#bad-seamstress-blues | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukunas-wife · 3 months

Note

can you do something about sukuna when a curse hits him and he ends up turning into a little baby and the reader will have to take care of her husband and son because they are both identical 😸

Please 😭😭 It’s terrible now that Yuji is the same height as his daddy he couldn’t be more ecstatic about being able to swing on him only to learn Ryomen can very much still use his Domain Expansion 🥹 I don’t know why it got sad out of now where that unwanted child comments been haunting me all week 😭🤍

“Oh Ryomen…” you couldn’t help but stare sympathetically at your husband who was now just over 3 feet drowning in his clothes. Yuji was right there hugging his neck, “We’re the same height daddy now we can play!”

You wanted to tell Yuji not to see how Sukuna was trembling with teary eyes, the anger being too much for his little body. You wanted to coo at him but you felt so bad seeing him so small, finally you turned to your lady in waiting who was bowing on the floor in front of your little boys. “Lord Sukuna forgive I’m so sorry forgive me please I had no intention of doing this forgive me forgive me forgive me I beg for your mercy-“ she was cut off when a gash was sliced across her face, it wasn’t enough to kill her but enough to mark her as incompetent. You had to look away, his little chubby face was tilted back with an aggravated look his eyes were looking down on her. Yuji was still hugging and rubbing his face against his “daddy’s' ' shoulder. You almost thought he deserved a brother.

There you were picking him up to keep him from killing your lady in waiting. You expected him to kick and throw a tantrum instead he turned in your arms burying his face in your shoulder holding on tight to your robes. Yuji was pouting when he handed you his dads oversized robe that you tried to use to cover him up. He laid there sniffling, you could feel the heat of his face and the occasional tear.

“Aww is my little prince crying.” You could help but take his face in your hand and kiss all over his face. He wasn’t like Yuji who would start laughing and perk up, he put his hand on your lips stopping you while staring you down. You stared at each other until your fake bit his chubby fingers and he cracked a small smile. “Cmon Yuji, we need some of your clothes.”

Yuji perked up, taking your hand and looking up at his dad. He wanted to play but he guessed his dad can’t just run around naked. You were doing your best to dress Sukuna but this is how it went.

“Let’s see what we have,” you pulled out white pants and a white shirt, “No.”

“This?” It was a robe Yuji would wear in the summer, “No.”

“What about these?” You pulled out a fancy little set Yuji wore in one of your family portraits, “Nuh uh”

“Oh oh! What about this one daddy!” You watched Yuji jump out of the Chester of clothes, it was a costume he asked you to ask one of your ladies in waiting who was a good seamstress to make. It was Ryomen’s Iconic white robe, blue belt and scarf. It had matching socks also, this is what Sukuna got excited about. He took it from Yuji, not hesitating to strip from his oversized coat and into his new smaller robes. “Perfect.”

You saw him standing on the bed next to Yuji, Yuji looked so excited and you looked away. “I don’t need another, I don't need another, I don't need another.”

“Woman!” You turned back to Sukuna. His small voice was nowhere near as demanding or authoritative. You saw Yuji slide off the bed and run off, “I am hungry.” You cleared your throat, “right, let’s get you something to eat .” You looked around “Yuji baby are hungry?” “Nooo!” His voice was shaky, “‘m looking for something i'll eat later!” You watched as bent over half hanging in the drawer of clothes. “Are you sure?” “Mhmm!” “Alright, we’ll be in the kitchen if you get hungry okay?” He nodded “ookaay mommy” Sukuna slid off the bed and you couldn’t help but take his little hand, you looked at Yuji missing the look of shock on Ryomen’s face. You only looked back when you felt his little hand squeeze yours tighter. Your soft smile when you looked down at him. He wanted to rip his hand away and cross his arms over his chest, he’s not weak and he doesn’t need a hand to hold. He snapped his head away and you felt how his hand was shaky while he held on tight. “What’s wrong Ryomen?” He didn’t look at you, but you could see the red on his face, the little gloss over his eyes, you thought to yourself, ‘he’s probably never held someone’s hand. He was the cursed unwanted wretch of a child..’

You spent the next hour treating him like a complete child, the baby talk, sitting him on the counter and squishing his little cheeks even if he threatened to bite you, you never did. The way you’d hug him and kiss his cheeks and forehead. Letting him eat off the spoon while you cooked, he didn’t give you the cute little reactions Yuji did but his little puffed out cheeks and puts squeezed your heart. There you stood in front of him, he was sitting on the counter with an almost empty bowl. You watched him slurp the last of his noodles and awed at his little smile when he looked up at you. You could help but take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead, “My little baby boy.” He put his bowl down when you hugged him and did his best to hug you, his face on your chest, you let your chin rest on his head. “I love you Ryo.” He didn’t make a sound. You ran your hand up and down his back, “you okay baby?” He just hummed.

“Daddy!” You pulled away and broke into a big smile when you saw Yuji standing in the door. “Awww Yu.” You couldn’t help but coo over him. He was dressed exactly like Ryomen, and even had a poorly drawn mark on his forehead. You sat Yuji down to eat listening to him explain how he looked for the costume because he knew he had more than one and now he and daddy could play the King of Curses game he had just made up. Sukuna was standing by your side pulling on your sleeve while Yuji was stuffing his face quickly. You saw him, you genuinely saw him as a child in that instance. He didn’t have any marks on face or wrists. He looked naked, you had to stifle your laugh when he mumbled something you didn’t catch. “Daddy needs a mark too!” Was all Yuji said pointing at his own forehead. After Yuji finished eating you sat them both in front of your vanity, cleaning off their faces and taking a black pigment to draw the little mark Ryomen usually had on his forehead on both of them. They were almost identical twins except for the fact Yuji’s light brown eyes were innocent compared to Sukuna’s red eyes that now held a look of mischief.

before you knew it they were off. Both of them were running out into the garden racing to see who would get there first. It was a competition of who was better now. Still you trailed behind, calling your ladies in waiting to accompany you.

It was chaos, they tore up flowers, left muddy patches in the grass, their white robes were filthy at the bottoms and the pigments on their foreheads were running from sweating. Sukuna tackled Yuji and they tumbled into the koi pond, they were laughing and soaking wet, slipping while they tried to climb out. It was cute how they crawled out and laid on the grass. Your boys, laughing and kicking their legs, it made you awe. There was no doubt in your mind Ryomen didn’t get to experience this kind of fun from the very very faint and little details he’d given you of his past.

——————

It’s been a week, you woke up this morning sore and tired. Sukuna was half lying into your chest drooling and snoring, Yuji was laying backwards, he was spread out a foot pressed into your cheek the other on the pillow, one of his hands was spread out the other loosely holding Ryomens hand.

You tried to move, Yuji sat up slowly, not moving his foot from your face. You tried to sit up and Ryomen whined shaking his head back and forth protesting your sitting up. Still you held him in your lap as he clung to you with one hand, Yuji tried to wiggle into your lap hugging your other side. “‘’M sleepy” the weight of your mini husband and son drug you back down to the bed. You caved and fell back asleep pulling both of them into your sides.

You woke up screaming, jumping up in panic, running out the room ready to grab your kids just to find them tripping and tying up eunuchs to draw on their faces. They were squatting around a poor eunuch's face. Yuji was covering his smile with his little fists, and Sukuna was on his knees and one hand, the other drawing on his face, his tongue stuck out in concentration. You had to breathe and your lady in waiting ran up to you, “Lady y/n are you alright?! You ran out in just your intimate robes.” You sighed your heart beating in your throat “Yes, I just heard screaming so I was panicked.” It was scary, their heads snapped to look at you like wolves. They heard you and it was over, they were running over to you and you felt intimidated which led to you running back to your room being chased by Ryomen and Yuji.

“No! Stop, stop! No!” Your cries were in vain when they managed to take you down after entering your room. Laid out on the floor Sukuna sat on your butt leaning back into your back like a lounge, you groaned lifting your head to find Yuji squatting in front of you. “Mornin mommy.” You rested your cheek against your folded arms “Good Morning baby.”

——————-

It was another week, you were sitting on a stool in the bathroom robes pushed back, Ryomen was sitting between your legs on a smaller stool while you scrubbed him down. Yuji was splashing in the water, his skin tinted red from being scrubbed down also. Sukuna was angry, pouting with his fists pushed into his knees. “Ryo if you didn’t wanna be scrubbed then you shouldn’t have chased that skunk! Now both of you stink. And look at this!” You ran a hand through his hair little grains of dirt could be felt, “you still have sand in your hair.” He huffed before he crossed his arms over his chest, puffing out his cheeks. “M not stinky woman! It’s called manly musk!” You laughed “Manly musk, the only thing manly about you right now is your name Ryomen.” He yelped when you poured water over him, side eyeing you before you told him to go soak in the fragrant bath. The smell lingered on their clothes. You had them Burned and the handmaid's were quick to make new ones before they finished soaking.

——————

It was the start of the third week, you wanted your oversized husband back. You were tired of waking up to someone in your ribs and a foot in your face. The two had become so similar you ended up saying the wrong name three or four times before you got it right. The robes and painted marks didn’t help either. But here you were reclining on the front steps of the temple watching them one more time. Sukuna felt it before you saw him, Kenjaku was coming.

“What do you want!” He was bratty and snapping at him when he was in sight.

“Oh, I didn’t know the king of curses had another son. An exact replica I would say too.” Kenjaku picked him up by the scruff of his robes, Sukuna was kicking and wiggling before Yuji ran over “Let him go!” And started beating the man’s legs. Kenjaku shook Sukuna, “hey Kid is Ryomen Sukuna home or isn’t he?” “M not answering you.”

Kenjaku’s eye twitched “Why not?” “Because your brain is freaky! Who needs to open their heads, freak!” Yuji screamed, still swinging on Kenjaku’s leg. Kenjaku tried to lightly push Yuji back and that’s when Sukuna smacked his hands together, “DOMAIN EXPANSION”

It was unstable, he was Ryomen Sukuna, but his cursed energy was the same as a child’s.

You heard the chime and drip. Everything in you lit up and you started running, what the hell was happening Yuji, Ryo please please don’t do anything stupid.

“Ah shit-“ Kenjaku was quick to make his disappearance at the scene when he heard your steps.

“Ryomen!” You took a deep breath “Yuji!” You could feel the residuals of another person.

“What happened!?” You were kneeling in front of Sukuna, hands on his shoulders with a panicked look. He was okay, that was until you heard sniffles and crying. You snapped around Yuji was sitting on the floor with a gash across his crying. You let Sukuna go and ran over to Yuji picking him up. “Shh shh shh, it’s okay let me see.” You tried to pull his hands away from his face. There were cuts across his nose and across one of his eyebrows. “come here Yu.” You sat on the ground pulling him into your lap even when he resisted while crying. Placing your hand carefully on his face cupping his cheek you started to use your reverse cursed technique to heal cuts.

You watched as they closed and slowly started to heal over. You didn’t notice how Sukuna looked scared, for once the king of curses looked vulnerable. When you were done with Yuji, what were you going to do to him? Were you going to abuse him the way his parents had? Would you treat him like a wretch, an unwanted curse. Would you scream at him and raise your hand at him? “…Yuji…” his voice was so small when he tried to get closer. You turned to him, you saw those teary eyes and you were confused, when you licites your hand to try and pull him closer he flinched away. “What’s wrong Ryo?” He watched you put your hand down on Yuji who stopped crying. He looked down, shaking his head, before Yuji spoke up “m Okay it wasn’t too bad.”

Both of you saw how Sukuna’s eyes looked up but he wouldn’t lift his face. You nodded with your head, “Come here Ryo.” He slowly walked over hands behind his back before standing next to you still not looking you in the eye. “You okay?” Your hand came up to touch his back and he just stood there, Yuji was still sitting in your lap looking up at his dad. You watched those little tears drip off his chin, before you pulled him down into your side hugging him, “Don’t cry Sukuna, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t mean to hurt Yuji.” Yuji crawled over trying to hug him also, “‘ts okay.”

You did your best to hold both of them, rubbing their heads with your hands as they held onto you. Taking turns in kissing their heads and rubbing their backs. Sukuna still hadn’t said anything, “m sorry.” His voice was shaky and you squeezed him harder, “oh Ryomen.” You sat there holding both of them until One of them fell asleep. Yuji walked beside you while you carried his mini dad, this was the only time you’d ever be able to carry him without his soul crushing weight. Yuji ran off to his room. When you made it inside, you took Sukuna to your shared room, laying him on the bed. Brushing his hair back carefully, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I love you Ryo, none of this was your fault, you shouldn’t have to carry burdens that aren’t yours.” Pulling the blanket over him you sat down, you saw his eyes barely open before he fell asleep again.

——————-

“Y/n…” it was the soft call of your name that woke you up.

Yuji was sitting in your lap holding on to you. You back was stiff and your neck popped when you tried to stretch.

“Hm,” you didn’t bother trying to open your eyes. “Woman,” you sat up trying to rub your eyes and not let your sleeping Yuji fall, “Ryomen?” There he was in his full frontal glory that made you do a double take before looking up at him, “Where’s your clothes???”

He ignored your question, taking your face in one of his hands, he leaned in closer and you were going to kiss him until he ghosted your lips and pressed a rare soft kiss to your forehead, “There is no doubt you are a fine mother.”

Squishy: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007

@cyder-puff

Perm: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez

@simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @dolliira @ilovemybabies378

Broken🥹: @cyder-puff @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @dolliira @ilovemybabies378

882 notes · View notes

thot-of-khonshu · 6 months

Text

bell bottom blues (joel miller x f!reader)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Summary: you're the town seamstress and you've had a crush on joel miller for ages. when he gifts you a pair of bell bottoms, you go to his house and finally confess your feelings leading to a night of whiskey and fun. Inspired by the song 'bell bottom blues' by eric clapton/derek and the dominos

Rating: M, 18+

Word count: 6.5K

Content: a fluffy smut, if you will. shy joel, joel playing guitar, age gap (20+ years), pining, miscommunication, alcohol use, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

A/N: I've been on a bit of a writing hiatus due to work and personal obligations, plus some fandom drama. but when the bug calls, the bug calls. I hope you guys enjoy and remember to like and reblog! <3

“God I wish I had her tits.” You bemoaned, raking through an old magazine. You found it with a film of dust in the safety hideout you had all primarily used when patrolling and you just couldn’t keep your eyes away from it.

“Way to keep your eye on what’s important.” Your watch partner, Joel, deadpanned while surveying the area.

“It’s my break time so no judgment, old man.” You looked up at him from the couch you were sitting on. The door was open to let in the cool fall air and so you could converse with Joel. “I didn’t say anything when you brought your guee-tar on our last watch together.”

"Very funny." Joel drawled. "But I don't seem to recall you complainin' much when I played "Blackbird"."

You huffed, a little smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you turned the page. "That's because it's a good song."

He grinned to himself, looking out the window again. "It sure is."

You two fell into a comfortable silence while you continued to read your magazine. That was the best part about patrol days with Joel, he was a great listener and you felt comfortable confiding in him.

When he had originally shown back up to Jackson with his kind-of-daughter Ellie, nobody had really known what to make of him. You'd heard stories from your community's leader Maria since she was married to his brother, Tommy, but she had never actually met him until they had stumbled upon the commune for the first time. As far as Tommy's advice on what to make of him? "Give him some space but make sure you get to know him. He's not as bad as he might come across."

You hadn't understood at the time what he meant by that but after spending more time with him around the town you had started to figure him out. For instance, he was a great listener, a hard worker, and had a very dry sense of humor. Also, he was incredibly handsome in a rough-around-the-edges type of way. You two had fallen into a comfortable friendship whenever you'd seen each other around or had to patrol together. In the world before the outbreak, you couldn't have imagined being friendly with a man twenty years your senior. But that was the world before the outbreak, you thought, smiling a bit to yourself.

"You got something good there, darlin'?"

You glanced up at him, your heart jumping at the sudden noise after the quiet for the past half hour. You could feel a blush crawling up your neck.

"Uh, not really." You flipped the page, trying to play it cool. "I just like to look at the models and dream."

Joel turned his head to look at you, one brow raised. "Dream, huh?"

"Yup. I mean look at these bright fabrics and patterns. Can you imagine having a wardrobe with any of these colors in it?" You held up the page you were on, showing Joel the vibrant pink dress the model was wearing. It was a halter top with tight jeans and a flare at the end and the woman's long, dark hair cascaded down her shoulders. The image made you ache for a world that was long gone.

"God, I would kill for those jeans." You moaned.

"They're called bell bottoms." Joel corrected you.

You sat up, your mouth dropping open. "How did you know that?!"

He smirked at you, returning his gaze out the window. "I wasn't always an old man, ya know. I used to wear them back in the day."

"No shit?"

"No shit." He confirmed, chuckling a bit. "I was about ten when I wore 'em but those were the style back in the day. I think I had a pair in green."

You stared at him in amazement. "Can you imagine that? Green bell bottoms?"

Joel's face turned into a grimace. "More of my momma's fashion choice for Tommy and me."

You smiled fondly. "If I had a pair like these I'd stich them up and wear them out to the bar. I can't believe they made things like this."

Besides patrolling, you had also used your skills in the commune with clothing and it was no secret which one you preferred. You loved taking old, worn, and ragged pieces of clothing and fixing them up to give them a new life. The thought of being able to take something that was broken and give it new meaning and purpose was exciting and thrilling.

"You've got quite a talent, y'know. Those clothes you make look like you took them right outta the magazine." Joel said, glancing over at you. "You should be proud of yourself."

You smiled at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks, Joel. It's nice of you to say."

"Well, it's the truth."

The sound of a twig snapping approaching made the both of you jump. You sprung up and grabbed your gun. Joel was already at the door, looking out the window.

"What is it?" You asked, your hand steady on the gun.

"It's a damn deer." He said, shaking his head.

"Thank god." You sighed. You placed your gun down and joined him at the window, looking out to see the animal. The deer was grazing and seemed unconcerned about the two of you. You watched it move with a sense of tranquility and ease.

"You scared?"

You glanced up at him. His brow was creased and his lips were drawn. You realized this was the first time you'd ever been this close to Joel Miller. You took a moment to study his features. At first glance, his eyes, dark and deep, are the most captivating. They have the kind of depth that has his entire story - joy, sorrow, and everything in between. You've seen them twinkle with mischief specifically with Tommy and Ellie, and cold and impenetrable when talking to someone he doesn't particularly like.

He's got the faintest scars, a reminder of the life he lived before Jackson, and a smattering of freckles on his chest that are barely visible. You can see the fine wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes and wonder how many times he's smiled in his lifetime and how many more smiles you could give him.

He calls your name. You shake your head, breaking yourself out of the fantasy. "No. Should I be?"

"Nah. Not with me here." He smiled.

Your stomach clenched, and you felt heat creep up the back of your neck. He kept his eyes on you, searching for a reaction.

"We should probably finish our watch." You said, tearing yourself away from the moment.

Joel stood there, unmoving. He was studying you. A silly little girl with a stupid crush, you thought. You could feel his stare but ignored it, picking up your weapon and returning to the couch.

"We should." He finally agreed.

And as much as you wanted to focus, you couldn't help but continue to study Joel when your nose wasn't in the magazine.

---------------

Joel should've known you weren't interested.

You were young, beautiful, talented, and easy-going. Even from the first day he was back in Jackson he could see the way people were drawn to you. When you walked up and talked to him for the first time he was surprised there were still people out there that were still so friendly and warm. He was so used to being the suspicious asshole, the guy who always had a plan and a reason for being, but not with you. You'd just come up and started chatting him up like he was one of your good friends, expecting nothing in return.

That's the thing about you that's always amazed him. You don't expect anything. He doesn't have to go out of his way to prove his worth to you or show you what a good man he can be. You just trust him.

When the two of you got closer than you ever had on that afternoon patrol, Joel felt a stirring in his gut he hadn't felt since Tess. The tightness in his pants was a sign, too. An unfortunate sign at the time you were supposed to be patrolling for clickers but a sign nonetheless. He'd noticed the way you'd looked at him as you watched the deer. He wasn't that old, yet. He could still recognize a spark when he saw it.

But he also saw the way other men in town looked at you. Men closer to your age, men with more to offer. Men without all the baggage and darkness and secrets. Men who could treat you right.

So, he buried the spark and kept you as his friend. It was better that way.

------------------

"Look alive, you old fucker." Tommy nudged Joel's arm, walking up to the abandoned house. They were doing a scouting mission in the outskirts of Jackson. There had been a small group of raiders spotted the night before by a patrol.

"I'm more than alive. I'm kicking your ass."

Tommy rolled his eyes, smiling. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

They both pulled out their guns, ready to clear the place.

"You ready?" Tommy whispered, nodding towards the door.

"Yep." Joel responded, grabbing the doorknob and opening it.

It was a pretty standard scene for a raider's camp. There were blood splatters on the floor, bullet casings, and empty cans everywhere. Joel had seen it many times before and he was certain Tommy had too.

"It's like a fucking pigsty." Tommy remarked, walking towards the stairs.

"No kiddin'." Joel responded, looking around. "I don't think anyone's here."

"Let's check the upstairs and then head home. I wanna tell Maria about this."

They checked each room upstairs. Most of the bedrooms were empty, except for one. The last room they had to check had the door locked.

"What's this?" Tommy said.

"Let's break it open." Joel suggested.

"No. We'll try to pick the lock."

"Fine." Joel said, crouching down and grabbing Ellie's bobby pin he always carried. "This won't take long."

Joel inserted the bobby pin into the keyhole, moving it around to jiggle the mechanism inside. After a minute or two he opened the door.

"Well, that's not what I was expectin'." Joel said.

"Were you expectin' blood and guts?" Tommy responded, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, pretty much."

The brothers surveyed the bedroom. There was dust swirling in the air and a thick layer on every surface. It looked like the room had been abandoned for a while. A queen sized bed sat against the wall with a nightstand beside it. A dresser and a full length mirror were in the corner.

"We should still check everything out, just in case." Tommy motioned Joel into the room.

They searched the area and found nothing but the normal. They were almost done when Tommy found the closet.

"What do we have here?" He said, pulling the doors open.

"Just some clothes." Joel said.

"Looks like we've got a few treasures. What's that?" Tommy pointed at the back of the closet.

Joel pushed some clothes aside and a pair of jeans with a flair at the bottom fell to the ground. "Bell bottoms."

"Well, I'll be." Tommy smiled. "Do you remember these things?"

"Yeah." Joel replied, immediately remembering your conversation.

"What're those doing all the way out here?"

"Probably left behind by the original owners." Joel mused. Without hesitation, he grabbed the pants and tucked them under his arm.

Tommy turned and looked at him, his brow furrowing. "What're you doin' with those?"

"Gonna bring 'em home."

"To who?" Tommy had a shit-eating grin on his face. "Last time I checked those ain't really Ellie's style. I could think of someone who might be able to fix those up, though."

Joel's gaze shot to his brother. He glared at him. "Don't you dare."

Tommy raised his hands, surrendering. "All right, all right. I won't say a word. But I'm sure she'll love 'em. You could bring her a goddamn necklace full of teeth and she'd love it because it's from you."

Joel's heart raced at the implication. "What're you talkin' about?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Joel. Let's just get outta here so you can give her the goddamn pants."

------------------

Joel stood outside of the door to your house, the bell bottoms neatly folded in his hand. He could hear you rustling around inside and was nervous to knock.

"You can do this, old man." He told himself.

He knocked on the door, a quick rapping sound, and stepped back.

A second later, the door opened, and his face dropped. You hadn't answered the door. Instead, it was Nick, a tall, handsome young man who works at the stables. He had the kind of face that Joel used to see in cheesy teen movies he would bring Sarah to see. He had a strong jawline, sandy blonde hair, and broad shoulders. He looked at Joel and then down to the pants.

"Can I help you, Mr. Miller?"

Mr. Miller. Jesus Christ.

"Uh...." Christ and he couldn't even find his words. "I came by to uh..."

"Joel?" Your voice cut through his thoughts. He could see the confusion on Nick's face when you walked up. You smiled at Joel warmly, like a ray of sunshine. "Hi."

"Hey, darlin'." Joel smiled, his nerves disappearing.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just bringing these by." He said, holding out the pants to you. "I, uh, found 'em and thought maybe you could work some of your magic."

Your face lit up. "These are bell bottoms! Are you serious? Where did you find these?"

Joel could feel the smirk tugging at his lips. "Out and about. Tommy and I cleared a place the other day and found 'em."

"Joel, this is incredible!" You looked at him, your face shining with excitement as you went in to hug him. He was frozen, the warmth and scent of your body enveloping him. "I can't wait to get started."

"I'm glad you're happy."

You pulled away, giving him a quick smile before turning back to Nick. Joel could see his face drop a bit, and his stomach tightened.

"You can keep them here and work on them tomorrow. We've got a dinner date tonight." Nick said, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. Your eyes remained on Joel, though and your hands stayed at your sides.

Joel's chest ached. You were going on a date. With Nick. A boy, not a man. And not him.

"I, uh, don't want to hold ya'll up." Joel said, taking a step back. "Enjoy your night."

"Thanks, Joel." You said. He could feel you studying his face.

"Yes, thank you, sir." Nick added.

Joel nodded, turned, and walked away.

------------------

"....and then nobody else could catch that thing but there I was, deep into the lake with that fucking fish." Nick said, taking another sip of his drink. "I had no idea how I was gonna catch it but I couldn't let it go. So, I just dove in after it."

Nick was going on and on about some story that you couldn't even remember how it was brought up In the first place. You just knew Nick liked to talk about himself. A lot.

A lot of girls in Jackson had liked Nick. He was young, handsome, charming, and worked hard. He had the potential to be a catch for any single woman, but that didn't mean he was yours.

But then he showed up on your doorstep earlier that day with a charming smile and asked to come In. He'd told you he was interested in you and wanted to get to know you better. You were hesitant, especially considering the feelings you had for someone else, but you'd also remembered what had happened on your last patrol with Joel. You knew you couldn't compare with an older, sophisticated woman that might come his way one day. So, you accepted. What's the point in waiting on a fantasy?

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom when you'd heard someone knock on your door and Nick open it. You were annoyed at the immediate audacity he had to open your door without asking but then heard a familiar voice. Joel's.

You rushed out of the bathroom to see him standing there with fabric on his arm.

"These are bell bottoms!" You'd said excitedly. "Are you serious?"

And when you went to hug him, his body was tense and frozen. But the smell of him, a mix of pine and tobacco, filled your nostrils. And for a brief moment you'd imagined yourself pressed against his chest and kissing him.

That feeling only intensified when he looked at you. His face was a mixture of pain and jealousy and you realized that maybe he had felt something for you, too. But it was too late. He'd turned away and left.

It was the sweetest gesture and you couldn't even properly thank him because Nick had interrupted and ended the conversation about your date. You hated the way he slid his hand around your waist, it was such a gross power move. He acted like he owned you before he had even bothered to take you to dinner.

You tried to stay present with Nick but he wasn't making it easy. He had barely asked you about yourself, but you also were guilty of not engaging much.

"What do you think, doll?"

"What?" You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up at him. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"About the lake? The fish? The dive?"

"Oh." You'd said, a wave of relief coming over you. "Wow, that's a crazy story. I'm sure the whole lake was shocked."

"They sure were." He laughed.

You forced a smile, looking down at your half-eaten meal.

"You know, I think you're the most beautiful girl in Jackson...." Nick started as your eyes started to wander across the room. You kept scanning for Joel to see if he was coming to have dinner in the dining room but he wasn't there.

You kept looking around until you saw Ellie, she was saying something to Dina and laughing and then heading out.

"Ellie!" You called out. She turned around and smiled, walking over.

"Hey! What's up?" You looked at the plates she had wrapped up and her heart sank.

"Just saying hi. I see you're wearing the flannel I fixed up." You pointed out.

"Yep, I love it." Ellie smiled, holding her arms out to showcase it. "Thanks again. Joel was happy you helped."

"Where is he, by the way?" You tried to act as nonchalant as possible but you heard Nick scoff.

"He's at home, actually. He wasn't feeling too well so I'm gonna drop him off some food before I come back to hang with Dina and Jesse."

You frowned. "Oh."

"If you'll both excuse me, I gotta use the John." Nick said, standing up. Not even remotely pretending he was interested in the conversation.

"He seems like a keeper." Ellie deadpanned.

"The kind of boy you bring home to your mother." You rolled your eyes, and she snickered.

"Is there a reason you're asking about Joel?" Ellie inspected you. For someone who was so young, she had a knack on picking up on things like that. And she had absolutely no filter about it.

"No." You shrugged. "He was just at my place earlier and gave me some bell bottoms. I just wanted to check on him."

"Ooooh." Ellie's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Stop." You said, glaring at her.

She turned her hands up in defense. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But all I'm gonna say is this, if you wanna check on him I don't think he's going anywhere all night and I'm sure he'd appreciate some company. Especially your company."

"Thanks, El." You beamed at her.

"Anytime. Enjoy the rest of your date."

You smiled, watching her leave the dining room.

Your stomach was still in knots and your nerves were going haywire, but you had made up your mind. You were going to visit Joel.

When you got up to talk to Nick and you saw him leaning down on another table to talk to another girl, It was clear he had made up his mind too.

-----------------

Joel strummed his guitar on the front porch, a glass of whiskey sitting beside him. His leftover plate from Ellie was next to him.

He had decided to eat at home instead of eating in the dining room because he couldn't deal with the embarrassment of seeing you again, especially across the table from another man.

So, he ate and played his guitar and drank his whiskey.

It was starting to get dark, and the stars were becoming visible. Joel was trying to focus on the stars instead of thinking about you. But it was hard, especially when he could hear the laughter and conversations going on in town.

He picked his guitar back up and started to strum.

Bell bottom blues, you made me cry

I don't want to lose this feeling

And if I could choose a place to die

It would be in your arms

He continued to sing, closing his eyes and focusing on the song.

I don't want to fade away

Give me one more day, please

I don't want to fade away

In your heart I want to stay

"Nice song."

Joel straightened up and peered out into the darkness. He saw you walking up towards his porch, a shy smile on your face.

"Didn't mean to interrupt." You said, climbing the stairs. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked, even in the dim light. You had your hair down and a thin sweater covering a flowy dress. He could make out the shape of your body and the curves of your breasts, and the way the dress fell at your hips. He cursed himself for noticing and then cursed the fact that his cock stirred when he did.

"You're not." He said, standing up and putting his guitar down. "How was your date?"

You sat down next to him, taking a sip of his whiskey while rolling your eyes.

"Well, he talked a lot. I talked a little. He was rude and didn't ask about me. And I was really distracted."

Joel grunted in acknowledgment and continued to strum as the two of you fell into a warm silence.

"What's the song you're playing?" You asked.

Joel took a deep sigh. He knew once he told you, it was over. He couldn't lie to you.

But fuck It, he'd had some whiskey and it was now or never.

"The song is called 'Bell Bottom Blues', actually."

"Interesting." You mused, leaning back in your chair. "What's the song about?"

Joel stopped strumming. He looked at you, and you were staring at him.

"It's about a guy who has this woman. He knows that they could be great together. She makes him feel happy and good, and everything that a man wants. But the problem is, she doesn't want him."

"Well, that's depressing as shit."

"Yeah." He chuckled, his heart heavy. "It's depressing, but it's also true."

"So, she doesn't love him."

"Right."

"But why doesn't she love him?"

"Because he's old. He's not her type. And he's just a grumpy sonofabitch."

"Who wrote this song?"

"Eric Clapton."

"Well, did this Eric Clapton guy know he wasn't her type or did he just assume she thought he was a grumpy sonofabitch?"

"He assumed."

"Okay. So, maybe the girl is just confused."

"Or maybe she's just not attracted to him."

"I don't know about that. I'd be attracted to a man like that. If he was honest with me and treated me right. That's the important part."

"Yeah, I guess so." Joel replied, his heart racing.

"You guess so? You're an interesting man, Joel Miller."

"I've been told." He smirked, taking another sip of his whiskey. "So, why did you come here?"

You stared at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, I came here to properly thank you but now that I'm here I think I'll just drink some more of your whiskey and listen to you play more about how wrong this Eric Clapton is."

Joel laughed. He looked at you and saw the warmth radiating from your face. He couldn't believe his luck.

"Whatever the lady wants."

"The lady does indeed want." You beamed, and Joel got up and opened the door inside, leading you in.

"All right, darlin', come on in."

--------------------

After a few more glasses of whiskey, you were feeling warmer and relaxed.

Shyness had gone completely out of the window and you were curled up next to Joel, a blanket over the two of you as he strummed the guitar. You were close enough that his knee was against yours. You could feel the heat between you and it made your head spin.

You leaned into him and rested your head against his shoulder. He smelled so good, and the warmth of his body radiated onto yours.

"I'm glad I'm here." You whispered.

"I'm glad you're here, too."

"Joel...Do you think I'm like the girl in the song?"

Joel paused. He put the guitar down and turned to you.

"Well, first of all, you're not a girl." He whispered, his voice low in your ear. "You're a woman."

You closed your eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine.

"And secondly, I don't think you're anything like the girl in the song. At least, I hope not."

"I'm not." You assured him, your voice soft.

"Then why did you ask?"

"I just want to make sure you're not writing me off because of a song. I'm not some immature girl. I like the way I feel around you, and I'm not afraid to tell you anymore."

"Anymore, huh?" Joel asked. He moved his hand, placing it on your hand. You could feel the warmth and roughness of his palm. "So, if I were to kiss you, would that scare you away?"

"Not at all." You whispered, turning to him. Your eyes met and you could see the fire behind his. You'd seen that fire before, but never so close.

"Good."

Joel placed his hands on your cheeks and brought his lips to yours. Your body stung with excitement and you melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His beard tickled your skin, but the softness of his lips against yours made your body ache. You kissed the open patches in his beard you had daydreamed about kissing and ran your hands through his hair.

There was no chasteness in your kiss, thanks to the whiskey. Instead, you slipped your tongue into Joel's mouth as he groaned.

He pulled back for a moment, staring at you.

"This is not what I thought would happen." He admitted.

"Me neither." You grinned. "Should we stop? What time is Ellie coming home?"

"She's stayin' the night with Dina actually."

"Well, if that's the case. I should really thank you properly for that gift you showed up with."

Joel's eyes lit up.

"I'll accept whatever thank yous you have."

"I bet you will."

You straddled him, looking down at him as he kept his hands safely on your waist. You could tell he was restraining himself, always the gentleman, but you were tired of holding back how you felt.

You kissed him, hard, and bit his lip, eliciting a groan from him.

"Fuck." He growled, his fingers digging into your waist, pulling you down further onto his lap as you felt his hardening cock against you. You grinded down onto him, and fell into a rhythm while you kissed him and he gripped your waist tighter.

You removed your cardigan and Joel's hands instantly moved up your torso, toying with your straps.

"Joel...it's okay." You grabbed his hand and removed your dress straps with him. Your dress fell, revealing your breasts, and Joel's eyes darkened with an intensity he'd only saved for a hunt. You felt like his prey, and it only made you more aroused.

Joel's hand came up, gently cupping your breasts.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful." He murmured, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. The sensation shot right to your pussy and your hips continued to move in reaction.

You started to undo the buttons on his shirt, and he helped, throwing it to the side. You pulled him closer, feeling his hot chest against yours, his muscles tense and his arms around you. You kissed his neck, and his collarbone, and then kissed his chest.

You could hear his heavy breathing as you trailed your hands down his torso and his cock strained against his jeans.

"Joel." You whispered, moving off him to kneel in front of him.

"You don't have to." He said, looking at you with a pained expression. You could tell he was still trying to be a gentleman and hold back, but you were done holding back with how much you wanted him.

"I want to. I want you." You said as you slipped his jeans off. His erection was prominent through his boxers and you could see the wetness at the tip of his cock.

Joel let out a soft groan, watching you take off his boxers. His cock sprang free, and he hissed as the cool air hit him.

You had been guilty of spending nights thinking about what Joel Miller would feel like on top of you, inside you and in your mouth. But nothing could prepare you for the real thing.

His cock was thick, a beautiful length with a slight curve. Precum was leaking from his tip, and you wrapped your hands around his base, stroking him up and down.

"Jesus." Joel groaned. You felt his hand reach out, gently grabbing the back of your head and guiding you closer. You licked the precum off his tip and he moaned.

You licked down his length and then took his cock into your mouth. Joel's breath caught, and his fingers tightened in your hair.

"That feels so good." He said, his voice gravelly and low. You took more of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head and hollowing out your cheeks. Joel's hand pushed down a little harder and he let out a moan.

"Am I bein' too rough?" Joel asked with concern.

You looked up at him with full eye contact, your pupils blown. You started to ease his cock further into your mouth until you could feel his tip at your throat. You stayed there, and then started to move slowly up and down, the pressure from your tongue making Joel gasp.

"Jesus Christ, girl." He whispered, and then he started to push his hips upward, meeting you as you bobbed on his cock. His thrusts became faster, and his breath caught in his throat. You could tell he was getting close and you wanted nothing more than to feel him lose control in your mouth.

Suddenly, Joel's hand left the back of your head, and his cock left your mouth. You looked up at him with a dazed expression and watched as he stood up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin' is wrong." He growled. "Take off your dress and get on the couch."

You got up and slowly peeled off the rest of your clothes, his eyes never left your body. You saw his chest rise and fall with each breath as the two of you stood for a moment, studying each other's naked bodies.

Joel stepped forward and kissed you, hard. His tongue found yours and you tangled together, tasting each other. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer to him, his cock pushing against you.

"Get on the couch, baby." He ordered, his voice gruff. "Let me fuck you."

You lay down on the couch, spreading your legs. You had been dripping wet since you'd first straddled him, and now, it was dripping down your thighs and you couldn't help but run your fingers through it.

"Fuck. You are so goddamn beautiful." He said, his voice a low grunt. He knelt down and took a finger, running it through your wetness and then pushing it inside of you.

You gasped, the sensation of his thick finger hitting you differently than your own. He pushed a second finger inside of you, feeling an overwhelming stretch.

"You're so fuckin' tight. I gotta make sure you can take me." He said, pushing his fingers deeper inside you and curling them up. You gasped, arching your back as his fingers hit a spot inside of you that you can't normally reach.

You bucked your hips towards him. "I used to dream about what your fingers would feel like inside of me."

"Is that right, baby?" Joel asked. He added a third finger and the pressure was almost unbearable, he moved at a faster pace and the sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of your wetness were filling the room.

"I'm so close." You whined, bucking your hips against him. But he could feel it, he could feel your tightness clenching around his fingers.

He positioned himself quickly to lean in and suck on your clit. It was gentle, and his beard brushed against the skin around it. It was the final thing to send you over the edge, and you came hard.

"Joel." You moaned as you reached your climax, arching your back and riding his fingers. You could feel the wave of pleasure rolling over you as you gripped his hair. He slowed his pace and then pulled his fingers out, wiping his face.

"Did I do okay?" He asked, looking at you, and you saw the softness behind his eyes.

"You did better than okay. Take me to your bedroom?"

Joel nodded, picking you up and carrying you upstairs.

-------------------------

Joel laid you down gently on his bed and stood, looking down at you, stroking his cock.

He climbed on top of you and leaned down to kiss you. You could feel his hard cock against your stomach.

"Are you ready, darlin'?" He whispered in your ear, nibbling your lobe.

"Mmm, please." You murmured, lifting your hips towards him.

Joel grabbed his cock and rubbed his head along your wetness. He pushed it inside of you, slowly, and groaned.

"Fuck, you're tight." He muttered, his body stiffening. He eased himself in further, the stretch of his cock was intense, but the feeling of fullness was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

You felt him start to move his hips and you arched your back, taking him deeper as you opened your legs wider.

You could feel him deep inside you, hitting that same spot he'd touched earlier. Your hips bucked against his and the sound of the slapping of his hips against yours echoed in the room.

He was breathing heavily and his eyes were half-closed.

"You're so tight. Jesus Christ, you feel so good." He moaned. "Like you were meant to take my cock."

"I want it all." You whimpered, grabbing his ass to pull him closer. "I want it deep."

"God damn, baby." Joel grabbed your legs and placed them over his shoulders, giving him a better angle to thrust deeper. He slammed into you and the feeling of him against the back of your walls and the way his pubic bone pressed against your clit made you gasp.

"You wanted it deep like this?" He growled, his grip on your thighs tightening, the slapping of your skin and your moans getting louder.

"Yes." You gasped, feeling yourself reaching another climax. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming again."

You felt your walls tighten around his cock, and he moved down to press his thumb on your clit. He pressed and swirled his thumb against you, and the sensation was overwhelming. You came hard, moaning and writhing beneath him.

He slowed his thrusts as you rode out your orgasm.

"Fuck, I can feel you cummin' all over my cock." He murmured, his voice low. "It feels so fuckin' good. It feels so fuckin' good, darlin'. You're gonna make me cum."

His thrusts were becoming sloppy and frantic, and his breathing was coming faster. You were so sensitive and each thrust made your body twitch.

Neither of you had said it but you had both had the desire to have him cum inside you. You wanted to feel all of him and the thought of him filling you with his cum while you looked like a pornstar underneath him turned Joel on more than he'd like to admit.

"Cum in me." You pleaded, and that was enough. Joel's head fell back and he moaned, his body twitching.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He said, slowing his thrusts as his cum dripped down his cock and into you. You could feel him cumming, his cum hot and thick inside of you.

He stayed still for a few moments, the room filled with the sound of the two of you catching your breaths. Then he slowly pulled out, watching as his cum mixed with yours, dripping out of you and onto his sheets.

In one final move, he took two fingers and took your dripping cum to thrust it back inside of you.

You watched him, dazed and exhausted. He got up, panting and dazed and left the room for a few moments. When he returned, he had your clothes in one hand, and a towel and a glass of water in the other.

He placed your clothes on the floor and handed you the water. You gulped it down while he cleaned you off. You winced a bit, feeling the warm washcloth between your legs and Joel looked up at you with concern.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, his voice low.

"Not in a bad way." You grinned.

Joel smirked and lay down next to you, pulling the blanket over the two of you. He put an arm around you and pulled you into him.

You rested your head on his chest and ran your fingers along the grooves of his muscles.

"I think this was a better gift than the bell bottoms." You joked.

Joel laughed and kissed the top of your head.

"I don't know, I did go through a raider camp for those jeans. That was pretty heroic and dangerous."

"Yes, Joel Miller, you are a hero in the name of fashion." You yawned, nestling into him. You could hear the steady beating of his heart and felt his chest rising and falling with his breathing.

You closed your eyes and were starting to drift off when Joel's voice brought you back.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for comin' over and doing somethin' I was too chicken shit on doing for a long time."

You smiled.

"Don't worry, I'm here to do the things we're both scared to do. You just have to promise to keep the whiskey and the bell bottoms comin'."

"It's a deal." Joel kissed your head again and pulled you in closer.

You drifted off to sleep, content and safe in Joel's arms. Finally feeling the relief and acceptance of what you had tried to ignore for so long.

And the feeling of Joel's arms around you felt more like home than you could ever imagine.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

1K notes · View notes

starshine-wagner · 1 year

Text

A Welcome Interruption

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Summary: You accidentally interrupt Jake's party ~plans~.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI. Smutty stuff. Language.

Author's Note: This is my first smut so please don't look at me I'm embarrassed and this is all scary ok. if its bad pls just ignore it. and if u know me irl pls ignore it im begging. u know who u are.

Jake hadn't felt this desperate in a while.

He didn't intend to leave the after-party this early. But the growing concern in his trousers forced his hand... literally.

He let his brothers know he'd be stepping out to get some air before retreating back to the bus, parked not-so-sneakily behind the venue. He managed to fumble the bus code twice before finally getting it right and hearing the door unlock for him. He practically threw himself inside, shut the door, and made his way to his bunk to find some relief.

--*--

You really weren't sure if it was the end-of-tour-blues or what, but something had you down that night. It was the last night of tour, meaning that your 6 months spent on the road with Greta Van Fleet was coming to a close. You'd gotten close with a couple of the girls on the tour. One who did photos, another who assisted in wardrobe. One of the managers even became like a second dad to you. You'd miss spending nearly ever day with them. But, the one relationship you were most sad to see off was the one you had with Jake.

You'd become friendly after the first few weeks as you got to know each other a bit over long van rides, delayed flights, and late night dinners in the back of the bus. Almost always, though, he was surrounded by his brothers. You loved them all, but Jake had a special place in your heart.

The way he spoke to you made you feel like you were the only person that mattered. He never failed to offer a hand when walking down the stairs. He always made sure to save you a plate from catering when you were running late for lunch. They were small things, but they felt big in such a touch-and-go lifestyle.

You never dared to try anything with him. You couldn't risk making any sort of move and ending your career for it. So, you were content to admire him from afar. Well, further away than you'd like.

Sometimes, you wondered if maybe, possibly, somehow, Jake felt similarly. You'd catch him peeking into your office every time he passed by backstage just to smile and wave. A few times you could've sworn you overheard him talking about you to Sammy. And, God, you couldn't get his touch out of your mind. The way that his hand sometimes came to rest on your knee when you were sitting near him. How his fingers swept away strands of your fallen hair at the end of the night. The way he seemed to nuzzle his face into your neck on the few occasions you'd hugged. You figured it was just the way he was. The way all the Kiszkas were. Touchy. But something felt a little electric about it that made you wonder...

So, you found yourself in a bit of mourning. You'd miss the thrill of the crush. The anticipation of does-he or does-he-not.

Most of your night was spent with your girlfriends, drinks in hand. You'd been going around trying to get pictures with everyone, of everyone, and making sure to say your congratulations on a well-done tour all around. After the ringer these boys put you all through, it was well deserved.

Naturally, you couldn't help but steal glances at Jake from across the room. The way his latest stage suit hugged his thighs had you in a mouth-watering daze. You had to remember to give Jake's seamstress a gift basket...

When your gaze came back up to his face, his eyes were already on you. You tried to play it off as having been zoned out, giving him a polite smile. He excused himself from the conversation he was having with some tour representative and made his way over to you. You shifted, a little nervously. It was just Jake. You'd be fine.

"Congratulations, Y/N!" he cheered, bringing you in for a hug. God, he smelled good. Pine and alcohol and Old Spice deodorant. Once again, his face found its way right into the crook of your neck. Just for a moment, you could feel his hot breath on your skin.

"I should be the one congratulating you!" you pulled back. "I was just talking to the girls about it. We're all really proud of you guys," you explained.

"Well without people like you," he took a step closer and moved his hand to rest on your hip for emphasis, "we'd still just be sitting in the garage in Michigan. So thanks." He raised his glass and threw back the rest of his drink. He swallowed and you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. It's almost like he knew what he was doing to you.

The clanging of a glass across the room snapped both of you to attention. You turned to see the Label Rep thanking everyone for coming to the event and launching into some speech about how great the tour did. Jake reached over and squeezed your hand as a signal of departure before joining his brothers towards the front.

You didn't even attempt to focus as the guy droned on and on. You still felt the sting of Jake's breath on your neck, and the strain of his hand on yours, and the weight of his palm on your waist and... oh. You were down bad.

--*--

"So, did you ask her yet?" Sam prodded.

"Ask who what?" Jake looked over his shoulder, having a good idea about where this conversation was going.

"Stop playing dumb, brother. Y/N. It's your last real shot." Though he usually was one to tease, Sammy seemed oddly sincere. It was disconcerting, really. "I've watched you steal glances and sneak off to bathrooms all fucking tour."

Jake let out a deep breath and fiddled with the elastic on his middle finger. He knew Sam was right. He knew that if he ever had a real chance at understanding whatever it was that passed between the two of you, tonight would have to be it. And he knew you wouldn't make a move. That you couldn't.

"I don't know Sammy. I just, I don't think it's like that-"

"You never know until you try."

--*--

By the end of the night, Jake had worked himself into a corner. The nerves of wanting to pull you aside and kiss you senseless, combined with the fear that you'd reject him and the aching in his pants... he had to get out of there. So, to the bus he went. Perhaps he'd come back when he had... taken care of business.

Of course, though, you noticed his absence almost immediately. You knew that sometimes he'd step outside for a smoke break, so it shouldn't have concerned you that much. As you passed Sammy at the bar, he, too, congratulated you and made small talk.

"Anyway, have you seen Jake?" he questioned.

"Actually I was just wondering where he went. I wanted to-" you paused. What did you want? "I, um, wanted to say bye."

"Hmm. Well I needed to introduce him to this fancy-schmancy business guy. Could you do me one last favor? Please?"

"Fancy-schmancy? Sounds important..." you raised your eyebrows.

"It is. Could you please go see if he's on the bus? His phone is dead, I'm sure, and I want to make sure he talks to this guy about- uh. Well, he's got some, like, cool ideas that Jake should hear."

You were reluctant to head out into the cold to find him, but you agreed. You made your way around the maze of the backstage club and eventually found the fire door. It said it was just for emergencies, but you truly couldn't have cared. It was closer to the bus dock, so it would do just fine.

Locating the band bus, you saw that one of the lights was on. It was dim, but it was on. You ran up to it, quickly inputting the code, hopping onto the steps, and shutting it behind you.

"Jake?" you called softly from the front of the bus. No answer. Maybe he had gone for a smoke around the corner? Then, you heard a stirring further down the galley.

"Mmm. Fuck."

You froze dead in place. Jake?

"Fuck Y/N please. Please..."

Did you... was he...? Shit. As soon as he uttered your name, you felt your stomach flip and your insides turn white hot. Did he know you were there? How could he?

He muttered some incoherent nonsense between his heavy breaths and shifted in place. The sound of the sheets moving forced you out of your head and into reality.

Jake was touching himself while thinking of you. At least, that's what it sounded like.

But what to do?

God forbid you somehow read the situation wrong. That would be just your luck. What if he was... sick? Some kind of sick that was making him moan and squirm...? Was he thinking of someone else who happened to have your name? Your mind ran through endless possibilities of what could be happening, each more implausible than the next. Your thoughts were interrupted when Jake spoke again.

"Shit, Y/N pleasepleaseplease. Yes. I- fuck," he was practically whining. Whatever scenario was playing out in his head, it sounded like he was enjoying it thoroughly.

You would be lying if you said that this didn't fuel your ego. You absolutely recognized how attractive Jake was, and had definitely thought about him a time or two or twenty when you were alone in your bed. Your thoughts often wandered to the way his fingers moved so adeptly on stage, or the way his chest glistened with sweat in the stage light. Who could blame you? But you'd always found a way to bring yourself back to earth. To remind yourself that he was out of reach. That he wouldn't, couldn't be yours.

So, your brain was split in half. Part of you felt like you needed to run as far away as possible from this situation. To run back to Sam, say he was shit out of luck, and get on with the goodbyes. The other half was deliciously turned on and yearning to join him. Eager to indulge him in whatever fantasy he'd concocted in his head.

Your feet were moving before your mind could catch up. You inched your way down the galley and stopped just beside Jake's bunk. Taking a deep breath, you summoned up the courage to make your presence known before you could change your mind.

"... Jake?" you whispered, shyly toying with the hem of the curtain by his bed.

Behind it, Jake paused for a moment. Either his mind was playing tricks on him, or you were really calling out to him in the throes of his pleasure. He managed to calm his breathing and dared to peek out to see. Upon taking in your dazed expression, his stomach dropped and he tried to cover himself with the sheets. He panicked, embarrassed.

"Y/N I can ex-"

"No, keep going," you ushered him on. You even surprised yourself with the sudden confidence.

'Shock' wasn't even close to describing the look on Jake's face. He considered protesting. But, with the state of him, you both knew he had no choice - no desire - but to surrender.

"Don't be embarrassed. I, um... I like it." His head fell back a little bit more at that... the idea that you liked walking in on him getting off to the thought of you. So, he continued.

Despite your diffidence, your hand slowly found its way under your shirt and on to your stomach. The light brushes of your fingertips against your raised skin made the sight before you even more dangerous. Your eyes shut just for a moment, relishing the feeling. It was innocent, but felt so far from it.

Jake pulled you out of it.

"No. Look at me. You were doing it all fucking night, so don't you dare stop now."

If you two were going to do this, you were going to do it.

Obeying his command, your eyes reluctantly opened to find his again. You needed more, already. You reached out to grab Jake's hand that was resting just next to his head. The contact alone set his nerves on fire. You led his palm under your shirt and up to the swell of your breast, encouraging him to touch you there.

"Oh my god," he groaned, his head falling away from you in disbelief. Of all things to be self-conscious of in the moment, he was concerned about the way your soft chest in his hands made him blush. He'd dreamt of this moment for ages, though he was scared to admit it. His other hand continued its patterns, hidden by the far half of the curtain and the sheet he'd tried to hide behind.

As he began kneading into your breast, you allowed your own hand to sneak further down. You hadn't realized just how wet you were, and all from watching his face contort in pleasure. When your middle finger brushed your swollen clit, your mouth hung wide open.

"Fuck, Jake," you uttered, allowing your head to rest on the wall beside his bunk.

He somehow forced his hand to come to a standstill and looked over at you with his half-lidded eyes.

"Y/N you have no fucking idea how hot that is." You whimpered at his confession. "You touching yourself," he huffed, "Saying my name..."

Suddenly, the hand he had on you withdrew from under your shirt and you sighed at the loss of his warmth. He beckoned for you to climb into the bunk with him.

"Do you want, can you get i-" he began.

"Please." You cut him off.

You clambered into the bunk, but not before ridding yourself of your top completely, much to Jake's enjoyment. It was only going to be in the way, you figured. You bumped your head on the roof and Jake shuffled to the side a bit to make room for you. He'd pulled his boxers up for the time being, though he was still hard as ever beneath them. It was desperate and ungraceful and needy, but neither of you seemed to care.

Once you were settled next to him, his fingers danced across your lips, entranced. You each took a few breaths before continuing on.

"Can I touch you?" he whispered, staring at where your mouth met him.

You only nodded in response, fearing what might come out of your mouth if you dared to open it.

"Use your words, baby, please. I need to hear you."

God. This was...

"Yes, please touch me," you grasped his forearm, longing for him to move it elsewhere. His skin was hot and soft and perfect.

"That'a girl," he praised. His fingers wandered from your lips to the back of your neck, playing ever so lightly with the baby hairs there. He took his sweet time dragging his fingertips down the back of your neck to the side of your breast, stopping there to press his lips to it.

He tapped your shoulder, wordlessly asking you to lay on your back so he could have greater access to your chest. His hand trailed down your sides to your hips, though his mouth still stayed connected to your nipple. He grazed it with his teeth before moving on to the other. As he took it into his mouth, his thumb dug into the flesh of your hip.

"Jake I need you- oh." He dragged his tongue up and pressed a hot kiss into your neck. "I need more." You pulled his head closer to you, hands tangled in his hair. He was already sticky and sweaty, but it only made you feel needier.

"And you'll get it, if you're patient, sweet girl," he smirked into your neck. You let out a soft gasp at that and willed yourself to keep your hands occupied with his hair rather than yourself. "Mmm. Did you like that? Sweet girl?" He bit down into your skin. "Sweet Y/N?"

You could only whimper in response as he soothed the spot with his tongue. He pulled back completely, using his free hand to cup the side of your face.

"Ah ah, what did I say about using your words, baby?"

"Fuck, okay, yes Jake. Yes, I love it-" He smiled to himself again and finally connected his lips to yours.

You had always wondered what his lips would feel like. They looked so soft and inviting, even from across rooms. Across arenas. And you were right. Despite the situation you were in, his kisses seemed innocent. They were tentative and gentle.

Your hand danced along the hem of his boxers, pinky finger slipping under. You held him there for a minute before inching down further, just as you went to deepen his kiss.

His head fell, almost into your chest.

"I can't take-" he grabbed your wrist, and cleared his throat. "Not yet." Immediately you felt a pang of rejection. Had you accidentally taken it too far? He brought his head back up to yours, pressing your foreheads together in reassurance.

The confusion must have been written all over your face. Reading it, he pressed your hand firmly against the lower part of his stomach and traced little circles on top of your veins with his calloused thumb.

"Let me take care of you first. Is that okay?" he smirked.

"Yeah. Yeah that's okay." For the second time that night, Jake's breath on your skin was the only thing consuming your mind.

He placed a kiss between your eyebrows, forcing all the tension out of them. He made his way down your nose, your jaw, and sloppily down your body until he reached your hips. Space was tight in the bunk, but he made it work.

When he reached the band of your pants, he looked up at you again through his eyelashes, pieces of hair sticking to his forehead. That sight alone could've had your head spinning for days.

"M'gonna take these off, okay?"

"Yes, Jake." You tried to keep your composure, but your impatience was still showing through in every strangled breath. He hooked his fingers around both layers at once and helped you shimmy them down to the bottom of the bed. He kicked them into the corner and turned his attention back to you.

"Good girl. Using her words," he kissed the prominent bone of your left hip, "being so sweet," and then the other.

His mouth left hot stripes down the crease of your thigh, inching closer and closer to where you wanted him most. When he arrived there, he let himself hover over you for a moment. You once again allowed your hands to take hold of his chestnut hair and begged him to get on with it.

"Enough, babe-"

You ate your words when his tongue began tracing a slow path up your center. It felt like all the air in your lungs disappeared and you were only breathing in Jake. His arms snuck up to wrap around your thighs and push you even closer to his face. As he did, his nose bumped right where you needed him most.

"Oh my god, Jake," you purred. He only chuckled into you. As he continued licking up the mess you'd already made for him, his thumb outlined circles at the widest part of your thigh.

"I can't believe- mmm," he moaned against you, "I can't believe this is all for me." He brought his hand back around to place a thumb on your clit.

"Always has been." With that, his ministrations paused.

"How long?" He looked up at you, his face glistening in the dim light.

"Months." You rolled your hips up towards him, needing him back where he was. His finger once again found you and continued making slow circles.

"Fuck. If I- months? I could've had months..." he spoke, muffled between your legs.

"We're here- oh my god," his thumb swiped over you just right. "We're here now." You gave one more tug on his hair before his tongue was at your entrance, begging to be let in. As his mouth began to work away at you, you realized you wouldn't last long. "Make me cum, Jake, please. With- right there..."

He kept at his patterns, gliding over you just right. It was a matter of seconds before your back was lifting off the shitty bunk mattress and up into his chest. "Jake, I'm-"

"I know, I know, baby," he soothed. "That's it."

His words, hot and breathy in your ear, were the final domino that sent you tumbling over the edge. You felt your release hit you and there was no stopping the sounds that slipped from your throat.

In awe, Jake was mesmerized. "Like an angel..." He worked you through the wave, slowing down and using less pressure as you neared the end of it.

When the feeling eventually dissipated, you came to and found Jake's forehead up by yours again.

"That was-" you started. "You have no idea how beautiful-" he began.

You pulled him down into you and pushed him off to the side until he was laying next to you. Kissing your way from his shoulder to his breastbone and up his neck, you swung your leg over his body and looked down at him.

A lovesick smile spread across his face and he licked his lips. You sat back on your thighs to catch your breath and allowed his hands to roam your sides once again.

"I can't believe you've been hiding yourself from me," he mused.

"Like I said. We're here now," you countered. You brushed the unruly hairs of his eyebrow with your thumb and brought him into a deep kiss while your other hand reached down to work on getting his boxers off. Even the brush of your palm over him had him sputtering groans into your mouth.

"Relax, baby."

He helped you slide them down his thighs and you kissed down his torso, stopping to give extra attention to his freckled shoulder. You could feel him much before you could see him, and when you did dare to look, your breath hitched. He noticed right away.

"God, don't do that," he groaned.

"Do what?" you asked, feigning a sick sort of innocence. Your hand brushed just along the side of his cock.

"Look at, fuck-" his hips instinctively jerked up towards you, "don't look at me all fucked out like that." To this, you giggled. As you went to take him fully into your hand, he reached down for your wrist.

"No, no, not tonight. I need to be inside you." Suddenly, he was flipping you over and had you pinned beneath him, right up against the wall of the bunk. "I'm gonna fucking, oh," he uttered as he ground down against you, "I'm gonna make you mine. Can I do that? Can I make you mine?" he pleaded.

"Already yours, Jake."

With that, he pushed himself gently inside of you, disappearing inch by inch. You both stuttered, your breath failing you, in awe of the way he was filling you up.

"Oh my- fuck," he looked back up into your eyes as soon as he was totally swallowed by your warmth. "Can I...?" he prompted, stalled out in you.

"Just, one second," you asked, allowing yourself to adapt to the pressure. "Oh. Okay." Once you had adjusted to his size, you instructed him, "Yes, Jakey, please move."

His hips began their slow rhythm, grinding up and into you with expertise. You were totally trapped in him, and you loved it. His hair fell down around you both and his arms created a cage around you. There was nothing but Jake.

Having already been worked up before you arrived, Jake was focusing intently on making the moment last as long as he could. "God- fucking... oh my god." He slowed his pace down, much to your dismay.

"No, please, I need you, faster please-"

"Mmm. Poor thing," he mused, taking in your desperation before him.

"I'm so close, please Jake," you begged, breathless, pulling him down by the neck.

"Fuck, sweet girl. " He skimmed the apple of your cheek with the lightest of touches and he continued his slow draw in and out of you. "I can't say no to you." You let out a sigh of relief, pushing up into him.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he begged. You whined in complaint. "Tell me, angel, and I'll give you heaven." He moved his lips right onto your ear. "Promise."

"So bad Jake. So, so bad," you gasped as he rutted into you mercilessly. "Fuck, you fill me up so good. I'm all fucking yours, please, I need it-" You could barely speak with how heavy your breathing became. His breath was heavy on your shoulder and all you could hear was the lewd sounds of your bodies connecting at their core.

"You don't have any fucking idea-" he groaned, rolling into you just right, "how pretty you are."

"So. fucking. pretty." Each part of his compliment pointed with a thrust of his hips.

"Jake it's, I'm-"

"Please, angel. I know, me too. I wanna feel you around me, please."

You dug your nails into his back as you let your second orgasm overtake you completely. Only, this time, you felt Jake right there alongside you. He throbbed inside of you, making your pleasure all the more drawn out. Jake's moans were being choked out of him as you rode through the end of your wave, emerging from a vision of white hot pleasure. You could feel his release threatening to drip out of you as he slowly pulled out and landed by your side.

The brief silence wasn't very silent at all, filled with mutterings and catching your breath. It wasn't until he turned over to you that he finally spoke.

"I'm, Y/N, that was..."

"Yeah."

You felt his hand slide up from your ass to your neck, where he gripped you gently. Using his hold, he drew you in for one more kiss. Languid and dripping in desire.

"I've been wanting to do that for God knows how long, sweetheart," he smirked. His pointer finger danced along the skin of your neck, tickling you ever so lightly. You brought your hand up to it and pressed a kiss to the pad of his finger.

"Me too, Jakey," you admitted.

His somehow even warmer eyes looked at you from the periphery.

"Mmm. 'Jakey,' huh?" he teased.

"Hey..." you felt a little bit of embarrassment creep back up and you turned to hide your face.

"No, no. I'm just teasing." He grabbed your chin so you'd face him again. "That's cute."

Once the two of you had calmed down, you suddenly remembered the whole reason you'd come out here in the first place.

"Fuck," you shot up, almost wacking your head on the ceiling of his bunk again.

"What, angel? Is everything-"

"Sam sent me to get you because some fancy business guy or something wanted to talk to you. It seemed important. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Fancy business guy, huh? I'm sure the other three can handle him." He grabbed your arm to pull you back down to him.

"No, Jake. Dammit." You searched the bottom of the mattress for your pants and slid them back on, not caring about the mess you'd have to clean up later. When you went to climb over Jake to get out of the bunk, he realized that you weren't going to be stopped.

You both managed to clean back up in record speed, stopping to glance in the galley mirror.

"Is this... okay?" you straightened out your collar.

"Babe." Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "We look fucked."

The both of you burst out laughing, nearly to tears, before he brought you into his arms.

--*--

When the two of you popped back into the party, it was nearly venue curfew. Josh was saying his goodbyes to some of the audio team, and Danny was still engrossed in conversation with one of the openers. Half-finished glasses were littered across all the high-tops and the music was getting softer. You could feel the night coming to a close.

As Jake drifted off to find his twin, Sam pulled you aside.

"I'll take it you found Jake, then?" he asked with a shit-eating grin.

Immediately your face turned hot and you tried making yourself as small as possible. "I- Yeah I found him, um..."

Sam lifted his hand. "Don't worry, Y/N. I took care of it."

"The fancy- but I thought... Jake-"

Sam gave himself away with a devious twitch of his mouth.

"You can thank me later, love."

--*--

Here is Not-Jake for a little visual. Woof.

Author's Note, Again: Congratulations. You made it through my first smutty writing. If it was terrible, it actually wasn't me who wrote it. It was Mackenzi. But if you liked it, awww. Thanks! It was all me! <333

#jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #gvf #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction

625 notes · View notes

kingmagnificoofrosas · 3 months

Text

Prince of nothing

I thought I'd give you guys a little taste of the story I'm writing 📖 The following part is a snippet from my first draft, concering Magnifico's past. It's the moment he first meets Amaya. Don't worry, this little part of the chapter won't have any heavy spoilers. That's why I decided to share it in the first place.

To avoid confusion :

Sir Magnus and Lady Claudia [The couple that took Magnifico under their wings. Magnus is a low rank magician who owns a pharmacy. His wife is a seamstress and they share the shop.]

Standing in the middle of a forest clearing, Magnifico raised his hands and proudly watched the six tiny stones he'd picked up earlier swirl in a perfect circle.

Fascination rattled his soul at the thought that this was his doing. If things would go after his mind however, he would already do much greater things, command more magic. But he was just beginning, and he knew he had to take one step at a time and practise. And practise had become his mantra.

For some reason, air magic had come the easiest to him. He still remembered the first time he'd made a feather-pen float. Thrilled, he'd tried to lift the ink glass next but accidentally spilled it right on an unlucky client who just happened to enter the store. Sir Magnus had bursted into roaring laughter, the lady had made a huge fuss and Magnifico had felt so utterly ashamed he'd hidden below the counter with a face as hot as if he'd caught a fever.

Water-magic came right after air. Water was easier than the stubborn earth but still heavier than air. The only thing he still shied away from was fire. Everything in him fought against it. He couldn't go near it, couldn't even look at it. Whenever there was even as much as a tiny open flame, panic would flood his mind and throw him right back into the hell of that one night his world had been shattered.

He'd rather sleep with ten blankets than have the fire lit in his tiny room. And in situations he couldn't avoid a room with lit fire-places, he made sure to do his best not to look at it or get too close. He was more than grateful that sir Magnus and his wife tried their best to be considerate about it, but sometimes it also made him feel bad.

One day, Magnifico knew, he had to learn how to command fire as well. He had to in order to reach his goal.

Suddenly there was a gasp behind him, he flinched and the stones immediately dropped into the grass.

"Ay, dios mio!" A girl, not older than him, exclaimed, "that was magic! Wasn't it?"

"Yes." Magnifico picked up the stones, "and you startled me!"

"I'm sorry." The girl still mustered him. "My father and I came to the store and I decided to take a little walk. Then I saw this blue swirling light and ... so you're a magician?"

"Hm." Magnifico smirked, "I wish I was. I'm still learning." He opened his right hand with the stones again and with his left index finger made a swift gesture. The stones hovered back into the air and started swirling.

The girls mouth dropped. "increíble!" She'd heard stories of great magicians but never had she seen one in action before. At least not someone her age. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Four months."

"Four months? And you can already do such a thing?"

Magnifico turned, letting the stones drop back into his hand. "This is just for warming up, I can do more."

"Can you do that again, please? Just one more time!"

"Making the stones swirl?"

The girl nodded. Chuckling lightly, Magnifico let the stones go round once more.

If you want more of that chapter or more spoiler free snippets out of my fan-novel, let me know ✨️💙

#king magnifico #disney wish #wish 2023 #of stars and roses #queen amaya #disney fan novel

40 notes · View notes

prof-ramses · 6 months

Text

Breaking down the new LN3 footage

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT this was really wild, we basically got a collage of everything to expect from the Necropolis and what do you mean "pre-alpha gameplay footage"? This already looks amazing! Now let's start the actual breakdown

The area on the other side of the mirror seems to be the place where we see Low and Alone get pulled into the mirror in the reveal trailer, so that'll probably the beginning of the beginning for the game.

It's interesting to note that the Necropolis seems to be completely walled off from the surrounding desert.

I might be reaching here but that fact that a crow, an animal that's only previously been associated with the North Wind, is the first living obstacle the kids encounter is very interesting.

I can't, for the life of me, tell what era or region clothes the Dwellers are supposed to be waring so if anyone can tell me, that'd be a big help.

We've had numerous variations of the eye symbol with various meanings ascribed to each, so, again, if anyone can point out any previous instances of this particular version of the eye, please do so.

Quicksand will be a hazard in the Necropolis and more than anything I'm just astonished there wasn't a sand burrower.

The Hercules Beetles are way nastier than I thought, likely because of their disgustingly realistic buzzing, makes feel less bad that Baby already killed most of them.

The bundled bodies around the area are definitely concerning, maybe the Dwellers use to preserve corpses as "offerings" to Monster Baby.

BABY CAN TURN HER EYE BEAMS OFF! This took me completely by surprise, the implications of this are very fascinating to think about.

The kids, or specifically, Low, wake up in a room with padded walls, implying their either in the sewing room of the Seamstress from the Lonely Way (not good), or the Counties Psychiatric Institute (really not good) and on top of that, darkness closes in around them. While we're on it, Lowe wakes up in the same way the protags of previous games do when you respawn and in the same situation that they (and Noone) do too, as their caught by a resident.

One last thing, the blue to grey pulse on the logo screen feels eerily like a heartbeat, and given the top of the "main" mirror almost looks like a heart...

#little nightmares #ln #little nightmares 3 #ln3 #ln Low #ln Alone #ln Noone #ln Monster Baby #ln Seamstress #the sounds of nightmares #tson #ln podcast #ln theory #ln analysis #little nightmares theory #little nightmares analysis #ln North Wind

108 notes · View notes

thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls · 2 months

Text

Ok so I swear I have serious (?) drawings planned for these two but i had to draw this little comic thing:

Uhhh ocs are Aika (pink hair) and Nyssa (blue and brown hair) and belong to @iersei!! the doomed fruits ever <33 The Seamstress (the lady in the thought bubble) is also a sei original oc :]]

The text from the thought bubble: Making jokes about killing yourself is a bad way to deal with your feelings and a good way to start is to change your view (the rest is gibberish lmao)

#OKOKOK SO #idk if your ok with this idea sei cuz idk if its in character!!#not even sure if The Seamstress would say that to Aika but uhh yeah!#i have better ideas for them in the works i swearrr #this is also inspired by a fantasy high comic i saw idk who by though!#tw suicide joke #<-idk if i should tag that? just in case #my art #others ocs #art #uhh idk how else to tag this

23 notes · View notes

gyunmiraculous · 1 year

Text

I have been thinking of writing another Luka fanfic but no idea seemed to hit right...

And then I saw this fanart and I just,,, PIRATE LUKA??? THIS IS A GOD LEVEL CONCEPT LIKEEEE imagine!!

Adrien, prince of the kingdom, who runs away at night to taverns and bars to experience things and ends up attracting attention of pirates who visit those bars!! And they try to beat him up but Adrien is like,,, the prince y'know. He's a trained fighter. Btch becomes known as Chat Noir, for attracting bad luck but like, also being a super strong guy.

Meanwhile Marinette as a small town seamstress who is struggling to start her business. She works at the bars to earn money so she can buy fabrics to make clothes at unholy hours of the day. Chat Noir (and tons of the pirates and other visitors) hit on her on a daily basis and she always shoots down his flirting, not telling them her real name for her own security. (Yes I will involve the love square in all ways possible, do not test me)

Ofc Chat then jokes that maybe she's his ladybug, the good luck to his bad. The joke sticks and he starts calling her ladybug.

BUT back to my first ideaaaa!! Pirate ship Liberty, ran by Captain Anarka, of course!! Add in her children and you get young rugged handsome blue haired, blue eyed Luka, a pirate with a deep love for music. You won't see a sword in his hand as much as a violin bow– and he of course, sets his eyes on the beautiful Ladybug of the bar.

Cue a jealous Chat, an amused Marinette and their love story because I'm marichat trash. Aaaand of course Luka will eventually give up seeing how these two are made for each other but hey, maybe he might find his own someone somewhere, hm? (Yeah, I need to think a wee bit more to figure out what's the best role for the reader hehe)

ORRR maybe like, Luka actually knows Marinette from childhood and he decides to meddle because he's a Marichat shipper too 😂

#luka couffaine #luka couffaine x reader #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #pirates #i just love this idea a LOT like #even just the marichat part is so??? good???#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic

114 notes · View notes

soap-lady · 4 months

Text

A Wild Chapter Appears!

Hey everyone!

So I used to post a chapter every month of Worthy Opponent but eh...I kinda fell in with a bad crowd or a new fandom. I'll finish this story I promise but I don't have the same motivation I used to.

@arylace Is the best co-writer I could ask for and y'all have her to thank for this being finished.

@fantasiame, @g-arya, @lavenderjunes, @charlietheepic7, @ahenix, @delectablycoolscientist, @kaseykay17, @vio-march-0327, @mewwitch, @vixen-uchiha, @coolspidermanmusicflower, @lady-bee-fechin, @raeuberprinzessin, @symwinter, @frieddonutsweets, @seraphkitty, @friendsofthefairies, @nickristus-dreamer, @khneltea, @jumpingjoy82, @fan-written, @woe-is-me0,@corporeal-terrestrial, @queenmjean, @theymakeupfairies, @dorkus-minimus, @idk-j-go-with-it

Worthy Opponent 26

All of the crucial “will you go to the ball with me?” scenes were filmed and the crew was galvanized into action. Notre Dame Les Oiseaux was about to start classes again so they couldn’t use the theater. So instead they decided to create their own ballroom on a soundstage.

The set dressers and designers went all out, taking inspiration from an actual castle ballroom and adding a few of their own touches. Blue and gold damask wallpaper decorated the walls and they recreated the look of a marble inlaid floor with vinyl laminate. Statues of Greek maidens stood in little alcoves (they were only plaster, but the audience wouldn’t be able to tell.) and genuine glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Amelie arranged for a tiny stage for a string ensemble to perform live music and a dining area with a buffet table. Mme. Jennings insisted all the chairs be covered with satin slipcovers to prevent damaging the expensive costumes.

The younger cast was very excited to be showing off their dance moves but the crew tried not to groan when they thought of all the building and painting involved. Fortunately they were able to find a discount wedding supply store that had some lovely banquet chairs and already made slipcovers. Some were blue and the rest were gold. That was once less headache, courtesy of the mayor’s daughter, who was now using her connections for good. Or at least convenience. Amelie arranged for on-set massage therapists and chiropractors to help the crew after a few incredibly long and stressful days.

The Wardrobe Department was so busy Marinette had to be excused from filming to help sew and Mme. Jennings recruited a few additional seamstresses. It was rumored she’d recruited her cousins from Scotland but the women rarely spoke so no one really knew. They worked at a furious pace and soon costumes for the principal cast and most of the secondary were done.

Everyone was tired and stressed so Amelie declared the weekend before they shot the ballroom scene to be free time and arranged for a team movie night and a takeaway dinner for everyone who wanted it. Some elected to just catch up on their sleep.

Work wasn’t quite done for Marinette, Felix and Luka. She had two costumes to finish and fit and they had to try on their costumes to see if any adjustments needed to be made.

Luka practically bounced down the hall. Marinette wanted to see him alone! Well, she wanted to see him alone to see how well his ball costume fit and whether or not she needed to make any adjustments but still, any time alone with her lately was precious and hard to find.

He told himself he wasn’t jealous of Marinette’s new friendships with the cast. Being an actress could net her some excellent contacts and he’d eat his Jagged Stone guitar pic if Mme. Amelie and Allegra didn’t contact Marinette after the movie to make dresses for them.

It was also good she got along with Allen and Claude. He loved to hear her laugh and their stories of past movie shoots and pranks they played on each other on-set made Marinette giggle and helped keep her anxiety down. Plus, Luka didn’t get the chance to play with musicians who weren’t friends or family and Allen was as talented as he was smart and good looking.

He hadn’t spent a lot of time with Chloe. She barely spoke to him although he’d caught her looking him over once or twice in appreciation. Most of what he knew about her came from what his sister had told him about and it wasn’t flattering. For the last four years she had been bullying the formerly passive Marinette and his shy sister. She’d used her father’s position as Mayor to avoid punishment. Until this year when she suddenly stopped. Perhaps she was too busy trying to survive lycee without her usual enabling teacher and an education staff who told her “Daddy” had no power over them, only the Ministry of Education.

Felix…on the other hand…well, that was complicated.

Felix’s resemblance to his cousin was eerily similar and Marinette did appear to have a type. While Luka was relatively sure she was over Adrien and moving on, he had no guarantee she would move on to him. That was…fine. He’d told her he’d be happy for her no matter who she chose. He’d meant it; he’d back off and leave her alone to make her own choices, even if the person she chose wasn’t him.

That being said, even if he accepted her decisions, he didn’t have to like or agree with them. He’d smile and congratulate her but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. He might even be a little bit angry. He was allowed to be jealous, wasn’t he? He was allowed to be frustrated.

Luka couldn’t blame Marinette if she was attracted to Felix, looks aside. Felix was smart, charming, talented and confident. He was good-looking and aware of it, even if he didn’t exploit it. Watching the way Felix interacted with his mother and his friends, Luka felt he’d be loyal and respectful if he ever chose a romantic partner. Luka genuinely liked him and wanted to be friends, to hang out and laugh together. Maybe Felix played an instrument too. He should suggest the three of them spend more time learning about each other.

If Luka was honest with himself, he was getting sick of letting go of people he cared about with a smile and a wish for their happiness. He wanted to fight, to prove he was worthy, the better choice.

He wanted to be selfish, just once in his life. He deserved to be someone’s first choice and he wanted that someone to be Marinette.

Luka shook his head as his thoughts continued in loops: love, jealousy, longing, frustration. He couldn’t think that way, not in Paris.

He stopped outside the dressing room door that Marinette told him she’d be in. He took several deep breaths and mentally reminded himself to do some meditation and mindfulness exercises later.

*****

Luka raised his fist to the door and rapped with his knuckles. He didn’t have to wait long before hearing her call out “come in!” and he smiled before opening the door.

Chloe wasn’t sitting in the corner waiting to take pictures of him in costume and he asked Marinette why.

She just shrugged. “She said she had plans with Allen and told me she would get pictures of you in your Founders’ Ball costume when we shot the scene.”

He closed the door behind him. “So, we’re alone?”

Marinette smiled. “It’s been awhile hasn’t it? It seems all we do lately is work work work with hardly any downtime.” She sighed, sounding tired.

Luka grinned. “It’s worth it, isn’t it?”

She laughed, delighting him when her eyes brightened and cheek flushed. “Are you kidding? I’m going to be able to put ‘Costume Designer’ on my resume and I’m not even eighteen yet!”

He nodded and smiled at her. “And on your university transcripts. ESMOD would be drooling to have you after working on a Graham Films production.”

Marinette giggled and he wished they weren’t working so he could snuggle with her while they watched a movie. Or did nothing at all. Well, the money he earned on this film would keep his family literally afloat for months. The pay was leagues better than working as a delivery driver so he could afford to put some money aside for himself.

“And not only are you acting, but you’re helping create the score for a major film production,” her enthusiasm for his success was even greater than his own and he loved that about her. She grinned up at him and it was all he could do not to hug her. “Jagged Stone himself will be begging you to work with him!”

Luka chuckled at the unlikely but fun mental image of his music idol getting down on his knees and begging Luka to come work on his latest album. “Mom would love that.”

She giggled. “Oh, yeah.” She looked at him, still grinning. “It’s mind blowing that the two of them used to work together.” She frowned, thinking. “I wonder why they stopped. Creative differences?”

He remembered the way they’d argued at the docks. “With those two? Probably. But it’s just as likely if they were working with Bob Roth back then, he probably drove them apart so he could make more money promoting Jagged as a solo artist.”

“And your mom is way too independent to let someone like Bob control her,” Marinette agreed and they shared a laugh, thinking about Anarka Couffaine telling Bob exactly what she thought of his management style.

The laughter gradually died away and they were left staring awkwardly at each other.

Marinette’s eyes darted around the room, clearly looking for something else to say. “Um, yeah! Do you want to try on your ball scene costume now?”

He knew it was wrong to smile but even when she was shy and awkward she was adorable. “It’s what we’re here for.”

“I’ll go get it!”

She rushed to the storage room in the back and raced towards him holding a brown clothing bag over her head. She double-checked the outside tag with the inside tag to make sure she had the right costume and then thrust it into his hands. “Go go go! Change!”

She grabbed his waist, turned him around and all but threw him into the changing room before coming back and making sure the curtain was closed. “Come out when you’re done!”

He laughed. He loved his Ma-ma-Marinette.

*****

Luka slid the curtain back and hoped he’d put on everything correctly. “How’s this?”

“I’m sure it’ll need an adjustment here or there but for the most part it’s probably…whoa!”

Marinette nearly dropped her pincushion as she stared at him, eyes wide. “You look so good! It’s like you just walked right out of my sketch!”

He laughed and fiddled with the tie. “I don’t think I have this quite right.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad. Hardly anyone knows how to tie a tie anymore.” She crossed the room and reached for the tie, untying it as she spoke to him. “How do you like it?”

Luka allowed her to pull the tie off him, then raised and lowered his arms and let the fabric move around him. “It’s pretty stretchy and easy to move in.” He ran a hand down the front of the coat. “This isn’t leather.”

“No, it’s suede. Suede is stretchier than leather. It’ll move easier than leather during a sword duel.”

“Very smart.” He looked down at his feet. “I’m not sure dress shoes are really Watson.”

“Me either,” she didn’t look up from the tie she was trying to get out of the three knots he had somehow tied it in. “I was thinking of combat boots, not the modern kind. Mme. Jennings has some vintage that might have been her father’s. Are you still a size forty-five?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think these will still fit you. We might get them to stretch a centimeter but not as much as two.” She finally finished straightening out the tie and looped it back around his neck. “I think I remember how to do this from helping my papa. I’ll try to tie it for you but sooner or later you should learn to tie your own.” She glared up at him. “I can’t always stop to do this if you win a Cesar or a BAFTA you know.”

He smiled but she couldn’t see it. “I’ll do what I can.”

She didn’t seem to be interested in what he was saying while she re-tied the bit of silk around his neck. “I went with Victorian or Regency inspiration for most of the cast but for you I went Edwardian. Still muted colors but softer, lighter material. Not as stiff. I went with a summer wool which has more cotton but still that rough tweed look. It’s also a little stretchy because the fabric has some spandex in it.”

Luka wasn’t listening, he just let the lecture about sewing and design flow over him as he heard her talk about what she loved. Her eyes were bright and interested and her posture was confident. He let her turn him this way and that while she got his tie properly adjusted.

“I also thought a standard vest or waistcoat wouldn’t suit you or Watson so I went with an asymmetrical vest instead.”

Her small hands left his throat, which was good, because he was worried she could feel his pulse. Instead her hands skimmed over his chest and slid down his waist. He knew her touch was completely innocent but he had to close his eyes and try to meditate so he didn’t knock his hands away or worse, pull her closer and kiss her. Every time he tried to remind himself she was getting over someone and wasn’t ready for anything serious, it sounded like more and more of a lie.

Maybe she needed a rebound, someone like…Felix. He looked like Adrien sure but he would also be gone in a few months. Marinette might get hurt but hell, it would be over soon and he would be there to console-

No.

That would be cruel and manipulative, to both Felix and Marinette. He loved her and liked Felix. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their friendship, especially if Felix could help her with her career. Felix deserved someone who wanted to be with him long term and so did Marinette.

Okay, enough. He had work to do. And was Marinette kneeling in front of him and feeling his legs?

This was his punishment for impure thoughts and nearly succumbing to temptation. Oh, and doing something pretty dirty to Felix too.

“I think your pants need to be hemmed.” She was telling him. “I almost went with white but I thought stark white would look too harsh so I went with cream.”

Really, Marinette?

“Well, they look great.” He looked into the mirror so he wouldn’t be lying.

The black, gray and cream looked fantastic, contrasting without clashing. The straight bottom of the vest betrayed the slightest hint of shirt as he moved but he couldn’t have it too tight. The fingerless gloves were very rock and roll and would help him keep a grip on his sword.

Luka glanced at his hands. “Could the gloves have some metal studs on them?”

“I don’t see why not,” she made a note on her phone and then got back on her knees. “I’m going to hem these pants. Try not to move.”

Oh, this girl was immune to irony. “I’ll do what I can.”

She slid the ankle of the pant’s leg. “How’s this?

He looked down, “how far up can you raise it?”

“About a centimeter and a half. I want the pants cuff to look right.” She adjusted the pants again. “What about now?”

He looked in the mirror. “Perfect.”

Marinette pulled some pins out of her wrist cushion and raised the hem until she was satisfied, then looked at the mirror until the hem was even all around.

Luka admired himself in the mirror again. He loved it. He’d have to be careful not to get anything on it but Mme. Jennings told him they usually had a spare, just don’t take it for granted.

He looked inside the coat and found a long inner pocket roughly the length of a sword. She really did plan for everything. That would save them from having to stop filming to grab them.

She noticed his satisfaction and grinned. “I’m pretty good, aren’t I?”

“You certainly are,” he bowed and found it very easy in his costume, “Your Highness.”

She giggled and curtsied. “Please. We’re friends.” She made an elaborate show of offering him her hand to kiss. “Princess Marinette will do.”

*****

When had he stopped?

When had he stopped thinking of Marinette Dupain-Cheng as an opponent? Worthy or otherwise, he no longer thought of her as an obstacle or an antagonist.

That was not to say he’d stopped enjoying their verbal sparring matches. She was quick-witted and easily matched his intellect, matching every barb he threw at her with an adeptness that was as impressive as it was playful.

She no longer scowled at him when he needled her and took his criticisms of her acting with good grace and used them to improve her performance without taking offense. And to his surprise, he longer wanted to offend her.

He could admit to himself (and perhaps his mother) that he didn’t like her when he first saw her. She was lovely, with beautiful blue eyes and soft pink lips. Unfortunately she had been crushing on his oblivious cousin, who at the time had been pining for a superhero. It was pathetic and sad because anyone deserved better than to be someone’s second choice.

Now Adrien was dating Kagami and she seemed good for his cousin; strong-willed and fiercely independent. She could teach him how to stand up for himself; he brought out a gentler side of the fencer. They balanced each other rather well.

And for him? Well, he wasn’t really interested in relationships or romance in general but he thought he’d be a good partner for someone like Marinette. She needed more confidence in herself and someone to teach her how to be selfish every now and then and say no. He supposed she could teach him how to better express his emotions and challenge him and bring his ego down to size when he needed it. Which, if he listened to Allen or Chloe, was often.

Then again, there was Luka.

It would be easy but cowardly to dislike Luka. He was level-headed and mature and when Felix was being difficult or demanding, the older boy would just smile knowingly at him and Felix would feel like a nursery schooler having a tantrum. And he’d be good for Marinette. He knew how to calm her through her anxiety attacks and quelled her self-doubt. He was strong enough for her to lean on and teach her how to relax; that she was good enough.

He was growing fond of both of them and that surprised and worried him.

It was easier, simpler to be alone.No one could hurt, judge, or use you. He’d been through that before and swore he’d never allow himself to be that naive or vulnerable again. Yet, now he was thinking of the Quantic Kids and even Chloe as friends he could confide in. They had fun, whether it was acting, breaking a room full of garbage or a tabletop game. It would hurt to lose them now. He could, and he would survive, but it would hurt.

He’d rather not think of what it would be like to lose Marinette either. She was sweet and bubbly and optimistic but also had a snarky side he appreciated. She wasn’t tempted or intimidated by wealth, she was good at planning and strategy. Sometimes Felix wondered what his life would have been like if he’d met her when they were both younger. They might have hated each other, or been best friends.

But when had he begun to change his mind about her?

Perhaps it was when she pinpointed Lila Rossi as the person sabotaging the film and why. She immediately began to plan and even had contingencies in case her original plan failed. He appreciated someone who could plan almost as well as himself.

Oh, she was heavily flawed as well. She was humble to the point of being self-effacing, she gave so much of herself she sometimes forgot to save something for herself. She was independent and refused to accept help from him unless absolutely necessary. He found her persistence and tenacity annoying when she turned it against him.

Marinette became hyper fixated when something interested her but it was a pain in the ass to motivate her if something didn’t appeal to her. Then he had to fall back on his old habit of annoying her until she lost her temper and did what he wanted without her realizing it. And oh, it made her even angrier when she realized she’d been had!

She didn’t take his behavior lying down. More than once he’d found himself tangled in some homemade trap she’d made and then there was the time he found everything in his office that wasn’t in the safe on the roof. Including most of the clothing he’d been wearing. While taking a nap. He never knew how she’d done it and when he demanded to know she’d just smiled and said, “That’s too easy. Where’s the fun?”

She hadn’t attended a private school and lacked a pedigree but he’d much rather have her in his life than some thoroughbred social climber. Or his superficial uncle who insisted on keeping up appearances and hiding his middle-class background. Marinette’s lack of pretense showed more integrity and, to be honest; class.

She wouldn’t be bought or sold and she wouldn’t be talked down to. She just needed a bit more self-confidence. More of a spine, but not to the extent Adrien did. She needed a bit of polish to show her for the precious pearl she was. That and someone who could protect themselves and her. Well, perhaps not protect her, probably someone to fight beside her.

Felix shook his head to clear it. He didn’t have time to muse about anyone. He still had a movie to film, a supervillain to expose, and a city to protect. His conflicting feelings could wait. He put the girl out of his brain.

He stood up and took a few deep cleansing breaths to clear his mind of wayward thoughts and focus on the scene he was about to act in. Later he would go to the Wardrobe Department to be fitted for his ball ensemble. He wondered what Marinette had designed for him…

…

Dammit.

*****

When Felix was reaching for the door it burst open and Luka nearly ran into him.

“Sorry!” Luka backed up a step and apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention, just trying to get away.”

Felix’s brow furrowed. “From who?” Was Chloe hitting on him? Was Lila? He didn’t think either of them were near the dressing rooms today.

“From a very cute girl who was running her hands all over me and kneeling in front of me-” Luka broke off and frowned. “I’m sure she was being incredibly innocent but my mind didn’t take it that way and I had to get away before I could stop myself from touching her back.”

Felix looked all over the other boy. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was a little heavier. “Why didn’t you tell her to stop?”

Luka just shrugged. “I kinda didn’t want her to.” He gave Felix a similar look; examining him without being too intrusive. “I understand if that’s not your thing but I was in a bit of a difficult situation.”

He pointed to the hallway and Felix slid away to let him by. “No judgment,” he told the other boy, “but you’ll have to understand if I think you’re missing something.”

He winked and left and Felix was just confused. He heard Marinette’s voice from deeper within the dressing room. “Felix? Is that you?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Apparently I’m here for you to put your hands all over me,” he muttered before he could stop himself.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I’m here to get my costume fitted,” he amended and she didn’t seem to hear what he said the first time.

“Okay. Come on in.”

He walked in the room and closed the door behind him.

Marinette was waiting for him, looking crisp and competent. She wore gray houndstooth dress shorts and a black turtleneck. Her hair was up in a bun and she looked professional and adorable.

Stop it.

She beamed at him. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Your costume is done but I want to make some adjustments if something is too long or too tight. And I want you to be happy with what I’ve designed for your character.”

He couldn’t help smiling just a little back. “I’m just an actor. I don’t get pissed off and moan about uncomfortable costuming. It’s not my place or right to complain.”

She gave him a flat look. “In a Graham Films Production? I’m pretty sure the co-director does have the right to speak up.”

Marinette went to the back to get him a costume to try on. After verifying the tags matched, she handed it to him.

“Hope you like it.”

Some mischievous part of him prompted him to ask. “Are you sure you shouldn’t help me change?

He thought she would get flustered. Maybe she’d be angry and yell at him. Then they would argue like their characters always did and he’d feel like everything was normal and there was no need to feel awkward.

Instead she smiled at him, lips curved. Her eyes looked him up and down, almost sultry. “My dear. You should be so lucky.”

She pushed him into the dressing room and closed the curtain.

*****

Felix was rather proud of himself for being able to tie a cravat on his first try and looked at what he could see of himself. Unfortunately the dressing room didn’t have a mirror so he would have to leave the room to see his reflection. A ploy of the Wardrobe Department, no doubt. It cut down the number of actors who damaged valuable costumes after realizing how unflattering they were. Well, he wasn’t vain. He didn’t care.

He slid back the dressing room curtain and looked at the mirror.

Okay, he did care.

The long black dress coat was a strange hybrid between a Regency and a Victorian cut and he liked it better, historical accuracy aside. The white shirt contrasted with the black and he thought the gray trousers tied them together.

He looked at the dark gold waistcoat. Another excellent choice that would bring attention to his hair color.

Running his hands over the vest he felt a side pocket. He looked from his reflection to Marinette. She looked satisfied, even pleased with herself. He liked the confident look on her face.

“It’s just big enough for a watch and chain,” he told her.

She smiled widely. “I bet you already have one.”

“Helen’s granddad. It’s supposed to go to the eldest but she’ll let me borrow it.”

She nodded. “Raise your arms. I want to see how easily you can move in it.”

He did so.

“Hold them out, shoulder height.”

He paused. “T-pose?”

“Sure.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say she enjoyed giving him orders and ask if she had any dominating tendencies. That would have been incredibly unprofessional and could have gotten him and his Mother’s production company sued.

But what if she’d said yes?

You’re an idiot, me.

Marinette watched him pose. Her teeth worried her lower lip slightly and he found himself staring at her mouth before he forced his gaze away from her face. He looked straight ahead and tried to focus on…anything else.

“So, how was filming? I’ve been in the dressing room most of the day so I don’t know how scenes I’m not in are going.”

Ah, a neutral topic, something he would be confident talking about. It would relax him. Very smart.

“First, I did a scene with Barrington and Headmaster Doyle. They were discussing security for the ball and whether or not they should hire a private company.” The company would be owned by Jayden’s relatives and he would hack the school’s mainframe to make sure they got hired instead of the school’s original security company. That would give the heroes more eyes on any suspicious people. “Then Doyle and Professor Burnham-Hui discuss old times at school and how they miss Professor Akunin.” It was a great way to humanize the adult characters and give them nuance.

“Fleshing out characters beside our mains? Awesome.” Marinette took a step towards him then hesitated. “Um, Felix? I need to check the seams and the fit. That means I need to touch you.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’d like permission to touch you, if that’s all right.”

Felix stiffened, but only for a moment. He knew Marinette and was confident she wouldn’t take advantage to be inappropriate. Plus, she was his friend now. To his surprise, he trusted her to be respectful.

“It’s fine,” he told her, “I trust you not to…I don’t know…throw me down and ravish me.”

He meant it as a joke and wanted to needle her but she disappointed him. All she did was give him a flat look and say, “again, you’re not that lucky.”

Marinette got closer to him and reached up, touching his neck and then hooking a finger between his skin and the cravat. “Is it too tight? Can you breathe comfortably?”

He inhaled and then exhaled to show her. “Just fine.”

She nodded and then ran her hands from his underarms down his sides. “The seams look good. Plenty of room I hope? You don’t look like you have any trouble moving.”

Her hands moved lower then stopped. She looked into his eyes and her expression looked professional. Hell, she almost looked clinical as if she was giving him a medical exam. It left him feeling oddly disappointed.

“Hey, Felix?” She frowned and the skin between her brows wrinkled. “I want to check the waistband. I’ll just pull on the belt loops, I promise.”

What was it about her that made him want to make snarky comments and purposely pick fights with her when they were alone? A small part of him was worried he was blending his character with himself, something he hadn’t done since he was a child until this part. Sure, sometimes he had trouble breaking character but that was only for an instant and never when away from set.

Perhaps there was something about Marinette.

At first he thought she was just another bubble-headed fangirl obsessed with his cousin. She might have had a little talent but not much substance. As he got to know her he became impressed by her drive and ambition, her refusal to be intimidated by him. He liked her humor and wit most of all.

She was creative and had a knack for planning. She could be insightful and had integrity and leadership abilities.

It was a shame there wasn’t another Heraldry Miraculous for her to wield. He would have named her Nimue or something similar.

He felt her hands checking the seams along his calves and then stopped at his pants cuffs. He blinked back into awareness. “So uh…how’s the fit so far?”

“I was just about to ask you. The waist feels loose without being baggy. Better than Luka’s; his seemed a little tight.”

Felix clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. Really, she was either innocent or oblivious when it came to teenage boys.

Marinette raised the fabric near his ankles and he felt her hand on his bare skin. Her touch was light and gentle, barely there and even soothing. “I think your pant hem needs to come down about a centimeter. What do you think?”

He looked down and saw what she meant. Yes, the pants were slightly too short. He wasn’t sure how that happened. “I guess you didn’t take my measurements correctly.”

She glared up at him and he felt oddly vindicated. “You really shouldn’t insult me when I have access to sharp objects,” she reminded him and made a note on her phone. “We’re done here. I’ll shut the curtain and you can change.”

She was gone before he could make another smartarse remark.

As he was changing he saw Griff looking at him from his vest pocket. He had the feeling his kwami didn’t approve of his behavior towards Marinette. It wasn’t their business.

“Really, chick? That’s no way to speak to a lady like that.”

Felix paused as he buttoned his shirt. “A lady like what? My co-star? A collaborator? An ally?”

Griff made a huffing sound. “A possible future duchess.”

Felix couldn’t help it. He laughed. “I have no plans to ever marry.”

The kwami looked alarmed. “What of the family line?”

“In vitro and a surrogate.”

Griff ruffled his feathers. He sensed something exceptional about this girl, just as he had that blue-haired rival of his. Chicks these days, still wet from the shell and thought they knew everything.

*****

After Felix had left Marinette could finally let Tikki out of her purse. “Ugh. I thought he’d never leave,” the kwami complained.

“Same,” Marinette sighed and rubbed her hands together as if to remove the sensation of Felix’s body from her fingers. “What was with all the insults? Here I am trying to be professional and he’s acting like an ass.”

“Maybe it was because you had your hands all over him and he was…uncomfortable?” Tikki nearly said “enjoying himself too much” or “flustered” but she didn’t want to risk her charge developing any feelings beyond friendship for the boy. His past behavior aside, there was something unusual about Felix she couldn’t quite put her paw on. That, and even though she once would have paired Marinette and Adrien, she now thought they were better off as partners.

Besides, there was Luka and he was clearly better for Marinette, at least for now. She could relax and be herself around him and Longg and Sass sang his praises when they weren’t fighting over who was the better kwami for the musician.

Marinette shrugged then grinned, looking a little sly. “He’s put on some muscle lately but I like Luka’s body better.”

Tikki giggled. Yes, Lukanette! “Is that why you took an extra long time checking the fit on his costume?”

The girl blushed as she thought of feeling the boy’s pulse under her fingertips and the warmth of his skin. He always smelled really good from the bay rum shaving soap his mom had gotten him for his birthday. “Maybe. What can I say? I’m a normal teenage girl.”

“You’re a pervert,” Tikki accused but without malice. Her mischievous grin ruined her attempts to scold her charge.

“Like I said. Normal teenager.”

*****

"Why am I a little spoon?" Felix asked with a pout as he was spooned by Chloe, clutching Mr. Cuddly to his chest.

The beanbag they shared was soft and plush, like those squishmallow toys Allegra loved. It was brought in by Allegra, an odd chunky lavender colored dragon plush made bean bag, with some pillows that were made of the same material but with a pink cow pattern Claude found. It would fit two comfortably, maybe three pushing it. Often, most of the Quantic Kids fought over who got the bean bag, and this time Felix and Chloe were lucky to be there the fastest. Last time Felix tried he was tackled by Claude while Allegra took the bean bag as her prize. He was so miffed he didn't heal her D&D character when they managed to play.

The lights of their chill room were dimmed, there was a tablet playing an old western film; Griff and Milvii were watching. Eyes dilated and raptured at the so-called modern knights of the Wild West as the kwami declared. To anyone watching it was as if the blondes would have undoubtedly fallen asleep watching a movie. A great cover story for any unsuspecting staff.

"You're holding Mr. Cuddly," Chloe supplied as if the most natural answer in the world.

Felix tightened his grip lightly on the teddy bear that smelled of the essential oils Chloe generously sprayed on it. It was meant to be relaxing, and the refreshing scent of mint and lavender did soothe him. The soft fur was nice under his palms and it was super cuddly as his namesake. Everything perfect for a nap, Felix still didn't sleep. His mind still raced, so much was going on that it seemed so easy to fail. Maybe he should have done paperwork as he told Luka and Marinette?

It seemed wrong somehow to take a nap, the idea of guilt had him frown and tense. To just not give 100 percent in everything. It wasn't his style, Felix was nothing if not tenacious and driven. He worked hard to fulfill his goals. He would succeed in everything. Whether it be acting, directing, or this new superhero thing. Maybe, somewhere on the bottom of the responsibility pole, he could have a social life and new friendships. The image of Marinette and Luka flashed in his mind and he felt guilty. He’d turned down a chance to nap with them in order to spend time with a neglected Chloe.

"Stop thinking, you're not being a good pillow." Chloe grumbled at his ear, tightening her hold on Felix until he whined in protest. "Naps are bandaids to the soul, or Claude claims. That means no thinking."

"I can't just turn it off, Bitchoise." Felix grumbled, a bit helpless, which had the girl sigh and move.

Felix felt a bit off kilter as he suddenly felt the loss of Chloe's body pressed against his back. It was quite sudden and he turned back looking over his shoulder to see that the girl had adjusted herself propping herself up. The strawberry cow print pillow now supported her elbow as she rested her chin on her hand.

She dragged him over and Felix went from looking over his shoulder to on his back looking at the ceiling. Felix felt his hands tighten on Mr. Cuddly defensively, keeping it close to the chest because Chloe was less likely to pinch or tickle him if he had one of her most prized possessions at hand. If the kwami noticed or not Felix was unsure. As far as he could tell, the two stayed glued to Clint Eastwood and whatever movie he was in that they watched.

"Talk it out." Chloe spoke, gesturing with her free hand that Felix should continue and do that. Talk it out, it being the closest either blonde would readily admit to feelings. Felix made a face filled with his distaste and he snarked back at her.

"I must tell Claude he's doing wonderful in your empathy program, Allen also for writing the code."

"Stop it." Chloe snarked, flicking his nose with her free hand. "No deflecting, you don't let me do it so pay up."

Felix groaned, pressing his face to the soft fur of Mr. Cuddly if only to avoid Chloe's knowing gaze. It felt ever since she was bonded with Milvii she saw everything. As if the perception of the kwami bled into the holder; which was unfair. Felix wasn't feeling particularly courageous. He was feeling so weird and confused. Oddly bereft and he wasn't sure if it was one specific thing or a combination of anything.

"I don't know what it is." He confessed. "But I feel like a rope fraying on the ends a bit."

"Hmm…" Chloe hummed thoughtfully as she took into consideration his words. "I'm going to say stuff and you'll listen."

"When you put it like that it means I won't like it." Felix groaned, sinking deeper into the bean bag.

"Don't care, stop fussing." Chloe flicked him again if only to catch his attention, and it wasn't often she could. "You're not a crocodile."

"Your observations are astounding, madam." Felix snarked, he couldn't help it. "What next? I'm not a bear?"

"You're not, maybe an English badger if we’re lucky. Sadly you're a certified bastard with pedigree to match" Chloe followed him easily. "But as I was saying, Crocodiles don't need to chew their food, they bite off and swallow; you’ve been doing that too lately, and you keep on biting off more than you can handle. You're running yourself ragged trying to do a lot and looking cool the entire time.”

“I am prepared and capable with all of my tasks. I'm Felix Graham de Vanilly, we’re very resourceful.” Felix defended himself, but the words sounded weak and hollow even to himself.

She gave him a “you’re not fooling anyone” look which reminded him of his mother. “Fe, we both know that is a lot of bs. I mean, actor and director, ok, both high intensity but in the same wheelhouse. I am willing to admit you’re very capable, resourceful and good with the networking to have brought an outstanding team to back you up. You're reminding Gabriel Agreste that he's nothing but a Boomer and you will defeat him.”

Chloe could tell she didn’t have him convinced just yet and sighed, throwing her hand in the air. “That plan is fun and isn't constant. We get our opportunities and have a field day. I mean it took you days to ride off the high you got showing his little secretary who’s boss which was very nice. The hero gig? Yeah that's taking a lot of our time, I mean--" Chloe paused to yawn as if proving her point. "We're tired, and you focus on what more you can do than learning to juggle what you got. So shut up and nap, you need beauty sleep. If only to make your personality more tolerable to the nice folk."

Felix wanted to protest. Say something, anything to prove her wrong. Sadly there wasn’t much to counter her offers. He was running himself ragged, a rope overused and beginning to fray. He didn’t like it but it was the truth. Dissatisfied with his mortal limitations which were showing up more and more since he’s been in France, Felix sighed, defeated. He needed a massage, a nap, and a nice hour or two of absolutely nothing. Now was sadly not the time, so wasting the precious minutes they all grabbed to sleep felt wrong.

“I might concede…for now, but I’m tired so let’s try to nap.” Felix spoke quickly, turning and resting his cheek on the pillow once again ignoring the satisfied smirk Chloe had as she hugged him once again. It seems the little talk worked in untangling a part of his head for now as he felt himself slipping off into slumber. The low noise of the tablet was soothing like any lullaby, the soft and plush beanbag and pillows were grand, and the weight of another person made him feel less lonely.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Sleep, while difficult to achieve at first, was welcomed eagerly by overworked, tired heroes that basically had their lives divided by two or three different directions. Four if the overachievers were asked, which were sadly most of the heaviest hitters.

While exhausted teens took the fleeting moments to nap with relish; momentarily disconnecting from all responsibilities in their dreams, relaxed and deep in slumber, somewhere in Paris a certain man was making plans to ultimately disrupt momentary serenity. He didn't know that the outcome of this particular plan would backfire spectacularly on his face. With this instance he will gain even more enemies. Not that they knew about it, but this is how it happened.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Hidden from the prying eyes of Paris there was a man. Sunlight shone through an ornate window illuminating the room. Butterflies began to flutter about as it has happened every time he stepped in with ill intent. Hawkmoth thought it was time for a new plot to enact his schemes. Take the miracle jewels of Paris's favorite crime fighting duo and do with it his ultimate evil plan.

"A new day, a new opportunity." Hawkmoth spoke to his butterflies. “Let’s go find one, shall we?”

Hawkmoth tapped into the intrinsic value of the butterfly. Yet for transformation there needed to be a catalyst. Caterpillars had a catalyst that encouraged them to transform and with the miraculous Hawkmoth could manipulate humans to do the same. Yet it was difficult if the circumstances weren't in his favor. 'Twas a delicate balance that Hawkmoth employed, finding the best scenarios to awaken.

He focused and felt himself connect. A network of all living beings lighting up like a map in his mind. Pulsating and illuminated with the colors of emotion. It always felt overwhelming when he stretched his consciousness so far, so he began to refine it. Remove his connection from plants and animals, while they could be good for distractions it wasn't his intent at this time.

Now Hawkmoth looked at the silken strands of so many potential akuma. Eager to see one who was ready for a little nudge to become a beautiful and terrifying butterfly. Colors sparked in his mind's eye, the network pulsing akin to a heartbeat and in an array of colors. He looked out for specific feelings. Anger, sadness, heartbreak, righteous fury, hatred; anything that would birth a worthy Akuma to further his goal.

Oh, longing. The emotion enticed the villain from where he stood and he delved deeper. Ignoring most of the city until the faintest tendrils of his power connected him to the emotion that piqued his interest.

Looking at that sad graying red of a once vibrant love. A young teenage girl was in love. Aren't they always? She was in love with a classmate who didn't know her, one-sided love at that.

Hawkmoth focused on sending his consciousness further into seeing the reasoning behind the emotions. Memories filtered through his mind.

The young girl was in love with this boy since they were young children. For so long she had been in a friend group and she helplessly pined because she had no courage. She was working hard on building her confidence, experimenting with make up and fashion. Joining the same music club, working hard to learn her instrument so she could spend time with him.

The girl was sincere and tried so hard. She even worked a part time job to buy him a present on becoming the first chair in their club. She had just bought the present and was heading home when she saw something. It was the boy, looking shy and sweet. Laughing with a pretty girl both holding hands when a breeze dropped some leaves onto their hair and taking the opportunity of 'removing the leaf' from each other's hair they stole a kiss. It was romantic and beautiful, a young love’s date and the girl felt despair.

Prodding further it seems that the other girl knew of her feelings, and assured him that she would support her. What betrayal! Such longing! The girl believed if she had the chance, if he would give her a chance, she would prove how much better she was. Hawkmoth couldn't really resist. One of his little purple butterflies fluttered down on her and landed on something starting a direct connection between the two.

"Cry not, sweet child." Hawkmoth crooned, his voice soft and delicate to not startle the girl. He imagined a younger Emilie crying and the tenderness was easy to convey. "Your tears are precious."

"Wh--who's there?" The girl gasped looking around for the origin of his voice. She was in her room, she had run home and was crying on her bed. The opened window showed a beautiful parisian scene but no one there to speak to her.

"I am a friend, and one who's seen your plight." Hawkmoth spoke in the form of a greeting. "I saw the depths of your pure love and the pain of your betrayal. It is so awful that a friend would betray us that way."

"Marie isn't my friend;" The girl spat hotly standing up in fury, the pulse of anger was a wonderful spark. She would be a good akuma. "Or else, she isn't anymore, maybe she was never a friend to begin with." The girl muttered deflated staring at a picture framed on her wall. Of her and that so-called friend Marie, they looked happy. The girl was sad all over again. The ember of her anger was extinguishing, and Hawkmoth couldn't have that.

"Of that I am sorry, child." Hawkmoth soothed, softening the girl's sadness with his limited power connected to this temporary champion, and subtly fanning her anger. "I know not who to pity more. You for the betrayal of a so-called friend, or for poor Laurent. He's innocent and being manipulated by Marie. If she couldn't be a friend to you, obviously she cannot be left with Laurent's heart. She will destroy him."

The honeyed words once spoken, seemed to plant themselves deep into the girl. Flashes of emotions pulsated. Shock, pity, love, betrayal, sadness…all culminating in one perfect emotion. Rage so potent that the light seemed blinding in their connection. Hawkmoth couldn't help the smile, he has her where he wants her.

"We have to save Laurent." Hawkmoth spoke urgently, keeping his kind facade.

"We do, I have to. How didn't I think of this before? Oh mon dieu." The girl gasped, pressing a fist to her chest.

"I can't do much by myself; but together we can save Laurent." Hawkmoth proposed. "All I ask is that you also help me; you see some people betrayed me too. They stole something important and everyone praises the thieves. I so do want the miraculous back."

"Of course!" The girl agreed, not noticing how she began to change. Where there was once a sad teenage girl, was the new dark champion of the villain; with a new mission.

"Let's help Laurent, Miss Cupid." The hopeful voice of Hawkmoth whispered with a far more sinister edge. Yet Miss Cupid did not notice the exhilarating feeling of power coursing through her drowned out things she should have noticed.

"Yes Hawkmoth, and don't worry I'll help you, too. The miraculous will be returned." Miss Cupid agreed as she took off.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Forty-five minutes.

Only forty-five minutes have passed.

FORTY.

FIVE.

MINUTES?!

Three quarters to an hour, fifteen minutes away from a glorious 60 minutes. The universe couldn’t even try to give them the full 60 minutes of extra sleep until all hell broke loose. The sick bastard who was responsible: Hawk Moth. The reason? He just had to create a new akuma. The siren and semi-distant screams filled the questions that filled Felix as he awoke with a start.

Insult to injury was the guitar riff that was Claude’s ringtone in Felix’s ear as he picked up the call.

"LARP." The singular word was code to the group. That they would go and transform, fighting the akuma. It was the first time the code was used, and for it to be Claude was alarming. His tone held no room for argument. It was less of a suggestion, or a question. No, Claude was transforming and was simply telling Felix, as Felix was the leader of the Knights.

"Claude," Felix sighed, understanding his friend was mad. Secretly relieved it wasn't his fault, or any staff's. He wouldn't need to plan contingencies. "We agreed not to involve ourselves with pest control."

"Sorry, Boss," Claude didn't sound sorry at all. "Taking a part time job."

"Not alone," Felix was quick to remark.

"Lady-love is talking to the big guy." Claude explained, he had Allegra talk to Allen. No doubt repeating the same code to Allen.

"What does the heart say?' Felix asked, trying to reign them in.

"Giving understanding support."

Shite.

"Griff, are we cleared to Larp?" Felix asked, noticing that Chloe had jumped into motion. The lethargy of sleep clung like a stubborn lover, but she was moving. She had been feeding both Milvii and Griff, and was grabbing a snack bag for both kwami.

"Not up to the best circumstances." Griff spoke up before turning to Milvii.

"You'll do, Percival has already been awakened." Milvii nodded.

"At least we're taking a back seat." Felix proposed as a compromise, they needed to sneak out of here also. "Stay low, don't be seen if you can help it."

“Nah boss, we’re out for blood.”

Click.

“Bitchoise, we’re fighting an akuma.” Felix spoke a bit absently trying to wake up.

"Already texted your mom, and I memorized possible escape routes D-Marinette gave dealing with our other problem. Ready when you are." Chloe chirped.

Once again Felix wondered what he did to piss off the universe this time.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The Akuma Alarm blasted loudly, waking two other teens who scrambled. Both needed secrecy to go and help the city. Luka made a quick lie about helping secure the music equipment because Allen was working mostly alone. Marinette agreed and saw as the boy sped off vaguely running to the music room. She opened the window of her trailer as it faced a rarely traveled path and looked at her kwami.

"It feels mean, having Luka run away to transform." Marinette mumbled.

"Well the Guardian did say that your identities couldn't be exposed." Tikki reminded her holder, not really sure if it should even stay true now after everything. "It's for your safety."

Her little bug was running ragged, a friend who knew what she was going through would have been so helpful. It wasn't as noticeable because the make up team was doing wonders making her not look as tired as Marinette was, and the concealer did a great help on covering the shadows that had been steadily growing. Tikki knew that Marinette was enjoying herself, the designing was fun and it was a breath of fresh air to see creativity in motion.

The acting, while a hurdle at first, was growing on Marinette and Tikki was sure that part of it was how she interacted with everyone, especially Luka and Felix. With Felix Marinette was confident, like Ladybug but without the burden of responsibility. With Luka she was grounded and at peace. Which meant that when she had to stand as the leader and guardian of the miraculous alone, it was harder for Tikki to stomach. The Guardians were a network back in the temple and not one person held all the burden, not even the Grand Guardian. For such responsibility on her young holder, Tikki felt bubbling questions pop in her mind. Maybe it was time for a change, for all their sakes.

At least we have Luka helping out as a hero again, and Miss Kagami. I hope it helps remove her burdens. Tikki thought while she looked at her holder. The teen was psyching herself up and looked so alone and tired.

"Tikki, spots on." Marinette spoke the words, losing her usual youthful enthusiasm. She appeared more battle worn and tired, a general rejoining a never ending fight. Scarlet light wrapped around her body and no longer was the girl Marinette standing there. Now she was Ladybug, hero and protector of Paris.

#felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #chloe bourgeois #quantic kids #original characters #worthy opponent au

15 notes · View notes

pochipop · 2 years

Text

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — LOSE YOU TO LOVE ME (CHILDE X READER).

#. synopsis! — he's so pretty it hurts (in more ways than one) .

#. characters! — childe .

#. warnings! — mentions of toxic relationship dynamics, angst .

#. word count! — 1.4k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

The day you first met Childe lives deep within your memories, —ginger locks and bright blue eyes searing themselves into you; flesh and bone. His clothing hugged every inch of him, and you, admittedly, stared for a little too long. Childe didn’t seem to mind the attention, though. Rather, he relished in it; in the way you became bashful the moment he gazed back at you, eyes widening like you’d been caught red-handed doing something bad. He thought it was cute.

Under the devilish smile, you knew he was no good for you. His rank among the Fatui Harbingers was just another red flag, —the first of many, of which he had more than enough. But you, in all your youthful naivete, chose to ignore each and every warning sign that he wore on his sleeve like a badge of honor. Maybe something in you liked the way Childe didn’t seem to care about the opinions of others, liked the way he was unabashedly himself, even under the worst of circumstances. Although he was far from perfect, he was candid and confident. . . Qualities you desperately wanted for yourself, but had yet to grow into, and you all but clung to Childe as if being close to him would make them rub off on you.

He cared so little for the opinions of others, and you sought approval from roughly everyone you’d ever met. If someone didn’t like him, it was a them problem, but if someone didn’t like you, it felt something akin to existential.

But the bitter truth of it all that still remains is that Childe was nothing but trouble. In retrospect, you’d known that all along, —but admitting it had been the hard part. He knew all the right things to say to sweep you off your feet, and looking back, that too had been yet another red flag waving about erratically in the breeze. Anyone who knows all the right things to say has said those same things a million times before. . . He was feeding you regurgitated love lines, and shamefully, you feasted on them because they made you feel good. Special. Loved.

Every word that fell from Childe’s rogue pink lips had been whispered into the ear of another, likely from somewhere else across Teyvat. You were simply his Liyue pitstop. He was living on borrowed time and speaking with the tongue of another, and you placed your fragile little heart in his hands; hands that had no intention of ever keeping it safe.

Not that it was entirely his fault.

Though you've never been there, he used to tell you that it was lonely at the top. He would tell you stories of walking through the snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya, his gaze catching locals that he'd played with when they were kids. . . Now, they duck their heads and look away. Some offer him a strained smile, one that never meets their eyes. It seems they'd long forgotten the little boy of their youth, —the one who'd start snowball fights and be the first to sled down a dangerous slope, just to show others it was possible.

As he grew, those same children grew with him, and in turn, they grew apart. They took very different paths, to say the least of it. Childe, of course, got caught up with the Fatui in one way or another and began chasing adrenaline in the thick of battle. He sought to quench bloodlust that had always been there, hidden just below the surface.

As far as he knows, the others tread very different plains.

Adventurer, one who's off exploring the world as it exists beyond Snezhnaya. Seamstress, one who fixes lots of garments for the locals. Writer, one who bares the soul for the consumption of others. So on, and so forth.

Childe, of course, chose a very different path. He explores the nations away from his homeland out of sheer obligation; —the upper ranked Harbingers know it best to keep him at arm's length. The less he's around, the less he'll know. And the less Childe knows, the better.

He fixes things every now and again, but is much more accustomed to breaking them, —tearing them apart at the seams. That's his mode of mending though, so maybe he's come full circle somehow.

Childe also bares his soul, but rarely for the consumption of others. It's more about self preservation, that innate desire he has that always lingers just below the surface. . . The one that eggs him on, pushes him to chase his highs on the battlefield. Then, he supposes, not many people have lived to tell the tale of his naked soul.

You've certainly never been privy to it, although you've run your lips and hands across every inch of his naked skin. You know it's not the same, but. . . Sometimes, it's nice to pretend that it is. It's nice to pretend that Childe looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. It's nice to pretend that he fiends for your kiss and thinks to himself that he's never felt love this good before.

You really wanna be different, —the exception to all of his rules.

Maybe you thought you had the advantage, meeting him on your home turf and all. He was the outlander, the brand new face amongst the crowd, while you were steady and secure. . . Or, you probably should have been. Unfortunately, it was all too easy to get caught up in his motions, to let yourself be submerged in his waters.

He explored your terrain in the dead of night, lips ghosting all the sweetest spots. His arms held you tightly, but his hands were gentle. Childe worked you down to flesh and bone again, —awash in sunkissed moonlight.

And maybe Childe really liked the innocence of your gaze, —thought that he could preserve it until he was ready to dismantle it completely. It was all too easy, but the lack of a challenge was invigorating. You were something he didn't have to fight for.

He'd still lose in the end, though.

The two of you were much too different, and not even opposites attract could bridge the ever-present gap. There was no common ground, no compromises to be had. It was his way or no way, and you left empty-handed time and time again.

Childe was a free-spirit, the kind that can't be tied down to anything or anyone. He seemed to come and go with the breeze, —one minute he'd be there sleeping soundly in your bed, and the next, you'd wake up alone. You always found a way to spin his disinterest into optimism. . . He left his jacket, that means he'll come back!

He left a note, and it didn't say goodbye!

He kissed me on the forehead when he thought I was asleep. . .

You cringe to think of all the excuses you made for him, all the positive points you carved out in your mind that he never even deserved. You loathe to think about all the times you sat and convinced yourself of his authenticity, because admitting that he didn't love you was just too painful to cope with.

You found the good in him; the young man made of shattered glass and ocean eyes.

Romanticizing him was simple. All those little lies he told you? —He did it to keep you safe, to protect you from the dangers of loving a Fatui Harbinger. All those lonely nights you spent waiting for him to show up? —He was stopped on his way, but fought so hard to see you in the dead of night. You looked deeper, searched the depths of his soul for layers of hurt and despair. . . Anything that would explain why you weren't enough.

In the end, Childe isn’t all that profound.

He’s just a hurricane of hurt and betrayal, an utter mess of smooth words and sweet nothings. As he lives and breathes, Childe is the human embodiment of sin. He leaves little more than heartache and salty tears in his wake.

Even now, a part of you craves for him, —wants to feel his lips as they slot against yourself, so deceptively sweet. A part of you yearns for his warmth, the kind that lulls you into a disarming sleep. A part of you even believes that he's worth it; all the pain, all the lonely nights, all the restless weeks and days that drone on, and on, and on. . .

But you know better.

Next you see him, you pass him by on the streets of Liyue, and you don’t spare him a single glance.

#childe #childe x reader #genshin #genshin reader insert #childe reader insert #tartaglia x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #childe x reader angst #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader angst

166 notes · View notes

linasofia · 1 year

Text

A Shooting Star

Part 3

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega

Summary: Lady Vega loves to sneak out to Erebor’s rampart to study the night sky, but one night, an unexpected visitor joins her. It is the beginning of a story whose end only the stars can tell.

Warnings: none

A/N: This is the third part of this fic. You can find the previous parts here.

Balin read the edict in his hand and then met Thorin’s steadfast gaze.

”Thorin, are you certain of this? I agree with you, the ancient books are in need of restoration, but not many dwarves care for old tales about the stars these days.”

”They should, Balin,” Thorin growled. ”The tales are fascinating. Some of them actually tell our history—our legacy—both the good and the bad. And it’s done in a less heavy way than any of the dusty books I read with my tutor as a young boy.” He pointed at the thickest of them all; a book with a leather cover adorned with seven stars. ”Have you ever read this one, Balin?”

The prudent white-haired dwarf in front of him shook his head, and his long beard swayed.

”You—who have read more books than anyone I know—are not familiar with the true gems in the Royal Library?” A small mocking lingered in Thorin’s voice, but Balin chose to ignore it. Instead, he shifted tactics.

”Why are you suddenly so interested in our conservators’ works? Not only do you interfere with the planning, you interrupt their current work too. Master Kvasir will most certainly question your personal interest in these books.”

”Then let him come with his questions,” Thorin muttered, and the thought of the unpleasant—but highly skilled—Master Kvasir made his mood sour. ”I do not think I need to explain my motives to him, or anyone else.”

Balin raised a hand in defense. ”I do not mean to question your motives, I am merely asking out of curiosity.” Thorin glared at him, and Balin knew better than to keep pushing his old friend for a reason he was certain he would find out sooner or later anyway. ”Very well,” he stretched his back and folded the edict, ”we shall see it done.”

***

A paper scroll with the king’s wax seal was open and on full display on the dining table when Vega returned from her visit to the seamstress. Neither her father nor mother seemed to be home, and therefore she dared to read the letter without permission. Her father’s post was clearly not for her eyes, but she could not resist when she saw the royal blue ribbon next to the roll. Only members of the royal family were allowed to use that specific shade of blue, and it was easily recognizable. The letter contained an invitation to the welcome banquet upon Lord Dain’s arrival, something Vega had never attended before. Usually, the king’s cousin stayed for a couple of weeks at the time, and several feasts were held in the meantime—all meant to entertain the large entourage traveling with him. The invitation was for the whole family, and Vega wondered what her father would say of such an event. Especially now, when the news about the delayed building start for the new giant furnace was fresh in his mind. He had worked so long for this—an opportunity to double Erebor’s capacity—and due to a single error in the agreement, King Thorin refused to sign it. She stroked the letter, fully aware that the king did not write it himself, but her heart made a flip at the thought of potentially seeing him soon again. Thorin. She closed her eyes and summoned the picture of him from their last meeting on the rampart. A sigh fell from her trembling lips—he was so distracting.

Vega did not have to wait long for an answer to her question; her father brought up the topic during their family dinner the following evening. He was pleased to finally receive an invitation to the prestigious welcome banquet, a night reserved only for the kings’s closest circle. It was considered a great honor to be invited and it was said the king used to redraw that circle every year, depending on the performance of his advisors and negotiators. Vega’s father had always worked hard and finally, he was rewarded in a way he thought was fitting for an advisor with his reputation. He admitted the invitation arrived at the very last minute, but it was clear that he could overlook this minor mistake from the royal administration. As she listened to her father’s too-long explanation of his important work, her mind drifted, as it did so often recently, to the alluring sound of the king’s deep voice. She longed to hear him speak again, and a small seed of envy grew in her heart as she thought of how her father often spent hours in the king’s presence. Vega wished it was her. She knew her father sacrificed a lot for his work, but her silly heart kept whispering about another—more unrealistic—reason for the invitation. Ashamed of her ungrateful thought, she lowered her gaze and finished her meal in silence.

King Thorin’s cousin, Lord Dain of the Iron Hills, arrived at the front gate of Erebor on a misty afternoon when the grass was damp and the air smelled of wet soil. The red-bearded lord instantly pulled attention to himself by refusing to wait for the welcome committee; he simply marched directly to the royal wing and demanded to see his kin. Dain was not a man of small words or gestures; he was big, loud and with a fiery temper—just as his cousin. Nobody who saw Dain that afternoon doubted what he longed for the most after his journey; amber-colored ale, strong Dorwinion wine, and smoked meat in large portions.

The welcome banquet would be held the following evening, not in the main hall where a very large number of people could fit, but in a smaller hall, closer to the royal wing. As Vega stood by her mirror and watched the maid tie her corset on her back, she felt nervous. The thought of the king—Thorin—had kept her awake far longer than she intended, and when she woke in the morning, she had dark shadows under her eyes. But her mother discreetly slipped her a small jar and told her to put the smooth content on the skin. Whatever miracle her mother had hidden in her drawer worked, and Vega now looked as if she had never slept better. Her hair was arranged in a festive creation, with only a few locks framing her face. The maid held up her gown and Vega easily slipped into it and patiently waited while the maid finished her work. Vega’s mother was a modest woman, despite their increasing status, but when it came to clothing on gatherings of this dignity, she was very specific in her demands. Lady Vanadis would never accept anything less than the best for her family. Vega had accepted it for evenings like this, as part of their new lifestyle, but she was not really comfortable with having someone else dress her.

When Vega entered the banquet hall, she tried to focus on her conversation with her mother, but her gaze expectantly searched among the many faces in the hall, and it did not take long before she spotted the real reason for the excitement she felt in her chest. The king was in deep conversation with his cousin, and among the guests next to him, she noticed both his nephews and the captain of the royal guards. King Thorin had not seen her, and it gave her the possibility to admire him from a distance. Vega put on a kind smile, mingled with advisors and their families, was greeted by people she dreaded she would never be able to remember the name of, and gave polite hugs to a few daughters in her father’s small circle of friends.

Massive tables stood head to head, creating long aisles between them and at the end—the table of honor—reserved for King Thorin, members of the royal family, and a large number of the king’s legendary company. Food and beverages were carried from the kitchen by an endless stream of servants, and no plates remained empty for long. The wealth of Erebor was flaunted—a reminder of the enormous treasure safely secured deep in the Mountain. Vega secured a good seat for herself, far from the king, obviously, but she could spot him if she leaned back a little. She was accompanied by a merry group of women, who—unlike her—found banquets and balls a perfect opportunity to see what was on the exclusive market, as they unashamedly called it.

Dinner lasted—as always, under the Mountain—for many hours. Vega’s mother was seated next to her father at another table and Lady Vanadis had insisted on Vega being allowed to choose her own place instead of the awful suggestion her father had; next to the son of one of King Thorin’s top negotiators. The son went in his father’s footsteps and had already made a name for himself. Privately, his reputation was far from pleasant; he was an unpredictable snake; he would always smile but hide a dagger behind his back, ready to threaten or even stab if he found it necessary. Vega assumed her father had no knowledge of the rumors surrounding the young lord, but she was relieved she did not have to endure yet another dinner in the company of a potential suitor. Even though she was a grown woman, her father still tried to steer her in the direction he thought was suitable.

As the endless servings finally ebbed, dwarves from all tables rose to stretch their full bellies, exchange words with new acquaintances, or just refill their pints from the large barrels waiting along one of the walls. Even though her company was far more enjoyable than she first expected, Vega still felt the need to be alone for a short while. A break, a chance to breathe without the constant chatter in her ears, would do her good. She excused herself and walked, without even a glance over her shoulder, out from the banquet hall.

The huge corridor held a more pleasant temperature, and the air was not filled with the heavy smell of roasted meat and ale. She took a deep breath and let her shoulders relax. A few moments were all she needed; nobody would know or miss her. Especially not her parents—or the very occupied king. She was not even sure he had seen her. But what had she been expecting? That he would come and sweep her off her feet, like the hero in that book she loved to read as a young girl? Or ask her to join him at his table, in front of his kin and friends? Vega sighed—it was ridiculous.

Dain was just telling Thorin about some recent raid of orcs near the Iron Hills when Thorin suddenly witnessed Vega rising from her table and walking out of the hall. It took him only a blink of an eye to decide, but he quickly got on his feet, muttering a few words to Dain about his needs after the many pints they had been drinking. His cousin let out a rumbling laugh and turned his drunken focus to Fili, seated on his other side. Thorin had seen Vega the moment she entered the hall together with Lord Vimar and his wife, but since his advisor was seated separately from his daughter, Thorin found no excuse good enough to approach her. Now, however, he saw an opportunity too good to miss.

He used the side door—the shortcut to the royal wing—but it gave him the possibility to leave the room without raising questions. If he hurried, he could make it to the other side, catch a glimpse of where she was going and eventually make her aware of his presence. He hastened, in a very unkingly manner, down the corridor, and just as he predicted, he saw her as soon as he turned around the corner. Thorin had to force himself to slow down; it would not make a good impression if he came storming after her. Vega had stopped by the large tapestry hanging to the left of the entrance to the hall. It was a beautiful piece—created to impress—and welcome guests to his kingdom. She must have heard him, because she turned when he came closer and the expression on her face made his heart sing. Thorin stopped at a respectable distance, suddenly uncertain if his presence would make her uncomfortable. They were alone for the moment, but a large group of dwarves were laughing and singing on the other side of the colossal stone wall. He tried to make up a reason for his sudden appearance, but as her beautiful emerald eyes widened in surprise, he found none. At least not one he could tell her. Not here. Maybe never.

Vega did not believe her eyes when she saw who was approaching her from an unexpected direction. As the king stopped in front of her, she curtsied gracefully—deeply affected by the powerful aura surrounding him. His dark hair resembled the night sky, with the light from a hundred tiny shooting stars creating the silver strands in his thick mane. His temple braids were recently braided, and his beard was trimmed to perfection. The black tunic was generously embroidered with thick golden threads, and a sharp line of gorgeous dark chest hair peeked up from the open collar. Vega swallowed hard at the sight and forced herself to meet the king’s azure gaze. The raven crown rested on his head, and Vega could not remember seeing Thorin more regal than at this moment.

“Lady Vega.” His deep voice made her shiver. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.” A small smile danced over his lips, and Vega noticed how his upper lip twitched as he waited for her reply. Confused thoughts crossed her mind. Was it possible that she was right in her silly imagination; had the letter been sent to her father with the intention of bringing her to the banquet? Surely her mind was playing tricks on her again, just as it had done on the cold rampart.

“My father was very honored, My King. Thank you.”

“And how are you faring this evening? Would you rather be watching the stars?” The twinkle in his eyes brought a smile to Vega’s face.

“There will be other nights to study the sky.”

“And other full moons,” he added. Then he lowered his voice and leaned in ever so slightly, but it was enough to make Vega’s heart beat faster. “Together, I hope.”

“I hope so too,” she whispered, but as soon as the words fell from her lips, she realized she had allowed him to see too much of her feelings. But he smiled back at her, the same warm smile that kept her awake the previous night. And she could not help thinking that he was a thief—dressed like a king—for he had truly stolen her heart.

Thorin watched Vega as her eyes glimmered, and when the sweetest blush spread on her smooth cheeks, he wondered what path her thoughts took. Could it be him—did his presence affect her in any way? He could not ask her; it would be highly unseemly, but deep down, he hoped he was the reason for her delicious reaction. He knew he was older than her—maybe even too old—but she awoke a longing in him, a feeling he accepted years ago was never meant for him. His obligations to his people and the safety of his family had always been his highest priority, and he fulfilled both duties without even thinking of his own sacrifice. Vega, however, was shaking the pillars he was standing on. His inner vault was trembling.

“I bring news which I hope you will find interesting.” He grasped a sensible reason to stay with her for a little while longer.

“My King?”

”Please, Thorin for now.”

Vega smiled apologetically but nodded. It was easier to try to think of him as only Thorin when he was not wearing the legendary crown on his head.

“I made inquiries regarding the books in the Royal Library. There is a fine collection of old books with star maps and they are all to be restored. We cannot allow them to be neglected any longer, they are simply too valuable for future generations.”

“This is fantastic news!” He could hear the amazement in her voice. ”Thank you, for letting me know of this important work.”

Vega’s face lit up in the most beautiful smile, and Thorin wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her. The exquisite gown she was wearing made him slightly dizzy, as it offered him a delightful glimpse of her body's curves. She wore her hair up and it brought his attention to her exposed, delicate neck. Her skin appeared to shimmer, and it made Thorin think that Vega truly was a rare gem. One of a kind. If anyone could match the raw beauty of the Arkenstone, it was her.

”I am glad it brings you joy, Vega.”

He really meant it; Thorin thought as he stored the memory of her warm exclamation in his heart. She had reacted exactly how he wanted, and his satisfaction mingled with her joy, until he suddenly came to think of the reason behind their possibility to meet tonight. His cousin was probably already questioning everybody at their table where the King Under the Mountain was. Thorin would have preferred to stay in Vega’s company for a while longer, but he knew far too well what would happen if Dain spotted him with a beautiful, unmarried lady. He would never hear the end of it.

”Now, if you will please excuse me, I need to see if my cousin is still reasonable,” Thorin declared with a smirk. Dain’s drinking games were well–known, and he often challenged Dwalin to follow him. ”If I do not have the pleasure of speaking with you in private again, I wish you a good night.” He allowed himself to linger in her warm gaze one final time, but when he turned to leave, his boots felt unusually heavy. ”I will see you beneath the full moon, Vega.”

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knittastically @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @theawkwardbutterfly @exhausted-humxn-being @beenthroughalot @chaikittie @piscesvancouverite @sotwk

#thorin oakenshield #thorin #the hobbit #thorin x oc #erebor #richard armitage #fanfic #thorin fic #thorin fanfic #pining #the hobbit fanfic #a shooting star

87 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

Text

Black is the Cloth

Warnings: religion, anti-religious thoughts, death, grieving, dark content. Warnings are not exhaustive and you proceed at your own risk.

Character: demon!priest!Bucky

Summary: Your mother is dead and you’re left without direction. (1950 AU)

Note: I dunno, had an idea, wrote it out. Drabblish one shot energy today.

I always appreciate feedback in any form and know that you are loved. Whether you read or not, thank you for scrolling by!

Your mother isn’t a bad person. Wasn’t. The internal correction brings more tears to your eyes and you dab away the tears with your rumpled handkerchief.

This day was inevitable, yet you can’t believe it’s come. Your mama’s dead, in a casket, lying beneath the dirge of the church organ, candles glowing in contest with the sparse electric bulbs along the walls.

She isn’t, wasn’t, a bad woman, just lonely. A solace you inherited. Isolation thrust upon you upon the mission of piety. Be pure, be good, my girl, and the lord will carry you.

You sniffle as you kneel at the pew and listen raptly as the organ quiets. The priest takes his place at the altar, a gentle man, Father Barnes, is your only companion in this grim journey. A final goodbye to your sole protector. You barely hear him as you once more devolve into suffocating sobs.

He’s been patient. The only priest willing to settle for the modest amount put away by your mother over her humble lifetime. A fortune to you but not to many. You would spend it all to see her blessed on holy ground.

More than patient, a guiding hand. He knew the casket maker and arranged the service, walking you through each step, asking who should be expected in the pews. Just you. That he didn’t believe, but there you are. Just you and him in the gloom of his ordained eulogy.

There is a world outside these walls he cannot lead you through. One you must face alone for the first time in your life. The old house must be sold, you can’t maintain it alone, and the seamstress job you found won’t pay for anything so spacious.

But that’s after. You have to get through this first. You fold your hands and close your eyes, the priest’s sonorous voice carrying over you in Latin lamentations.

You see your mother, so skinny and withered. Sick for some time but unconcerned until it was too late. You blame yourself, not her. You should have insisted but she always claimed silence as a virtue. Perhaps a lesson not so biblical as she declared.

She’s gone. The Lord took her as he willed and you cannot contest the order of his creation.

Your vision blurs as you watch Father Barnes gesture a cross above your mother’s casket. You smother your mouth with the damp handkerchief and swallow a hiccup.

He closes the service as the censer sends scented smoke across the space and tickles your nose. He shuts his bible and places it upon the alter.

“Service will reconvene in the cemetery upon the hour,” he declares, only to you, but he acts as if there are dozens more parishioners among the rows, “in the name of the Father.”

You rise and his eyes meet yours. A bold blue even through the acrid smoke and from a distance. His jaw squares and he bows his head before turning sharply on his heel, marching away.

You fix your shawl and shake out your skirt. The black wool makes you sweat, stiff and straight. You walk down the aisle as you clasp your hands to your chest, squeezing the handkerchief. You’re not ready to say goodbye.

You go out into the hazy Brooklyn fog, a remnant of the storm that morning. You descend past the statue of St. Michael as motorcars puff by with indifference. It is only the end of the world for you.

You follow the path across the green and to the plot dug out for your mother. Her stone is small and flat to the dirt. No one else will know to look for her but you. You wish you could do more, that you had more for her, to honour her.

You quiver and blow your nose, the church bells bellowing out the hour as wet footsteps slick on the grass before you. The priest watches the pallbearers patiently as they carry your mother with heads down. They pass her off to another group of men waiting, the gravediggers.

As they ready her to be lowered, Father Barnes opens his bible once more and begins his recitation. His square jaw tenses with each word, his dark hair curling with the moisture in the air, the lines of his face as handsome as those depicted in paintings of the saints.

His figure blurs as you tear your eyes away. You can only see the wood, nailed down to hide your mother’s corpse. You shake as you’re consumed in your grief, watching her descend in horror.

Your knees buckle and you fall to the grass, pantyhose soaked by the wet grass. Barnes comes to you as he keeps his voice even, reading still as he offers his arm and helps you back to his feet. He hooks his elbow with yours as you stand shakily and remains with you as he proceeds.

The crunch of dirt signals the finale. The priest finishes his verses and nods. He stands close, comforting as his thick arm remains entangled with yours as the first shovel dumps soil upon the lid. The sound of it showering onto wood makes you whimper and dab your eyes once more.

“Be strong, sister,” he touches your sleeve, “the Lord has called to her, as he does everyone, and she will be his most precious lamb.”

“Thank you, Father,” you sniff and crumple the handkerchief in your glove as you suck back the last of your tears.

“I understand there will be no gathering to give glory to your mother, but if you might permit it, I would welcome you for tea in the priory,” he intones as you watch the shovels work in unison to heap upon the mounting pile.

“Father, that is very generous,” you say, entranced by the sight of the earthly end, the dreary departure of your mother buried in dirt.

Is there a God? Would he see your mother leave this world with only you to mourn her? Would he have condemned her to rot away before your very eyes, a sickly skeleton with hollow eyes. Your despair turns to bitter resent.

“So you will join me?” Barnes prompts.

You turn your head slowly, stiffly. You forgot he was there, you forgot what he said. Then it comes back through the sour sheen of your boiling grief.

“Tea?” your tongue is dry and clumsy, “yes, Father, I couldn’t deny such a kind offer.”

“My child,” he pats your hand and presses it to his forearm more firmly as he leads you away from the grave, “it is my duty to shepherd all my parishioners through the pasture.”

“You’ve already done so much,” you say numbly, the trees a blur of green against the grey sky, the noise of the city blending together in a muffled cacophony. The world goes on, they do not care, how can you think the Lord does either?

“These times are difficult but we must all face our trials in time,” he keeps his hand over your glove as he walks you along the path, “we think the Lord cruelest in these times. We think of all those tales of his vengeance, of his wrath raining down upon his creation, and we wonder, ‘why us?’, is He not meant to be benevolent? If he can do anything, can he no vanquish death?”

Silence but for the drip of water from wet leaves and the church roof. It’s close to blasphemy but from a man of the cloth, it is but a theological observation. He must voice the doubts to speak to them. As God has beckoned him to do.

You proceed up the aisle and past the altar. The priory is behind; the same room where he helped you plan the service. He lets you in, the old candle beam lit in place of electric bulbs as it hangs over his desk. He helps you down into the armchair that faces his priestly perch.

You thank him as you fall weakly against the back. It’s over and that means you must go on. Alone. The fear is as palpable as the sadness. Oh, how can you do it without her? You cannot hear God without her.

Father Barnes leaves you for a moment and returns with a steaming pot of tea. He sets it down and takes two cups from the glass-faced cabinet against the wall. He pours the dark tea and offers you a tuliped cup. You take it with gratuity.

You sip but choke as another unexpected sob tightens in your throat. You cough and he quickly steadies the cup, easing it from your grasp. You keel over as you unball the cotton square and weep into it. He gets to one knee as he touches your arm, rubbing it soothingly.

“I know that you are afraid, my child,” he coos, “I know that there are questions in your mind that cannot be answered. But I am here, you are not alone.”

You flick your lashes up. His eyes bore into you as he watches you fervently. Your mother would’ve loved him if she had ever left the house.

“You are so kind, Father, and I cannot–” you sniff and try to clear your throat, blotting your face diligently, “I cannot understand how you can be so giving.”

“Lost souls are always welcome here,” his thumb rubs your sleeve as he kneels beside your legs, his other hand gently settling on your skirt, “tell me, what troubles you? What thoughts have you so aggrieved?”

“My mother–” you begin.

“It is more than that,” his voice is low and fills you like the warmth of a fire, intoxicating, “I see it. I know it. Tell me your fears.”

“I… cannot,” you plead, “for I fear I think of sinful things.”

He squeezes your knee through the wool of your skirt. If it were another man, you might wince, might push him away, but his touch is comforting. And he is a holy man.

“We all think of such things, it is human to question your faith. It is how the Lord made us.”

You gulp and push your hand down to your lap, “Father, I don’t… I feel as if God has turned his back to me. That he has taken the only thing I love and that is horribly mean. And I am angry, I feel as if I can never forgive him. I– oh, how can I say it?”

He’s quiet as he watches you. He brings his hand up to wipe away your tears, gently, doting. Affection you never felt before. For all that she taught you, your mother was never so outwardly loving.

“And why shouldn’t feel that? You are not wrong.”

Your eyes round. He cradles your cheek and for a moment, his eyes linger on your lips. He inhales, as if breathing in your essence, and his gaze meets your once more.

“He has taken her and cruelly so. Torturously, he made you watch her die a painful death,” his fingers tickle down your neck, a shiver flutters up your spine, “and he has left you with nothing.”

“Father…” you gasp as his fingers dance over the collar of your dress.

“How many priests turned you away? And for what? Because they are greedy? They expound humility and yet will not offer their voice for less than a fortune,” his hands slips further, “they would see you in a poorhouse before they see you in their chapels.”

He cups your bosom and your lungs swell in disbelief. He fondles you but it feels good, it feels so unlike any touch you’ve ever known.

“Father,” you utter again as you stare down at his large hand, “what you say…” you try to stop him but you cannot move, “it is blasphemous.”

“It is the truth, you should be angry, but more so you should be happy and a vengeful god does not care for happiness,” his other hand trails up your shoulder as he moves in front of you. He urges you forward as he grasps the back of your neck. His eyes are dark, endless, the blackness spreading over the whites. “I can make you happy, I can give you a purpose.”

You’re paralysed as you gape at him. This is no man of God, this is something sinister, a soulless being from the depths, and yet he speaks pleasantly. You cannot look away, cannot pull away as your heart plucks. He leans in closer, hot breath flowing into your nostrils like smoke.

“What good is living for a God who doesn’t love you? My pet, you could be happy, you know the truth, you can see it in my eyes.”

Your lips part, close again, then once more open in your confusion. His deep voice enthralls you and his touch stokes some unknown delight. His hands rove down your chest, stomach, and knead your thighs through your skirt.

You have only the strength to grip the arms of the chair as you plummet into the void of his eyes. He gets closer and closer, lips brushing yours.

“Say you are mine, pet, and you will never know fear again,” he rasps as his hand slips beneath your dress, crawling up your thigh as you tremble.

Your heart pounds in your ears, flesh tingling, scalding, your breaths coming ragged but unafraid.

“I am yours,” you murmur without thought, as if another guides your tongue.

He smirks and his eyes flash red, nails digging into your tender flesh, tearing through the nylon of your pantyhose, “forever,” he growls and presses his lips to yours, the flames of his possession swallowing you up with his embrace.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #drabbles #one shot #fic #au #1950s #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #winter soldier

230 notes · View notes