“Huh?”
“This is the part where you say ‘I do,’ honey!” he teased.
Your eyes met Lloyd’s once more, and another, new set of tears welled up in your eyes.
“You’re marrying him tomorrow!”
Your eyes snapped to that of your lovers. Lloyd was looking sadly at his wedding ring; the one that he’d removed and placed on the night table before he’d taken you.
“I’m leaving him, Lloyd.” Lloyd felt a pain in the back of his throat as he knew what he’d had to say next. He sat up, gently pushing you off his chest. You laid on your side, staring at him, “Lloyd…tell me you’re leaving Suzanne…tell me tha-“
“I’m not leaving Suzanne, pumpkin…”
“I-I do…”
The priest gave you a soft look and he turned towards the guests, “should anyone have a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Lloyd looked to you, and he wanted nothing more than to speak. He wanted to say the words that you’d told him last night. He wanted to reiterate that he only pushed you away because he knew that he was no good to you.
You were too innocent a soul.
And in his line of work, a liability.
But damn…he didn’t care.
“It should have been me!” Everyone turned to face the best man as he stepped forward, swallowing all of the walls he’d built up. Lloyd took a heavy breath as he gained the courage to look you dead in the eyes and repeat it, “it should have been me, baby. All those years ago when you ran into me and spilled my coffee. I should be marrying you, not Denny.”
“Lloyd…”
“Run away with me, angel….” He said hopefully, holding out his hand. Denny took a step forward, but your hand stopped him. The two men stopped and turned to face you, hearing your sniffling behind them.
“I think you should leave, Lloyd…”
Lloyd felt his heart breaking as he looked at you in disbelief, “wh-what?”
“My future wife told me about everything after she left, Lloyd…” Denny said through gritted teeth, “you’re lucky I don’t beat the shit out of you right here and now…and she chose to stay with me…so I think this is the part where you walk away with your tail between your legs.”
“Pumpkin-“
“It should have been you,” you sighed, taking Denny’s hand in your own as you took a step towards him, “but it’s not…and I’m marrying Denny.”
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Oh snap ONE actually tweeted something. To celebrate season 3 announcement.
But is it just me or does it feel poignant that Saitama's one eye is hidden by the destroyed layer of wall here? I've never seen Saitama drawn in official sources with his eyes hidden behind objects before.
I may be over-analyzing one drawing, but you never know with this author, so hear me out.
Hidden eyes have meanings in OPM. Like one of Garou's eye turned red when he started monsterizing and when he broke out, one of his eyes was revealed.
Notably, if we've ever seen a half monster and half human, it's always been with the monster eye on right and human eye on the left. When Garou broke out of his monsterization, the human eye is again his left eye. Same goes with Psykos.
The good and evil characteristics of human and the outside transformation is when their heart starts to turn inhuman as they progress in their monsterization.
But we've also seen that some beings are not permanently turned into monster looks and they control their own forms. Because there are multiple ways of being evil, some are just not visible, just like humans can be innately evil. Just looking like a monster is not enough to make one into a monster or absolute evil. One would also have to be evil on the inside, down to the very soul. And there are many ways of regression into this state of evilness.
Like breaking down your own boundaries about what you consider as morally good and hiding those morally good characteristics when breaking said boundaries.
Something that Saitama did when Garou killed Genos and the colliding punch could have destroyed Earth and subsequently it did actually destroy unknown quantity of the known universe and they proceeded to absolutely obliterate Jupiter and it's moon. None of it can be viewed as morally good action, they destroyed entire planets. The only thing stopping him from killing Garou was really Genos' core.
It feels like it's not just foreshadowing about what is to come in Season 3, but also OPM in general. That Saitama in this fight, has started to break the boundary between morally good and morally evil into the grey zone when he has so far been presented to us as morally good. And maybe explore further how far he's willing to go to retain his bonds with other people, because we only got a small taste about that; there really is no limit about how far he's willing to go to retain those bonds.
It is both sad and terrifying prospect.
Edit: More potential avenues of analyzation include the rock face identity (murata tweeted about heavenly rock cave door being opened), Garou's leggy pointing out of the wall like hes being swallowed by the current and only has one leg at the door and saitama coming out on top, but he's changed now.
(oh my god if they're actually somehow going to include garou fight in season 3 it would have to be 24+ episodes long I would die happy and the promo artwork did look promising, like the nuclear green background, long as manga content doesn't get cut and it's not rushed it would be insane season, unlikely to happen cuz volumes havent caught up yet but one can hope for split season...)
Also me rn:
#opm#one punch man#ONE#saitama#garou#psykos#opm manga panels#opm meta#good and evil#tweet#opm speculation
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abandoned WIP. i DO NOT remember where i was going with this lol.
****
Freshly home from Aaru, Atem made several startling advances in the field of phenomenology.
FIRST, gluttony: Yuugi was something of an anxious eater, wrinkling his nose at shallots and fishing little limp flags of green onions out of his ramen one by one by one by one by one by one by one by one by one - ad nauseam, in defense against it. Atem took over and ordered the goma-ae, because it glistened with tasty promise; Yuugi took over again, scrambled for Jounouchi’s coke, and scoured his tastebuds clean. Now, armed with his own far more invincible tongue, Atem explored the world in huge, gulping mouthfuls. It helped that Seto did not just have the leggy build of a horse but also ate like a horse and maybe had some kind of insane horse powers bestowed upon him by his last name: run forever, kick hard, freak people out just because. He and his credit card were ideal dinner companions because he said yes to everything: yes to the pig tongues, yes to the fish eyes, yes to the chapulines, oh hell yes oh my god try this to the blood sausage; having sampled the pleasures of death, they found the threatening tingle of fugu somewhat tame (lame, Seto muttered afterward, sulking on the ride home.) Yes to the everything pizza, hold nothing, hold my hand.
SECOND, sleep. Sweet Bastet and all her kittens, good Gods, o Holy and Most Merciful Ma’at: sleep! Without a body, there was no need to sleep; with a body, it was bliss. If Atem felt any guilty irony about being offered all the infinite sensory delights of life and choosing unconsciousness, he slept through it. Seto, who did not love sleep and squirmed out of cuddling, had to be bullied into opening the relationship for a third lover: twelve fat and purring pounds of fur, a foul-tempered stray who drooled on Atem’s chest and hissed at Seto for a few weeks, until Seto declared he was going to fight fur with fur and hissed back.
[short sexy bit under the cut]
THIRD - arousal, thank god. The impossible question, forever unasked: Yuugi, can I borrow your body for an hour? Specifically your fist, your hand lotion, and your, um, well, you know, your, uh, the - you know how I disappear every time you turn on one of Jounouchi’s video tapes, can you, um - well, short story long, it’s about Seto’s long legs, and he was looking especially annoying today, with that annoying way his hair falls into his annoying eyes and how he checks his nails in the back of class, lips crumpled into a moue of exquisite boredom, because none of this was card games or fantasy dragons, annoyed and so fucking annoying, and I’m so annoyed it makes me sweat, Yuugi, I’m incensed. Seto would stretch his long, long legs out under the school desk, cross his ankles with a chasteness so precise it was a sniper shot to the head and the crotch, a lethal crossing of ankles, and send Atem into conniptions of irritation, flouncing off into his Soul Room to - well, let’s call it brooding. Annoying bastard! Attempts were made, most of them fruitless.
But Atem was no longer condemned to frantic, desperate whacking, alone in his Soul Room, on asymptotic approach to orga/sm. Freed from both paradise and the Puzzle, he was hungry, he slept like the dead and woke up thrilled, he was ho/rny as - well, fuck.
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Do the other engines have secondary forms like Rook? Also Rook is adorable! and May I please give him headpats?
and your art is also making me more curious about vore so thanks for open that curiosity to me :)
I imagine all the engines have weird teratoma forms!
haha i just like to draw 'em and think about how they'd look with weird fluffy leggies and tummies...how the eldritch god who obsesses over Sodor likes to leak through into their normal world...
Here’s a James! he's kinda a big fancy tigercat...thing XD he likes to have his splendid, long, fireproof fur brushed on the daily. it takes 5 hours.
Rook always accepts pats, treats, and rubs....just. not the nose!!
also....your welcome and IM SORRY about the vore U uU
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Fidelity won epilogue
1 year later
Sig found him in the nightclub of the central casino on Solas 9. He was sitting on the dais in the VIP section just beyond the stage, sprawled lazily on a huge, gilt-trimmed throne with the words 'King of Aces' carved elaborately on the high back. The damned thing had actual jewels inlaid into the lettering.
He wore a green silk robe with thick, gold-embroidered trim at the neck and cuffs, a gold silk shirt tucked into tight black leather pants, and a pair of glossy pointed black boots. The shirt and robe hung open, exposing his upper chest and a heavy gold chain around his neck.
He looked ridiculous.
Dammit. No, he didn't. He should have. Instead, he looked decadent and sexy.
Sig stood in the shadows at the edge of the dark room and watched him hungrily. His hair had gotten long and he'd let it curl. It hung in a glossy cascade around his shoulders, thick and inky black.
She squeezed tight on their bond, not wanting him to sense her there. Needing to simply drink him in.
There were half a dozen people sitting on cushioned velvet couches around him, talking and drinking, but his attention was on the woman perched on the broad arm of the throne beside him.
The beautiful, leggy blond in the skimpy silver dress.
He was smiling at her lazily. The woman leaned down to say something directly into his ear, presumably to be heard over the loud thrum of the music. She was also using the opportunity to give him an unobstructed view of her cleavage.
And of course, he looked. Smiled a slow, flirtatious smile. Said something that made the woman giggle like a teenage girl.
Oh, for god's sake.
Sig turned and left the nightclub, passing through the wide double doors and into the brighter, more chaotic atmosphere of the casino itself.
She scoped the staff and picked out one of the suited security guards--a young-looking fellow with the nervous air of a new recruit–-and asked him where the 'king's' private rooms were.
She had no idea what race the man was; his skin was smooth and grey, hairless, eyes vivid green, with oblong pupils like a horse. In any case, he was certainly receptive to the smile she flashed and the suggestive quality of her inquiry.
He gave her a considering look, head to toe. The snug leathers and flight jacket seemed to give him pause. "Is my Lord expecting you, miss?"
"No," she did her best simper, "I was hoping to surprise him."
He looked at her clothes again, with open skepticism. "Well, you are his type, miss, but if you don't mind my saying so, you may wish to change into something a little more..." He coughed politely.
Clearly, 'my lord' had a reputation with the ladies. Sneaking unknown women into his private rooms did not seem unusual to his security staff. In fact, the man seemed eager to accommodate her, probably in anticipation of gaining favor with his beloved ruler.
"I understand you perfectly–-um, what's your name, sweetheart?" Sig touched his lapel very lightly and he flushed a little.
"Geon, miss."
"Geon, thank you," she smiled broadly. "Perhaps you know where I can get a dress of which my lord would approve? I'd be happy to put in a good word for you with the King if you'd be so kind as to help me get his attention...?"
Geon smiled a wide, boyish smile. "Yes, I think I can help you, miss."
... ... ...
Loki felt her presence the moment he opened the outer door to his chambers. The room was dark, which was unusual. The servants should have been through to prep for his nightly return.
"Lights," he said.
She was sitting in his favorite leather armchair, facing the door, legs crossed elegantly at the knee.
His heart did a funny little dance in his chest. She was a bright spot of color in the enormous white room–-gold and green against a winter landscape. Like the spirit of spring come to thaw the ice and snow.
Slowly, he closed the door and leaned back against it, crossing his arms as he took her in.
"That's a new look," he murmured, giving her his best trickster smile.
She was wearing a dress in the style so favored by the women on this planet: slinky, shimmering, low-cut. He allowed himself a slow perusal, blood heating.
"The color suits you," he purred.
It was green. His green. So were the strappy little heels she wore.
"Your guards wouldn't let me in unless I looked the part," she said, amber gaze cool.
No, it was icy. Shit.
"Are you still angry that I left?" he murmured provocatively. "I did say goodbye, if you'll recall."
He held her gaze until he saw that she did recall that goodbye, then he let his voice drop an octave and added silkily, "Rather thoroughly, in fact."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't give me that seductive look. You were supposed to meet me on Paradisus weeks ago."
She really was angry. Which, rather inconveniently, only turned him on more. "I may have gotten sidetracked," he replied, attempting to sound apologetic.
"Sidetracked," she repeated flatly.
"Yes..."
"You staged a coup and dethroned the so-called King of this ridiculous planet."
He held up a finger, "Solas is actually registered as a legitimate monarchy. And... it was more of a flash rebellion than a coup."
She waved him away with one hand, rolling her eyes. "I don't even want to know."
"I did rather expect you to come after me sooner," he admitted. "I may have gotten a bit carried away. This planet is..."
"Seedy? Disgusting? Teeming with leggy blonde prostitutes?"
Ah. She'd been to the club. "That woman was not a prostitute," he said defensively. "She's a dancer. One of my best performers."
Sig's left brow arched sharply on the word "my."
Damn. Loki came away from the door and crossed the room to her. She looked up at him from under her brows in warning.
"Did you sleep with her?" she asked very softly. Dangerously.
Her jealousy was more than a little gratifying, though he was careful not to show it.
"You ought to know the answer to that," he replied, shrugging out of his robe and tossing it towards the couch without looking. "However, I do have a reputation to uphold as the King of this little den of iniquity." He looked down at her legs, which were wonderfully exposed by the high slit of the dress. "I can't very well be seen rejecting the advances of beautiful women–-at least not in public."
Her lips compressed, twisted slightly. He tested the bond, got nothing but a trickle of her irritation. Time to switch tactics.
"I really do like this new look of yours." He murmured. Her breasts were mouthwatering, draped in that silky green fabric, her nipples clearly delineated. "And the tan."
She'd picked up a rich golden glow on Paradisus.
"Do you have tan lines?" he asked.
Some of the ice drained out of her demeanor–-no doubt due to the fact that he was sporting an erection, which he made absolutely no effort to hide.
"No," she said, just a touch sullen.
She let the bond open.
Sweet Mother of–-
It was there in her mind. Pictures that made his blood sizzle in his veins. Sig, lying naked in the sun. Swimming naked in crystal clear tropical waters. Sprawled on a big bed in a private bungalow, limbs very gold against the white sheets. Thinking about him. Wanting him. Waiting for him.
Shit.
"I...may owe you an apology," he began sheepishly.
"You think?" she looked up and there was a gleam of real hurt in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said, meaning it.
She actually pouted a little, which was very uncharacteristic–-and therefore all the more indication that he had royally fucked up.
He sank to his knees and scooted close to her, running his hands up her silky, silky legs.
"Oh, my beloved Goddess of Fidelity," he murmured in a tone of reverence, "Please accept this sacrifice," he bent and kissed her tenderly just above the knee. "In the name of the Allfather, and of the Allmother," he tugged her legs apart and trailed kisses upward along her inner thigh. "Please, oh heavenly goddess, be merciful." He looked up at her in adulation. "Please forgive me."
Her mouth quirked. "You suck at this."
Loki smiled slowly. His hands slipped under the dress and gripped her naked hips. "If sucking is what you require..."
"What? Loki, no."
He yanked her down in the chair and made her squeak in surprise. The position forced her legs to part around his body and left him kneeling between her open thighs.
"No undergarments," he said, on a surge of lust. "How convenient."
"Hey, I'm still mad at you," she scowled at him, gripping his forearms arms with both hands.
"You're not exactly fighting me off, though," he replied wickedly, bending to take her into his mouth.
She gasped.
Loki decided to dispense with the teasing and sucked her in the way he knew would bring her the fastest. She squirmed in the chair and clenched her thighs around him, senses bombarded, heat and hunger flowing to him through the bond.
Yanking her down farther, he pulled at the neck of the dress until one of her breasts popped free of the loose fabric. She was extra sensitive today–-perhaps because it had been so long. She made a delightful mewling sound when he palmed her breast and squeezed it gently.
The bond expanded. Passion had overridden temper. She wanted his mouth where his hand was and his cock inside her. The thought came crystal clear to him as she rolled her hips, pushing her sex into the wet-hot suction of his mouth.
Once like this first, sweetheart. Then I'll ride you to your heart's content, he promised.
Fingers, she cried in a low, intoxicated whisper.
Shh. Not this time. He sucked her harder, made her cry out. It's been so long. I want to feel how tight you are.
They'd been apart for weeks at a time in the past year, though never for quite this long. The first joining after such an absence was always incendiary. It was half the reason Loki kept leaving. That and perhaps-–if he was completely honest with himself–-because he wanted to see if she would take him back each time. If her feelings would falter in his absence.
They never did. In fact, they only seemed to grow.
Which was, much to his consternation, a completely mutual phenomenon.
Loki pinched her little nipple, rolled and pulled it, feeling how the two pleasures connected inside her like electrical currents. He sent her an image of how she looked to him, her dress rucked up and twisted around, face flushed, nipple bright and pink between his fingers. She shuddered and gasped.
He sent her images of what he wanted to do to her, too. Imagined bending her over the back of the couch, the sweet curves of her ass turned up to him, the mouth of her sex stretched around his cock.
She came on a high, reedy scream and he had to hold her down with both hands to keep his mouth in place while she bucked and shuddered against him.
"That was delightful," he said when she had settled, sitting back to look at her. "Forgive me now?"
She nodded, eyes closed, slumped in the chair like a drunk. "Don't ditch me like that again."
"Your wish is my command."
She snorted.
Smiling, Loki looked at her naked breast, at the bright, swollen lips of her sex. He took off one of her shoes and brought the warm curve of her foot to his groin, sighing with pleasure at the contact. She opened her eyes and looked down at him lazily.
"Don't hold back on my account," she said thickly.
He unzipped the leather trousers and took himself in hand, still looking at her and holding her foot against his hip. Her gaze dipped to his sex and she watched him stroke himself, pupils dilating with lust.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked.
"Nothing, I'm just trying to decide how I want you."
Her brows rose. "Not over the couch?"
"Mm. Maybe." He looked at her naked sex again. Released her foot and touched the open lips with his free hand, thumb gliding slowly against the glossy flesh.
She watched him for a moment, and then she kicked off her other shoe and lifted her legs, tucking her feet onto the edge of the chair, one on either side of her bottom, spreading herself wide to him.
Loki sucked in a breath and took hold of her legs. "Sig...Jesus."
She giggled. "Its funny to hear you using Earth expressions."
But Loki wasn't amused. In fact, he wasn't evening listening. He was looking down at the head of his cock as he positioned himself on his knees and pushed between the glistening folds of her sex.
They moaned together as he filled her, Loki still looking down, watching until his entire length was buried inside her.
"Oh God," she whimpered. "That's..."
Tight. Loki thought wildly. Good. So good.
It was hurting her a little, despite how wet she was. Something about the position, and the fact that is had been a little over a month since they'd last been together.
He looked down at her, folded tightly in the chair beneath him. Bent and kissed her deeply.
"Loki," she murmured when he released her. "Please, fuck me."
He groaned. She knew what it did to him, to hear such words. He gripped her thighs and held her legs back hard as he started thrusting, kissing her again at the same time. Devouring her.
She came within minutes, keening and reaching around her legs to clutch at his hips. He rode her harder as the orgasm radiated along the bond, and every thrust brought the tip of his cock straight to the mouth of her womb.
As her orgasm faded, she reached between their bodies, touched the place where his cock pistoned inside her, fingers curling loosely around his shaft. Her grip made his thrusts shallower by necessity, but the extra stimulation of her fingers was delicious.
Even more than that was the stimulation of her thoughts. She wanted to feel him going in. Liked to touch the stiff column and feel her own wetness on him. Relished the pleasure she gave him and the low, urgent sounds he made.
Gods, how he loved this–-loved her.
"Sig," he rasped, pleasure tightening his balls. "Coming!"
She gripped the base of his cock and made him gasp. He pumped into her hand, into her pussy, floored by the combined sensations, by the heady mix of lust and love she emitted.
"Come," he demanded roughly. "Come with me."
To his surprise, she cried out almost immediately, fisting around him, every muscle in her body tightening as he rode out his own orgasm in a series of uncontrolled lunges.
When it was over he pulled her hand away and buried himself to the hilt, nudging her cervix again. Stretching her. Making her clench.
He was leaning on her heavily, breathing hard into her neck. Rocking slowly into the still-fluttering grip of her sex. One of her feet slipped off the chair and he lifted it up again, not wanting to lose the incredible closeness the position afforded.
"Why have we never tried this position before?" he asked, breathless. "That was fantastic."
"Mm," she curled her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his ear, flexing around him. "Do it again."
He chuckled. "Give me a few minutes."
Her only response was to put her hands in his hair and gently scrape his scalp with her fingernails. He turned his head to kiss her languidly, suddenly swamped by how intensely he had missed her the last few weeks.
"Is the King ready to abdicate?" she murmured when he broke away.
"Mmm." He kissed her some more before withdrawing. "Do you really think this planet is disgusting?"
"I did when I thought you were screwing that dancer." She tugged his shirt up and he lifted his arms so she could take it off him. "It's actually quite decadent."
"For your information, that poor girl could never meet my standards." Pulling back to look down at her body, at his cock still wedged inside her, he murmured, "You've ruined me for other women."
Her breath caught as he gave her a long, leisurely thrust.
"Have I really?" she replied, with genuine surprise. "That's gratifying to hear."
He thrust again–-a slow, languid movement–-and she closed her eyes, lips parting on a sigh of pleasure. "I suppose that's the closest I'll ever come to a profession of genuine commitment on your part," she said breathlessly.
Loki stilled. "I wasn't aware you required such a thing."
"I don't," she opened her eyes to give him a heavy-lidded look of encouragement. "Keep moving."
He picked up thrusting again, rocking slowly. "But you do want that."
"Mmm?" she was starting to look unfocused. She stroked his arms and watched his abdomen flex with glowing appreciation. "I want everything you've got."
"I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing anymore," he said, withdrawing for another long, slow stroke into her body.
"Why are we talking at all?" She made a hoarse little sound of pleasure as he nudged her cervix. Damned if she wasn't getting close again already.
"It is nice, occasionally," he replied, watching her face go slack as the pleasure mounted. "It's something couples frequently do, or so I've heard."
She didn't respond and he simply rocked for a while, letting the pleasure build, thrust by thrust. Kissing and touching. Every movement slow and sweet as molasses.
"This is definitely my new favorite position," he murmured, listening to her ragged breath. "You're so sensitive."
She moaned, slapped his chest with one hand. "For god's sake, Loki, move faster."
He lifted her legs up over his shoulders and held her there, pumping a little harder, kissing the upper curves of her breasts, the base of her throat, dipping his tongue into her mouth.
"You are making the sweetest little sounds right now," he said darkly. "Makes me want to do something depraved."
"Oh?" she panted, "Like what?"
Smiling devilishly, he pulled completely out and drove himself home again, straight to the hilt.
Sig cried out sharply, grasping his upper arms, nails digging into his skin.
"So sweet," he growled, pulling out again.
"Please," she gasped, eyes heavy-lidded, face flushed. "You're going to kill me."
He thrust home.
"Ah!"
"Again?" He was nearing his own limit now.
She nodded. He leaned down to kiss her as he withdrew and she shook her head. "I want to see your face when you come."
That did it. Suddenly aroused to the point of madness, he started thrusting rapidly–-still pulling almost completely out, driving home with barely contained aggression. Holding her gaze as she began to bow and spasm beneath him.
Sig locked tight under a cascade of pleasure and Loki tumbled after her, orgasm stripping away everything but the woman in his arms: her amber eyes, her cries, her pleasure, the hot grip of her sex.
Love you... God... love you so much...
The words radiated along the bond and Loki drank them straight into his heart, his soul. Poured his answering feelings back to her wordlessly. Felt her take them.
Mine, he thought fiercely. Say you're mine.
"Yes," she whispered, pulling him down to kiss her as the pleasure ebbed. "Yes."
... ... ...
He carried her to the bed at some point. Stripped her down and made love to her leisurely on the white satin sheets.
She really didn't have any tan lines, and her skin was the color of honey. She'd gained a little weight since he'd seen her last. There was a softness about her hips and thighs that made him feel like a beast.
"Why do you keep biting me like that?" she asked, and the question was muffled because she had flung both arms over her face in the aftermath of their last orgasm.
Lying sprawled halfway across her legs, Loki looked down at his teeth marks on her inner thighs and said, "You taste good."
"I taste the same as always."
He bent and bit her on the hip hard enough to make her squeak. "Sweeter."
"You taste the same," she returned mildly.
He crawled up her body and laid directly on top of her, pushing her arms away from her face and pinning them gently to the bed so he could kiss her.
"You're squishing me," she mumbled, eyes still closed.
"Mmm," he kissed her again, "Do you want to go back to Paradisus?"
She shook her head. "You're a king now. You have a responsibility to your subjects. It would be selfish of me to take you away from them just because I want to screw you on a tropical beach."
Loki smiled. She didn't mean a damned word of it–-except the part about screwing.
"Sarcasm," he said dryly, "Charming."
"You love it." She squirmed under his weight and he slid off of her. Her arms came down and she rolled toward him, snuggling into his chest.
Loki still marveled sometimes at how natural it felt to put his arms around her. To be tender. Affectionate. Loving. Her adoration still floored him, too. He kept waiting for her to just wake up one day and realize she didn't want him anymore.
She was too good to be true, really. She'd never asked for more than he offered. Never once turned him away when he reached for her. Never failed to forgive him for his...less than admirable behavior. And now...
Sig kissed his throat and curled her arm over his waist, sighing with such contentment that he felt almost... giddy.
"I don't suppose you'd consider staying a while," he suggested, keeping his voice casual. Heart jumping traitorously. "You'd make an excellent queen."
"Of Aces?" she snorted. "You really ought to change the title. It's ridiculous."
He was quiet.
In a moment she pulled back, looked up into his face. "Was that a serious suggestion? You really want me to stay here and play queen to your king?"
"You did express a desire for commitment," he replied carefully.
Her look of confusion shifted to one of shock. Disbelief.
She sat up, hair a wild blond cloud around her head, breasts bobbing, nipples red from his mouth and hands.
"Loki, was that supposed to be some kind of proposal?" Her eyes abruptly narrowed. He was shielding like hell. "This better not be a joke."
"It was, in fact, a proposal," he said stiffly.
The long silence that followed was filled with the sound of Loki's heart beating wildly in his ears.
"A proposal of marriage," she said finally–-like it was somehow the most improbable thing she'd ever heard.
"Yes."
She watched his face intently. "Like, actual, legal marriage."
Her skepticism made him bristle. Or maybe it was the fact that she hadn't answered yet. "Yes, by all the Gods," he grated, "It's a simple enough concept."
She didn't react to his temper. Instead, she looked away, at the wall above the bed. At the dark window, the floor, blinking in shock the whole time.
Bitterness rose like an old enemy. Just as he opened his mouth to retract the offer she looked at him and said simply, "Alright."
Loki blinked. "Alright?" Was that it? Just Alright?
His heart didn't seem to care about the delivery though. It fluttered, rose.
"Yeah," she said face solemn. "Alright."
He sat up, temper evaporated, the first flush of elation buzzing along his nerve endings. "Yes. The word you're looking for is yes."
She smiled. Finally, she smiled. "Yes."
On a surge of raw emotion, he reached for her.
"Congratulations, my Sigyn. My Loki."
They both cursed and Loki snatched at the sheets, pulling them across his lap. Mad stood at the end of the bed, grinning from ear to ear.
"Mad!" Sig cried, not bothering to cover herself. "So inappropriate!"
"I am sorry, my Sigyn. I waited until you were done copulating."
"Tell me you weren't watching," Loki hissed, at the same time Sig said, "Don't say copulating."
"I did not watch," Mad replied politely. And then to Sig, "Is copulating not an acceptable term for what you were doing?"
"Oh my god. No, it just–-never mind," Sig waved her away. "Where is my dress?"
Mad bent and picked it up off the floor. Loki glared at her as she brought it around the bed to Sig.
"Are you angry, my Loki?"
"That was a private moment," he grated, still feeling the sting of vulnerability. The buzz of feelings yet unexpressed.
"You are embarrassed," Mad replied in understanding.
Sig made a muffled sound that closely resembled laughter. Loki shot her a glare and found her in a tangle with the dress pulled halfway over her head.
"I am not embarrassed," he growled, tugging the hem until the green fabric came unbunched and slid down into place.
"I am unfamiliar with marriage rituals," the Tolok explained apologetically. "Toloks do not marry."
"Right. No romantic attachments," he muttered.
Sig paused in the act of smoothing her hair. "How do Toloks reproduce then?"
Is this really what we're going to talk about right now?
Sig shot him a quelling look.
"Sexually," Mad replied unabashedly. "Partnerships are chosen based on genetic compatibility, and the children are raised by the collective." She bent to retrieve Loki's pants and smiled brightly at him as she handed them over. "I am very excited to learn about non-Tolok marriage rituals and child-rearing."
Sig made a little choking sound and Loki said, "Child-rearing?"
"Mad, we're not having children," Sig interrupted before the Tolok could reply. "I'm sterile, remember?"
Mad smiled. "You are not, my Sigyn."
Sig frowned. "I'm not. I'm not?"
Mad shook her head.
"How do you know this?" Loki demanded.
"I studied the timelines. In some of them, Sigyn has children."
Sig was floored. "If I'm not sterile, why haven't I conceived in all this time?"
"I do not know for sure, my Sigyn. Perhaps the conditions were not correct."
"Meaning?" Loki interjected.
"Sigyn's heritage is mixed. She is more than simply Aldurian and Asgardian," Mad shrugged. "Some species cannot procreate outside of specific environmental parameters."
Sig held up both hands in denial. "I think I'm done with this conversation."
Mad regarded her quizzically while Loki grappled with the new information.
"Mad," he started, heart pounding anew, "Whose children does she-–"
"Don't!" Sig cried sharply, clamping her hand over his mouth. The other hand she held up towards the Tolok. "I really don't want to know, alright?"
Loki tugged her hand from his mouth. "Why not?"
She sat back on her heels. "I–-because-–" she shrugged helplessly, "Some things are just better left unknown?"
Her emotions came to him in a tangle. Anxiety, hope, fear.
What was she afraid of?
He looked at her and imagined her growing round with child. His child. It brought a rush of intensely possessive feelings.
Then again, if there was another man in her future...
The thought turned his heart to stone. Abruptly, he understood her fear. Or at least, he hoped he did.
"Mad, get lost. I need to dress and...talk to Sig."
Sig looked to the Tolok. "I'll call you back in a little while okay? I want to hear how things have been going with the Tolok the last few weeks."
Mad nodded happily and popped into the aether.
"Do not watch!" Loki called after her.
"What's the matter?" said Sig, "Are you–-eep!"
Loki had her pinned to the bed in an instant. "I would like to consummate now," he said darkly.
"Um, that usually happens after the wedding, Loki."
"After, before, during," he shrugged. "I'm going to consummate the hell out of you." Grinning, he straddled her thighs and said, "Lift your hips."
"During?" she braced her hands on his arms, looking down between their bodies. "What are you do–-ah!"
He slid inside with a deep growl of satisfaction.
"How can you be this hard again already?" she asked breathlessly, watching.
The penetration was a bit shallow, but...he lifted her arms and held them above her head, thrusting hard. "It's been a month," he growled, "We've hardly taken the edge off."
Pinned and helpless, Sig could only watch as he rode her, squirming against the pleasure of it, the domination. "Next time I get to be on top," she panted.
The position made her throb all over with arousal, though. She could overpower him in an instant if she wanted to–-he had no illusions about that–-but she liked it when was he dominating. In fact, she liked everything he did to her.
"Would you want my child, Sig?" he asked roughly, watching her face.
She looked up at him, amber eyes already unfocused. "Huh?"
He thrust deep and withdrew. "You heard me."
"Loki–-ah!–-I already told you, I want everything you've got."
"What if it looks Jotun?" he demanded.
She made that low keening sound he adored so much, struggling against him. "I love your Jotun looks–-mmm–-ahh-–" she bucked, "God!"
Glowing with satisfaction, Loki rode her in a hard, controlled rhythm until she cried his name, bowed sharply, and shattered.
"I love you," he said fiercely, thrusting harder, rushing toward his own orgasm.
Her eyes widened and he realized, just as the orgasm took him, that he had never said the words aloud before.
When he lifted himself to look at her in the aftermath, her face was almost serene, but there were tears in her eyes.
"Say it again," she said quietly.
His heart pounded. Ached. He swallowed hard.
"Don't you dare argue," she whispered. "Just say it."
"I love you," he replied gruffly.
"Now ask me properly."
He balked for a moment. Relented. "Be my queen."
She laughed and he bent to kiss her hungrily.
"You're going to regret this, you know," he said a moment later.
"You think so?"
He grinned. "At least once a day."
"Hm. Well, that means you're going to have to change my mind at least once a day."
Laughing wickedly, he kissed her again, long and deeply. "I look forward to that."
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Out of Darkness, into His Marvellous Light
Mulder brings Scully to a weekend at Oxford. They reminisce together and realise quite how much they feel for each other.
Set in the post Millenium kiss early relationship times. Sorry if the switching between PoVs is confusing, thats just how it came out my brain. The music nerd in me had the piece Scully tears up to as Ireland's "Greater love hath no man" (listen to it, its so good, the latter half makes me want to climb a wall), which is also where I got the random title from. A good recording here:
https://youtu.be/ojHoU00rWDk
Mulder had plenty of good memories from his time at Oxford. He had been young, if not completely carefree, and thinking of that place provided many images of peaceful afternoons spent making the most of a rare sighting of sunshine. Of the unquiely student-y buzz of mad anxiety during a late night study session in the library or the peace of a cycle back from said library in the early hours of the morning, empty streets and birds begining to sing as he finally threw in the towel on an overdue essay. Memories too of Phoebe, before their relationship turned sour. Whispered declarations and giggling kisses in halls, how playful she was. That ridiculous evening by Arthur Conan Doyle's grave, her hand in his boxers and his lip between his teeth as he tried not to cry out.
Of course, for every one of those more lighthearted memories, there were also plenty of less good ones. Late nights lying awake, no birdsong loud enough to distract him from worrying about his sister, where she was, what more he could have done to save her. Memories of how things with Pheobe turned for the worse, how mocking and how cruel she could be, taking advantage of how smitten he was, and how eager to please.
The duality of these memories had been running through his mind these last few days, since he had recieved an invitation to an alumni weekend at his alma mater, so when Scully saw it, left out on his desk, and asked whether he was planning on going, he answered honestly that he was undecided.
Scully remained curious about Mulder's Oxford days, always amused by ludicrous images her mind supplied of a younger Mulder, a ridiculous pile of books in hand, always dressed in romantic linen shirts and tailored trousers, like something out of a film. She had yet to ask him to actually regail her much of these times, their relationship shift to newfound intimacy was still new and she didn't know if she could handle tales of Phoebe's unkindness that would fill her with righteous anger, or perhaps worse, tales of the good times with Phoebe which would fill her with a much uglier emotion. Or, god forbid, she may discover memories of another past flame, yet another leggy brunette for Scully to toss and turn over on the nights where Mulder wasn't there.
"I can take a plus-one" Mulder blurted out, mercifully yanking Scully from her rapidly spiralling thoughts. "Hmm?" She replied, still distracted. "I mean," began Mulder, clearly not having completely expected his previous words to come out, "it's a whole thing for two. Two person accomodation, a plus-one for the dinner-" he trailed off as he realised he was rambling, but looking into Scully's eyes and seeing only her patient smile, he felt emboldened to continue: "I'd really like it if you came with me, if you wanted to, of course."
"That sounds lovely, Mulder"
---
The flight had been long, but peaceful, and the promise of a long weekend away from everything that had made their lives so complicated had them both in an easy, if unusual silence for much of the journey. Watching the tension melt away from each other's faces, created a virtous cycle for the two agents, as seeing one at peace bought about a new wave of serenity for the other. In the taxi from the airport to the university, they sat unnecessarily entwined, Mulder lazily pointing out landmarks of interest with Scully's hand in his. He could feel the balance of his Oxford memories shifting, difficult memories fading to make way for thousands of images of Scully's smile.
They spent the early afternoon getting ready for dinner. They both showered, to rid themselves of that lingering travel feeling and Scully set about unpacking while Mulder explored the halls, announcing that this room was two staircases down from where he had lived in second year, and that the bathroom looked almost exactly the same as his had. Scully called out to him that it sounded like it was due for a refurb. "Har de har." he replied, and went to carry on his exploration.
"This kitchen is tiny, Scully! No need to worry about me putting mugs away out of reach in here" she smiled as she heard his gleeful shout from down the hall as she hung up his shirts. New though the sex was, the domesticity had come easily to the both of them, having spent so many years looking after each other. Having said this, she still felt a thrill whenever she woke to the smell of coffee and a dopey smiling Mulder handing her a perfect brew and she knew, because he had told her often, that he would never get over waking up with her in his arms.
Scully wore a simple black dress for the dinner, which Mulder insisted was anything but simple, and was infact, the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. She laughed at him and watched with intrigue as he took his gown and hood out of the cupboard, and set about fastening his hood to his gown and suit with a safety pin, his adorable face of concentration completing the look. Mulder noticed her curious smile and made a face "I know, it's all a bit silly, isn't it", concious of the fact that he was wearing all of this nonsense while she looked so stunning, and would no doubt be causing cardiac arrests to any elderly fellows they walked past. But, easily as ever, she allayed his insecuritys with a beaming smile and a simple comment; "Mulder, you look adorable."
They were both starting to feel rather silly from all the smiling, unused to such simple pleasures, but their smiles only continued to grow throughout the evening. Before dinner, a gong was hit and Scully found herself holding in laughter as a parade of elderly men walked in to sit at the high table, one reciting some latin before they all sat down to eat. Mulder noted her amusement and raised an eyebrow quizzically; "It's just all so surreal" she laughed "I don't want to sound like a tacky american tourist but I didnt think it would be so much like the movies". Mulder laughed "Yeah, you never really get used to it."
The food was delicious and they made pleasent conversation with the couples sat next to them, both slightly younger than them, Mulder explained the event was for alumni from his college from any year of graduation. He noticed Scully trying to subtly scan the room, a look of slight unease on her face, and leaned in closer "She went to a different colllege, Scully. I promise I wouldn't have considered coming to this if there was a chance of having to deal with that this weekend." Scully blushed, caught out, but smiled at how well Mulder knew her, and at the small sense of victory and ownership she felt at the dismissive tone he used when referring to his ex.
Well-fed, slightly tipsy and fairly exhausted from their journey, they returned to their room after dinner and both made a beeline for bed. Open as they were with each other, they both bemoaned a lack of energy to do anything more exciting on their first night in Oxford. From his pillow, Mulder proclaimed through a yawn that she would simply have to wear that dress again, because he couldn't live with himself if he didn't get to push it up around her hips and eat her out against a wall at least once in the dress' lifetime. Scully laughed at his wine-induced honesty and ever present obsession with her pussy and almost felt compelled to roll out of bed and put the dress back on, but his arm wrapped around her from behind, and an overwhelming sense of comfort lulled her to sleep before she had the chance.
---
"Mulder, oh my god, you're going to fall in!" Scully was squealing from within the punt as Mulder tried to remember what how to steer the thing. "Ye of little faith, Scully! I have done this quite a few times before, you know." He chose not to mention that he had indeed fallen in on one out of the five or so occasions he went puting during his degree, and had near misses on another two at least. He felt a pang of an unpleasant emotion as he wobbled and remembered the sound mocking laughter from Phoebe on his last punting outing, feelings of sogginess and shame.
As he looked down to Scully, however, he was once again reminded how different this was. Scully looked concerned, yes, but underneath that, she was smiling. It was a broad smile she used to allow herself only when he flirted with her over the phone, safely shielded from the vulnerability she felt under his gaze. A smile he had only seen a few times up until recently, during moments of particular emotional release, when her cancer went into remission, when he finally, finally, kissed her. Since then, he'd seen it more and more, and he found himself completely, irreperably addicted. That smile said that she trusted him, that she respected him and, incredibly, that being around him made her happy, a fact that was gradually tearing down some of his long-held self hatred, replacing it with yet more love for her. He'd yet to say those words to her, new as this all was, but as he looked at her face in that punt he knew, as he had known at many points throughout the last seven years, that he loved this woman more than anything else in the world.
"We're going to crash into that wall."
"Huh?"
"Mulder, if you continue to stare at my face instead of looking where we are going, we are going to crash into that wall." Scully sounded amused and Mulder quickly recovered and quipped back; "Scully, I can't be held accountable for the hypnotic effects of your eyes." She rolled her eyes and laughed.
As Mulder got more into the rhythm of things, Scully laid back in the sun and relaxed further. They moved slowly down the river, and she alternated between closing her eyes, basking in the sun and staring up at Mulder, watching the muscles in his arms flex as he pushed the stick, the quant, he had informed her, into the riverbed. He pointed out college buildings and gave fun facts, ranging from information about the history of the university to fascinating and sometimes hilarious tidbits about the personal history of Fox Mulder. He showed her the part of the river he fell into when trying to sneak into another college to hand in an overdue piece of work at 2am, the bridge where he used to watch the fireworks after exams in June, a field by the river which had been his favourite place to walk to if his mind grew too loud to cope with in the middle of the night. She tried not to get distracted from his charming tour by the aforementioned muscles, or by his lower lip; pouted impossibly more than normal as he concentrated on not crashing when they passed other punts, or by how serene he looked with the sunlight framing him from behind. She failed.
When they had passed half of the time on their hired punt, Mulder performed an admittedly impressive 180 degree turn, and asked Scully if she'd like to have a go for the journey back to the hire station. Curious, she agreed, and after a wobbly change over, she found herself stood at the back of the punt, trying to get to grips with how to steer. Mulder talked her through it patiently and understandingly, explaining how it was counterintuitive, but that she had to move the quant (just call it a stick, Mulder) in the direction she wanted to turn. She remarked with a laugh that it was a shame his usual teaching technique would likely end up with them both in the river, and they both smiled, remembering his baseball "lesson", their first almost-date. Excusing a few moments where her ingrained sailing techniques from childhood took over and she had to remind herself to push the quant the other way, she got the hang of things pretty quickly, and she remained in control of the punt for the whole journey back.
As she looked down at her passenger, she thought about how different he was from the boys she had dated at university, content as he was to lay back and allow her to take over, not making any snarky comments when she accidentally turned them the wrong way, or feeling the need to posture his masculinity, to be the one showing off. She found his easy acceptance of her control undeniably attractive and she told him as much once they were back on solid ground, walking back to his college. "Scully, I don't think there is a single aspect of life that would be made worse by you being in control." She raised an eyebrow up at him, her smile growing, and he laughed, "Yes, incuding in the bedroom."
"Is that so?" She questioned teasingly and he made a mental note to take her away more, to places where they didn't have to worry about being Agents Scully and Mulder, fighting the good fight and absolutely, definitely not distracted by caring for each other. "Yup." He popped the 'p' sound joyfully. "I have -uh-" He trailed off, unsure how much he wanted to give away here, his mind supplying unhelpful images of evenings spent alone on his couch in Alexandria, hand around his cock and desperate moans on his lips and he imagined Scully having her way with him, but, as ever, she helped: "Fantasised?" she prompted, and he found himself holding back a moan.
"Jesus christ, Scully." He looked around, but they were alone, the sun was setting as they walked down the cobbled street, arm-in-arm. "Yeah, fantasised", he let out on a breath after a second, and then, suddenly overcome with the need to do so, leant down and kissed her.
As they broke from the kiss he heard singing and he checked his watch. "5.30!" He exclaimed to her confusion. "That's a choir rehearsal for Sunday evensong, Scully. Its an anglican service, but they welcome all denominations and I think you'd really like it. It's at 6.00, we should be able to make it back in time!" She had been planning a hasty return to bed with him, but seeing his excitement, she agreed to accompany him to the chapel, the knowledge that this was something he thought she'd like making her sure it would be enjoyable.
---
As expected, the service was beautiful, Scully felt truly emotional to be in such a place with Mulder, a chapel he said he'd come to a few times during his degree, not for religous reasons per se, but to hear the music, and to feel a connection to something bigger than himself. Mulder found himself enjoying Scully's enjoyment more than anything else, straining his ears to hear her quiet singing in the congregational hymns, and feeling a swell of affection when he saw tears forming in her eyes at a particularly stunning piece of music from the choir.
After the service, they made polite conversation with the chaplin and congratulated the choir and organist on a wonderful performance, before making their way back to their room.
"That was perfect, Mulder." She was fully huddled into his side now; the sun had set and the summer clothes she wore for punting meant that mulders arms around her offered a welcome shelter from the cool night air. "Thank you so much for bringing me." She looked up at him and he smiled impossibly wider. "I knew you'd like it." He proclaimed triumphantly, as though he'd just been proven right about one his far-fetched theories and not about the rather unshocking revelation that his religious partner would enjoy a beautiful choral religious service. She didn't understand that the truth of what made Scully tick would always be as rewarding as any other truth he could hope to find, that each time he was the cause of a smile from her, it became the new greatest revelation of his life so far.
"Seriously," she turned to look at him as they stopped to open the door to their accomodation. "Thank you, for this whole weekend, for thinking to bring me along and for sharing all of this with me, its been magical." Mulder chuckled slightly and replied "Scully, of course I thought to bring you along, I had all but decided against coming unless I could pluck up the courage to ask you to come with me, I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else." And then, to diffuse the tension he added, self-depricatingly; "Besides, can you imagine how depressing this would have been if I was alone?" Scully was struck then with the tragic, if ridiculous, images of Mulder going through this weekend alone; safety pinning his hood alone in his room, sat alone at dinner, in a punt alone, always with those green eyes awash with tears and his beautiful mouth downturned in a sad little frown. The mental images were stupid; Mulder wouldn't have gone punting if he'd been here alone, and that look, that sad puppy look as she had come to think of it, was very rarely seen by anyone, let alone strangers at a dinner. It was a look she herself had only caught glimpses of when he hadn't quite got around to rearranging his features from how they had been in her embrace, his face over her shoulder or buried in her stomach where he felt safe to let it all out. It was a look that never failed to break her heart a little bit.
"God, you make me want to protect you." She let out, not entirely intentionally as they stepped into the room. He laughed at that, closing the door behind them and let out a slightly incredulous "What?" She replied, completely serious "Mulder, you have a tendency to look like a wounded puppy when you're sad-" he was fully laughing now "- and it always makes me want to hold you tight and tell you it'll all be ok." His laughter died down as he looked into her eyes and saw how much she meant what she was saying "I want to wrap you up in my arms, to stick to your side and stay there until you finally believe I'm never going to leave you."
"Then do that." he whispered, letting himself be vulnerable for her, just her, in the safety of this little room. "What do you think I've been doing these last seven years?" She smiled softly.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of all the time they'd spent together, of everthing she'd stuck with him through. "I love you, Scully."
"I know."
"You know?" he was slighly taken aback as she nodded with her same patient smile. "How long have you known?"
"Since the cancer." They were both whispering now, as though talking any louder would break the fragile agreement they seemed to have made to finally be honest about the way they felt this evening. He looked confused as he replied "But why didn't we- we could have been- that was so long ago" he finally got out, thinking of all the missed time, time he could have spent kissing Scully, loving Scully.
"I was scared, Mulder. I've never been good at letting myself love and be loved. And just when I had worked everything out and I was finally ready,-" she cut off there. She didn't need to say it, they both knew what, or who she was referencing and another unspoken agreement seemed to have formed that they wouldn't say her name, a stubborn rebellion or bold promise that Diana wouldn't spoil this thing that they had, this wonderful thing they had finally found.
Still, he felt the need to say something "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm sorry that I ever made you doubt it, how much I loved you, how much I am and have always been yours."
"Mine." Was all she replied as she pulled him down to kiss her. "Mine." it came out lower in pitch as she pushed him down to sit at the side of the bed and kissed him harder, a knee on either side of his legs. He moaned into the kiss as she pulled his hair, and he remembered their conversation from earlier. Oh yeah, Scully in control was a very good thing.
Moving away from his lips, she kissed and bit up his jaw as his breathing became uneven. "Shirt off, Mulder." She whispered directly into his ear and he found himself taking off his shirt, without even really conciously deciding to do so. At her request, his shoes and socks were miraculously also off and kicked across the room. She pushed him to lie down on the bed and straddled his stomach, biting at his collarbones as her fingers played with his nipples. He noticed that his hips were moving under her, at the same time also noticing quite how uncomfortable his jeans had become. Mercifully, at that point she asked "Would you like to lose the jeans, Mulder?" He nodded almost comically fast and, on a laugh she said "Go on, then". After the most frantic jean removal he'd ever performed, he found himself dimly remembering the pscyhology lectures he had attended here on neuronal plasticity. He wondered what his professors would have to say about the idea of his brain developing a Scully pathway, bypassing any normal mental processes. If it makes Scully happy, he does it, all other brain function be damned. He thought they'd probably tell him that was ridiculous, and then her hand was in his boxers, pulling his cock out, and he stopped thinking at all.
"Scully, please." He whined. He was whining already, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Please what, baby?" He let out a truly embarassing sound at the use of the pet name, alongside her hand tightening around him, but he realised he certainly couldn't care less about the sounds he was making, not when they resulted in a look in Scully's eyes that could only reasonably be described as ravenous.
"Please, Scully, I'm not- it's too much" He was panting, and he closed his eyes tightly to try to cope with the pleasure he was feeling. "Aw, baby" Oh god not that tone. "Poor Mulder, can't cope can you?" Absolutely not, no "Scully-" with one last little squeeze, she let go of his cock and he sighed gratefully. He opened his eyes again, no longer feeling immediate panic at the idea of going off early and was met with a Scully grin. Not the same patient, calm, joyous smile that he'd seen so many times that weekend, but a wide grin, full of mischief. He couldn't remember seeing it before, but he got the distinct impression that it was a sight that would forever more be accompanied by a general feeling of "oh my god, this woman is going to kill me" and he found himself enamoured with it.
She moved down his stomach, and positioned her entrance over his obscenely hard erection, rocking back and forward against it as he whimpered. His eyes clamped shut again and, as she reached down to take hold of his cock, slowly sinking down onto it with a quiet moan, she also leaned down to bite his irresistable bottom lip. His hands were twisting in the sheets beneath them as he began to let out low, desperate moans. "Look at me." She said against his lips, and his eyes opened, his brain's Scully pathway working as intended. She sat up and began to ride him harder and more quickly and his head tipped back, his moans increasing in frequency. Her Mulder was absolutely wrecked, and she never wanted to stop seeing him like this. She noted to herself that she would have to ask him what else he fantasised about, to recreate those as well, if this was what the result would be.
Scully knew she wasn't going to be able to finish before him, as Mulder looked to already be having considerable difficulty holding back and, while she was certainly enjoying herself, she wasn't close yet. "Its OK Mulder," She said, more gently than her previous statements. "I want to watch you come." At that, a louder moan came from Mulder, and she noticed his hips had started making little thrusts up to meet her. "Are you going to come for me?" A clearly ridiculous question, to which they both knew the answer, but which also seemed to drive Mulder completely insane as he nodded and moaned out "Yes- yes Scully, yes, please, yes, Scully-" Oh wow, he was completely gone, and she was addicted. His hands moved to her hips, holding on and trying to thrust up into her, but she couldn't have that, so she grabbed them and pushed pushed them back down into the matress by his wrists. The sound that he let out in response to that convinced her that maybe, that was exactlly what he had been hoping for. The whine that he let out when she informed him of her suspicion made her certain.
As she looked up at his face and saw the tension there, his eyebrows knitted together, she knew he didn't have long left. "So beautiful beneath me, baby." a moan from Mulder, she continued; "All whiney and desperate, aren't you, Agent Mulder?" And she hadn't really meant for his title to come out like that but suddenly Mulder was practically roaring as his back arched and he came into her. Scully hadn't been lying when she said she wanted to watch him come. While they had had plenty of sex since their relationship began, his focus on her pleasure meant that, during this moment, she was often either mid-orgasm, or recovering from one and as such, rather distracted. Free to fully focus on the sight before her now, she attempted to commit it all to memory. His eyes, still open, apparently trying very hard to follow her earlier instruction, seemed impossibly wide as though shocked by the pleasure she was causing in him. His mouth hanged open as his primal roar turned slowly to a whine as his orgasm stretched out. His chest was flushed and heaving with heavy breaths, his eyebrows were pinched together, his neck, his thighs, his shoulders all tensed, then relaxed as she moved off him. She had never seen him so relaxed as the few seconds after he came until- "Scully? You didn't come."
"That's alright Mulder," she smiled "I promise I had plenty of fun" she really did. "But I want you to come, Scully." He sounded almost petulant and she giggled. "Mudler I don't think you could move a single muscle in order to achieve that right now." She remarked as she looked down at his spent form, with a not insignificnant swell of pride at what she'd reduced him to. "I think you'll finding I'm moving the only muscle I need, right now" he responded with a cocky smile, before sticking his tongue out and wiggling it about a bit, to make sure she understood. "Oh really?" she began to move up his body and he let out a pleased hum "Sit on my face, baby" he winked and she laughed at her stupid, stupid, sexy man.
As she lowered her sex to his lips, he reached up and eagerly closed the distance, resulting in a surprised moan from Scully as he licked through her folds. "God, you're wet" he mumbled into her and she realised this really wasn't going to take long, watching him come had done a lot for her. She thought briefly again of the differences between mudler and her college boyfriends, who often came before her, apologised half-heartedly and quickly dozed off, not even considering doing anything about it. Boyfriends who wouldn't have dreamed of letting her sit on their faces. She laughed as she thought of how Mulder had responded when she asked if he'd let her. "Let you?" he'd said with wide eyes and a huge dopey smile on his face and she'd laughed. He'd only repeated that phrase "Let you?" growing louder more and more incredulous until she stopped him and replied "I guess thats a yes". She'd squirted for the first time that night.
At the sound of her laughter, Mulder briefly stopped his movements and asked what was so funny. She explained what she was thinking about and he responded with a raised eyebrow "You're thinking about your college boyfriends when my tongue is in your pussy?" She didn't get a chance to reply that no, she was thinking about how much better than them he was, before he honest-to-god growled and took her clit into his mouth. Her moans became higher in pitch and got louder as he sucked on her clit, flicking his tongue across it until she came with a shout of his name.
Spent, she flopped down next to him on the bed and leaned over to turn off the light, before returning to lying down on her back. He moved in for a cuddle, one of his arms and one of his legs draped over her and his head on her chest. Her arms moved down to hold him; it seems appropriate that she be cradling him, protecting him tonight just like she'd admitted she always wanted to.
Exhausted from the weekend and tonights excursions, in the dark of the room, the emotions flowed with ease.
A yawned murmur: "Goodnight Scully, I love you."
A tentative whisper, but the strongest words he'd ever heard: "I love you too."
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#HendallReunited
prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty
Word count: 5.2k
Warnings: language, sexual content, angst
Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.
He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.
Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.
The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.
She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.
Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.
The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.
Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.
This time - it was really fucking bad.
The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.
It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.
He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.
At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.
**
Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.
He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.
“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.
“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.
Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.
Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame.
Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.
“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.
This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.
He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.
“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement.
“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.
“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.
“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.
Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.
“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.
He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.
**
Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.
He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.
Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.
She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.
Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!
He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.
Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.
—
Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.
Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.
Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.
They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.
Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.
Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.
He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.
“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.
“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.
She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels.
Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.
Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”
Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.
“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.
Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.
“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.
She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”
Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.
“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.
“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.
“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.
“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.
He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”
“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.
Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”
Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”
His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.
“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”
Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”
He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.
“You will be, you-“
They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.
“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.
Fucking shit.
**
Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.
But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.
Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.
“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.
They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.
They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.
“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”
She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”
He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.
“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”
Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers.
When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.
“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”
He nods, apprehensive.
“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.
Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.
**
The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.
“Where’d Y/N go?”
He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.
“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.
“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.
“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.
“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”
“Harry-“
“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.
All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.
Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.
—
The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.
He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.
Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.
Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.
He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.
“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless.
“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.
“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.
Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom. Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.
Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.
Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”
Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.
“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.
She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”
“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.
Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.
What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.
“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.
“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,” Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.
“I’m goi-“
She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”
The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.
“Baby-“
“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.
He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.
He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.
Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.
He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.
The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.
His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .
“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.
She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.
After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.
He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.
It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.
She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear.
That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.
Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”
He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”
Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her.
It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.
She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.
He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.
*
He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.
Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.
He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.
There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.
Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.
Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?
He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.
The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.
Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025
With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles
The second one was simple and read across the chest:
I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.
He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.
They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.
“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.
“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.
“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.
Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”
“Want it, wan-“
He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again.
“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.
The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.
Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”
He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.
Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.
The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.
One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.
The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.
Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”
She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.
Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”
Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.
It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.
“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.
His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”
The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.
“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.
She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”
“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.
“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”
She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”
Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.
“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”
“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”
Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.
He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.
“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.
“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.
“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife.
Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”
Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”
“Okay?” She repeats.
“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.
“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.
It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.
Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.
—-
Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.
“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.
“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.
“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”
Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”
“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat.
He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.
“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.
“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.
Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction.
“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”
The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?”
Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.
“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.
—
Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.
It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.
“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.
“In here!”
Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.
“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”
He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”
“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.
“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”
Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.
Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.
“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.
“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.
“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.
“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.
“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.
“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.
THE END
#harry styles#harry styles fic rec#fic rec#harry styles masterlist#harry styles writing#harrystylesfanfic#harry styles imagine#fanpic harry#harry styles prompt#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles drabble#harry styles blurb
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hiiiii !!! if you are accepting requests at the moment, can i ask something about reader and tom expecting a baby, one day while he’s drunk she sees him flirting with another women and when she confronts him he snaps at her and tells her he’s not ready for this “shit”. So they broke up and broke contact for months, until he shows in her apartment regretting his words and they talk but she suddenly at that moment gets into labor?!? I remember seeing a concept similar in a movie but I would love if you couldn’t bring it to life! Thank you so much in advance, appreciate your work a lot 🧸🤎
right so I loved this so much it has become a multiple parter and im not even going to apologise. so thanku so so much anon for getting me out a little rut!!!
summary: when toms caught out all hope looks lost - probs part 1 of 3 but it could get a bit longer too lol
warnings: serious angst, reference to abortion, cheating, a whole lot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hi babe, just to let you know Yamna’s invited me out for dinner this evening so don’t worry if you get home early and im not back! I love you x”
It was a spur of the moment plan, which was a rarity recently. The past 5 months since you’d found out, you could name barely 5 occasions you’d been out past 8 oclock- trading your heels for fuzzy slippers and dresses for massively oversized tops and joggers. It wasn’t how you had expected to be spending the summer before your 25th birthday but it was now your life. The rooftop bars, the wild nights, the get aways had all sort of been cancelled for… for the rest of your life.
Because an 8 month pregnant belly isn’t something you can ignore.
Sure…. it wasn’t the plan. Not the plan to be pregnant with your boyfriend of only 6 months, who at the time you didn’t even live with. But you were making it work. And now, you were just excited. It was the start of a new story with Tom, and you’d got past the phase of being sad and mourning your youth. Because the little bubba inside of you, she was pretty awesome and you really couldn’t wait to meet her.
So yes, you had been home alone eating ice cream from a tub when Yamna knocked on the door. She’d been one of your best mates for as long as you could remember so when she’d turned up unannounced with mascara smeared under her eyes you’d cancelled your plans of a pathetic alone evening. Her boss had just given her the sack - which was no surprise. He was a backwards tory old git who couldn’t handle the fact Yamna was a woman doing the job better than he could ever dream of.
So yes, you’d suggested going out to the fancy new bar down the road - to celebrate the fact she no longer had to put up with the arsehole. Obviously you couldn’t drink and neither did Yamna, but you go to a bar for the atmosphere - and the selection of mocktails they had was insane.
Your boyfriend Tom was already out, he said he had a meeting and then dinner with some execs he needed to shmoosh. Of course you didn’t mind, but he had been working a lot recently, in order to be able to have the time off when your baby girl arrives.
So after sending a little text and giving Yamna another hug to try and turn the evening from disappointment to celebration you walked out the door with a smile on your face. Maybe you could pretend, just for an evening to not be pregnant and whale-like?
///////////////////////////
The bar was just a 10 minute walk so it wasn’t long before the two of you were soaking up the atmosphere. It was all decorated in a rustic fashion, with old exposed wood and dangling lightbulbs from the ceiling and the drinks were incredible. The type that have dry ice or flames or some other sort of fantastical display of edible decorations. Even Yamna had perked up, especially when a guy from the table across had bought you both a round of drinks.
“I’m just gonna pop to the loo.”
“Do you really need the toilet or do you just want to parade infornt of the fit rich man who keeps looking at you?”
“ Is both an option?” You laughed as Yamna slipped off her stool, winking rather dramatically as she did so. She was unbelievable - but at least this way she wasn’t thinking about her work, or lack thereof, anymore.
Happily you sat scrolling though your phone, seeing that tom had messaged you with an okay, before flicking through instagram.
And that was where the happiness ended.
For in a hurried manner, with a face looking a lot more ghosted than when she left, Yamna took her seat again.
“Are you okay?” Immediately your worry took over, the way she was biting her lip and not meeting your eyes not helping.
“I um yeh-yeh. Just I think I saw Tom.”
“Tom as in my Tom?” Her almost guilty looking nod had your scrunching your eyebrows, why was it such a big deal Tom was inside?
“He didn’t see me I don’t think but er… he just looked pretty close to a girl and I-“
To be honest you stopped listening at that point, heart dropping out the bottom of your chest. Because it made sense, he had been so distant recently and even if you’d been lying to yourself that it were work - this seemed much more likely. Whilst nodding along, pretending to listen to Yamna, instead your attention was solely focused on fiddling with the promise ring he’d got you after the two of you decided to keep the baby. He’d been so committed, so ready for this unexpected news. He’d said he was in for the long haul.
“Y/n?”
“sorry I um… it’s probably just a work colleague he needs to sweet talk. I’ll um-I’ll just go say hello.”
“I’m coming with you.” She spoke astutely, very much forcing herself into the situation.
“No no I’ll… I’ll come back if I need you, just wait here.”
Her face was so grim and destitute, as much as you were pretending it was okay - you knew it wasn’t. Before Yamna could protest further, you slipped off your seat ( clumsily thanks to the elephant belly) and walked with fake confidence back inside.
It took you barely 3 seconds to hone in on Tom, call it mothers intuition. He was on a booth in the corner with 5 others on his table but none of whom you recognised. It was 2 other guys and 3 girls - the six all paired off in mathcingly initimate conversations. Apart from that you payed almost zero attention to the others, attention solely focused on your boyfriend and the girl he had his arm round.
She was everything you weren’t. She was skinny - you, as previously mentioned, looked like you had a beachball stuffed under your top. She was blonde with sleek and perfectly styled waves at the tips of her long her - yours was thrown into a messy bun due to the last minute plans.
Most importantly - right now she was wrapped in Toms arms, whilst you stood alone watching.
God knows what came over you, but with confidence you never normally had you marched up to the table, just waiting at the end. One of the men you didn’t recognised, arrogantly asked you ‘can I help you’ - but you completely disregarded it, eyes solely fixed on Tom. He took a moment more to look away from the leggy girl, but as soon as he did his eyes grew massively wide.
“Y/n I-I-“
“Fancy bumping into you, I thought you were out with work executives?” Frantically casting his gaze across the table, you could see the cogs whirring to try and come up with an explanation.
“No I-I was but then Charlie here came over, we used to be mates at school and-“
“Oh fuck off Tom., I cant deal with this right now.”
You didn’t even have the energy to listen to his clearly fake excuses as to why he’d landed himself in that situation. You also certainly did not have it in you to maintain the strong face, you could feel everything shattering inside of you.
Because it was so blindingly obvious by how he had acted. You’d caught him out and you both knew it.
And it fucking hurt like hell.
So you exited the bar as fast as physically possible, hearing the shouts of both Yamna and Tom behind you. You didn’t know what you needed in that moment - except that neither of them were the answer. Tom though, presumably the faster of the two, managed to catch up - grabbing your arm to make you halt in the road.
There was this moment between the two of you that time almost seemed to freeze. The two of you, in an otherwise pretty empty residential street, at 9:30 at night, in a moment that you would never have again. From your point of view, you saw the slightly bloodshot and bleary eyes, widened with panic and fear. For Tom he saw the floods of tears down your cheeks, which you hadn’t even noticed were freely streaming.
But in that moment there was, at least, the slightest bit of peace. The slightest bit of hope - that he could explain, that he had some ludicrous but valid reason for the situation you had walked in on. Just a smidgen of hope that this were recoverable.
But then he had to open his bloody mouth.
“Y/n I swear nothing-“
“That didn’t look like fucking nothing!”
“It was I swear! We just-“
“Tom this is your one and only chance. I don’t care if your off your face, if you don’t give my a miracle of a reason as to what the fuck THAT was - then I’m gone.”
“Don’t say that Y/n, you don’t mean th-“ He tried to grab your hand which you snatched away, like you had just scalded it on a hot plate. Like he had hurt you.
“I swear to god I’ve never meant anything more. So cut the shit.”
“FIne-fine! Um so we were at the meeting and then on the way out I bumped into George and hes been a good mate of mine for years.” All you did was hum, arms crossed and making sure you had a metre of distance between the two of you.
“So he said god you look like you need a drink and I agreed because its been stressful as hell recently.”
“Oh its been stressful; for YOU has it? I’m so sorry Thomas, has it been hard for you while i’ve been throwing my lungs up with morning sickness? Has it been stressful that I’ve been running on zero hours sleep because she kicks me all bloody night? ” Your words were laced in a posioned sarcasm, to which Tom just stammered to.
“Please just let me.” Given he was supposed to be fighting for you, he sounded pretty darn defeated already.
“I said yes to the drink.” He skipped out the bit that had angered you, to which you rolled your eyes at. “And one turned into two and more and then I don’t know-“
“Your going to have to try a lot harder than that.” You deadpanned, taking a small step further back still.
“I mean it! The girls were all his friends and we were just talking.”
“Just talking? All pressed up and arms round her?”
“Yes!” As indignant as he retorted, it didn’t not make up for what you had seen with your own eyes.
“Your such a bullshitter Tom!”
“God why wont you just listen to me?” He cried, wobbly doing a little 360 on the spot, in what appeared to be exasperation.
“Because your just spouting fucking lies! And you try and blame it all on poor little tommo being stressed which is-“
“I HAVE BEEN! Running round after you! I’m just tired of this shit!!! So kill me, for having one night of freedom!”
Tom was too deep in his angry lecture to take any notice of you. Which is why, once finished, he waitied, breath heavy and nose flaring. He was waiting for you to scream back at him. To give it back. He was too drunk to notice the change in your demeanor.
“I’m tired of this shit.”
It was just reverberating round your head. Again and again and again. He was tired of your relationship and you hadn’t even become parents yet. He was at his wits-end and the baby was still unborn. What the fuck was going to happen when baby arrived? Clearly there was no hope. It was dead. Your relationship was dead with no chance of revival.
Because he’d said it. Your relationship was shit, and nobody can put up with something they hate for that long. Not 18 years. Not while bringing up a child.
So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.
“Don’t follow me.”
Not now, not ever.
?to be continued?
~~~~~~~~~~gahhhh I hope u enjoyed! I also REALLY CANNOT THINK OF A NAME FOR THIS MINISERIES --> if anyone can think of something pls inbox me!!! ~~~~~~~~
tom taglist: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol
#tom x reader#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland angst#tom holland one shot#tomholland#tom holland#tom holland imagines#tom holland oneshot#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#tom holland angst#angsty#pregnant!reader
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My Forever and Always
Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader
Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, marriage, fluff, small amount of cursing,wedding, mentions of pregnancy
Summary: As you walk up the isle Marcus remembers your life together.
Comments and reblogs are really appreciated 🥰
Marcus was nervous! His palms were sweaty and his heart was pounding in his chest, that little voice in his head filling him with doubt. What if you have decided you didn’t want him anymore, didn’t want to spend the rest of your life with him. He goes stiff as the wedding march begins, his brother leans in whispering into his ear.
You gotta turn around man, she’s stunning. You lucky son of a bitch!
He takes a deep breath and slowly turns around only to be met with your beautiful smile. It makes your eyes shine and he’s taken back to that moment when you first met.
He agreed to go out tonight with his old band mates, they’d wanted to play at a local bar for old times sake and had roped him in. The nerves had kicked and his palms were sweaty, but as soon as they stood on stage and the music started, it was like they never stopped playing. Walking off stage he makes his way to the bar, people complimenting his playing as he passes. A leggy blonde approaches him with a hundred watt smile and a finger twirling a strand of hair. She’s very obviously flirting and he’s trying his best not to look at her huge breasts, which is made hard by the fact that there practically spilling out over her dress. Suddenly he’s being shoved into her.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you.”
Turning towards you he’s frozen. He’s mesmerised by your eyes and how they shine when you smile. Completely forgetting about blondie he offers to buy you a drink. You both spent the rest of the night getting to know each other, swapping numbers as you both say your goodbyes, but it was that smile that he couldn’t stop thinking about.
He tries to hold back the tears as your father offers him your hand.
Marcus, I couldn’t have asked for a better man for my little girl. Just promise me you’ll always be there for her.
He just nods at your father, unable to take his eyes off you. Your dress was simple, white lace with a love heart neckline and a long veil.
“Hi baby.”
“Hey. You look beautiful baby.”
You blush! He smiles, you never were able to take a compliment. Your hand is warm in his as he rubs circles into you, goosebumps forming on your arms. You were always sensitive to his touch.
He was impatient as he burst open your bedroom door with his foot, your legs circled around his waist. You’d been out at his Christmas party at work and that dress you wore had him hard within seconds. He almost lost it when you whisper that you weren’t wearing any panties. You were practically dragged out of the building and into a taxi.
He manages to pull away from you to strip off his clothes and allow you to do the same. Once you remove your shoes he’s on you, pinning you to the bed. Marcus loves to take his time, to pour all his feelings into making you feel good. His hands run up your legs and you shiver at his touch, goosebumps forming on your skin. He pushes your thighs apart as he lowers his face to your mound. His nose, a feature he hates, always hit the right spot as he kicks through your folds. Your hands grip the sheets as your back arches off the bed, his name rolling off your tongue. He loves to watch you come undone. He kisses his way towards your lips, stopping to suck on your pebbles nipples on the way. You look at him with such love and devotion in your eyes that he wants to ask you to marry him now, but he won’t. He has a plan for that.
“I love you Marcus.”
“I love you too baby.”
Instead he lines up and slowly thrusts into you and although he wants to fuck you so bad he also wants to take his time, savour the feeling of being with you. He moves in and out of you, his hips thrusting into you over and over. He knows your close by the little noises your making and you grip onto his back as he continues to hit that sweet spot.
“Fuck Marcus…..just like that….don’t stop!”
He’s close to his own climax and the feel of your cunt clenching around sends his over the edge, coating your walls with his seed. He cleans you both up before climbing under the duvet with you and cuddling as you both drip off to sleep.
I now pronounce you husband and wife.
He kisses you and the guests all cheer and clap and you smile into the kiss. He holds your hand as you both turn to walk down the aisle. You smile at his mother as she has tears in her eyes, his father handing her a tissue and he’s transported to when you first met them.
You were fidgety and your hands kept pulling at your dress, until he reached over and laced his fingers with yours.
“There going to love you baby, I promise.”
You just nod at him, unable to speak. He helps you out of the car and you both walk up the drive towards the house, his hand on your lower back. His mother answers the door and she immediately pulls you into a hug.
“Oh darling I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so good to finally meet you.”
“Oh thank you, it’s lovely to meet you too.”
You’d bonded straight away with his mom laughing over baby pictures of him. His father patted him on the back.
“I think you’ve finally found your one. She’s quite the women, I’m happy for you son.”
“Yeah she is. I really lover her dad more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.”
“Well whenever your ready, I have your grandmother’s ring kept aside for you, just ask.”
“Thanks dad.”
The drive home you were so much more relaxed, rambling on about how you were meeting his mom for lunch during the week and he couldn’t help but smile. He moved his hand from the wheel and placed it on your thigh giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Love you baby.”
Marcus my baby brother, I’m not gonna lie when you called me up the day after meeting Y/N and told me you’d met the one, I was a little sceptical. You see ladies and gentlemen my brother is and old romantic soul and has dreamed of having a wife and family for, well as long as I can remember. He has a broken marriage and ex fiancé who he thought were the one, so you can understand my hesitation. I’ve never been happier to have been wrong. I knew from the moment I saw them together that Y/N was his person. She brings out the best in him and supports him in everything he does. They fit together like a puzzle piece. So baby brother and the new Mrs. Pike, I wish you both a life filled with love and happiness and loads of kids.
You wipe the tears that have formed in your eyes and Marcus smiles adoringly at you before leaning in and kissing you softly on the lips. His hand intertwined with yours, fingers running along the wedding band that ties you to him. His wife! He thanks whatever god is up there that his life led him to you, that Sarah cheated, that Theresa picked Jane. If none of that had happened he would never have met you and right in this moment he can’t picture a life without you.
“Everything ok there husband?”
Snapped out of his thoughts he smiles brightly at you, “everything is perfect, wife.”
The band announce it’s time for the first dance and he offers you his hand and leads you to the dance floor. He twirls you before pulling you in close an arm wrapped around your waist, your head resting on his chest.
“You know I was thinking about the first time we met.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Hmm, how you captivated me with that smile.”
“Really I thought you were captivated by the booby blonde.” You snort a little as you laugh at his red face.
“I eh….I well..”
“I get it, you were until I came along and the rest as they say was history.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Imagine it could be her you married if I hadn’t of showed up.”
“Never! I would have noticed you.”
Your family and friends have begun to join you both on the dance floor and Marcus doesn’t think he could be any happier. The band cut the music and the lead singer speaks.
“Ladies and gentlemen the bride has arrange a little surprise for her husband so if you can all look towards the projector screen.”
Marcus turns to you surprise in his face. “You really need to see this, so look.”
It’s pictures and videos of you and him as babies, children, teens and young adults in college. Then of you both together, right up until today. The last picture is of you opening a box, revealing a pregnancy test and baby grow that says baby Pike coming summer 2022. There’s cheers and gasps in the crowd and Marcus just looks down at you.
“Is this real? Are we having a baby?”
“Yep….surprise.”
He lifts you up and spins you around before lowering you back to the ground.
“Baby I’m so happy right now….we’re having a baby.”
His hand goes to rest on your stomach, your foreheads touching.
“You have given me everything I’ve ever wanted Mrs. Pike and I love you so much.”
“We love you too.”
Permanent tag list: @lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @alberta-sunrise @dihra-vesa @pintsizemama @athalien @loserrlauraa @thorins-queen-of-erebor @pascal-rascal424 @ikinmahlen @pascalisthepunkest @dindjarinneedsahug @almaeunice @jediknight122 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @colorlesswhispersunknown @stevie75 @rosie-posie08 @jediknight123 @hauntedmama @greeneyedblondie44 @prettylilhalforc @giselatropicana @the-mandalorian-066 @spanishmossmagnolia @phoenixhalliwell @sherala007 @its--fandom--darling @donnaa @javierpinme@luxmundee @littlemisspascal @hayley-the-comet @ezras-channel-rat @heartofjakku @tintinn16 @amneris21 @avengers-fixation @drinkingwhileblogging @evyiione @goddessofsprings @mylovelycomandante @pastatomata @pjkimrn @1#FreakShow @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @paintballkid711 @Hocuschlocus @allthe-ships @thewintersoldierswife @practicalghost @tanzthompson @scorpio-marionette @pscalwhiskey @kirsteng42
#pedro pascal#marcus pike x female reader#marcus pike x reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#the mentalist fanfiction#marcus pike
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Hmm.. kind of a random thing but that's how my brain works sometimes but hear me out! The Bros (plus undatables and Luke if you want) get turned into cats. What type of cat would they be, how would mc react, and how would they react to being a cat.
I had SO much fun writing this one. Thank you for this excellent prompt 💗
This is just the demon bros getting turned into cats, but I might make a part two with the undateables! :D
~
Lucifer
Oh he’s going to be so pissed off.
Seriously, even as a cat, his murder-death-murder-death stare is beyond intense. He will sit himself high up on furniture to glare down on everyone like the prettiest gargoyle you’ve ever seen.
Nobody is allowed to come near him. He will swat and hiss at anyone and everyone who approaches, unless they are approaching to turn him back into a demon.
BUT if you had nothing to do with this curse that’s fallen upon him, then he’ll probably let you near, as long as you’re not like, weird about it. Seriously, don’t baby talk at him, he’s not actually a cat.
Cat-Lucifer will probably just want to constantly stand on your shoulders and wrap his tail around your neck, which isn’t super comfortable because he’s not exactly small and dainty.
Also, every time you say something stupid he’s gonna bite your ear lol
Tbh he’s probably going to make you carry him everywhere like that and he’s gonna control where you go -- you know, kinda like ratatouille LMAO
Mammon
You know those cats that climb literally everything and anything?
Yeah.
When he first gets turned into a cat, he freaks the fuck out. But when he finally calms down and isn’t meowing up an angry storm, he’s gonna realize that this is a great opportunity. for evil.
He's gonna book it the second he realizes that he can literally be a cat-thief.
Nothing is safe from his grabby little gremlin paws.
He steals so much shit (wallets, Asmo’s jewelry, Levi’s limited edition collectors items--anything he can carry in his mouth or drag around) and then he stashes it all in your room, because unfortunately, becoming a cat didn’t make him any smarter.
Lucifer tasks you with just sitting in your room and keeping track of everything cat-Mams steals so that you can return everything to their rightful owners.
You quickly become used to cat-Mams sauntering in and out of your room every five minutes with his newfound riches.
So it’s a bit concerning when Mams darts out of your room after stashing a wallet in his hoard, and doesn’t come back after thirty minutes.
Naturally, you go looking for him.
You’ve only been searching for about twenty minutes, when pathetic meowing reaches your ears. You follow the sound, and--
You find him stuck in a cardboard box.
(before fishing him out, you take tons of pictures. He’s very upset.)
Levi
Levi is so distraught. He’s literally going to just wail and roll around on the floor until somebody picks him up.
He’s literally the crying cat meme.
Once he’s in your arms, do not put him down. He’s very sad and his reflexes really aren’t good. You know how you can just kinda toss cats onto the floor and they’ll land on their feet just fine?
He will not.
Is suuuuper jumpy and only trusts you (and maybe Beel, but he’s lowkey afraid that Beel is going to eat him.)
You should probably get him one of those bubble back-packs that cats can sit in and carry him around in that.
He has the worst time as a cat. He just wants to play his video games :(
(But if you give him lots of smooches, it’ll make his suffering a little bit easier to deal with. But like, he’s gonna turn into an overwhelmed ragdoll when u start giving him the smooches)
Satan
Honestly? He isn’t that opposed to being a cat for a little while.
But he’s also like. So hyperactive. Goes from 0-1000 in half a second.
He’s got the zoomies.
He’s gonna parkour his way around the house of lamentation, testing how fast he can zoom, how high and far he can jump (and how far he can fall without hurting himself)
He’s gonna do a backflip off lucifer at the speed of light and then sprint away as fast as he can to go wreck some shit
If you want to hold him, you’re going to have to catch him mid-air. If he doesn’t just squirm out of your arms and actually lets you pet him, he’s gonna stare you dead in the eyes, extend his claws, and then pat your leg with his lil toe beans.
You’re not entirely sure if that means ‘keep petting me’ or ‘stop it right now’ so you just kinda scratch his ears instead
Asmo
Even as a cat he’s beautiful and everybody has to see just how pretty he is.
He’s constantly striking poses.
Looking back over his shoulder. Stretching his leggies out so you can see how long and lean they are. Contorting his body in the WEIRDEST ways because he’s even more flexible now.
He does not run anywhere, he struts very daintily and model-like.
He’s gonna be so affectionate. Constantly rubbing his cheeks all over you, and leaning against you, but be careful while you give him pets because if you mess up his fur he’s gonna swat your hands away.
He’s also definitely going to be really annoying and constantly walk in front of your feet and trip you up. Where are you going, why aren’t you admiring him, dammit
You know how most cats hate water?
Not asmo.
He’s gonna make you fill the bathtub up to his chin so he can float around on his tiptoes with just the upper half of his head out of the water like a crocodile.
Then you have to blow-dry him until he’s all nice and fluffy and give him a good brush.
He will absolutely tolerate you dressing him up and taking pictures as long as you make him look nice. He won’t allow you to put him in stupid costumes (he’s gonna bite you when you bust out a lobster costume) but a pearl necklace? Hell yeah.
Beel
Feed him dammit, he’s starving.
Cat-Beel is going to gnaw on EVERYTHING. Furniture. Books. Clothes. Your hands and ankles.
It’s not anxiety -- honestly he really doesn’t mind being a cat -- he’s just so hungy.
Also he’s MASSIVE.
You don’t actually know that he’s been turned into a cat until you go to the kitchen for a snack and find an orange & white cat the size of a literal child raiding the fridge.
Which brings me to my next point -- he’s gonna be SUCH a snuggle bug. Like those really big dogs that insist on sitting in your lap and crushing you. If he isn’t eating then he just wants to flop on top of you and crush you with his love.
You can baby-talk at him if you want, as long as you give him treats and snuggle him.
He purrs so. Much.
Will also let u just roll him around and do whatever you want to him dkjncdsn he’s honestly the chillest out of them all
Belphie
God he’s so fucking upset at first, like claws out, hissing and spitting at everyone, full on tantruming upset, BUT THEN. but then. You pick him up and press a kiss to his sweet little triangle head and he bleps and it's all over.
Good luck getting anything done. Cat-Belphie is going to demand your full attention for snuggles CONSTANTLY.
No, he doesn’t care that you’re trying to research ways to turn him back, he’s gonna plop his little butt on the tome you’re attempting to read until you give him love, dammit.
Honestly, Belphie being a cat isn’t that much different from normal. The biggest difference is that now he can squeeze into weirder places to nap, which makes it very difficult to keep track of him.
After searching for two fucking hours, you, Satan, Levi, and Beel find him stretched out across the arms of one of the chandeliers in the dining room, like it’s some kind of weird hammock.
He’s fast asleep. Nobody knows how he got up there.
(To get down, he ends up yeeting himself into Beel’s arms.)
If Bells isn’t napping, then he’s hiding under furniture, waiting for his next victim to walk by so he can attack their ankles.
(also the most likely to bite u when he wants your attention)
((part 2 with the undateables))
#obey me headcanons#obey me hc#obey me shall we date#swd obey me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me#gnocchicanons
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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 2. math
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[warnings: cursing, mention of smoking, mention of household abuse of a teenager]
"what a plot twist you were."
—
The next day, you'd wakened with dry lungs and an even drier mouth.
It was true that smoking was bad for you—but it hadn't been as horrible as you'd thought. You'd try it again, but you couldn't see yourself becoming addicted.
Your mother wasn't home, again. You were quick to understand that she worked longer shifts now and you wouldn't see her a whole lot.
Not like you cared. Michelle never really liked you all that well. You'd probably have been dumped on the street a long time ago had your father not legally obligated to pay child support.
You'd never known him. You weren't sure if you wanted to.
She doesn't use child support for your well-being. Probably uses it to continuously feed her crippling gambling addiction and buy more pointless flowers for the apartment.
You were nervous about today. You'd never been the new girl before—and you didn't know what to expect about these kids. You doubted they were as cool as people as Larry and Sal.
You showered and put on your boyfriend jeans—which had holes in the knees, but you couldn't bother to concern yourself whether or not that conflicted with the dress code or not— and your light grey hoodie. You added a flannel on top of that which was a little too big for you. Don't forget the white sneakers which you should probably replace.
You pocketed your flip phone and slung your bag over your shoulder. Stopping in front of the mirror, you passed a hand through your hair, decided it was adequate, and walked into the kitchen. You grabbed an apple—you never really found yourself hungry in the mornings. Besides, it wasn't like your mother was around to make sure you were fed—and left the apartment.
You locked the door behind you and shoved the keys into the front pocket of your bag afterward.
You met with Sal and Larry at the foot of the front steps of the apartments, like you'd agreed the day prior. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you opened the door and walked down the three stairs.
"Hey!" Larry greets you first.
"Hey, Larry," you smile weakly, as you're not fully awake yet, but it still means as much as a smile you'd give him when you were awake. You turn your eyes to Sal, waving shortly. You were momentarily startled when you realized he'd already been looking at you. "Hi, Sal."
"Hey," he says your name pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"
It was sweet that he was concerned about your well-being. "Alright. My lungs hurt."
He hooked a thumb around the strap of his bag and slid it up and down. His hands were pale and veiny. His nails were painted black and the polish was chipped in a few places. "Yeah. You did a shit-ton of coughing."
You open your mouth to reply, but before you can he meets your eyes. His head is inclined slightly downward, tilted a bit. He peers at you through the shadows of the mask. Lash-fringed, blue angel eyes bore through yours.
His eyes are opalescent. It's almost as if every time you look at them they were a different shade of blue.
You're sure your gazes hadn't connected for more than 3 seconds but the feeling that spawns inside of you from that short contact is slightly jarring. You don't necessarily comprehend what is stirring in your gut and you don't have time to because Larry's speaking breaks through your reverie.
He begins to talk about the chaos the first day of school would be. You quickly forget what had happened before.
But nothing had happened. It was nothing.
When you'd arrived at school after a little bit of walking, you, Larry, and Sal received your schedules together.
"Fuck me," you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you look down at your paper. "Math is first. This always happens to me."
Larry laughs loudly. "Yeah. That does suck. Mrs. Packerton looks like a walking corpse."
Sal jerks his head upward from his schedule. "That's fucked, Larry. She's an old lady."
"I don't care. Pretty sure she's secretly evil anyway."
Sal looks as though he's done reasoning with how harshly true Larry is most of the time. He shakes his head and looks back at you. "Well, if it's any consolation—I've also got math first. So, you know. We could go together," he pauses. "If you want."
You grin. "Yeah. Sure. At least I'll know someone there."
Larry flicks his eyes between the both of you before stopping them on Sal. "Hopefully you won't have Travis again," His eyebrows twitch. "He always has math first."
"Travis?" You echo curiously.
The two boys exchange a glance.
"Just a guy we know who-" Sal starts, hurrying to finish the sentence.
He was rushing so Larry wouldn't cut in and say something but it happened before he even had a chance. "He's a little fucker we know who gives Sal shit. 24/7. He makes my blood boil."
You furrow your eyebrows. "What- why? What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing," Sal replies. "Pretty sure he's really troubled. Not unlike the rest of us."
"Doesn't mean he should take it out on other people." Larry scoffs. "I know it bothers you, dude."
Sal doesn't reply—seems as though he's growing uncomfortable speaking about all of it.
"Hey, guys!"
A voice calls, having grown closer halfway through her sentence. You all turn towards it. A girl, leggy and taller than both you and Sal, with long locks and eyes greener than a spring clover. There was something homey in the way her chocolate brown hair brought warmth to her features.
A boy is beside her, with ginger hair with eyes a deep shade of the richest earth. His skin is pale and freckled. He carries himself with an air of bluntness and just a little bit awkwardly—his facial expression is very blank, you note.
"Hey, Ash. Shocked you aren't late," Larry grins.
"Ash" rolls her eyes at him and mirrors his expression. "You know Todd would never let that happen."
"No, I wouldn't." Todd deadpans.
Ash turns toward you after laughing enough to flash the white gleam of her teeth and a slight dimple in her cheek. "Hey!" She then says your name prettily and juts out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ashley."
You don't ask her how she knows your name. Instead, you sincerely smile, take her hand and shake it. "Nice to meet you," you return, and then turn toward Todd. "You, too."
Todd is already an interesting character. He doesn't smile but his expression is cordial. "Welcome to Nockfell."
Your smile widens.
"Have you guys gotten your schedules yet?" Sal speaks up after having been quiet for a moment. He must've been reading over his schedule to himself.
"Oh! Yeah," Ashley opened her other hand, the one she hadn't shaken your hand with, and unfolded a now very crumpled piece of paper. She passed summer green over the list. "I've got biology."
Todd didn't even look at his list. "I have history."
Sal looks at you. His gaze easily levels with yours. "Looks like it's just me and you then."
Your face feels hot. "Haha," you suddenly feel nervous. "You're right. Sit beside me, okay?"
His eyebrows jump—that much you can tell by the way his eyes move. Tucking a strand of loose blue hair behind his ear, he replies: "Will do."
His ears are double pierced.
The bell's shrill ringing floods the halls. You wince, and you and Sal's eye contact is broken. Before that happens, though, you see Larry grinning to himself.
Weirdo, you think lightheartedly.
Everyone parts after that. Larry and Ash walk away together. They must both have biology, you thought. Todd leaves by himself to his respective class and you and Sal head towards math.
For a moment, the silence is unbearable. You've never been alone with a boy. Well, you weren't alone, just not in a group with other people. The noiselessness begins to bother you so you fleetingly think of something to say and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
"The piercings," you say suddenly.
He turns his head toward you. You look up to him before looking straight. "What?"
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, you thought. All I do is make a mockery of myself.
"I like them!" you add, hurriedly. "They're pierced twice. That's really cool. Looks good on you."
He laughs shyly. "Thanks. I like your shoes."
"My shoes?" You look down and laugh. They were so worn. "Why?" You continue to giggle. "They're falling apart at the seams, haha."
"That's the best kind of shoe," he retorts. He jerks his chin towards his sneakers, a muted shade of cornflower blue. "Look at mine. They barely fit and they're- like, super constricting. Also super ratty—but I can't seem to get rid of them."
You laugh with him. "They look better than mine, at least."
You're glad the ice was broken so fast. You liked him.
The class was boring and uninteresting as any math class would be. You do work. You glance over at Sal a few times throughout the class—not to cheat, just to see how he was fairing—and he was writing answers down with a quick response time and humble confidence within the drawl of his handwriting.
Alright, so he was smart. Not much of a surprise there. You could tell just how perceptive of a boy he was.
You stared hopelessly at an answer on your sheet you'd yet to fill out and twirled the pencil around in your fingers.
Suddenly, a pale hand with black nails has nimbly reached over and hastily circled what you assume was the correct answer to the question with his pencil. You look up to Sal in surprise and appreciation, who's already back in his seat as if nothing had happened.
You giggle before you can stop yourself when he raises a hand and raises a finger in front of the prosthetic's mouth, to tell you "shh."
Mrs. Packerton slowly pivots away from the chalkboard and passes her eyes over the class. You and Sal quickly break eye contact and look down on your papers. Sal's shoulders shake in your peripheral vision and you press your knuckles to your lips and force a bored expression on your paper.
Before the bell rang, you noticed a blond boy with tan skin and caramel eyes in front of you and Sal, occasionally shooting your friend bitter looks. It left a sour taste in your mouth, but you didn't mention it.
You find Ash and Larry before your next class. You think you've burst a blood vessel from how hard you'd laughed when you left the classroom.
"I thought I'd cracked a rib," Sal states over your laughter. as you walked up to Larry and Ashley.
Larry and Ashley exchange a look. Larry is the first to state the obvious. "What the hell happened to you two?"
You and Sal look toward each other and make eye contact. That's the last straw. You cover your mouth and try and hold it in.
"I-" Sal inhales. "It doesn't matter," he breathes out, an amused lilt in his tone. "How was class?"
"Bad," Larry and Ashley reply, in synchronization.
"Really?" You ask, surprised. "Biology can be fun."
"This biology isn't," Ashley sighs. "Not when you're just staring at cells and organisms for 20 minutes and then being expected to do work on it and understand what's happening."
"Well, math wasn't any better," you reply. "If it's any consolation—I don't think I got any answers right except for the one Sal did for me."
"I thought math was fine," Sal chimes in.
"That's because you're fucking Albert Einstein reincarnate," Larry squints. "Please have mercy on our mortal souls, Math God."
"Oh my god," Sal looks down. "Please don't make this into another nickname."
"I like it!" Ashley grins.
You know they're teasing but you can't find it in you to join in after he helped you out in class. Instead, you resign into silence and watch as countless students filter through the halls, bumping into each other as they pass and chatting with their peers.
Through the crowd, at the far end of the hall, you see him. The blond boy who'd been eying Sal in class. He was looking at him in the same way he had been then, with threat and resent shadowing his polished amber eyes.
It looks as if he's readying himself to approach.
You glance toward Larry, Sal, and Ashley. They seem occupied well enough, so you slip into the crowd and head towards who you've now pieced together to be: "Travis," you state, as you stand in front of him. "That's you, right?"
He regards you with distaste. "Do I know you?"
You suck your teeth. "No," you tell him your name. "I came to ask you something."
Despite himself and his embitterment, his eyes shine with hesitant curiosity. You take that as your answer. In spite of his stance over you and his general advantage of being bigger, you hold his gaze with blunt intent.
"What were you planning on doing when you walked over?"
"Why do you fucking care what I do?"
You shrug. "I don't know, Travis. I just think you need to learn how to pick your battles."
"Pick my fucking battles.. you know what? I think I will go over there-"
As he takes a step forward, you raise your hand and your palm roughly hits his chest, stopping him in his tracks—not because of strength (he's at an advantage, and he could easily walk right through) but because of the views he had, or rather—the views pushed upon him.
You saw the golden cross swinging off of his neck as soon as you approached. You'd also seen the gnarly black eye he wore on his face.
It was safe to assume he was being beaten at home and by a parent. And, most of the time.. when an adult is religious they will use several methods to further push it upon their child. Like sinner's guilt. And abuse.
If Travis' extremely religious guardian were to ever find out he'd harmed a girl, especially under the eyes of many others—it wouldn't turn out very well for him.
Yes, maybe you were being manipulative. But you were being manipulative for the good of both Sal and Travis.
"Step down," you advised. "This won't go very well."
You steadily meet his eyes. The stare between the two of you lasts for an even amount of time. Finally, he breaks that contact, jerks away with you, huffs, and walks his way around you and down the hall.
After that, you returned with the excuse of exchanging books from your locker, after Larry had asked you where you had wandered off to. No one seemed to have noticed Travis standing ominously at the end of the hall or your altercation with him.
At the end of school, you were beat. You said goodbye to both Ashley and Todd. Afterward, you, Larry, and Sal head for Addison's Apartments.
"You know, we don't have to go home yet," you say.
The boys turn to you curiously, as you kick a pebble as you walk along the side of the road. The beginnings of the sunset blossom in the sky—orange and fruity like tangerine jelly and amaranth pink like homemade strawberry frosting. like home. It fills you up inside and makes you feel so sweet.
"You guys wanna see a movie?"
Larry grins. "We don't have money."
"Who says we need money?"
When you'd arrived at the movie theater, all three of you had circled to the side exit. After a few moments of waiting suspiciously, an older couple exited through the doors. Larry caught the handle before it closed, and you brushed past them and quickly entered the theater. Before the doors closed, you heard them mumbling about "pesky children," or something.
Once you'd gotten in, you scanned each screening room and what movie the doors said it was playing.
You and Sal decided on a scary movie. Larry was not amused. Whatsoever. Apparently, horror is not his thing.
Before you entered, you frowned.
"We have no popcorn.."
In moments, Larry was reaching into a nearby trash can and pulling out an empty bucket that improbably had popcorn inside of it at some point in time. He then walked away, holding this empty popcorn bucket. It was so bizarre and you would have laughed had not been extremely confused.
"What.." Sal murmured, looking to you. "You think he'll come back?"
"I don't know where he would even be coming back from," You admitted.
It wasn't very long until he'd returned, with the empty bucket he'd taken from the trash now full of popcorn.
"Mandatory free refills," He said to your baffled face, pointing toward the poster on the wall above the trash can which read exactly what he'd just said. "You can never forget the hustle, kids."
"Oh my god," Sal mumbled and you barely heard him beneath Larry's laughter.
The movie was horribly made, and it still somehow scared the shit out of Larry. It may as well have been a comedy with how hard you'd laughed. Multiple other people in the theater had told you to shut Larry up but that was impossible when he was screaming every time a shadow would come on screen or the scene would change.
You, being between Larry and Sal, originally thought you'd had the best seat. You were wrong. Not only was Larry cowering into you and screaming directly in your ear, but Sal had simultaneously begun to throw popcorn at Larry's face to shut him up. That only resulted in popcorn. All over.
Needless to say, you left before the movie ended because of the fear of being escorted out by the employees.
"I'm never seeing a movie with you again," Sal squinted towards Larry. The three of you were now on the way back to the apartments. The night was thick and pearly moonlight bounced off old the white of his prosthetic face. "I think my eardrums are bleeding."
"It's the horror movies! This isn't my fault. Both of you ganged up on me and chose it."
You giggled to yourself.
Sal, beside you, suddenly stopped. "Wait, Y/N."
You stopped, and Larry halted a few feet away, as he'd been walking a bit ahead. Sal leaned forward and reached toward your face. Your body felt as though it had been zapped and you stood still.
He reached into your hair and pulled out a piece of popcorn.
"Huh." You said, dumbly. "How'd that get there?"
Larry's approaching footsteps were fast and leggy. He reached into Sal's hand, plucked the piece of popcorn between his fingers and fucking ate it.
"Jesus Christ, I can't do this anymore," Sal shook his head.
"What? It looked okay."
Recovering quickly from whatever had happened to you, you laughed.
You also inwardly denied what your body was feeling because you knew it was much too soon.
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Hotel Hobbies - Prelude
Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Reader
Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself other than the most shameful of yee-honks. This was largely just an attempt to break through some writer’s block, but also a little bit of a fuck you to Whiskey’s godawful characterization (get thee hence, canon, thou art dead to me). In either case I 110% blame @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa for dragging me into the Pedro pit and for making the “yeehonk loser” tag funny enough for me to go see what the fuss was about. Either way, this is unbeta’d and barely edited and is probably just a big goddamn mess. Which fits, quite frankly. Apologies in advance if it sucks.
Summary: He’s an insufferable, obnoxious blowhard. Which would be fine if he wasn’t also - some-fucking-how - hotter than a fucking wildfire.
Warnings: Drinking, flirting, swearing, Whiskey being the obnoxious prick that we know and mostly tolerate.
Rating: Mature (for the moment)
Word Count: 1510
You’d met him, of all places, in the hotel bar, shored up over a drawn-out business conference. He’d turned up three nights running, a brash braggart in a stetson and too-tight jeans that seemed to stroll dick-first around the room, tossing pickup lines at anything that moved. By sheer luck he’d missed you, leaving the first night with a leggy blonde and the second night with a considerably curvier brunette.
Both times you counted your blessings as you watched him walk out with his arm around the unlucky lady. You didn’t know the man but you knew the type: the costume cowboys that laid on the charm as thick as their cologne to mask the smell of their shitty personalities.
But now on Sunday, night number three, your luck seems to have finally run out. Just as you finish your drink the bartender sets down another – whiskey, neat – and gestures at the end of the bar. “From the gentleman.”
You hardly need to look up to know what you’ll see. Smug, half-cocked grin. A gentle tip of the hat.
Fuck. Jesus, why.
You grimace out a polite smile out of sheer habit, and before you can even begin to slide the drink back towards the bartender the man has appeared at your elbow like a country-fried jack-in-the-box.
His cologne, at the very least, is not as heavy as you’d expected. Small mercies.
“Thanks, but-” you begin, already bracing yourself against the bar to stand.
“Oh no need for thanks.” He rolls right over you with all the practiced ease of a well-oiled steamroller. His voice is low, with a thick, heavy drawl that feels just a bit too put-upon to be completely real. “You’ll have to forgive me for being so forward, but I simply couldn’t stand to see a lady as lovely as yourself drinking alone three nights in a row. Thought I might offer the benefit of some company.”
He extends a broad brown hand. A tiny blurred bullseye marks the skin between the thumb and forefinger. “Name’s Jack. Most folks just call me Whiskey.”
“Whiskey,” you repeat, trying not to roll your eyes at the rather awful joke.
“Yes ma’am.”
You purse your lips, considering, as his hand hangs between you. You know more than a few ways to cut this little introduction short, though several of them – while wholly effective – might just see you banned from the hotel bar. And with easily another three days of bureaucratic bullshit on the horizon, you’re really not keen on that happening. Present company aside, the bar’s pretty nice.
Maybe if you're lucky you can bore him to death.
Begrudgingly you take his hand. The skin of his palms is thick with calluses. A surprising thing. His clothing is more designer than LL Bean, which made you think he was a business man or entertainer – the sort of rich asshole that owned a prized stallion at a private stable somewhere that he rode once or twice a month when he wanted to feel a little authentic.
But those callouses are hard and smooth. Not quite a workman's hands, but certainly the result of something a good deal more tactile and involved than pencil pushing. And that’s enough to make you wonder a little. Now that he's up close and personal, his face makes you wonder a lot. This is no Kentucky white boy. Not with eyes that dark, or that curving nose. And honestly, if it wasn’t for that insufferably cocky look on his face, he’d be a hell of a looker.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he says, thumb grazing your knuckles before releasing your hand.
"No, you didn't," you say lightly. "And I'm afraid I don't have much of a taste for whiskey."
He grins, leaning heavily against the bar and motioning for the bartender. "Well now, if my namesake isn't up to your liking, what would be to your taste?" He hooks the tumbler of whiskey towards himself with a finger – a rather thick finger, and that's one detail you're a little dismayed to find yourself lingering on – and takes a slow sip.
You tap your glass with three fingers as the bartender approaches. "Tequila."
The man who calls himself Whiskey gives an appreciative whistle as three shots line up in front of you. "Well now ain't that a plot twist. You must have a hell of a constitution. Tequila always leaves me flat on my back." He eyes you up and down, grinning, and the hot flush that brings on isn't half as uncomfortable as you'd like it to be. "Reckon I can see a similarity or two."
"I just get the feeling I'm going to need something a little stronger than a Cosmo to get me through this conversation," you reply coolly, ignoring the innuendo. "You have until I finish these shots, by the way."
Whiskey purses his lips, pouting. "I see you've already jumped to a few conclusions about me. Hardly seems fair."
You shrug, downing the first shot with little fanfare. "You've hardly been subtle. What happened to Friday and Saturday's girls?"
He takes a sip of his own drink, thumb rubbing thoughtfully against the side of his jaw. You try not to watch the way his throat works when he swallows. "Now if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you were a little sore it took me so long to come and see you."
He positively croons that last, and you tell yourself the warmth you feel kicking up in your belly is just the tequila. Thank God for plausible deniability.
"Don't flatter yourself, cowboy," you say with a glare.
He chuckles. "Darlin', had I known you'd had eyes on me this whole time I would've come over a hell of a lot sooner," he teases.
You can only shake your head, half in wonder and half in contempt. "How did you even fit that much ego through the door?"
Whiskey tips his glass to you with a smirk, unfazed. "Patience, dedication, and a whole lotta practice."
You reach for the second shot, and Whiskey lets out a little sigh. He puts his hand over your wrist, fingers flat.
"Hey c'mon now. Slow down, sugar. As much as I like to tease, I ain't about to put sensibilities or your liver out of sorts for the sake of poking fun."
When he pulls his hand back, reaching for his own glass, it's everything you can do to mask the little shiver that ripples up your back. He is quite warm.
"I figured you for the sort that'd prefer a girl to be out of her sensibilities," you say quietly, fingers tapping against the rim of your glass. The skin on the back of your wrist hums where he touched you, and you do your damnedest to ignore it.
The corner of his mouth hitches up in a half-grin. "Oh, afterward, surely. But never before."
You roll your eyes. "An asshole with a sense of propriety. Now that's novel."
"Part of my charm," he says. “Bastard by profession and gentleman by nature. But I mean it. You are well within every right to walk away. Ain't gonna harm nothin' but my ego, and Lord knows there’s enough of that to go around.“
You roll the shot glass between your palms. "And if I walk away?"
Whiskey shrugs. “Well, then I get to cherish the view as you leave."
"God, shut up."
His grin widens and he leans in, teasing. "A bittersweet thought to keep me warm, alone in that big empty hotel bed tonight."
The glass almost rolls straight out of your hands. "I am not fucking you," you sputter, and your cheeks burn as you realize you practically pole vaulted directly to that conclusion with barely any preamble.
The silence hangs after that, heavy and charged. Somehow you think Whiskey's eyes have gone even darker.
“I said nothin’ of the sort,” Whiskey says delicately, hands raised in supplication.
There's a cold-burning fire in the pit of your stomach.Some of it's the alcohol. But most of it is a shameful delight at the way he's looking at you, and the mounting surety that you are probably certainly definitely going to fuck him if you don't walk away and call it a night now. You're not sure whether you hate him more for the assumption, or for almost certainly being right.
He says nothing, just looks you over expectantly. Waiting to see what you’ll do.
Slowly, you down your second shot. Fuck it. If this asshole is going to be your next mistake, you might as well make it on your own goddamned terms.
"So," you say, resting your elbows on the bar. “Whiskey. What is it that you do?"
He laughs, full-throated, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up in what you suspect might be a genuine smile. It's lovely, and that might just be the most infuriating thing of all.
"Oh darlin'. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
#agent whiskey#jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fic#I hesitate to tag for the source bc I have Strong Feelings About It#wtf am I doing with my life#yeehonk
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always free to run home
in which alex's dad shows up post 16x16
hello! i posted this fun little fic on AO3 awhile back but i'm also throwing it over here. shoutout to @mac-andcheeses for letting me use her brain child for this one!
“Hey, it's Alex. Leave me a message.”
“Karev, it's Miranda Bailey. Your dad is being treated at Grey Sloan for injuries he sustained during a car crash and he’s also detoxing from years of heavy drug use. We don’t have any other emergency contact for him, the only reason we knew who he was… That’s not important. I need you to come back to Seattle. I know you’ve got your picket fence and your perfect kids and your blonde ex wife out there in Kansas but you need to come back home.”
+
“Hey Junior. Can’t believe they really dragged your sorry ass out here. Doctor Bailey said I got a couple of grandkids out in Kansas. What the hell are you doing in Kansas?”
Alex rolls his eyes, ignoring his dad as he flips open his chart. Bailey had explained the situation when he had arrived just 30 minutes earlier but he wanted to see for himself just how bad it was looking for his father.
“They’re my kids but you’re not their grandpa. You don’t deserve that title,” Alex answers, not looking up from the chart. “Your liver is failing.”
“I know, that’s what they told me.”
“That doesn’t just happen overnight, you must have been in pain for a while.”
“You’re not giving me any new information, the leggy brunette doctor nearly chewed my ear off when I first came in,” Jimmy lets out a sigh and Alex decides to let his comment about his doctor slide. “I’m dying, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“Do you just not care about anything? You’re about to die and all you can do is shrug your shoulders,” when Jimmy doesn’t respond Alex can’t help the frustrated groan that leaves him. “God I don’t even know why I came out here. You’re still the same guy that left us all those years ago aren’t you?”
Alex turns to leave but stops in his tracks when Jimmy speaks up, “Now that’s something you know a thing or two about isn’t it?”
He doesn’t know how his dad knows the details of his escape from Seattle but his words make Alex’s blood boil as he turns to face Jimmy again, “Don’t you ever compare me to you. I left my whole life behind the minute I heard about my kids. I left my friends, my wife. Everything! I left the state to be there for my kids, I am nothing like you.”
“Trust me kid, I know all about your wife. Who do you think figured out who I was? Didn’t you see her name all over those tests?”
Alex practically lunges at the chart he’d just discarded. His eyes frantically scan the page, freezing almost immediately as he finds what he’s looking for.
Attending on the case: Doctor J. Karev
“She figured out pretty quick who I was, said we have the same crooked smile,” Jimmy is unphased by Alex’s mild freak out, continuing his story. “Didn’t say it outright but I saw her name on my chart and I knew. Well I pieced it together eventually, I’m not stupid.”
Alex finally looks back at Jimmy, anger still evident in his expression, “I know I fucked up by leaving Jo but you left our family! You left your kids behind!”
“And how exactly do you think I figured out who she was?”
Alex pauses, mind reeling at Jimmy’s words. He thinks he knows what he’s saying but Alex refuses to believe it. His dad was probably high still and trying to guilt trip him.
“I saw her, you ex wife. She was getting coffee and she had a baby, a little boy, all bundled up in his carrier. That’s when I figured it all out, the kid is your clone. Looks just like you did when your mom and I brought you home.
“Anyways the next day I overheard her talking to someone in the hall about how she couldn’t be on my case anymore. And it all made sense, the last name and the baby and everything. She stopped by earlier today and that short doctor told her you were coming. I think she went home to avoid you.”
Standing in a stunned silence Alex stares at the chart in his hands, still trying to fully process what his father is telling him. On the other hand Jimmy is talking a mile a minute but Alex can’t comprehend a word he’s saying.
“I gotta go,” Alex mutters the words as a half assed goodbye, sprinting out of the room and down to his rental car.
The loft is an easy destination, Alex’s body driving almost on autopilot. As he pulls into the back of the lot it occurs to him that in the year he’d been gone Jo might have moved. He’s about to call Meredith when the sleek black Audi he used to drive pulls in. He sits and stares in awe as Jo climbs out, opening the back door to grab a diaper bag and car seat before heading inside. He can’t see the baby from his vantage point but just the knowledge that he and Jo have a child together brings tears to his eyes.
He pulls himself together quickly, locking his car as he takes the steps up to the loft two at a time. It’s not until he’s standing at the door that he pauses, wondering if Jo rebbe wants to see him. Despite his reservations Alex knocks on the door, knowing he never wanted to live a life where he didn’t know all of his children.
The loft door slides open and for a moment the world around Alex is frozen. Jo is standing in front of him, eyes wide as she takes him in. As awestruck as Alex is seeing Jo for the first time in a year he can’t take his eyes off of the little boy in her arms. His dad was right, aside from the bright hazel eyes blinking up at him the kid is his clone, right down to the haphazard curls sticking up on his head.
“I… Bailey called me about my dad. And he said he saw you… I just needed to see for myself,” Alex shakes his head, as if the past year had suddenly come back to him. “I’m sorry I just barged in on you, I know you probably don’t want to see me. I’d really love to get to know him, you know where to reach me.”
Alex turns to leave, getting to the top of the stairs before Jo’s voice rings out, “His name is Blake. You two share a birthday.”
He doesn’t move as he processes what Jo’s just told him. There’s another beat of silence before she speaks again, “I didn’t know I was pregnant, you’d think a doctor of all people would know but I didn’t until I gave birth at home at 2 AM. He’s only three months old and by some miracle he’s perfect.”
Alex finally turns around, staring wordlessly at Jo who has tears streaking down her face. Blake is fading fast in her arms, struggling to keep his eyes open as Jo gently rocks him. It takes everything in him not to surge forward and wrap them both in his arms, but he knows not to push his luck with the woman he left so long ago.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called and told you about him but this has been the longest and scariest three months of my life. I didn’t have nine months to prepare and adjust to being a mom, I had minutes. And every minute since I first held our son in my arms has been full of me second guessing myself and trying to do what’s best for him.”
Jo’s chest is heaving now as she struggles to catch her breath. Her hand comes up to stifle the sob that comes out, Alex moving quickly to wrap her in his arms, “I know you’re a great mom Jo you don’t need to doubt that even for a minute. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”
“You being here wouldn’t have changed anything, except maybe you freaking out when I went to pee and came back with a baby,” Jo burrows herself further into Alex’s embrace. “We made a baby.”
“A pretty cute one too,” Alex is about to say more when he notices a ring of bruises around Jo’s wrist. She notices too, quickly pulling at her sleeves to cover the fresh black and blue marks. “Jo…”
Jo pulls away from Alex as she walks into the loft and sets Blake down in his crib, “I’m fine, it was just an accident at work last night.”
Alex steps in front of Jo as she attempts to walk away from him. He doesn’t reach out to hold her like he wants to, instead studying her nervous behavior, “You know you can tell me the truth, right?”
Jo nods, still hesitant to look up at Alex as she focuses on her hands, “It was just an altercation with a patient, Hunt stepped in before I could get seriously hurt.”
“Jo-”
“It’s fine!”
“It’s not fine, you were attacked by a patient.”
“And I’m not on the case anymore. So it’s-”
“Not fine! What would’ve happened if-”
“Nothing happened! And I don’t think it’s your place to worry about me.”
“Of course it is, it always will be.”
“Can you stop freaking out?”
“You were hurt! Of course I’m going to-”
“It was Jimmy. It was your dad that… hurt me.”
There’s a stifling silence as Alex takes in what Jo’s just told him. She’s watching him nervously, as if he was going to blow his lid at any moment, but he just stays quiet. When she realizes that he’s not going to say anything, Jo breaks their eye contact and continues her story.
“He was detoxing and thought I was your mom,” Jo rolls up her sleeves to show Alex the large hand marks covering the bottom half of her arms. “I’m fine though, I got checked over and Blake was in his car seat the whole time.”
“Blake was with you?!”
“Yeah… I was just checking on Jimmy before I left. He had told me earlier that he wanted to see Blake, that he looked just like you did as a baby,” Jo still refuses to meet Alex’s worried gaze as she retells the events of the previous night. “When I got there things were fine but then I showed him Blake and Jimmy just… He started yelling at me and pushing me around the room. He was calling me Helen and asking why I hadn’t picked you up from school yet. I pushed Blake’s car seat out of the way right before he pinned me up against the wall. Thankfully I was able to reach the code blue button and Owen rushed in right before he punched me.”
Jo finally meets Alex’s eyes and it takes everything in him not to run out of the loft and find his father, to scream at him and kick and punch and make him pay for hurting Jo the way that he had hurt him and his mother. Instead he leans down and cups Jo’s cheeks, wiping the tears pooled there as he fixes her with a gentle look.
“I’m fine, I really am Alex. I was more worried about Blake through the whole thing,” Jo shrugs as Alex’s fingers float across her cheek. “I’m used to-”
Jo cuts her statement short as she realizes what she was about to say. Instead she shakes her head and breaks free from Alex’s hold on her as she walks to what used to be his dresser. She pulls out a pair of his ratty sweatpants and an old t shirt, handing them to him as she walks past him towards her bed, “You can stay on the couch tonight, you know where the blankets are.”
“I can wake up with Blake,” Alex quickly offers. “You have a ton of bottles up by the sink and I’ve made about a thousand of them in the NICU. You need the rest.”
Jo just nods, practically falling into bed with a sigh. By the time Alex comes out of the bathroom her soft snores are echoing through the loft.
+
When Jo wakes up the next morning Alex has scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom and folded the pile of laundry on the couch. He had let Jo sleep in, toting Blake around in his carrier while he cleaned the loft. While Jo was never the neatest person she would always get antsy when the loft started to get too unorganized or cluttered. He could tell just from the state of things that she was completely overwhelmed with the infant that had unexpectedly taken over her life.
“I made coffee,” Alex gestures to the steaming pot on the counter. “And Blake just went down for a nap.”
Jo nods in appreciation, silently pouring a cup of coffee for herself before turning to Alex, “When are you going back to Kansas?”
“My flight is scheduled for late tonight,” Alex lets out a sigh as Jo turns away from him. “Jo come on, I didn’t even know about Blake until yesterday.”
Jo turns back towards him, anger replacing the sadness that was just there, “Because you left! You left me Alex! I’m not counting on you sticking around just because we have a baby together.”
“I’m not just going to abandon my kid Jo.”
“Well you abandoned your wife pretty easily so excuse me if I don’t exactly believe you,” Jo scoffs, tears welling in her eyes. “You wanna know why I never called? Because being a single mom sounds a lot easier than shipping my son across the country to see his dad and step mom and their perfect life on a farm. I know you want to be in Blake’s life but I’m not putting him on a plane every other weekend so you can do that.”
“Izzie and I aren’t together.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Your stupid letter-”
“Was a mistake! The biggest mistake that I have ever made and I am so sorry about that Jo, but I would never try to take Blake from you,” Alex pleads. “You have to know that, don’t you?”
“I don’t know that, I don’t know anything about you,” Jo’s voice reaches a scream as she faces off with Alex. “You spent years telling me you weren’t leaving, even longer trying to show me that your actions were louder than your words. And you still left me in a freaking letter!”
“Jo-”
Jo finally turns away from Alex, running a hand through her hair, “I’m not arguing with you about this. You left and gave me no say in our divorce.”
“I had to leave, I had to be there for my kids.”
“And I would’ve come if you had asked me,” there’s tears in Alex’s eyes as Jo speaks, her voice coming down from it’s roar. “If you want to talk about knowing people, you should’ve known that I would follow you anywhere Alex. Did nine years teach you nothing or are you just extraordinarily stupid?”
Alex’s phone rings and breaks the illusion that they’re alone in the world. He only glances at the text for a moment before he’s shoving his shoes on his feet and grabbing his wallet and keys. When he looks back at Jo she’s staring at him with an anxious expression.
“I’m not leaving, it’s just my dad and-”
“Go Alex.”
“I’m not-”
“Go. We’ll still be here.”
Alex only spares one more look at Jo before he’s rushing out the door to Grey Sloan. He doesn’t know why he feels some sick sense of honor towards the man that abandoned him and gave him more trust issues than he can name, but he knows he needs to see his dad.
“Karev, your dad coded a little while ago,” Bailey begins to explain the situation as soon as Alex walks up to her. “Because of his long term drug use his heart is weak. He’s stable for now but… I would be shocked if he made it through the night.”
Alex nods his thanks to Bailey as he walks into Jimmy’s room. His dad is laying completely still, the slow and steady beeping monitors the only sign that he’s still alive. Alex settles into the seat next to the bed, watching his dad for a long moment. He hated him for years for everything he had put their family through, the way he had abandoned them and hurt his mom beyond repair. In fact Alex couldn’t help but feel a cruel kinship with his father, both men having broken their families into seemingly unfixable pieces.
“Alex.”
The soft voice shocks him but Alex looks up to meet his dad's gaze. He can tell it’s taking everything in him to form words but that doesn’t stop Jimmy.
“Kid, you’re nothin’ like me. That girl loves you more than you know and you’ve got a chance to do right by her and that little boy,” Jimmy lets out a cough and reaches out for Alex’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did. You’re a much better man than I ever was.”
It’s silent after that, Alex sitting and holding his dad's hand until the monitors around him fall silent an hour later. He sits with him for a while more before leaving, going back to the hotel room he had rented instead of the loft like he had wanted to. There’s a million thoughts running through his head but one rings louder than the rest.
Don’t make the same mistakes I did.
+
Logically Alex knows he should’ve called or texted or even sent another letter to Jo. Maybe not the letter, but it had been two weeks since his dad had passed and he had left Seattle without a word to anyone. He feels bad for leaving Jo once again but he also knows that his decision is for the best.
He’s not shocked even a little when Jo opens the loft door and scowls at him. Blake is on the floor of the living room batting at colorful shapes on his playmat and Alex is thankful that he at least seems happy.
“Hi.”
“Hey asshole,” Jo scoffs and turns around, leaving the door open for Alex but not acknowledging him. “You said you were going to the hospital and then you left. You specifically said you weren’t leaving and then you left. Again.”
“I know.”
Jo picks up the laundry basket on the couch and begins to put away the folded clothes, “I’m not really interested in whatever it is you have to say Alex. I’m done believing anything you say because every time I do I just get hurt.”
“l bought a house in Queen Anne,” Alex watches as the laundry basket in Jo’s hands tumbles to the ground, her eyes wide as she stares at him with unwavering attention. “I know you always liked the neighborhood and it’s right around the corner from Meredith. It’s a two story with some extra bedrooms and it’s got a big backyard for Blake to run around in with the twins when they come to visit in the summers. I already talked to Izzie and she said she’s more than happy to let them visit. And uh Bailey gave me my job back, as head of peds.”
Jo’s hand flies up to her mouth as she stares at Alex in shock. He at least has the decency to look somewhat ashamed for having left without a word, but the sight of her so emotional over his return makes him feel slightly better.
“I’m staying in Seattle, I’m going to be here for Blake. I can’t… I’m not my dad. I’m not going to leave my kid or my… you. I’m not letting you do this alone Jo, you don’t deserve that,” Alex takes a deep breath and chances another look at Jo who now has tears running down her cheeks. “I’m sorry I didn’t call but I wanted to wrap things up back in Kansas and have everything lined up here. I promise that anytime you call or text from now on that I’ll answer. I’m not going to make the same mistakes I did before.”
The last word barely slips out of Alex’s mouth before Jo is across the loft, throwing herself into his hold. A sigh of relief leaves Alex as he wraps her in his arms, pressing his lips to her hair. They stay that way for a few minutes, just enjoying being close before Jo pulls back.
“Thank god, the loft is getting crowded and I’m worried Blake is gonna end up electrocuting himself or something when he starts crawling because I never had time to baby proof,” Jo blinks up at Alex, who looks confused at her statement. “What did you think I wasn’t going to come with you?”
“I-“
Before he can say anything in return Jo’s lips are against his and for the first time in months Alex feels well and truly at home.
#jolex babies#jolex fanfiction#jo x alex#jo karev#jolex fanfic#jo wilson#jolex#alex karev#grey’s anatomy#grey’s anatomy fanfic#nina writes
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Dirty Little Secret | Chapter One: Blankets
fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader
You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl?
You stared at the ticking clock among the sea of giggling preppy girls. Time had to be running in reverse. There was no way you still had an hour left.
“Alright ladies, let’s now form a single-file line and practice our curtsies,” the cotillion instructor, Linda, ordered. The over-privileged girls hurried to the end of the ballroom, one carelessly stepping over your foot.
“Ouch!”
You glared at their backs and non-existent asses as they scurried, being the last one to sulk to your place behind a tall girl named Caroline. The leggy blonde snickered and leaned back slightly once everyone got into formation.
“You look like a beat up mule,” she joked.
You snorted and got on your tip-toes, muttering into her ear. “If I hear the words ‘prim and proper’ one more time, I might actually vomit on the spot.”
You both peered over to Linda who was busy adjusting some of the girls in the front with her annoying pointer stick. It was only a matter of time before she would eventually get to you and criticize, well, everything. Your posture, clothes, hair, attitude.
“If you do,” Caroline added, “make sure to get it all on Delilah in the front left. She totally swiped me for runner-up Miss Teen North Carolina last year.”
You chuckled and shook your head.
Caroline was probably the only thing getting you through these treacherous debutante lessons. She was your typical tall, thin socialite with a Benz and Prada collection to match. Ironically, you guys had more in common than one would think- hating just about every single girl in the room. It may be for different reasons, but the principle was there. Caroline was as competitive as they come and always had to be the center of attention, not that it was hard given her model height.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about becoming a high woman in society- evident in your ability to show up 20 minutes late to each lesson and royally screw up the dance number each chance you got. Caroline admired your talent of not giving a fuck and took a liking to you after you posed non-threatening to her spotlight.
You faked yawned and checked the clock once more.
“Alright I’ve had enough.” You held out your hand to Linda, causing the pageant girl in front of you to wrinkle her perfectly threaded brows. “Linda, I need to use the restroom,” you announced nonchalantly as everyone’s beetle eyes punctured you.
“Very well y/n,” the monotonous instructor answered with her thin-framed glasses hanging on her beak nose.
“See ya next week,” you sneakily whispered to Caroline. You proceeded to hop out of line, snatch your canvas bag at the entrance, and whisk out the door and into the busy street before anyone could see.
It was 3 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. Your ferry left in an hour, and til then, you were ready to wander around the streets of Chapel Hill.
-----------------------------
“How were lessons today?” your mother asked, taking a sip of her 1999 Vineyard Merlot before setting the glass on the black marble table.
“Fine,” you answered, picking at the halibut on your plate.
Her glasses were perched at the bridge of her nose as she scrolled through items on an iPad. You silently glanced over to your little sister, Macy, who slid her green beans onto your plate and threw you a thankful grin.
“What did you go over?” your stepdad, Ted, asked half-heartedly as he scrolled through his phone.
“Uh, we did some curtsies and practiced the dance,” was all you cared to mention as you munched on your sister’s veggies.
“That’s funny,” your mother lifted her eyes from the screen, “because Linda called and said you went to the restroom and mysteriously disappeared. And you were late.” Her tone was much more adamant at the second part, but your face stayed cool as you took another bite of the awful fish.
“There was backup when I left the ferry,” you lied and your mother rolled her eyes, tossing the iPad onto the table.
“Y/n, you need to take this seriously. Ted spent weeks trying to get you into those debutante lessons and we’re paying a fortune for Linda alone!”
“It’s not my fault she has a stick up her ass just like everyone else there,” you countered. Your mom was seconds away from fuming, so you decided to add a little extra fuel. “Also someone stepped on my foot with their heel so I had to rest it or else I wouldn’t be able to properly do the dance.”
“Enough of this, y/n,” your mother snapped at your terrible sarcasm. Macy and Ted stopped eating and watched you both with hints of concern. You didn’t understand why it was so startling to them. It was just any other Thursday evening with your mom if you were being honest.
“If I get another call from Linda, we’re taking away your keys.”
“Take them,” you said, stepping up from your chair and towards the kitchen. You tossed the half-eaten food into the trash and stuffed the plate into the dishwasher. “Not like I have anywhere better to be on this God-awful island.”
You rushed to your room upstairs and kicked the door shut behind you. You sank into your bed, face first, and let out the longest, dreadful groan into the comforter.
This was your life now. After almost a year, you would think that you’d adjust to this pretentious Kook life, but it only made you feel more stranded than ever. It started when your real parents announced their divorce a few years back. Both yours and Macy’s hearts shattered at the news. Your family lived perfectly in a tiny home until you turned thirteen. Your dad- the one who taught you how to ride a bike, swim, fish, and play poker- got a new job where he would go overseas for months on end. You hated not being able to see him and your mom hated it even more- enough to leave him.
Your mom ended up taking full custody of you and Macy. Soon after, she met money-bags Ted, and, before you knew it, your bags were sealed packed as you sailed away to a fancy new home along Figure Eight complete with housekeepers, a pool, and etiquette lessons. It was supposed to be this “better lifestyle” your mother tried to paint into your head- but you saw right through it. No matter how green the grass or white the fence, you still felt like you were being locked up on an island you had no interest in exploring.
Making new friends was also a hassle- first coming in as a high school sophomore, and then not knowing how to engage in Kook-speak with the others. It’s not your fault you weren’t well-versed in luxury cars and handbags. You had one or two friends, but spent most of your days alone.
It was well past midnight when you caught yourself drowning in your own self-loathing thoughts. A sudden tap on your window startled you as you turned to find a familiar blonde boy struggling to lift the glass. You watched, unimpressed, as he finally got it open enough to slide his lean body in and land straight onto your window seat.
“You’re late again, JJ,” you said, getting up to lock your door.
“Phone died and there’s a guard on duty, so I had to come in through the long way,” JJ stated, plopping himself comfortably on your bed.
He wore his usual fit- dark cargo shorts and a navy button-up with hardly anything buttoned. He reeked of weed and seawater, wearing a sleazy grin on his face. You wanted to swipe it off. Cocky bastard.
“For the last time,” you retorted, kicking his feet off your white blankets, “no shoes on my fucking bed.”
“I love when you talk dirty to me,” JJ snarkily replied as he slipped off his boots.
This was JJ: your fuck buddy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why you were involved with this delinquent of a boy, but he was enough piss off your mom and Ted- not that you would ever tell them. You didn’t know what it was about him, but causally sleeping with JJ made you feel more in control of your life. So, once or twice a week, you two would meet up, do the deed, and go your separate ways without a word. No strings, no feelings, hell, not even a friendship. And not a single soul knew. You both understood the terms of your agreement and will stand by it until the day you both die.
“Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are we gonna get to clapping cheeks? I don’t have all night dude,” JJ nagged, interrupting you from your thoughts.
You flipped him off. “If someone showed up during their regularly scheduled time, I would have had a lot more energy.” You peeled off your cropped tee to reveal a lacy black bralette and climbed into his lap. His hands cupped the globes of your ass before sliding them into your shorts, mouth connecting with your neck.
“Let’s make this quick,” he added between short breaths, “I have to meet some friends in an hour.”
-----------------------------
chapter two
#outer banks#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#jj#jj obx#jj maybank#obx#jj maybank imagine#jj imagine#jj fanfiction#obx imagine#obx fanfiction#john b#john b obx#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#jj smut#jj x reader#jj x y/n#outerbanks
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AAAAAAAAHHHHHH OH MY GAWD YOU START WITH TMA AND THEN TELL US YOU ALSO WATCH ARCANE? WE HAVE THE SAME TASTE! I finished it yesterday and it destroyed me too but I would love to hear your thoughts on it if you wanted to share them ~ after seeing you post about the Firelights vastaya guy (the bat one) I'm curious
Aww :). I powered on with The Magnus Archives while I was painting krampus yesterday, and I’m now near the end of the second season. Enjoying it a lot so far, and I’ve definitely got headcanons popping up for that too, though I’m a bit too shy to share those just yet, especially since it’s my first time listening to it, and I’m sure I’ve missed a lot of details.
As for Arcane, yeah, I wasn’t expecting to get into it really - I’m normally a ‘medieval fantasy’ kind of person, but I really enjoyed it. It’s one hell of an emotional ride though. Oof my god. Favourite characters so far have been Viktor, Vi, Caitlyn, and yeah, the bat-eared friend in the Firelights. The chemistry between Vi and Caitlyn was everything I wanted and I loved them wholeheartedly. Interested to see where that goes in Season 2 whenever that happens.
I had to look up what ‘vastaya’ was since I’ve not played any of the game and know almost nothing about the lore, but if you say he’s a vastaya then that works for me!
Spontaneous ‘bat-ear guy headcanons’ below, though really I’ve just created a character/OC inspired by him, rather than fixing on that character from the show. I said ‘single dad’ in my other post, and I’m ammending that to ‘widower’, just so folks are aware. No other warnings, I think...
My character based on the guy from the show is called Dex, and he grew up in Zaun. He used to work ‘security’ for a shitty bar somewhere in the depths of the city, and lost his wife to illness brought on by the toxic atmosphere. With just his newborn daughter left, he joined the Firelights and is now an integral part of their community. He fights for a better world, knowing it won’t happen in his lifetime, but he hopes to lay the groundwork for his daughter’s future.
He’s quiet - because of his mouthful of sharp teeth, he doesn’t speak all that much, and finds human language tricky - but he listens (no ear puns intended) and is very observant and thoughtful, liking to work things out all the way through before acting or speaking, which sometimes frustrates the more impulsive members of the Firelights.
He would do literally anything to protect his daughter, and he finds comfort and peace in holding her in his arms.
He’s very wary of topsiders, but also of strangers. He does not trust easily, and it takes a lot for him to open up, but usually once you’ve won him over, he’s very loyal.
He’s panromantic, though he tends to lean more towards women when it comes to physical attraction, but since his wife died, he hasn’t wanted to have any kind of intimacy with anyone. It’s just not been there.
Because of his heightened hearing, he’s sensitive to loud noises, so doesn’t tend to enjoy going out into the city or into the bars and clubs. He’s also colourblind, seeing only in greyscale (it was the green layer over his species’ eyes that made me think of it). He can use a sort of echolocation in the dark. His ears are also extremely touch-sensitive......... do with that information what you will.
He’s got claws on hands and feet, and he tends to keep them pretty sharp. He trains with a spear, and prefers that to guns and most other weapons. His martial arts style is all about kicks and using his long leggies (forgive my taekwondo background here. Think Spike from Bebop as a fighting style?).
He’s also had some medical training, though it’s more along the lines of ‘field medicine/first aid’ than anything you’d find ‘topside’.
I think that’s it for my new OC Dex. If you want any scenario headcanons or whatnot, please just ask.
#anon ask#arcane#the magnus archives#vastaya#arcane oc#league of legends oc#i'm a noob so forgive me if i made any mistakes#i'm just here to have fun and make ocs
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