#honestly i put this together ages ago when i desperately needed to look at something other than impressionist landscapes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

salemwritesxx · 3 years

Text

𝓲𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓭. | 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸

𝔹 𝔸 𝕂 𝕌 𝔾 𝕆 𝕌 𝕂 𝔸 𝕋 𝕊 𝕌 𝕂 𝕀

⇴ male reader [22, virgin] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↣ rating: explicit, 18+ ↣ warnings: over 5k words long, smut, Age Gap (12 years), older Bakugou (34), shy virgin reader, fluffy smut

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“Mhmhm… Mh… Wait, Katsuki…san…”, you barely managed to mumble before breaking the kisses, both of you panting lightly.

“Huh?! I’ve waited too fucking long, [Your.name]!”, Bakugou growled while trying to pull you back down.

Though you managed to push him back a little before your boyfriend could aggressively kiss you once more.

“I know, just… let me take a shower first! I just came home from my 10 hour shift, threw my hero costume into the hallway and rushed over here.”

“Ughg, fine.”, Katsuki grumbled lightly, his hand that had held on to your shirt desperately, loosening.

A small smile flitted across your lips before you quickly smooched him.

“Thank you. Oh and- here.”, you pulled the two tickets you had talked about before out of your back pocket.

“Oh… right… You said you had tickets, hm?”

“Yup, a friend of mine works behind the scenes for the comedian we both really like. Remember? We talked about it?”, tilting your head lightly, your cute smile and shimmering eyes reminded Katsuki of an adorable little dog. The thought alone made him also smile a little – so innocent and cute.

“Yeah… On our first date. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course! So, I used my connections to get us two tickets.”, you excitedly declared. It helped with the urge of not staring at your boyfriend who was still standing naked in front of you.

“So when are we going?”, Bakugou casually asked, looking at the two tickets to find a date.

“April next year! I am so exited already though.”, you giggled.

Meanwhile Bakugou’s heart was doing a flip in his chest. Next year in April meant that you were believing you and him would still be together by that time. Making plans so far ahead, how was he supposed not to get emotional and happy?

“Katsuki-sa- hm!”

Pulling you down again, he surprised you with yet another intimate kiss. Once again not knowing where to really put your hands, you awkwardly placed them on his lower back. Though feeling the bare skin under your fingertips was enough to send a strong jolt down south. Damn it, how were you going to survive actual sex?

“Go take a shower. And don’t let me wait too long.”, Bakugou finally said when he pulled back with a smirk on his lips that made your cheeks warm.

“Uh-huh!”, was your only dreamily sighed answer as you watched him for a moment, completely dazed. There he was, walking up the stairs so casually – butt-naked and making your dick hurt inside your jeans.

Thus, you literally sprinted into the bathroom to take the quickest shower while scrubbing yourself the cleanest you’ve ever been.

Bakugou on the other hand couldn’t contain his grin when he stared at the tickets in his hands. He didn’t even know if you had realized the meaning behind those. Or maybe he was just overreacting seeing you plan ahead so much. It probably would have made him uncomfortable a few months ago, when he was freshly dating you, but now? Katsuki couldn’t stop his heart from beating so violently in his chest.

Walking over to the drawer, he prepared some things, like throwing the tube of lube onto the bed and rummaging through all the condoms that he hoarded. Without realizing it, his mind started wandering on its own. Not that anyone could really blame him. Bakugou had the desire to have sex with you for quite some time, so of course he had let his imagination take over. Wondering what you would look like without anything on. Since, to this day, you had been too shy to even undress in front of him.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had any intimate contact with anyone ever since his last relationship ended four years ago. And suddenly, Bakugou’s heart hammered quickly for a different reason. It definitely had been a while since he had sex with anyone.

When Katsuki heard someone rushing up the stairs though, he quickly shook his head a bit, trying to get those thoughts out of his head.

“What am I fucking thinking? It’s just sex. No need to overthink this so much. God, I’m getting old.”

And then, you already came inside, a towel around your hips.

“Ah, good timing. So, do you think we need Large or Extra Large?”, Bakugou teased you, holding up two condoms. However, his teasing certainly flew over your head when your face displayed pure shock.

Only for you to turn around, wanting to flee again. Thankfully though, Bakugou reacted swiftly, grabbing your arm and turning you back around, just for your hands to cover your face.

“I will disappoint you, Katsuki-san!”

“Hey, that was just a joke, come on. You’re so fucking easy to scare.”, he chuckled and playfully rolled his eyes.

“Sorry…”, you mumbled shyly.

“Come here. Don’t think about it too hard. I ain’t grading you or anything, yeah? Just relax.”, and with that, he pulled you down for a kiss. His other hand sneaking to your hips and pulling on the towel. This time, you thankfully stayed calm as you let him push you back and onto the bed.

His muscular, broad body crawling on top of yours almost made you explode. This was really happening. How often had you imagined and dreamt about it? And now it was really going to happen.

“It’s just…”, you broke the kisses, your eyes already gleaming with lust, “I feel like I’m gonna explode any second, Katsuki-san. Just seeing you naked is enough to make me go crazy. To be honest… just thinking about you is enough to give me a boner. I feel so stupid!”

Bakugou was blushing a little, yet he was flattered. With his mind sometimes playing tricks on him and him fearing he was too old for you, knowing he had such an effect on you… was nice.

“That’s not stupid… You’re so cute.”, he whispered before leaning down again to kiss you.

“Touch me… You want to… no?”

“HMH!”, was the only thing you whimpered so desperately as Katsuki already grabbed your hand to place them onto his small, yet unbelievably strong body.

All it took was for Bakugou to scooch closer and lower his ass onto your hips for your cock to bounce and drops of precum to drip down. Your body visibly shuddering was honestly the best feeling, because your reactions were so cute and honest. Still so innocent to the touches. Katsuki loved that. He really felt incredibly desirable and wanted.

Your trembling hands were roaming his body, not sure what to do but you also didn’t want to stop. His muscles felt so nice underneath your palm. His skin was smooth and yet rough in some areas. Bakugou’s body was showing scars from previous battles, though it only made him so sexy and handsome it was almost too much for you.

At the end, you stopped when you grabbed his luscious thighs the moment he started to grind his cock against your own. An unstoppable moan escaped your throat instantly as you dug your nails into his skin whilst another violent jolt made your cock visibly throb.

Breaking away from your mouth eventually, Bakugou couldn’t help but smirk when he saw how red your lips already were from so much kissing. Leaning in, his swollen lips met your neck, softly nibbling and making you shudder once more. His smirk so prominent you could feel it on your skin.

“How do you feel, [Your.name]?”, Katsuki whispered in your ear, enjoying the soft moan and twitching of your body against his.

“Hot… It’s unfair you’re so… fucking sexy, Katsuki-san…”, you barely managed to choke out.

It only elicit a small chuckle from your boyfriend when he sat back up, his cheeks however having a small pink tint to them. You watched attentively as he reached to the side to grab the lube. Though before he could open the bottle, you stopped him.

“Wait, Katsuki-san, can… can I do it…?”, which definitely made your poor, shy heart beat ten times as fast as it was healthy.

“Haa… you sure?”, he reluctantly asked, one brow raised.

But you nodded and sat back up to wrap your arms around his hips while your noses almost touched.

“Mh. I want to make you feel good… and learn what you like…”, you sheepishly mumbled and then softly placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Oh…”, Bakugou smirked before wrapping his arms around your neck to kiss you, then whisper against your lips, “Then don’t hold back… I’ll serve as your guinea pig.”

Smirking yourself, you returned the kisses a little deeper, trying to get out the last bit of confidence you had in yourself as you mumbled back, “Then I will put in all my effort so you just need to come back for another round of experimenting.”

And Katsuki certainly liked that you slowly seemed to warm up and not be as nervous as before. His responds a mere chuckle only to capture your lips again for a passionate kiss.

Meanwhile, with your heavily thumping heart, you clumsily opened the lube bottle to squirt some of the liquid onto your fingers before throwing it back onto the bed after closing. Pulling back from your boyfriend’s mouth, you just looked at him for a few seconds to try and get the courage to touch him… Something you had never done before. Touching someone in such an intimate place.

Though before you could chicken out again, you finally reached down and dipped your fingers between his cheeks, the little shudder from Bakugou immediately spurring you on. Hence why you gave yourself the push to play with his ass; circling his twitching hole and rubbing the lube around, just to see him shiver a little.

“Oi… don’t tease…”, Katsuki could also just choke out, before softly moaning a little when you worked your finger inside.

Just the feeling of his warm insides around your finger alone made your cock twitch, the urge to just plunge into him was almost unbearable. Your own breathing quickened as you pushed another finger in before starting to move them. His muscular body was now pressed against your own, your free hand groping his ass to spread him even more.

“Haha- Ah- I guess… you’re a natural…?”, Bakugou chuckled, trying to sound cool and seductive as he wanted to keep the mask of the older and more experienced one. However, when you pushed deeper and found that little spot that made him whine, it was all over for him.

While you had to seriously fight back the urge to just cum all over him because he was just way too fucking sexy and made you completely insane with how erotic he was, Bakugou just let loose and moaned freely.

“D-Do that… ah- gain…”

You truthfully couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Your head was spinning as you moved your fingers like before, rubbing against his sweet spot, trying to memorize what made him feel good.

“I-Is that okay… Katsuki-san?”, you were lightly gasping. He was truly taking your breath away – you didn’t even want to know what would happen if you would actually have sex, your dick was probably going to explode the second you would enter with how on edge you already were.

“Hmh- keep… going, okay?”, Katsuki was merely whining.

God, he sounded so differently, and it was so erotic and sexy. And it certainly didn’t help when he scooched even closer, his throbbing cock rubbing up against your own was almost enough for you.

“K-Katsuki-san, ahn don’t… do that…”, you helplessly moaned and buried your face in the nook of his neck, making him just chuckle.

“I don’t know what you- fuck-! even.. mea- NGH!”, clawing at your shoulder, he deliberately started moving his hips a little. Thrusting his throbbing dick against your own, smearing precum around while you kept fucking him with your fingers.

“K-Katsuki-san!”, all you could do was moan out his name, being the sensitive virgin you were, this was almost too much for you.

His nails were clawing at your shoulder while his hips were moving erratically, making it harder for you to thrust against his sweet spot, but Katsuki didn’t care. He was consumed by the pleasure as he rubbed his cock against yours.

“Oh- fuck- GOD- I’m.. ah clos- Katsu…san….”, you could barely choke out, being interrupted by your gasps and moans, but that certainly didn’t stop your lover from moving even more vigorously. Though reaching down was the straw that broke the camel’s back as feeling his hand engulfing your cocks and stroking them was the last touch you needed before cumming all over him and yourself.

With your free hand you clawed at his back as you moaned into the crook of his neck. Your erotic noises sending multiple chills down Bakugou’s spine as he held onto you as tightly as you held on to him; letting your hips ride out that orgasm.

When you finally raised your head, you were still gasping and your [eye.color] eyes still gleaming with lust (though also a little bit of embarrassment that you orgasmed so soon and couldn’t hold back). Bakugou, however, simply leaned in for another few kisses that you certainly appreciated.

“Mmm- sorry… Katsuki-san…”

“Oh shut up.”, he chuckled in between little gasps.

With cum dripping from his hand he then reached back to the night stand to grab the box of tissues, cleaning his hand as well as your own that you had pulled back from his ass. All while smirking a little since you looked so dazed from that orgasm and what had just happened.

Before he could say anything though, you had already wrapped your arms around him tightly, pressing his naked, warm body against your own. Bakugou’s own arms sneaking around your torso as well after he had thrown the tissue in the trash. For a few seconds, it was rather quiet, just the beating of your hearts audible, until you finally dropped the bomb.

“I love you, Katsuki-san.”, you whispered into the nook of his neck.

For a few moments he was just flabbergasted. While his mouth needed a few moments to speak his feelings out loud, his heart was already beating 10 miles per hour. It had been so long since someone had whispered those words to him. Someone who wasn’t just a big fan of him screaming whenever he was outside as a pro-hero, or his family. No… that was certainly a different love.

Leaning back a bit, he ‘forced’ you to look at him, even though he fully understood how embarrassed you were and also how on edge that he was just silent. Bakugou could almost see all the thoughts rushing through your pretty little head, but with just his rare, little smile, you were put at ease.

“I love you, too.”

And before you could react, he had already cupped your face and pulled you in for a kiss. A kiss that made your heart thump so much you thought you might die. You had never felt that happy before. Graduating from U.A.? Amazing accomplishment. Meeting Katsuki and being able to date him? A dream come true, indeed. But hearing your lover say those three words back to you for the first time was just… indescribable happiness rushing through your veins.

With a little bit of force, Bakugou managed to push you back onto the bed, both of you giggling while kissing. He was happy. You were happy. If time could just stop now.

But, it didn’t. Time went on and thus, you whispered in between kisses, “Just… give me 10 minutes… ‘nd I’m…. ready…mmkay?”

Breaking away fully, he leaned on his elbow as he looked at you, his ruby eyes gleaming with lust and a smirk on his lips.

“10 minutes, huh? You really are young.”

“Oh shut up.”, you giggled yourself, when just a second later realization sank in.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!”, your cheeks were basically on fire. Being so rude to someone older was just… you had never done that.

Bakugou on the other hand though just stared at you for a few seconds, before leaning in once more for a kiss, surprising you. However, easing into the kiss quite quickly, your eyes fluttered open again when he sat back up a little. Just far away enough for just the tip of your noses to touch anymore.

“Don’t apologize… Fuck honorifics, okay? Fuck speaking keigo, just… talk to me normally.”

“A-are you sure, Katsuki-san? I mean… our age gap…….”, you gulped at the end, feeling uneasy.

“So? Zero fucks given. I hate honorifics. If you use keigo with me I feel so old…” he avoided eye contact for a moment, before looking back and tilting his head lightly.

“I just want to feel like your boyfriend, not your fucking boss or something…”

“Katsuki-sa- nh- I’ll try! I promise. It’s just really hard to let go, but… I… I want to call you nicknames, too!”, now you had to turn your head away because you were too embarrassed, “B-but maybe that’s a little inappropriate…”

“No…”, a small smile flitted across his lips, “I’d like that.”

And those simple words made your heart skip a beat.

Leaning in the last few inches, Bakugou kissed you on the mouth once more; the tip of his tongue gracing along your bottom lip until you opened them, allowing him inside. A sloppy, intimate kiss igniting again as he slightly changed positions so he was on top of you like before.

Feeling more confident though, you let your hands travel down his spine to his ass. Grabbing the firm skin and spreading his cheeks, you earned his little moan that made your heart jump in excitement. However, it only took a second before you also softly groaned into his mouth when he started grinding again.

With that, even though you had just orgasmed, it was certainly easy to rile you up again. Having the man of your dreams basically humping you was very effective indeed. And Bakugou seemed to notice how easily agitated you were, the smirk on his lips when he broke away was very prominent.

“Should I take it as a compliment that you’re already hard as a rock after just 5 minutes?”, Katsuki teased you, before lowering his head to pepper kisses onto your neck.

You just whimpered a little “Katsuki…” in embarrassment, only to thrust your hips against his as well. Taking him a little off-guard, his surprised grunt made you also grin a little.

“I-It’s not my fault… it’s just you… you’re so… incredible. I… I can’t help it…”, you had a hard time talking properly as Katsuki wasn’t stopping his movements, both of you desperately grinding against each other.

“Haha, I like that.”, Bakugou chuckled, his deep voice sending a chill down his spine.

Though, in the end, he decided to stop (hearing your little whine when he did that was very cute) and sit back up. Both of your cocks back to leaking and throbbing and this time, he stood up fully. Your glazed eyes following him when he walked over to the drawer from before to grab a condom, before bouncing back on top of you.

“You ready?”, he just whispered with that grin on his lips again that made your loins hurt with how erotic he was.

So all you could do was nod very enthusiastically that made Bakugou laugh a little.

With that, you watched attentively once more as he opened the condom; however a blissful hiss escaped your throat when he wrapped his hand around your dick to give it a few strokes. Hence why your head fell back into the pillow for a moment as you had to concentrate really hard to control yourself and not embarrass yourself by cumming again so soon. (Which was very hard because being a virgin and having this sexy man touch you was very effective in making you lose control very fast)

“[Your.name]…”, Katsuki had your full attention once more when he whispered your name like that, though when you looked up… Your cock visibly bounced in his hand as he was hovering right above it with his ass.

“Oh God…”, you grabbed his thighs as your breath hitched in your throat, watching as he lowered himself on top of you.

Clenching your teeth, the feeling of Bakugou’s ass spreading and engulfing your cockhead was almost too much. But it only intensified when his moaning self pushed down even further.

“K-Katsuki!”, was the only thing you could whimper as his hot, sticky insides swallowed more and more of your throbbing cock, almost pushing you over the edge with how tight he was.

Bakugou was just trying to control his moans as it had been so long since he last felt such a nice, thick dick inside his ass. His body trembled due to the full feeling as well as his insides fluttered excitingly; the urge to move overwhelming him.

Without really thinking about how close you possibly were, Katsuki started swaying his hips. First only lightly, but it only took a few moments before he started properly riding you. The moans that left your lips only spurring him on, especially when you locked eyes with him. Just the way you were melting and clawing at his thigh, while looking at him so intensely, it made Bakugou burn up even more.

“Ahnh. God- Katsuk- ah you’re so… amazing- I can’t-“, you chocked out in between heavy gasps and moans.

Katsuki really couldn’t comprehend how cute and innocent you were, being so completely mind-blown by him riding you hard. It made gross little butterflies fly uncontrollably inside his tummy – how he missed that feeling. As someone who never had a casual hook-up, finally being able to have sex again with someone he trusted and loved felt indescribable.

When he deliberately started tightening around you, the whiny moan that escaped your throat sent a chill up his spine.

“I’m gonna- if you… do that… agai-“, you so desperately choked out, being completely overwhelmed. And your boyfriend just chuckled and continued to tease you. Fuck. You had never felt so good. Your dick was throbbing and so rock-hard, you were barely able to hold yourself back from cumming again – and that in the first few minutes of Bakugou doing his magic.

Leaning down, Katsuki pressed his palms into the pillow beside your head while he pressed his lips on yours. Igniting a sloppy kiss, you both couldn’t control your lustful moans and grunts. Bakugou just knew what he was doing, how he had to angle himself so your cock penetrated his prostate and made him see little stars.

You were close. So unbeliavabel close. It was almost painful how hard you were and how much you needed the release. Thus, without thinking much about anything anymore (as he had officially blown your mind today and you weren’t able to think straight anymore) you just reached down to his own bouncing cock; wrapping your fingers around it, the throaty moan that left his lips only riling you up more. It also made you more confident in your action, thus you proceeded to also pump his cock while he was moving so passionately.

Spurred on by your own actions, Katsuki only teased you more. His insides fluttering around you and tightening, just to listen to your desperate moans. Feeling your nails drag across his back as he pushed you over the edge with his skillful moves. Your moans deep and so erotic that it made Bakugou shiver, though nothing compared to your spasming, trembling body underneath him.

You were both gasping for air and sweating. Though before you could even remotely start to calm down, Katsuki had already started swaying his hips lightly, making you jerk and moan in surprise.

“K-Katsuki-“, you choked out his name, [eye.color] eyes wide open.

But the way he looked at you, glistening lips slightly opened, his ruby eyes barely closed and drops of sweat running down his temple – so sexy.

“Just a little… Think you can… handle it?”, he crookedly grinned.

All you could do was nod and pull him down.

Lips colliding and tongues entwining, he openly moaned into your mouth when you started thrusting your hips. Using the last bit of your hard cock before going limp to make him get off while also stroking his dick.

Even though the friction was so overwhelming and your cock was so overstimulated by that point it almost made you lose your mind, you didn’t want to stop. And Bakugou didn’t want to either. His hips relentlessly grinding, your cock shoved in balls-deep and your hand stroking him was almost pushing him over the edge.

The good thing was, Katsuki was already so sensitive and riled up because it had been so long since he last had sex. He couldn’t even think about his own insecurities, like being too old or knowing you could see his wrinkles and scarred skin from work as a pro-hero; you made him feel safe and loved. Yet, Bakugou was so turned on. Even if you had been clumsy or shy, he was dripping precum all over the place. He was so wet. And the feeling of his ass being stuffed was just so nice.

“NGH- [Your.name]-!”, breaking the sloppy kisses, he threw his head to the side, gasping heavily.

You seriously couldn’t stop staring at him. Especially when it all broke down and he started moaning so lewdly. His cock started twitching in your hand before he came all over your hand and belly. His body was trembling, thighs shaking and you could watch and stroke him through the orgasm, earning his whiny groans.

After a few moments, Bakugou opened his ruby eyes once more, before leaning in and pecking your lips, whispering a soft, “I love you.” Which made your heart jump and your lips curve into a big smile as you smooched him over and over again, mumbling an “I love you, too.” back.

As you were laying there for a few minutes, you just shared little kisses, as if both of your lips weren’t already swollen and red from all the kissing prior, but you just couldn’t stop. He was so cute and sexy. Just- how was he seriously your boyfriend?

Though in the end, Katsuki did sit back up again.

“Shall we go clean this off, huh?”, he… almost bashfully, smirked and nodded to your hand. Hence you just chuckled and agreed.

And so, rather quickly, Bakugou got off of you, disposed of the condom and in the end, you rushed into the bathroom for a quick wash; nothing too long, really, because both of you wanted to get back into bed fairly swiftly again. Hence, it only took a few minutes before you and your boyfriend were in the sheets once more, cuddling this time.

“So… how did you feel…?”, you asked after a few moments. Rather quietly though and carefully, not knowing how to really initiate the conversation about ‘giving feedback’.

“It felt fucking nice.”, then he cuddled closer and turned your head towards him so you had to look at him, “You did good for your first time.”

Of course he had to tease you about it.

“Katsuki!”, you playfully kicked him.

“I mean it… I… want to make you feel good. Is there something you want me to do next time?”

When Bakugou realized you were so serious about it, he couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I mean it, too, ya know? I felt very good. And I, too, only want you to feel good when we do it. So we can both feel the fucking best!”, Bakugou then grinned, which thankfully made you giggle as well when you leaned in for another swift smooch.

“Also… don’t think about it too much, okay? This was your first time. You only get to be the best when you practice a lot.”, smirking seductively, he slipped his leg between your own and scooched as closely as he could against your body, “And I promise you I have never skipped practice once in my life. So I hope you’re fucking prepared for what’s to come.”

As you had to search for your heart that had dropped far beyond your stomach due to Katsuki’s advances, you could just gulp and nod. However, you also didn’t shy away anymore when you grab onto him as well. Which pleasantly surprised Bakugou, hence leaning in the last few inches for a smooch.

“Thank you…”, was the last thing you thought you would hear him mumble all of a sudden.

Bakugou realized your slightly confused look on your face, thus clarifying.

“Four years ago, my ex broke me so much I thought he had made me unable to like, let alone love anyone ever again.”

“Oh… I’m sorry about that, Katsuki.”, you whispered empathetically and your hand reaching out to softly caress his back. Which instantly made him smile a little, even though those were such painful memories.

“You know. I was done. I didn’t care about having a relationship anymore and so also basically giving up sex completely since I don’t wanna just randomly fuck with anyone. All the paparazzi just waiting for this moment? And the fear of meeting random strangers who then potentially blackmail me, it was just all too fucking risky. So four years ago it all just… broke apart. Everything. He betrayed me and hurt me so much.”

Katsuki then, however, sat back up a little so he could look at you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So.. what I just want to say is. Thank you. For making me feel something again and… I ain’t used to this cheesy shit, but… For making me fall in love again. If you would have not been so persistent, I would have been still hurting and hating everyone and everything and just be a miserable ass, ya know?”, he said at last with a small smile on his lips as he reached for your hand to lace your fingers together.

“I am glad.”, smilling brightly, you leaned in for a kiss until you pushed him back into the pillow, making him chuckle.

After bottling up everything for the past weeks, he was relieved you both finally took the next step in your relationship. And hopefully, from now on, everything was going uphill. Though, to be honest, with him and you finally having started with having sex and generally experimenting sexually, Bakugou couldn’t wait for the next few weeks.

Because if he had learned anything in the past 15 years of dating, it was that, when you start to have sex, you will do it anywhere and anytime, all the time – and he was ready, oh so ready for that stage of your relationship. Plus, judging by how you were already slightly grinding against him again, you probably were as excited as him for what’s to come.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: I tried really hard to have this ready for my birthday yesterday but this is one beast of a fucking second part I just couldn’t finish it in time. so… here is a treat for you and myself

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x male reader #bottom bakugou #bakugou smut #older bakugou #bakugou #smut

504 notes · View notes

dorimena · 3 years

Note

Hi, I love your work and if your requests are open would you consider the following?

Monoma is on patrol with y/n and Monoma being well....Monoma, he was horny and was teasing y/n. Not having any of this shit, she proceeds to dom the fuck out of him during patrol. She takes him into an alleyway and fucks him with a strap that she had on her already (she was already planning on something but didn’t go through with it because work is work and she’s aware that Monoma and her could take their time when they got home). She pushes him into the wall and fucks him silly. Monoma is loving it and keeps begging “Mommy fuck me more, please!”. She gives him what he wants but she tells him to be quiet or else the bystanders would fine their great Phantom Thief in a puddle of his own cum while getting fucked by his mommy. At some point two civilians hear Monoma panting and hiccuping and get concerned. Y/n keeps fucking him and reassures them that Phantom Thief is fine. He cums then and there and she tells him to reassure the civilians that he’s ok. Monoma whimpers out that he’s fine and y/n cleans him up and cuddles him in the alleyway telling him how much of a good boy he was.

(I’ve been thinking about this ever since I read your shower blowjob story. This man makes the dom in me go crazy. He’s already a whining bitch, having him be like that in the bedroom just- 😫)

Let me say that I’ve had a scene in my head almost the same as this one you sent me and I am absolutely thrilled because yessss more attention to bratty baby Monoma ٩(♡ε♡)۶

And honestly, this man is just asking for it. Bet he wants to fucked anywhere, anytime, as long as he's put back into his place. That's his kink-

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Monoma Neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 3.5k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, pegging, mommy kink, slight exhibitionism, public sex, mentioned sex toy (butt plug), implied overstimulation, multiple orgasms, implied after care, domme!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; begging, humiliation, Monoma being a little shit, because he wanted your attention, and to rile the fuck out of you, aged-up character: Monoma is 20+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; I unknowingly kind of changed a few things from the ask, like the conversation between Monoma and the bystanders, but I hope you like it anon! The ending is kind of rushed, sorry about that!

𝕭𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐

“Now, now, y/n, you know ignoring someone, specifically the love of your life, is a crime? How else are you to beg for my love if you go on and ignore my graceful presence? Are you listening to me? At least lend me your attention.”

He’s been like this for the past couple of hours since you’ve both been assigned together for patrol. You thought it’d be a good idea, and Monoma was also excited when your boss told you both to get ready and head to the neighborhood you’re meant to keep a watch over.

The neighborhood turned out not as empty or quiet as you expected, rather close to a busy street. Some stores and restaurants seem to align themselves around this area.

You thought things would go smoothly, go even better and much quicker now that you and your boyfriend are finally patrolling together, months since you’ve transferred to this agency from your old one.

But Monoma’s been leaving any and every snide remark since you two stepped foot into the area, teasing you for any small mistake he believes should be (loudly) called out for or simply trying to mess up your way of doing things.

You don’t even want to count how many times he’s criticized the way your hero outfit currently looks on you. And no, you’re not getting insecure, but rather more… cautious.

There’s a reason why the uniform seems a bit odd around your crotch, but he doesn’t need to know that, not here, not now. Maybe until you both get home-

You trip, almost falling flat on your face if it weren’t for your boyfriend quickly grabbing you, pulling you up to your feet as he looks at you with panic before it quickly dissipates to his stupid mockery.

“See? You cannot do anything right, not without me at least. You, my dear, cannot live without me yet you still ignored me. This is what I mean when you should listen to me. Anyone would truly be grateful for having me, Phantom Thief, as their beloved lover.”

That’s it. You usually can take so much of his weird comments, but right now he’s pulling anything out of his ass at this point. (Soon you’ll see what actually comes out.)

You don’t answer, just look around to make sure no one is watching as you grab him by his stupid tie, dragging him to the nearest alleyway you remember passing by, glad it’s still pretty empty and dark enough to hide your bodies in the shadows.

He isn’t even struggling, just letting you walk him as if he’s a dog, quietly following you. If you were to turn around, you’d see the way his eyes are wide yet full of lust, his pupils dilated as he mentally cheers, thanking the gods for listening to his horny prayers of being sucked in an alleyway.

Do you know how hard it was for him to not jump you and beg you to help him? All because of how sexy you look in your hero outfit, how the small fixes and modifications bring out more of your body, the body he loves, yearns, desires, every day and night. Hopefully you don’t find his surprise before he can debut it once you guys are back home. (But unintentionally came prepared.)

He’s a complete fool for you, but you can’t know that, or else it’ll be the end of-

“Monoma Neito. You have 5 seconds to tell me why the fuck you’re being a piece of shit tonight.”

He didn’t realize his back is against a cold wall or how you’ve trapped him between your arms, the way you’re glaring at him while counting down in such a low tone, it makes his legs feel weak and threaten to buckle..

“Horny.” He barely whispers, crazed eyes never leaving your face as he stays still, trying to control his breathing and heartbeat as you scan him from head to toe, eyes finally staying in place where his boner is visible, even with how poor the lighting is.

You grin, but not your usual friendly grin or familiar flirty grin, but the ‘I’m gonna fuck you till you die’ kind of grin.

And Monoma’s both terrified yet super, duper much more hornier than before. But, with what are you going to fuck him with?

In a flash, he’s suddenly turned around, his clothed-covered chest pressing against the wall as he feels your hands make quick work on his belt, on his pants, pulling them down to rest on his thighs. He hisses and shivers when the cold air hits every exposed part of him, yet makes his dick twitch in interest.

You also free your bottom half to finally let out the strap on you’ve luckily managed to hide until now, searching your pockets for the small tube of lube you brought with you, just in case.

But when you spread his butt cheeks, you gasp in surprise with the butt plug he’s wearing, going to grab the toy as you slowly pull it out in disbelief.

Did he know?

“I-I want you to know you’re not the, um, only one to be prepared for what they want.” Monoma speaks, but in such a soft tone that it has you wondering if he’s the same person who had pestered you since the beginning of the patrol, the same boyfriend you love who has a talent for being loved and hated simultaneously by various people.

But at least he didn’t know. He simply decided to take this extra mile.

Cute. No wonder he’s such a good boy for mommy… sometimes.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t prepare you, right?”

You don’t wait for his response, not when you dispose of the toy away from you both, and you make quick work to lube up your silicone cock.

Monoma doesn’t get to ask you about the wet sounds behind him, or ask where you threw his butt plug before you’re entering him. You felt how his body jolted, his back arching enough to push his ass back more towards you.

You land a smack against the smooth skin, listening how the impact echoes in the empty alleyway and the way he whimpers in pain.

“You’re such a slut for mommy, aren’t you Monoma?”

“Yes!”

No hesitation.

Monoma usually sounds hesitant whenever you two do something new, as if he evaluates the pros and cons from anything and everything, figuring out if he’ll come out benefitted or you.

But he sounds desperate, shameless. He sounds like he’s ready to cry.

New, but not too surprising. When he wants to, he’ll always be a good boy for his mommy.

“Want to tell mommy again why you were being a little bitch tonight?”

Never mind, his hesitation came back, his mouth pressed shut as you peek at him, trying to catch a glimpse at his periwinkle eyes, wondering what’s taking him so long to answer. He answered you so easily, so quickly a few minutes ago.

You hear a soft mumble, see his lips move but no sound gets to your ears. So you spank him once more, hearing his cute squeak and the way he fucks back.

“Louder.”

“I wanted mommy to fuck me! Fuck me until I can’t walk! Fuck me until I’m just your stupid little hole! Please? I’ll-I’ll be good now, I promise!”

If anyone were to ask you just how stupid Monoma gets when he’s completely horny and turned on, this is a prime example. His usual eloquent vocabulary? Gone. It doesn’t exist once mommy’s pleasing him.

But he’s also promising about being good? Let’s see how good he’ll be then.

No more words are exchanged, just the soft desperate pants of the pretty blond and some small airy whines that leave his mouth in anticipation for what you’ll do next.

You don’t even start slow, you go absolutely feral.

He barely gets to inhale one last deep breath until you’re fucking that out of his lungs, his head turning to look back at you as best he could as his body begins hitting the wall in front of him, his clothes rubbing against the roughness of the bricked exterior of the unknown building. He lifts head enough to not get itself hit against the wall and his hands are clawing at the bricks desperately, trying to find leverage to hold on tightly, his brain struggling to catch up with how vicious yet delicious you’re fucking him.

When he does remember he’s a human who can speak words, he cries out “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” in such high pitches, it sounds like he’s singing, probably trying to continue seducing you into such a horny haze. His pent-up sexual frustration must have been infectious, with how you find yourself being merciless with him and his ass, your hips slamming into the back of his in such a brutal pace you wonder if the skin will bruise, if he’ll be able to sit or walk properly.

Probably not, but that’s the point, isn’t it?

Your baby boy wanted you to fuck the living shit out of him, so that’s what you’ll do, it’s what you’re best at doing.

Fuck the annoyance out of him so that when you guys get home, he passes out.

You momentarily forget you guys are very much still in public and even if it’s night, civilians are very much still awake and walking, either going back home or going to work, maybe hang out with their friends or find themselves a sub to fuck.

Monoma doesn’t even warn you that he’s cumming, not even his loud, prolonged whine of your name gets your attention. But with how he’s spasming around your toy, how his hips are twitching quickly in between your hands, his eyes that never left from looking at you crossing…

Yeah, since you missed that orgasm and you’re not in the mood to exactly punish him, why not fuck him some more until he can’t remember his name and only yours?

You briefly pause, the tip of the toy the only thing still inside of him as one of your hands rubs circles on his lower back and the other remains on his hip.

Through the panting, Monoma lets out a whine, one that sounds almost disappointed. Probably because he came far quicker than what either of you two expected, or because it feels like you’re pulling out already and calling it a night.

No words are exchanged as you watch him catch his breath for a bit more, memorizing how rosy his cheeks and nose look, how the blush looks like it’s on his neck while his white pupils are fully dilated, oozing his adoration for you.

When you hear him suck in a breath, whether he’s preparing a sentence or to finish pulling himself off the toy, you slam back into him, grinning like a maniac upon feeling how his whole body jumped, going back into action and having blood pump everywhere in him, mostly towards his reawakening dick.

And you slam, slam, slam, slamming into him at such a steady pace, making sure to roll your hips the way you know will make him start squealing in such a girly tone, or like a dirty pig he sometimes becomes.

And once you feel him begin to push back on you and one of his hands leave the wall, you lean forward, pushing his body more up on the wall. He’s bent too much, it’s obvious you’re fucking him doggy style. What if people decide to go through this alley?

He obeys but whines in complaint, not wanting you to stop your ministrations as he pulls himself together, standing up as much as he could as to leave his lower back still bent for you.

“Keep your hands on the wall or else I’ll leave you here like this.”

He loves it when you speak to him in such a low voice, in such a way that you know makes him want to suck your cock for days until his jaw hurts. He puts his hands back on the wall, both placed where his face is at, acting as support as he rests his forehead there. His neck hurts a bit from how long he’s been straining to look at you.

You go back to fucking him, going back to what you were doing, moaning his name repeatedly to keep riling him up, arouse him and make him start begging for you to go faster, harder, deeper, make him dirty.

And he does with loud wails, ones that have you freezing and stopping all together, slapping a hand on his mouth and whispering how he should quiet down, unless he wants to be whored to other people.

“Be mommy’s good boy and keep quiet. Unless you want someone else’s cock.”

“No! No muh-mommy! Only y-yours~ Please!” He moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he impatiently grinds against you, feeling how sticky his thighs are getting with sweat and some of his cum and precum, somehow.

“Mommy, fuck me more, please!” He whimpers so cutely, so pathetically, so melodically you’re sure he somehow copied someone’s siren quirk, because your head feels dizzy, your heart is beating erratically and your hips sync with the pulse, forgetting about being consistent with speed, with roughness, with how deep you reach inside of him.

Fucking him silly until he’s trying his best to muffle his screams and cries into the back of his hands pressed on the wall, his fingers trying so hard to find solace on them, to grasp the reality of him being defiled in an empty, dirty alleyway, pressed so ruthlessly against a wall he doesn’t know how exactly dirty it could be.

Monoma’s hiccuping your name until you spank him, growling softly how that’s not who you are, making him wail out “Mommy! Cumming!” in such an erotic way, you wonder if you’re fucking your boyfriend or a girl with how he’s managed to reach such an incredible pitch.

You keep going, and even when he’s done cumming, you don’t stop impaling him, and a hand goes to wrap itself around his dick, trying your best to match this chaotic fucking, hearing how he’s struggling to breath, to comprehend this painful yet electrifying pleasure.

His toes are curling in his shoes, his knees don’t stop buckling, his hips never stop trying to meet with yours, the burn of overstimulation flowing through his veins yet motivating his dick to keep going, to keep obeying, to not disappoint mommy.

Monoma’s speaking gibberish, babbling whatever nonsense and begging he could think of or come to make up, the tips of his fingers turning white with how hard they’re pressing against the bricks as he tries to not fall. He’s not sure how or why he’d fall, but with how you’re touching him, squeezing him, stroking him, playing with him, he’s ready to give into the inquiry of whether being a househusband would have you fucking him like this everyday.

It’s a weird thought, one he’s never had before, one that’s still early to even care about-

Oh my god you’re abusing his prostate!

He’s seeing stars, planets, flashing strobe lights and envisioning his uproaring third orgasm, mouth hung open stupidly as whiny sobs and strangled cries escape him, trying his best to keep quiet like you said but he can’t!

“Feels s’ good!” He slurs, once again turning his head to look at you, eyes completely wet as tears fall in graceful droplets, hair messed up and drool staining a bit of his chin.

And just as you were going to respond, you heard footsteps.

You both freeze: you’re halfway out of him while Monoma’s struggling to not let his coughing fit be heard, having swallowed his saliva far too quickly with the scare.

The sounds stop, but now you both can hear a female voice.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Monoma whimpers, embarrassed.

So this is how he’ll get caught and shamed.

This is the end of his career.

But you’re not having it, not with how his dick has stopped twitching and is starting to soften.

You’re not done yet, and neither is he.

“Answer, Monoma.” You harshly whisper, wiping your thumb over his hypersensitive tip, making him hiccup loudly before composing himself as best he could.

“Y-yes? It-It is I, Phantom Thief- ooh~”

Another voice pitches in.

“Phantom Thief? The Phantom Thief?!”

“Y-Yes!” Monoma squeaks out, trying to cover up his gasp as you begin to slowly fuck him, making sure to keep hitting him straight to the prostate, amused how he’s gripping his jaw, muffling his hiccups while frantically shaking his head, begging you with his eyes to no, no, please!

The two bystanders gasp, seemingly walking more towards where you and Monoma are, making you press him more into the wall, hoping the angle you’re both in and the small hiding spot is enough to keep you hidden.

“We’re huge fans of yours! But, um, are you alright? We heard someone crying.”

“Fuck!” Monoma whimpers, struggling to keep his breathing in check as you continue to move, even rolling your palm all over his tip, your other hand going to pull at one of his nipples.

“What was that?”

“N-nothing! I’m fin- ugh~”

“You… sure?”

“YES!”

Monoma yells, back arching as his head touches your shoulder, eyes rolling up this head as he’s torn between pushing back or bucking forwards, feeling his body submerged in such an intense heat, in such shame, in such pathetic desperation to cum, he’s begging you in quick hushed moans to please, pretty please, make him cum, he wants to cum, needs to cum again.

“And your fans?” You whisper teasingly, feeling how he shivers with how close your breath is near his ear.

“Fu-uck my fans-”

“Now now, that’s something you never said before. Did I fuck Monoma Neito out of you?”

And you go back with the brutal pace, not caring if the other two bystanders can hear what’s going on, not caring if they come out traumatized or probably aroused with how obvious it is that their dear Phantom Thief is getting fucked in a shady place, in a nasty place, yet he’s silently wailing and convulsing with everything you’re giving him.

Your hand soon enough gets sticky with what little cum his poor, weak body produced, his hole clenching tightly around your strap-on while his hands fly back to grasp any part of you that he could reach, which ended up being your head.

The bystanders speak again while Monoma’s busy wheezing his gratitude.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We could call the police-”

“I’m alright! ‘m fine~” He managed to sing-song, but if you heard a bit of his whimper seep from the last word, you don’t say anything, simply slow down your stroking before pausing.

You hear their footsteps slowly go back towards where they probably came from, making Monoma let out shaky exhales of relief and satisfaction, small giggles slipping from time to time as you kiss his neck, his cheek, his jawline.

And once you are certain you’re both alone again, you slowly pull out of him, helping him to turn around so that his back presses against the wall.

Until he grimaces.

“My essence is, from my deduction, splattered on this disgusting wall.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you point down to where his pants are, laughing harder when you see how his grimace turns into a face of disgust, horror, shame, surprise, arousal- wait what?

You don’t question the last one, simply letting out the last of your giggles while you search for the disinfectant wipes you tend to carry with you in your utility belt. And once they’ve been found, you make him lick your cum-covered hand first before properly passing a wipe. You hand Monoma one so that he cleans his face if needed, disinfect his hands, his thighs, anywhere he thought he needed to clean.

No, that's a lie. You took care of his thighs and pelvis, trying your best to clean the spots where his cum reached his pants before peppering a few gentle kisses around his exposed skin.

Pulling his briefs and pants up, buttoning, zipping, fasting his belts. You let out a happy sigh, fixing his hair and tie.

You then fix yourself.

“Who’s mommy’s good boy, Monoma?”

He somehow managed to chirp. “I am, mommy.”

“Then, you’ll stop being a bitch tonight, right? Mommy made sure to fuck it out of you.”

“Oh, um,” aw, he’s blushing. “I suppose…”

When you both walk away from the much-more defiled wall, you hold back an amused snort with how Monoma seems too unstable with his feet, how his legs seem to shake with every step he tries to take and how frustrated he looks with how uncooperative his body is.

You decide that chilling and cuddling in that corner wouldn’t be so bad, and considering how your shift ended minutes ago, you doubt either you or Monoma will get into trouble.

#✿; impurity #⏱ Monoma brain rot #bnha smut #monoma neito smut #monoma smut #sub monoma neito #sub bnha #mha smut #ლ; blasphemy #𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖒𝖆

415 notes · View notes

lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

Note

Ok so we all love pervert shigaraki ( Ik u do so please don’t lie to ur self love 😀) anyways what if shigaraki had a huge crush on the reader and steals there panties ( when there out in a mission working there ass off) but the reader notices and placed cameras in her room just to see who’s stealing them surprise surprise it’s ya boy shiggy and the reader finds it kind of cute that he’s that desperate but is also upsetting because there working and he’s here getting off on her stuff so.the reader catch’s him in the act and shows him the videos ( shigaraki at this point is crying from embarrassment and he’s begging for the reader to delete the videos) as a punishment the reader pegs the shit out of him and the ending is fluff since I do love shiggy

First of all English isn’t my first language so apologizes for any mistakes and for the ending please work ur magic sis

💍🧎🏻‍♀️marry me this is so good

COMMISSIONS

If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q

Warnings: smut (obvi) shigaraki is a perv degradation a little I think #peg shiggy 2021 fingering for Shig 😌 humiliation??? Idk what to put man request says it all

InteractiveFics

Master List

Song:

youtube

🌸 I have an irl on here rn because we both simp for crusty men, and she’s probably lowkey scared of me. I was drunk on having social interaction for the first time forever and was like, “omg, I write for them. I have Tumblr 🤪” Listen, I told you I would do anything for him, and I fucking meant it, ok? And he’s a little pervert, so they're kinda gross (indirectly making me have gross kinks too ig ☹️) Plus, I warned you about his piss kink, that should've been a good indicator to the rest of these 🙄 , Anyways anon has sent me THE BEST SCENARIOS OMG. I have read a lot of Shigaraki fics, BUT THESE ARE SO ORIGINAL IM SO HAPPY. There's one, in particular, I'm excited to write because it's just so cute, omg. 🌸

It was the fifth time this week. You were out on another mission, and Tomura was half-naked in your room on the verge of passing out from how many times he had cum into various articles of your clothing. It started off as just your panties. Perverted but not insane. As time went on, it only got worse. The panties weren’t good enough. He started putting one of your shirts over his face as he got off, and that worked...for a while. His next fix was to steal some of your perfume, but it wasn't good enough.

He felt disgusting the first time he got off in your room. He felt like he'd crossed a line (not that he hadn’t already), but it was the best orgasm of his life. What's done is done, so he might as well take advantage of the rest of your room. He was pretty comfortable now, face pressed into your pillow, inhaling your scent as his body spasmed for the last time. He was utterly spent.

And now, for the worst part, being in your room surrounded by your stuff, smelling your perfume, but still being all alone. It wasn't like Shigaraki had a crush on you or anything. Him having a crush on y/n? Unheard of. The rest of the girls in the league were like family to him. You two just weren't there yet, even though it had been five months, and he blushes whenever you talk to him. So what if he wants to punch Dabi whenever he looks at you? He wasn't in love with you. God damn it, he was just horny. That was it. That was the extent of his feelings, and they would go away.

They didn't go away, but more of your stuff sure did. It was becoming more common for clothing in your room to go missing only to end up clean and folded in the proper drawer. It was weird, but someone was doing most of your laundry for you. It wasn't Dabi taking your stuff. He could get his dick wet whenever he wanted. The other guys preached “don’t lewd y/n” and tried to fight Dabi when he put his hand on your thigh. Toga would steal your shirts but definitely not your underwear. If she did steal your clothing, she’d post a mirror pic and tag you in it.

So that left your boss. Tomura Shigaraki. You thought he hated you. He got all quiet and distant when you talked to him. Was he nervous? He glared at you and Dabi. Or was it just Dabi? Maybe the little creep did like you. He was kinda cute. His messy hair looked so soft, his eyes lit up when he won his games, Shigaraki had this little smile when he was watching the league sit together, and he had discarded father almost completely. But he was a creep, and you definitely didn't have a crush on him. Definitely not.

But part of you didn't want to tell him to stop. It took a while to cook up a plan, but it was foolproof when you came up with one. You found stole the money to invest in some hidden cameras. By now, you were starting to accept that you might like him just a little. But in a sad puppy kind of way. You didn't actually have a crush on him. Nope, not at all.

And it was kind of mean that he was making you do all this work while he got to jerk off in your bed. You'd come back with cuts, scrapes, bruises, and even a broken bone one time, just for him to totally ignore you. He had spent all day ruining your clothes and wouldn't even look at you.

Your behavior had changed towards Tomura, though, and he had definitely noticed. You were acting the same way he was. You were always blushing when you talked to him. You sat next to him while he played games, but it's "just because you're bored." Maybe you were starting to like him back. He had come to terms with his not-so-little crush on you. This didn't stop him from acting like a perv but still.

The cameras had been up for a while, and honestly, watching those videos back was way better than watching porn. Shigaraki looked so sweet and desperate. The way he laid in your bed afterward, holding your pillow, made your heartache for him. He just looked so lonely. You decided it was time to confront him.

"I'm going out for a couple days, guys!" you called, walking out with a backpack on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you, dollface," Dabi called back, blowing a kiss as you laughed at him.

The glare Shigaraki gave him could have dusted him right then and there. You stayed at a cheap motel for a while, watching the cameras. It was pretty nice to finally have some quiet. It didn't take long for Shigaraki to wander into your room with a raging hard-on. You took your time getting home, knowing he'd be there for at least a few hours. You glanced at your phone once in a while, catching two of Shigaraki’s orgasms. You’d hear a strangled cry and see his mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut, and back arching. He’d coat his chest and your underwear in hot cum. You started to walk faster. Most of the league was asleep as you used your levitation quirk to float silently up the stairs. You opened the door.

“Who knew you were such a perv, Shiggy. All this time, I thought you hated me, but it looks like someone has a little crush on me, ” you said sweetly.

He looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as his body froze. A soft whimper left him as his face turned an angry shade of red that matched the head of his cock.

“N-no please, I'm sorry y/n I-i just didn't um ill leave. I'm so sorry, ” he muttered.

He got up, but you pushed him back on the bed.

“Not yet, Shiggy. I have something to show you, ” you said in a singsong voice.

You sat next to him, slinging your left arm around his shoulders. You pulled up the live feed.

“Aww, look at how cute we look right now, Shig, ” you teased.

His face told you that he was terrified.

“Y-you didn’t, ” he tried to fool himself.

“Oh, I did, ” you whispered in his ear.

You heard him sniffle. You slid the bar at the bottom of the screen back to show him what he was doing mere minutes ago.

“No, you can't, ” he choked as tears fell from his eyes, “please don’t show anyone y/n. Please I c-cant. I'm sorry, just don’t show anyone, ” he sobbed, “please don't. I’ll never talk to you again if you want I’ll do anything just don't show anyone, ” he cried.

“Anything?” you questioned.

“Anything, ” he nodded, still crying.

“Well, first of all, ” you said, “you can start by taking me out on a date, ”

He nearly choked as his eyes widened.

“What?” he whispered, wiping his eyes and nose.

“I said that you’re going to take me out on a date, and please use a tissue, ” you said.

He nodded and cleaned up his face the rest of the way.

“And second, you can take off your shirt and bend over the bed with your legs spread, ” you whispered in his ear, pressing a kiss just below it.

He looked confused for a second until his eyes widened, and he did as he was told.

“Now, don't play dumb with me. I know you’ll like this. I've seen you try and finger yourself before, but you did a shit job, and I promise this will be even better, ” you smiled, ruffling Tomura's hair.

He was getting more comfortable with you now, giving a nervous smile and humming when you touched his hair.

You walked back with everything you needed, only to sigh disappointedly, “oh Shiggy, that's not nearly wide enough. I know you can do better than that. Spread your legs more,”

He nodded, eager to please, and nearly did the splits. You giggled and smacked his butt. He jumped, causing you to laugh again.

“You’re so precious. It's a real shame I'm about to turn you into a slutty mess, ” you cooed.

He felt two slimy fingers press against his hole, and he shuddered. He tried to relax and let you press into him. It didn't take very long to get him moaning, bucking against your fingers. Two became three, and three became four before you decided he was ready. You were looking forward to eating him out, but this was supposed to be a punishment. You lined him up, rubbing the head against his hole that was still clenching around nothing. You pushed the entire thing inside of him as he screamed.

You scoffed, “do you know how many people you just woke up? Do you want the whole league to know you're getting pegged as punishment for being a disgusting, perverted slut? You want them to know that I'm fucking your ass? Huh? Do you? Cause I'll bend you over the fucking bar and show them who you submit to, ”

You started thrusting at a brutal pace. Tomura pushed his face into the pillow only for you to levitate him so he couldn't do anything to stop all the sounds coming out of his mouth. You were looking forward to all the looks you'd get as you smirked, and he struggled to sit next to you. You managed to go even harder.

“You’re not sitting or walking this week, Shiggy, ” you cooed.

“No, ” he choked out, “n-no call me Tomura p-please, ” he moaned.

“Tomura, ” you whispered in his ear, “pretty name for a pretty boy, ”

You reached around and twisted his nipple, causing him to cry out. Tomura only got louder as you reached around and grabbed his balls another hand-squeezed his tip between two fingers and pinched gently before jerking him instead. He was losing it now, tongue hanging out, and eyes rolled back. Little screams were ripped from him, and he jerked around.

“Y/n ‘m gonna, ‘m gonna cum, ” Tomura slurred.

“You gonna cum for me, Tomu? Go on, do it, ” you encouraged.

He cried out, his body going rigid as he shot cum out of his cock. He was gasping and panting as you let him flop down on the bed and pulled out.

“C-can you help me back to my room, ” he whispered, looking sad.

“No, ” you said as he frowned, eyes watering again, “because you're staying with me tonight. Get in bed, ”

He blushed and crawled into the corner. You yanked him closer, taking over as the big spoon.

“Goodnight, Tomura, ” you said. Kissing his back and shoulders, you rubbed his stomach and chest, “you're so pretty, baby. I forgive you. It’s obvious you’ve never had a crush on a girl before, and I think you learned your lesson, ” you said, rubbing his sore ass.

He nodded, “I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to do, ” he mumbled.

“I know, sweetie, ” you whispered, “I know. Was what we did ok? Did you like it?”

He nodded, “I liked it, ” he whispered.

“Do you need anything, ” you asked.

He shook his head, “just tired, ”

“Alright, baby, just get some sleep, love, ” you said.

He nodded as you both found an absurd amount of comfort in being so close to each other. You slept like a baby. You woke up to him gazing at you lovingly, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

He kissed your forehead, “I hope you know you're never getting rid of me, ” he smiled.

He kissed you, “y’know I'm kind of disappointed you didn't kiss me last night, ” he pouted.

“Mmm, I was too busy fucking you, sorry sweetie, ” you said, kissing him again.

“You enjoyed your ‘punishment’ a little too much, but having to go downstairs should be punishment enough, ” you grinned.

He groaned, “please don't make me. Let me stay in my room forever y/n, ”

“No, can do Tomu, you need breakfast, ” you said.

You walked downstairs, sitting at the bar and eating your breakfast. No one else was up yet, or so you thought until you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“You're not dead?” Dabi asked, completely dumbfounded.

“No dumbfuck, I'm not dead. Why the hell would I be dead?” he snapped.

“I dunno maybe cause you were screaming from y/n’s room all nigh- oh no. Oh god I think I'm gonna be sick, ” he fake gagged.

All you did was laugh at him.

“You two are disgusting, y’know that?” he said.

“We know, ” you smiled eating the rest of your breakfast.

463 notes · View notes

dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell.

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic.

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad.

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw violence #tw broken bones #tw injuries #tw mental deterioration #tw isolation #tw panic attack #tw self deprecation #tw trauma #tw memory loss #tw death #tw dark content #tw dark imagery #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks #quill anon !

180 notes · View notes

the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut, cursing, abandonment, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! This chapter introduces some new plots and conflicts, so it jumps around a little more than the previous ones.

I hope you all enjoy!

I also am having some writer’s block with my Obi-Wan Kenobi miniseries I was working on, so expect Part 3 sometime Sunday hopefully! So sorry for the delay on the final chapter.

Tags and Requests are OPEN

Part One // Part Two

Henry Curtis was one of the most infuriating people Lee had ever met. Curtis was a writer for the Columbus newspaper and constantly pestering the Sheriff. Curtis seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever the Sheriff did anything. He was desperately trying to catch the Sheriff doing anything but so far had remained unsuccessful. Curtis was the biggest obstacle Lee faced in winning re-election. The man would show up out of nowhere, pen and pad in hand ready to find anything that would be enough to keep the Sheriff out of office.

Maybe Curtis was just doing his job, but Lee always felt like it was much more personal. It was probably just his own resentment of the man who was just doing his job. But the man didn’t have to be so goddamn invasive. When the Sheriff had devised his plan on offering to rent a room from you, he was so tied up in his own mess of divorce and his somewhat confusing feelings towards you he had completely forgotten about the press. They would have a field day with the divorce alone, but now on top of everything else, Lee knew he should be more careful.

Lee always had to be careful, especially if he was meeting Leroy Brown. Lee would make sure he drove way out of town, and always insisted they met at a different location every time. This would infuriate Brown but Lee was the only lawman he had working for him. Sometimes Lee would drive several hours out of the way, always at some deserted ghost town or some sad excuse for a diner or a bar. Always somewhere no one would recognize him.

Lee lied to you and told you he and a few of the deputies would need to drive out of town for a stakeout when he needed to meet with Brown. It was one of those nights, sitting in the cruiser with the headlights off, as he parked in an abandoned parking lot almost two hours out of town.

He had been able to put this off for a couple weeks, lying about other legitimate jobs getting in the way. Honestly, it was because he wanted to one, avoid anything that would cause suspicion from Henry Curtis hearing he was back in town and two, he was selfishly allowing himself to just spend his nights at his new home, spending all the time he could manage with you. It was like being in that little white house was a place where he could let himself be delusional, and time spent with you was what his life actually was, not this mess he was currently dealing with. He wanted out.

Lee knew he wasn’t a good man. He knew that his laundry list of offenses had tarnished his badge a long time ago. He knew what he was doing, and before he never cared. Now, he’s thinking about how his actions could affect you. You were innocent, unaware of everything he was stuck in. He knew you weren’t stupid, and he was sure the town knows some about his corruption. But now, he couldn’t rationalize away his actions for any reason when it came to you. Janie? She didn’t care and would encourage it. She’d be in on it too. She’d have no problem lying to ladies at Church or starting other rumors to keep the town talking about anyone but Lee. She was as power hungry as he was sometimes, which could be a testament as to how their loveless marriage held together for so long.

***

“Hi, I’m looking for a Ms. (Y/L/N)?” the man asked when he approached you, talking a seat at one of the barstools.

“Who’s asking for her?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“I’m Henry Curtis, I work for the Columbus Dispatch.”

“The newspaper?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why are you looking for her?”

“I’m doing a story on her mother’s marriage to Harvey Tucker.”

“She’s not here tonight. But I can let her know you were here. Do you got a card?”

The man pulled out a business card from his wallet and slide it across the bar. You picked it up and read all the information before putting it in the pocket of your apron.

“Seems weird for the Columbus paper to want to do a story on that a month and a half after it happened,” you said skeptically.

“We did cover the story when it happened,” Curtis informed you. “Doing a follow up since the story broke about his wife missing.”

“Missing?” you ask. “Do they know what happened?”

“Robbed the bastard blind and then ran apparently,” Curtis said casually looking past you at the chalkboard on the wall. “Scotch, neat.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, grabbing the bottle from the shelf. “Has anything else been found out yet?”

“Not yet, that’s why I’m here. Checking in to see if she’d come back here because I heard Ms. (Y/L/N) still lives around these parts.” He then pulled a newspaper out of the inside pocket of his coat and started flipping through the pages.

“She has another kid too, right?” you asked, playing dumb. “A boy, I think. Do you know where he is?”

“Couldn’t say,” he sounded very indifferent, “Most likely went with her but who knows? I went to the Sheriff’s office to see if they knew anything but the Sheriff wasn’t there.”

“That’s too bad,” you say. “I’m sure Sheriff Bodecker would help you help if he can.”

Your statement made Mr. Curtis chuckle, but you didn’t follow up on it. You were just focusing on getting as much information about your mother and brother as you could.

“Speaking of Mr. Bodecker,” he began, “I recently saw his wife is getting remarried. Saw the announcement of the engagement in the paper.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” you respond, skeptically. You didn’t know why but you didn’t trust this man. It was something in the tone of his voice, or maybe it was just how he held himself. Very polished, a suit and a nice dress jacket. He looked very out of place in this town, and this little bar.

“You familiar with the Sheriff at all, miss?”

“Not too well,” you shrug, “Haven’t had any run-ins with the law myself.”

“Not even a speeding ticket?” He asks, only a little condescendingly.

“Can’t get a speeding ticket if you don’t have a car,” you point out.

“Touché,” he chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

He doesn’t ask you anymore questions, and when he leaves, he gives you a five-dollar tip.

***

Lee receives his cut from Brown. There was nothing new to report on that front and his meeting went by smoothly. All Lee had to do was to turn a blind eye, and make sure the rest of the department stays unaware of the brothel’s existence. Brown always insisted on meeting with him, wanting to know what the Sheriff’s department was investigating and making sure his businesses stayed under the radar. He felt sick, and is preoccupied with the fact he has an envelope of dirty money in the cruiser’s glovebox.

It’s around midnight when he pulls up to the house. He expects that you’re already asleep, but he notices the lamp is on in the living room. He takes the money out of his glovebox and tucks it away into the inner pocket of his jacket. Coming inside, he finds you on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the business card Mr. Curtis had given you. You face is stained with dried up tears, and you still haven’t even changed out of your work clothes.

“What’s that?” he asks, the sight of you breaking his heart. He winces because he comes off a lot harsher than he meant.

“Some reporter came while I was at work wanting to talk to me,” you explain softly, you sound exhausted. “Wanted to talk to me cause he’s doing a story on my mother. Apparently, she’s on the run from the Columbus police.”

You extend your hand to give Lee the card. He feels his jaw clench when he reads the information. “What happened?” he asks, taking a deep breath and sitting down next to you.

“I pretended I wasn’t me,” you say, another tear rolling down your cheek. “He came in asking for me so I said I’d pass his card on. I didn’t want to tell him who I was because he didn’t explain why he was looking for me at first. I don’t know- just scared me. I’m more upset about the news itself than him.”

“You did the right thing,” Lee said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. He was angry, but he didn’t show it. It worried him, fucking Curtis snooping around this close to you. It made him feel protective, wanting to shield you from the whole ordeal. He had been on the receiving end of unsolicited attention from the press and he knew how ruthless they were. He knew this wouldn’t be the only time Curtis would try to get in touch with you. He’d find out where you lived, he’d continue to show up while you were working- the whole nine yards. He didn’t want you going through that.

Curtis talking to you also made him incredibly paranoid. It was his two worlds that he desperately wanted to keep apart were colliding. He knew it was impossible, but he so wanted to keep you separated from the other part of his life. It wasn’t who he wanted you to see. Hell, he hasn’t even been here for a month. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep you in the dark, at least that wasn’t entirely intentional. Actually, he wasn’t sure, maybe it was intentional. However, it wasn’t just you he wanted to hide aspects of his life from. He wanted his involvement with Brown and others hidden from every goddamn registered voter. You were no different, he tried to rationalize. But that wasn’t true. These feelings he harbored for you, were getting worse. He needed to unwrap himself from this situation, and for the sake of you finding out he was a shill, keep you away from that asshole. He didn’t want to let himself think about how the way you look at him would change.

And here he was, making the situation all about him. It was in his nature.

“He’s just going to show up again if I don’t call him,” you say, wiping your eyes. “Maybe I should just call him in the morning. Just be honest and say I don’t know anything. He can keep coming around but nothing is going to change.”

“I can take care of it,” he says. He couldn’t risk you talking to Curtis again. For all he knows, Curtis would tell you all about the story on the Sheriff he’d been trying to confirm for years. Lee knew he couldn’t let that happen. He fully intends on telling you, but how the hell do you bring that up? ‘Hey doll, I’m also on the payroll of every pimp and bootlegger in a ten-mile radius, just letting you know.’ It wasn’t going to come up, unless Curtis tells you about it. He’d be hoping to pull himself out if it, show you how you made him want to be better.

For now, he settles for comforting you, and just being there to take care of you. Make you feel better. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and lets you cry into his chest. He sighs, kissing the top of your head in a friendly way and you curl up against him. Under different circumstances, you probably wouldn’t have let yourself do this- show your vulnerability or allow anyone to comfort you like this. But it was all the events of the past month, your mother leaving, everything, just all hitting you at once, and you were happy you weren’t alone.

In the morning, you wake up on the couch with a blanket over you. You see Lee asleep in the chair, and you realize he stayed with you all night. It makes your heart flutter. You pull the blanket up over your chin and close your eyes again. You felt surprisingly well rested. The stress and worry were pushed to the back of your mind long enough to let you get some sleep. It still lingered in the back of your mind, but you reminded yourself that for now, there was nothing you could do. You had the day off, and you let yourself have a little longer time to sleep in.

You woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of sizzling on the stove. When you opened your eyes, Lee was no longer in the chair. You sat up and looked toward the kitchen, where you saw Lee with his back to you while he worked with the pans on top of the stove. The portable radio was positioned on the counter, and it was playing at a low volume, so it wouldn’t wake you up.

“Hey,” you say softly, still waking up as you walk into the kitchen.

“Morning, doll,” he says, glancing back at you for a moment. “How’re you feeling?”

“A little better,” you admit, grabbing a mug for yourself out of the cabinet. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the smell before making it how you usually take it. “Thank you for sitting with me,” you say honestly, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he says with a small grin. “I just wanted to help.”

“I really appreciate it, Lee,” you reiterate your thanks, hopping up to take a seat on the counter, watching him cook breakfast. “Didn’t know you knew how to cook,” you joke, making him chuckle.

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” he smirks, making you feel flushed. You take another drawn out sip of your coffee to try to distract yourself. You watch his arms, and his hands as they maneuver and flex when he cooks. You imagine how they must feel, your eyes focused on the veins. You bit your lip and it reminds you of the dream you had a little while back when he first moved in. You imagine him stepping in between your legs as your propped up on the counter, his hands gently gripping your thighs and-

“I’ll get it,” you announce hurriedly as you hear someone knock on the front door. You hop off the counter careful to not spill your coffee, and head to answer the door. Lee watches you bounce out of the room, fixing your hair as you go and you don’t catch his smile.

“Arvin,” you say surprised, stepping out onto the porch. “What are you doing here?” you ask, with a small grin. You’re confused but nonetheless happy to see him.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he observes, concern written all over his face.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say dismissively, “Just last night I was thinking about my ma and everything. Just had trouble sleeping is all.”

“The Sheriff didn’t do anything?” Arvin asked in a hushed tone, looking over your shoulder to see if Lee could hear you two.

“No, nothing, he’s been perfectly fine,” you say coming to the Sheriff’s defense. “I know you and Ms. Russell are worried, I know how it must look- but Arvin I swear he’s just my tenant. He’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

“Just making sure,” he says, letting it go for now. “Lenora asked me to bring these by for you.” He hands you the glass baking dish that you can see is filled with homemade cinnamon rolls. “She’s been practicing making all kinds of baked goods for when the Church does that bake sale and has me running all over town giving it away cause me and Uncle Earskell can’t keep up with it all.”

“Tell her thank you for me,” you say with a smile, “And I’ll bring the dish with me to Church tomorrow- give it back to her.”

“She misses you I think,” Arvin says sheepishly, pushing his hands into his front pockets. “I mean- I do- I think my whole family does- we all do. I’m sorry my grandmother hasn’t asked you over in a while…”

“I understand,” you nod. “Reputation is an important thing.”

“I just didn’t want you to think it was because of us,” he says looking down at the porch, his eyes fixed on a loose board. “You know how she is- everything no matter the context is somehow a sin. Scared to death of her own shadow…”

“I know you’re not that resentful, Arvin Russell,” you chuckle and he relaxes. “And I don’t hold any hard feelings towards anyone in your family- you all have always been good to me.”

“Well, um,” he says awkwardly, looking like he was holding back from saying more. “I got to hit a couple more houses before I head to work, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at Church?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Oh- I wanted to let you know,” he says, turning around as he’s already heading down the front steps, “The principal down at the high school is looking for secretaries- Lenora heard and thought you might be interested. It pays like $35 a week, I think. You should call Linda Carson; I think Lenora said- that’s the woman who’s in charge of hiring people, I think.”

“I’ll call the school first thing Monday morning,” you say, grin stretching from ear to ear. Arvin nods and says goodbye again. You walk back into the house like you’re on top of the world. You couldn’t contain your excitement. That job if you could get it would be a dream. You’d be making so much more than you’re already making. You were so excited.

“You’re in a much better mood than when I last saw you,” Lee jokes. He’s sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper while he eats his breakfast. You notice that he made you a table setting- brought your coffee over and everything. You place the baking dish in the middle of the table and sit down.

“That was Arvin,” you say happily, and Lee feels his heart sink into his stomach.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, trying to not let on how his heart feels like it’s crushed. He knew it was only a matter of time before a boy would come around- whether it be Arvin or someone else your own age.

“Well, first he was just dropping off baked goods Lenora made,” you say gesturing to the dish on the table. “He’s going around to everybody, I guess. He mentioned the high school is looking for office secretaries- Lenora wanted me to know. Thirty-five dollars a week! I’m going to talk to Linda Carson about it Monday morning. Can you imagine? I could get a secretary job.”

Lee feels just a crash of relief wash over him. He’s so happy that you are looking at a new job. You deserve better than that bar. He knew you deserved the job just as much as any of the other candidates. You work harder than anyone he knows.

“That’s fantastic, sugar,” he replies. “You deserve it.”

“Do you think I have a chance?” you ask, feeling a little self-conscious- you knew you weren’t as experienced as other candidates would be for sure.

“Of course, I do,” he says, putting down the paper to give you his full attention. “I feel like you getting this job is a definite. There’s no doubt about it.”

“You’re just buttering me up,” you scoff, finishing up your food, making him chuckle. You may have also seen his cheeks redden, but you couldn’t say for sure. You finish off your coffee, and then bring you dishes back to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink. Lee turns his attention back to his newspaper and you head upstairs to get ready for your day.

When you head upstairs, Lee notices that you took the radio with you- and he could hear you were listening to music from upstairs. He decides before it’s too late to ring Mark Cunningham. The line rings a couple of times before Mark answers.

“Cunningham.”

“Morning, Mark. It’s Sheriff Bodecker,” he smirks.

“What can I do for you Sheriff?” he asks, the sound of shuffling paper comes through as well. Most likely flipping through the paper.

“I wanna call in that favor you owe me,” he says, casually pacing the living room, holding the receiver up to his ear and the base of the rotary phone in the other.

“Of course, Sheriff,” he says. A while back, Bodecker busted the principal making moonshine in his old barn that was at the end of his property. Lee looked the other way and was waiting for the right thing to call in a favor for.

“I want you to hire (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for the secretary job,” he says, looking to the stairs, making sure you aren’t coming. The music is still playing loudly from upstairs so he determines he’s still got time.

“That’s all?” Mark asked surprised.

“That’s all I want from you,” Lee replies. “I expect you can make that happen?”

“Without a doubt. When can she start?”

“Still have her come in for an interview. I don’t anyone else knowing I called you about this- including her.”

“Done.”

With that, Lee hangs up the phone, feeling really good about this decision. He knew how much that job meant to you- he could see it in your eyes and how excitedly you talked about it. He can’t wait to see you when you find out you get the position. He knows it’s going to make you so happy. He knows you’d be a fantastic candidate, but this just eliminates any doubt. He reasons that there isn’t much difference, since you were very likely to get it anyways. He just had to make sure.

He can picture you know, coming home from the interview- excited to tell him that you got the job. You’d be so excited you’d jump up and hug him tightly, just so overjoyed that you let your feelings take over. You’d wrap your legs and around his waist and he’d hold you up by holding the back of your thighs. You’d wrap your arms tightly around him and bury your head in the crook of his neck. You’d lift your head up to look at him, embarrassed at your actions and then he’d press his lips to yours. You’d gasp softly, but your lips would melt against his own and your arms would wrap tightly around his neck. He’d walk forward, pressing you up against the wall and he’d kiss your neck mumbling praises of congratulations against your skin as his name falls from your lips at how good he’d make you feel. It’s almost unbearable how bad he wants you.

He heads to him room to get ready for his day, but his mind is still clouded with thoughts of you. He thinks about how much he wants nothing more that to just pin you on his mattress. He wonders if you know how crazy you make him. Sometimes there’s something in your eye that makes him think you want him too, but he’s not sure. His better judgement holds him back from everything he wants to do. He thinks about how it must feel to have his head right in-between your thighs. Back in the kitchen together, he wanted to just get on his knees and worship you. The feeling of them pressing against him as he sucks on your clit and runs his tongue across your folds.

Serval hours later, he can’t shake the thoughts, even sitting in his office at the sheriff’s station- working on a Saturday yet again. He’s cooped up in his office, unable to get through any of the paperwork that has piled up on his desk. He’s thinking about you, again, but in this daydream, you’re bent over his desk- because you came by to see him on your break from work at the school. His office door locked and his blinds pulled so he can bend you over and take you right there- rough and fast, sending you back to work with a feeling of him still there between your legs well after you’re back at your own desk, still sore from the encounter.

“You got a visitor, Lee,” the intercom on his desk lights up.

“Send ‘em in,” he responds back, shaking his head to snap out of it. He needed to get a grip.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you say, walking into his office. His eyes widen and he wonders if he’s still day dreaming. He discreetly pinches himself. You’re actually here, standing in his office, while he looks at you dumbfounded. Part of him would think he manifested it if he was a man of any faith. “You forgot this,” you say, putting his wallet on the desk. “You must have taken it out of your back pocket before falling asleep in the chair last night. It was laying on the coffee table. I figured I’d stop by with it while I was coming up this way anyways.”

“You’re a doll,” he grins, putting his wallet in his back pocket. “What are you doing?”

“I took the bus to the library to return some books, and now I’m going shopping for something to wear when I go in for an interview since I have the day off to go,” you explain. “I’m also probably going to get lunch after that before heading back home. I just didn’t want to be home in case that reporter stopped by. I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

“I can take care of it,” he says, “He’ll make his way over here soon enough. I can talk to him.”

“You would do that for me?” you ask, the relief evident across your whole face.

“Yeah, I can talk to him, let him know you gave a statement here,” he says. You nod. “You know as much as he does, so it doesn’t matter if I tell him you don’t know shit or if you tell him.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you sigh, so relieved thinking that you won’t have to hear from Henry Curtis again. “If he tells you anything about them… will you let me know?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you say, hurriedly walking over behind him and quickly hugging his shoulders. You then are back by the door again before he can register the gesture. “Are you going to be home tonight?” you ask, your hand on the doorknob.

“Not until late,” he says reluctantly, and he can see the disappointment on your face- unless his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Okay,” you say finally, “Um, I’ll see you later then.”

“Bye, doll,” he says when you walk out of his office.

Are you going to be home tonight? Your voice lingers in his head. It was such a harmless phrase that could’ve just been one of curiosity. Maybe you were just asking because you were thinking about what you were doing for dinner. It most likely just meant nothing. But, the look on your face when he said no makes him think otherwise. Did it mean you cared? That you wanted to spend time with him? You wanted to see him and be with him as desperately as he needed you perhaps? Just the phrasing itself makes his brain feel like putty. It’s like you’re waiting up for him. It’s like you share the house in a way that’s much more than just him renting a room from you. It’s like you’re his and he’s yours. It’s like saying our house… our home. The question was so intimate and implied so much more about how you saw him and what he was to you. He knew seeing him as how he saw you was next to impossible, but you saw him as more than the Sheriff and more than just the jerk living in your house.

Part Four

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #smut #the devil all the time #angst #lee bodecker x y/n #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader

487 notes · View notes

justcourttee · 3 years

Note

Adrien asks mari out and she says i would of been so happy in the past but now its too little to late. She's engaged to Damian but they haven't announced it yet

Bittersweet

It had been a while since Adrien had found himself in Gotham City. Too many years to count on his hand. Yet when he received an invite from Marinette he didn’t hesitate to hop on the next flight to attend her gala.

He had no idea that she had created a partnership with Wayne Enterprises, in fact, he had no idea they were interested in the fashion world at all. Then again, why should he be surprised? When Marinette put her mind to something, nothing would get in her way.

Ever since he had taken over his father’s company, Adrien hadn’t had much time to keep up with his old school friends but it hadn’t stopped them from trying to keep him in the loop. From what he could gather, Alya and Nino would also be attending, Rose and Juleka too. It would be nice to see them all again, especially Marinette.

Stepping out from the warmth of his hotel room and into the cool streets, Adrien couldn’t help but let his mind drift to thoughts of her.

It took Marinette moving to the States for him to realize how much he was in love with her. It was something he never wanted to admit seeing how much he adored Ladybug, but as she disappeared from his grasps, he was left to face his true feelings.

Glancing at his phone, Adrien confirmed that he was mere minutes away from the address she had listed. The gala was still a few days away, but Marinette asked if he had wanted to meet up for a late-night coffee, a Gotham specialty. Even her scarf that she had gifted him ages ago couldn’t hide the red on his cheeks as he imagined the perfect date with the girl of his dreams.

He paused, reaching the door of Deja Brew, his heart beating a million miles a minute. Somewhere in this late-night shop was his best friend. How would she react to seeing him again? Would she be as excited as he was? Would she feel the same way as she did?

Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the door, his eyes glancing through the scattered exhausted customers until they landed on her. She still hadn’t noticed his presence, her nose buried into her sketchbook, her coffee still steaming beside her seemingly untouched.

She was early.

The thought almost drew a laugh as he approached the counter to place his order. Of course she would have finally picked up some time management skills by now. Marinette was 27 and slowly making a name for herself as the future of the fashion industry. That wasn’t something accomplished by constant tardiness.

He picked up his cup, placing a ten into the tip jar, the hostess’ raised eyebrows making him smile. He could already hear his father scolding him. After all, that wasn’t the way to becoming a billionaire. You only make money by holding onto it.

Honestly, Adrien didn’t understand why he had to be a billionaire. His father said it would raise the bar for their line, but it just wasn’t in Adrien’s heart to hoard all of the money unnecessarily. Maybe the Waynes offered Marinette the same advice. Maybe they had something they could relate to together.

“Excuse me ma’am, is this seat taken?”

His heart had finally slowed down but as her eyes slowly peeked up at him under her lashes, it immediately began somersaulting once more.

“Oh Gods, Adrien!” She was out of her seat before he even had the chance to set down his coffee, her arms flung around his neck. He hoped and prayed she couldn’t feel his chest threatening to explode. “You should have said something! I’ve gotten into the bad habit of zoning out in public places.”

Her smile was blinding as she unwound herself, slipping back into her seat, motioning for him to sit as well.

“How was the flight? Did you fly private or first class?”

Adrien gasped, his hand covering his chest as if she had shot him.

“I only flew business thank you very much.” Marinette’s look of mock disbelief earned a small chuckle.

“That must have been so hard for you. I really am sorry you went through so much trouble for my sake.”

“You know, I would go through so much more for you Marinette.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, so quick that if he hadn’t been staring so hard at her, he might have missed it. Did his statement make her uncomfortable? He had only meant it jokingly with the truth laced in, but he was sure his eyes gave him away. They always softened when it came to her.

Marinette cleared her voice, her true smile shining once more as if the falter never happened in the first place.

“You’ve missed so much, I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about from the beginning?” She nodded as she dove into her move to the States and how she began as an intern for the CEO, Tim Drake, years ago and slowly worked her way up to personal assistant.

She recounted how Tim found her sketchbook at work one day and showed it to his father. Together they agreed that she was their way into the fashion industry, an investment that could open the door to many more jobs for the Gotham citizens.

It took two years, but she finally had a full line that was presented at Bruce’s first fashion show.

“So many big names were there Adrien! I really thought I was gonna faint!”

His smile became softer and softer as she recounted meeting the rest of the Waynes and finally after six long years, she had made enough of a name for herself to be holding her own official Gala, the Wayne’s simply a sponsor.

“That’s amazing Marinette, you’re amazing.”

She beamed proudly, her smile pulling at his heart.

“I couldn’t have done it without them. They are genuine and kind people and they are pretty much family.” Something glistened in her eyes as she spoke of them. It could have been obvious to anyone, Marinette cared so deeply for these people.

It was Adrien’s turn to falter as an ugly thought passed.

She’s so comfortable here, she would never want to come back to Paris with me.

He was shocked with himself. This was no time for jealousy. His best friend, the love of his life, was excitedly telling him about a future she had built for herself and the only thing he could think was that it was an obstacle keeping her from him?

Adrien desperately wanted to smack his own forehead, but for Marinette’s sake he straightened out his smile instead.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve only been talking about myself! What’s new with you? How’s your dad’s business? Do you have anyone you’re seeing?”

His eyebrow raised at the last question. She asked the question he so desperately wanted to ask her. And she did it so casually, equating it to his work and social life. Did that mean she was also fishing for his response?

“Nothing much. Dad wants to move from a multi-million dollar business to a multi-billion dollar business so he’s been pretty aggressive about money lately. He didn’t even want me flying over here for the gala.”

Marinette snorted much to his amusement. She knew how his dad was and how petty he could be as well.

“And as for your last question,” he paused watching her face carefully. “No, I am not seeing anyone.”

He waited for the reaction, any reaction really. But none came. Instead, she simply nodded as if she expected as much. Maybe he had read into it too much. She really could’ve just been asking for the sake of catching up. Should he ask too? Was that what she was leading up to?

Adrien cleared his throat before taking a long draw from his cup. This was so nerve wracking. She looked so content, so grown. This was a Marinette who had grown leaps and bounds while he was still stuck in this high school romance that was quite possibly one-sided.

“Well, I hate to cut it short but it’s going to be a long day tomorrow and Damian will be here any moment to pick me up.”

She slid out of her seat so effortlessly, her sketch book snapping shut before it disappeared into a bag that he hadn’t even noticed. Her smile was just as warm as he remembered, but something was missing from the girl he loved.

“Your eyes.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Marinette’s smile faltered as she tentatively reached up to touch her eyelid, confusion etching it’s way into her face.

“Is there something near my eyes Adrien?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just-” Adrien bit his lip, trying to string his thoughts together before he sounded even more like an idiot. “You used to stare at me with such soft look. I’m sorry I never noticed, but once I did, it was all I could see. Yet now-”

He trailed off as her lips drew into an o, her hand moving slowly from her eye to her lips, trying to hide her shock.

“-now, I can still feel the love in them, love directed at me, but it’s not the same love is it?”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the right words. He knew she was trying to explain that he was wrong, but couldn’t bring herself to lie. It was the only confirmation he needed.

He slid out of the booth, his hand grasping the scarf slipping from his neck.

“Marinette, I was so excited when you invited me out tonight. In fact, I thought of it as a date.” She tried to reach out, but Adrien took a step back, tears brimming in his eyes. “I don’t blame you at all, please don’t think I’m saying all this to make you feel guilty. I just had to get it off my chest.”

Adrien blinked hard, trying to spill the tears clouding his vision. This was harder to say than he thought. Her eyes were so distracting, the sympathy oozing toward him in waves.

“I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I know you’ve made your life here and I would never dream of taking that from you. Hell, if you asked me to, I would drop everything to be at your side in an instance. Is there any chance at all that after the gala ends, we could give this a shot? Just one real date. Not some deluded fantasy I created in my head, but something we both consent to.”

He flinched when her hand finally made contact with his upper arm.

“Adrien, I love you. I really do. But you were right when you said my eyes had changed. That soft look is meant for someone else now. He and I had tried to keep our relationship quiet, but tomorrow at the gala, I was going to announce my engagement to Damian.”

Adrien couldn’t help the small sob that left his mouth. He was painfully aware of the few scattered glances all directed toward him, but he couldn’t help it. He felt Marinette pulling his head down until it laid resting on her shoulder, her small arms wrapping around his figure. It was embarrassing how hard he cried, unable to hold back his sobs any longer.

“I’m so sorry Adrien, I had no idea your feelings had changed. You were always chasing after a dream when we were younger and when I left Paris, I had finally decided that there wasn’t a chance after all between us.”

He knew she meant her words as a comfort, a promise that at one point, she would have gladly accepted his offer. Why couldn’t he have seen it earlier? Why was he so blinded by a partner who never even revealed herself right to the end? He had someone who trusted and loved him with all of their being and he ignored their feelings for a what if.

Adrien slowly pulled himself from her grasp, his smile shaky. He took a moment to use the end of his scarf to dry his soaked face.

“I’m glad you told me that Marinette. I really am. And I hope you and Damian have a long and prosperous life together.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth forming the wait, but he was already out of the door, running. It was a cowards move, one he would mull over all night. But it was too painful to look into the eyes of one you love and only find pity reflecting in them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“So you came?”

Adrien turned, his smile bittersweet as he embraced Alya, his fist connecting with Nino’s outstretched hand.

“How could I not support her? She’s worked so hard to make this a reality. My feelings can take a backburner for one night.”Their eyes all trailed to the center of the room where she stood, her arm threaded through with the man he assumed to be Damian Wayne. “Besides, you can tell. She loves that man beside her more than anything in this world.”

The glint of the ring on her finger caused an aching in his heart. Despite it all, he really did wish the Wayne boy no ill will. If he was who Marinette chose to spend the rest of her life with, then Adrien trusted her decision.

“I’ve never seen her smile so bright. And to think, I used to believe her smile was at its maximum blindlingness.” Nino’s chuckle earned a small chuckle from Adrien as well.

There was no denying it.

Marinette was where she belonged. The only thing left was for him to support her in any way that he could. And that was exactly what he planned to do.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat @ladybug-182 @maskedpainter @remy-289 @redbullgivescaswings @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @jayjayspixiepop @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @kking13 @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @thesunniestdays @user00000003 @vixen-uchiha @prettylittlebutterflie @queen-of-rants

#daminette #maribat #miraculous ladybug

229 notes · View notes

marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Ch. 16: Summertime Nightmares (Alt prompt: Consolation/advice)

AO3

The following week was the last of the school year. And it was...weird to say the least. Some of her classmates were upset that she hadn’t been the one to tell them. Many of them (most) assumed that she’d known and just hadn’t told them. She didn’t want to argue with them and she knew her dad hadn’t announced her existence in Gotham yet, so she just pointed out the fact that the Wayne family was very private.

That mostly worked. Lila kept poking though, insisting that Marinette would have told them if she trusted them. Nino disagreed, which shocked Marinette. He usually believed Lila, or at least he hadn’t ever openly gone against her before. But not this time. This time, he insisted that Marinette trusted them and it was probably her dad who asked her not to say anything. While wrong, Marinette didn’t disagree. She’d let her dad take the fall for this one. Alya though...she wasn’t taking it well. She thought Marinette should have told her ages ago. If she had known before Lila came, maybe she would have told Alya. But Alya had been more lax on what she posts on the Ladyblog since Lila’s arrival. She’d done less research, and was posting things not related to Ladybug and Chat Noir. While that wouldn’t usually bother her, Marinette did not want her newly discovered family to be the next big story on Alya’s blog.

So she basically just kept her head down, kept quiet at the class hangouts. And now school was finally out for the summer. It would be a little over two months with no Lila. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Marinette walks into the bakery and smiles widely at her Maman and Papa.

“Hello honey, how are you?” Her Maman asks, sliding a croissant into her hands.

“I’m fine, Maman.” She says, mentally preparing herself to ask what she’d been avoiding. Her dad had offered to let her stay in Gotham for the summer. It was both a chance to bond, and a chance for him to train her a little so that she could fight better, help her make a case against Hawkmoth, maybe even find his identity. He also wanted to give her a break. He thought that taking a step away from Paris, from always policing her emotions, was in her best interest. She agreed, but she still hadn’t talked to her Maman. Or her Papa.

“Bruce called.” Her Papa says. Marinette freezes. He wasn’t supposed to call yet! “Asked if we’d made a decision about letting you go to Gotham for the summer.” Rats.

“I was gonna talk to you guys today! I didn’t wanna upset you. I love you guys so much, but I also really wanna spend time with the other half of my family because I just met them and we haven’t really had a chance to bond or get to know each other and-”

“Honey, we understand.” Her Maman says, cutting off her ramble with a smile. Marinette blinks.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. She didn’t want to hurt them. Her Maman smiles and relief floods her body.

“Of course honey. It would also give you a chance to not deal with constant akuma attacks.” She says. Marinette squeals in excitement, running over and wrapping her parents in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She yells. Watch out Gotham, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Wayne is coming back!

---

“Why hasn’t Marinette answered yet? She’s always down for a class picnic.” Alya says with a pout. Lila suppresses an eye roll, opting instead for a worried frown.

“Do you think she’s mad at you?” She prompts, knowing exactly why the little brat wasn’t answering. She was supposed to be on a plane right about now. Lila had borrowed Alya’s phone the day before (to make sure Marinette hadn’t tried to say anything about her again) when she saw the text. Marinette would be spending the entire summer in Gotham.

Lila, in a moment of what was surely pure excellence, deleted the text. It was perfect! Alya wouldn’t know Marinette had left and Marinette would be waiting for a text from her stupid BFF. But Lila had thought of that too. She’d changed the phone number on Marinette’s contact in Alya’s phone. It was now set to go to a fake number in a messaging app that Lila spent €1 on each month. It was worth it though, it’d definitely come in handy before. And now all she had to do was wait. Sure Marinette could always text Alya first, but Lila had heard too many times that Alya usually reached out first. Probably because of how much of a scatterbrain Marinette is.

“Why would she be mad at me?” Alya asks with a nervous smile. Hook, line and sinker. Lila frowns and places a hand on Alya’s arm in a faux attempt at reassurance.

“I didn’t wanna say anything, I really shouldn’t.” She says, shaking her head.

“Please. I’ll owe you one!” Alya insists, just as Lila had hoped. This would be a key part of her plan later on. Once Marinette has been silent for a few weeks.

“Well...okay. I heard her talking to Adrien the other day.” Lil starts, using the only other person who could go against her (but won’t!) “She said- she said she couldn’t trust you!” Alya flinches back as if she was hit.

“She said that?” She asks in a small voice. Lila nods sadly, celebrating on the inside. She’d be able to use this summer, while Marinette is away, to finally take everything away from that no good brat. It would be glorious.

---

Marinette was moments away from committing a murder. She was only going to do it because she knew for a fact that she’d get away with it. With a singular pout, she’d have the world’s greatest detective on her side. She was certain of it.

“Miss Marinette please put down the knife. I assure you prison is not lovely this time of year.” Alfred says with a sigh as he walks into the kitchen.

“Then tell Dick to get out of the kitchen!” She complains, pointing at her oldest brother who was currently covered in frosting and flour. She was trying to make cupcakes for after dinner, since she knew how much Dick likes sweets. She was trying to do something nice. And when Dick came into the kitchen, claiming he just wanted to spend time with his baby sister, Marinette let him stay. Because she loves her brother, she does.

But somehow in the two minutes that he was in the kitchen, he managed to dump the entire canister of flour. Not good, but she’d already baked the cupcakes so it wasn’t the end of the world. But then somehow, he’d managed to dump the entire mixing bowl of frosting. The entire thing. She had no clue how he had managed to do that, considering the fact it was frosting. It didn’t exactly run smoothly out of a bowl. It’s supposed to be able to hold its shape. Honestly, it was a mystery.

“Master Dick, you know that you are not allowed in the kitchen.” Alfred says with a frown. Dick pouts.

“I just wanted to spend some time with Mari.” He mumbles. Marinette almost regrets wanting to kill him. Until she watches as he wipes some of the frosting off of his head and eats it. Yeah, she doesn’t regret it anymore...but she does still love him.

“Okay, we’ll definitely have to spend more time together later. But for right now please go take a shower or something. I need to make more frosting and I do not trust you to be in the room when I do.” Marinette says exasperatedly. Dick sighs but leaves. Marinette puffs out her cheeks, giving Alfred a look.

“Yes?” He asks, his lips quirked up slightly.

“I honestly don’t know how you deal with them sometimes.” She grumbles before grabbing a new bowl. The cupcakes aren’t going to decorate themselves.

---

Jason huffs, annoyed that he’d been talked into staying at the manor with Marinette. He wasn’t mad at Marinette, he would do just about anything for the kid. Didn’t mean he wanted to stay at the manor just to make sure she didn’t sneak onto patrol. She’d assured them that she was too tired to try anything, but Bruce hadn’t believed her. Thus, Jason stuck at the manor.

But the kid had made a shit ton of cupcakes and Jason had a copy of his favorite book, so the night wouldn’t be too bad. After a few hours lounging in one of the rooms near Marinette’s, Jason starts to nod off. He’s about to welcome the rest, knowing everyone would be back from patrol soon, when he’s yanked from sleep by an ear piercing scream. Shit.

---

Marinette blinks as she looks around. Oh god. No, no please don’t let this be real. She chokes out a sob as she looks around her. Paris was once again completely underwater. The Eiffel tower was split in half. Hands shaking, she glances up and sees the moon. Or, what’s left of it. She moans in distress, letting her tears fall freely. She tries to breathe, but it won’t come. She’s panicking now, trying to ignore the burn in her chest as she sees the disaster around her. The terror around her. The destruction. She clutches her throat, trying to force her body to breathe. Force herself to suck in air, to be okay.

“Oh, Marinette, I see you’ve decided to join us again.” A familiar voice says. She tenses, slowly turning and looking behind her. Standing in front of her, just as she remembered him, was Chat Blanc. She should’ve known. She should’ve known that just because it was okay for a couple days didn’t mean it would stay okay. She should’ve tried harder to find Bunnix, should’ve tried to find a way to stop Adrien from finding out. Movement by Chat Blanc’s feet catches her attention and she glances down, regretting it immediately.

“What have you done?” She asks, rushing forward and falling to her knees, desperately trying to stop her little brother from bleeding out. “What have you done?” She yells, glaring at Chat Blanc through her tears. Her hands shake as she puts pressure on the wound, using Damian’s cape in an attempt to stop the blood.

“Marinette-” He tries to say, and she just shakes her head, hating that there’s blood coming out of his mouth. She knows what that means. She knows that this is bad. And there are no hospitals anymore. Everything is underwater. Everything except the three of them.

“Hey no, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you little brother.” She chokes out, trying to smile at him.

“Father,” He manages to say, his voice barely audible. “Help him.”

“No, no, please. Please don’t leave me! Please, no, no!” She screams, trying to wake him back up, trying to force him to get back up. He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t die at all. She just found him. And now she’s lost him.

“Now we can be together forever Marinette.” Chat Blanc says, finally speaking up. She glares at him and his stupid smirk. The smirk that had haunted her since the first time she saw the white suit.

“I don’t want anything to do with you! You killed my brother!” She screams. Glancing down at her shaking hands, she can’t help but notice they’re covered in blood. She shudders, trying hard not to throw up.

“Brothers, actually.” He quips. She snaps her gaze back to him.

“What?” She hisses, standing so that she can hopefully run and get to one of her brothers before it’s too late. She can’t lose all of them. She can’t. He casually steps to the side, revealing her other brothers. But none of them are moving. Cass is also lying with them, but she’s not moving either. Gone. All of her siblings. And it was all her fault. She let Adrien know her identity. She didn’t try to fix that mistake and this is what happened. She lost every- her dad. Damian said- She turns and runs away from Chat Blanc, scanning the horizon and trying to stay as together as possible. She had to try. She could still save her dad. She could still help him. As she looks around, she manages to spot his cowl. Rushing towards it, she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Marinette?” He says, looking at her with a frown. She scans him for injuries, relieved that he just had a few small wounds. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

“I’m so sorry dad.” She whimpers, throwing her arms around him. He holds her for a moment before pulling away.

“Marinette, we have to go. We can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before-” He stops talking and his face morphs into the most horrified, anguish filled face that Marinette had ever seen. Right before he starts to crumble into ash.

“No!” She screams, horror and grief washing over her in waves. She was all alone and it was all her fault. And now she was going to die too.

---

“Come on Pixie, wake up kid. Come on, it’s okay, I’m here. Jay’s here.” A familiar voice soothes. Marinette stops thrashing, coughing slightly as she realizes the loud noise had been coming from her. She’d been screaming. Jay’s here? But then- She immediately opens her eyes, sobbing in relief when she sees Jason looking at her. No blood. Okay. She lunges forward and wraps her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She cries. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh kid, you don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispers, holding her close. They sit like that for a few minutes, until a knock on the door frame makes her reluctantly pull back. She glances over and a new wave of tears immediately appears. She launches herself off the bed and runs into her dad’s arms, sobbing once more.

“Jason, what happened?” He asks quietly, she knows that Jason doesn’t know, but she doesn’t answer for him. She can’t. All she can do is cry in her dad’s arms, relieved that she could cry. That her nightmare didn’t end with her almost being akumatized like it had before.

“No clue. Heard her scream so I ran in here, but she was asleep. Once she woke up she started crying and apologizing.” Jason says softly, probably for her benefit. She tries hard to remind herself that the nightmare didn’t mean anything. Her family wouldn’t be hurt because of her.

“Is everyone okay? Damian and Tim and Dick?” She asks, still buried in her dad’s arms. She’d ask about Cass, but she was still in Hong Kong. Marinette made a mental note to text her later.

“Everyone’s fine. Did you- do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and she almost agrees. Maybe it would be better to finally tell someone about Chat Blanc. To share that burden with someone else. But...maybe not her dad. Especially not since Adrien actively knows her identity and she wouldn’t be opposed to dating the boy in the future.

“I- er, um.” is all she manages to say before shaking her head. She won’t talk to her dad about this, and she doesn’t want to leave his arms right now. Not while she feels safe. She can almost hear him whispering to Jason, but she knows he’s trying not to let her hear, so she ignores them and instead wraps her arms around him tighter.

“Can I go get you a glass of water? Maybe a cookie for Tikki?” Her dad asks after a few moments of whispering with Jason. Marinette frowns. She didn’t want to be left alone. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with ya Pixie Pop.” Jason says, almost as if he had read her mind. She nods, giving her dad one final squeeze before walking back over to the bed and climbing up, letting Jason wrap her in a hug.

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” Her dad says before walking away. The silence only lasts a beat.

“You wanna tell your big brother why you woke up screamin’?” He asks. Marinette squeezes her eyes shut, desperate to get rid of the images from her nightmare.

“Nightmare.” She says simply. Jason chuckles.

“Kinda figured that part out Pix.”

“I’ve had it before.” She starts, aware of how her voice shakes. “But this time it was a lot worse. This time, I wasn’t the one who died.”

“What could be worse than dyin?” Jason asks, though she can tell by his tone that he knows. He knows what’s worse than dying.

“Watching all of you die.” She says simply. His hug tightens and she lets out a shaky breath, desperately wiping at her tears. “That’s not even the worst part Jay.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna.” He says softly.

“I know.” She says. “A version of it has happened. In a different timeline. That’s the worse part. Luckily when I had to go save that timeline, I didn’t know you guys. So you weren’t caught in the middle of everything. But in my nightmare, since you know about me and- and you guys just wanted to help but no one can win against that. No one. It was so hard to beat him when it actually happened. But the dream. It was awful.” There’s silence as he just holds her, lets her know he’s there without saying it. She’s so thankful for her family. For her brothers.

“Here’s your water.” Her dad says. She finally sits up and looks at him, noting the way his face is creased in worry. She manages a small smile.

“Thanks dad.” She says, her smile growing slightly as his face begins to relax.

“Mari! You’re still up?” Dick says, walking into the room. She blinks at him in confusion, not expecting him to just walk in. She watches as he looks between everyone else, clearly putting it together that something was wrong. He frowns, before his face stretches back into a grin. “Come on, bring all your pillows and blankets and we’ll have a Disney movie marathon until we fall asleep.” He directs, running out of the room to presumably get his own materials for the movie marathon.

“You don’t have to.” Her dad reassures her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shrugs.

“Might as well. I know I’ll definitely not be able to sleep anymore tonight.” She says, grabbing a couple pillows and her blanket, dragging it with her to the movie room. Leave it to her brothers to have a way to help her feel better after a nightmare. Marinette smiles to herself, once again relieved that she was in Gotham.

Masterlist

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

113 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

anything with jin zixuan marrying into the jiang sect, instead of jiang yanli marrying out?

ao3

It wasn’t that Jin Zixuan didn’t love his mother – he did, he truly did. He loved her, he supported her, he stood by her side in every argument. He would do anything within his power to help her get everything that she wanted.

It was only that he took a very reasonable look at the circumstances and realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t get her the one thing she’d always counted for.

He couldn’t win the right of succession to be Sect Leader Jin.

Maybe if his mother had managed to stop his father from bringing home all his bastards – there were nineteen of them, all together, and those were just the ones that were willing to admit it so who even knew – he might’ve had a better chance, given that he was after all the sole legitimate son. But legitimacy only took you so far: he was neither the oldest of the children, nor the most capable, nor the most cunning. He wasn’t even the best connected, despite his maternal family’s support; that honor went to another one of his siblings, born to an especially well-connected family through unspecified circumstances that might or might not involve rape but which sufficient money had plastered over.

The only thing Jin Zixuan had going for him was his legitimacy, but his father had long ago taught him - however inadvertently - that there wasn’t anything magical about a wedding ceremony that made him better suited to the role of sect leader.

What’s more, in his heart of hearts, Jin Zixuan didn’t even want it.

He wasn’t – he didn’t really like fighting. Or politics, or scheming, or any of it. It just wasn’t his personality. He didn’t like games of influence, he didn’t like backstabbing people that trusted him, he didn’t like gossiping and slandering and not being able to believe in people’s good faith and any of that, and no matter how much his mom pushed him, he didn’t think he’d ever like it.

But that was what Lanling Jin did, what Jilin Tower was like, and if he wanted to take up the Sect Leader’s seat and reside in the Fragrant Palace, he had to get over himself and accept that that’s what the rest of his life would be like.

Forever.

Until someone murdered him and took his place, anyway. It almost felt inevitable, sometimes.

Or, because he really truly didn’t want the job, because he really truly didn’t want to die, he could try to think of something else. Some way out.

For example, he could, and did, go to Jin Ziyao and ask him for help.

Jin Ziyao stared at him, eyes narrow and calculating as they so rarely were – he was very good at keeping a bland polite smile on his face, the best at it of all the people Jin Zixuan had ever met, and he’d met a lot.

“That’s an interesting thing to say, brother,” he said, gently eliding as always the fact that they were the same age, born on the same day to different mothers. “Very interesting indeed. I must ask, though - why are you saying it to me?”

“Because you’d be the best at the job,” Jin Zixuan said honestly. He really thought so: Jin Ziyao was smart and clever, cunning enough to wear a kind face and tricky enough to actually pull off the impression of actually being kind, since people were more willing to forgive kind people, but also ambitious and ruthless enough to survive and maybe even thrive in the political world the way Jin Zixuan wasn’t. “And because you’re smart enough to come up with a way for me to get out of this without dying, if you wanted to.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Why would I want to?”

And that was the rub, wasn’t it? Jin Zixuan was the legitimate son, the rightful heir, and his father, their father, was just as likely to name Jin Zixuan as the next sect leader no matter how unfit for the role he was on nothing more than that basis as he was to name anyone else with a much stronger claim.

It was in everyone else’s best interest to kill him, if they were ambitious.

Maybe not his sisters. They wouldn’t inherit no matter what happened to him.

(Sometimes Jin Zixuan wished he was lucky enough to be born a nobody, little Jin Ziyu, who just wanted to play with make-up and avoid all contact with his maternal Mo family. Nobody cared about Jin Ziyu, and everyone liked it that way.)

“You know my position,” Jin Zixuan explained. He didn’t need to say it out loud; he was bitterly aware that it was basically his only personality trait: legitimate heir of Jin Guangshan, the rich boy everyone thought would be the next sect leader unless someone else got in the way. “My support could be worth something to you.”

“Especially if it’s sincere,” Jin Ziyao murmured, looking thoughtful, contemplative. It wasn’t an outright no, anyway, or at least not yet. “And you would be sincere, wouldn’t you?”

“There’s a reason I said that I’m not fit for the role,” Jin Zixuan replied, his voice dry to hide the fact that his heart was in his throat. Jin Ziyao was the one most likely to succeed in finding a way to get him out of this mess, but he was also the most likely to figure out a way to kill him without being blamed for it, too. There was a reason he’d come to him, but that reason was the danger - who was to say that Jin Ziyao wouldn’t decide it’d be safer to kill him, and to use this to accomplish it? He could be signing his own death warrant. “And even if you’re smart, competent, good at managing things, well-connected, and well-liked, you can still use my help.”

Jin Ziyao had only a single fault: his mother had been a prostitute. People still judged him for that, something which made no sense to Jin Zixuan whatsoever – it wasn’t Jin Ziyao’s fault what his mother did before he was born – but it meant he lacked legitimacy even more than the others.

Having the legitimate son backing his claim would be a strong argument in favor of overlooking that.

“You know your mother won’t like it,” Jin Ziyao said. Testing, probing; he hadn’t agreed yet.

“I know,” Jin Zixuan said simply. “But I hope that she’d like me being dead less.”

He wasn’t actually sure about that. His mother loved him, yes, but he had never entirely determined if she loved him for himself or as an extension of herself – a symbol of what she would be fighting towards. A sign that her struggles with her husband had a purpose, that all her humiliation would one day be worth it.

That one day, when he was sect leader, she would become the true power in Lanling through him.

(Jin Zixuan didn’t know what she imagined would happen to all his illegitimate brothers and sisters in that situation, and he didn’t want to; it put a sick feeling in his gut to think about it – which he supposed meant he did know, after all, what she would want, but was instead choosing to ignore it.)

Jin Ziyao studied him for a long moment, presumably trying to analyze his sincerity and how firm he was on the idea.

Jin Zixuan didn’t rush him, knowing it was a gamble on his side as well: it would be worse for him to help Jin Zixuan out of the line of succession only for Jin Zixuan to change his mind down the road. It would make him look bad, make him a target for the others, and the backstabbing nature of Lanling politics meant that luring someone in with a request for aid was exactly the sort of trap someone might lay out.

Sometimes, Jin Zixuan was really, really tired of Lanling.

Maybe something of that showed on his face, because just when he was starting to lose hope, Jin Ziyao abruptly nodded – almost to himself – and said, “All right. How about your marriage?”

“What about my marriage?” Jin Zixuan asked, puzzled.

He’d been engaged to his mother’s best friend’s daughter since before he was born, and amazingly enough the engagement had held despite everything – probably because they had barely met, to be perfectly honest. And also the fact that being surrounded by brothers that hid daggers in their smiles gave Jin Zixuan enough experience to realize that he was being deliberately incited when his so-called friends started telling him that he deserved better than a girl most often described simply as being nice.

After all, he’d already started doubting by that time that he even deserved the accident of his legitimate birth, so forget deserving any girl.

Also, being nice sounded…rather nice, actually. Certainly a relief, assuming she was actually nice rather than just pretending to be the way so many of his sisters were.

(None of them liked her, which suggested she might be.)

“You should get to know your intended better,” Jin Ziyao said. “Visit her more often.”

Jin Zixuan really wasn’t seeing the connection between that and his request for assistance, and Jin Ziyao’s gaze softened a little bit, though Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure if it was with sympathy or merely pity.

“It’ll make it easier for you,” he clarified. “For when you marry in.”

Marry in?

Marry in. The Jiang sect was a Great Sect, with enough power and influence to make unreasonable demands – and his father desperately wanted the alliance with them. If they could be convinced to demand that he marry in rather than having Jiang Yanli marry out, pointing to their smaller numbers or the tragedies that had befallen their sect…

Jiang Cheng would like having his sister around. He was also notoriously standoffish around women, and had viciously rejected any effort to be matched with one of the illegitimate Jin girls; it might even be possible to suggest to his father that allowing Jin Zixuan to marry in would mean that there was a chance that Jiang Cheng would be willing to leave his sect to a nephew surnamed Jiang, winning the Jin sect both an alliance and inheritance all at once.

Best of all, it had to be him. The Jiang sect had only agreed to the engagement because of Madame Yu’s friendship with his mother, not for any political reason; if his father tried to substitute him with someone else, they might break it entirely…

And someone who married out couldn’t be the heir.

“You’re a genius,” Jin Zixuan told his brother, who smiled crookedly in acknowledgement. “What should I do? Do I just – go over there? Send a letter? I can’t write letters…”

“Let me think about it,” Jin Ziyao said. “I’m sure I can come up with something more subtle than you.”

#mdzs #jin zixuan #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #succession #Anonymous

631 notes · View notes

infinitewarden · 3 years

Text

Osiris isn’t Savathun.

Great! Now that I have your attention:

Man you guys tire me out about Osiris. If you truly believe this is Osiris I don’t mean to sound like That Guy that’s like “you don’t know what you’re talking about” but... You don’t know what you’re talking about.

So.

Let’s talk about how much Osiris cares about the City and humanity and why the Osiris in Epilogue is not actually Osiris.

Alright. Let’s start off with context. I think it’s super important to see what we do know as Osiris’s views. From my heavy analyses of him since 2020 I can confidently say these are what he views as the most important things a person can do:

Keep promises

Speak their truths

Protect the City & Humanity

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

Now, I won’t be doing a breakdown of each one individually but I will be talking a great deal of how important honesty is to Osiris, the City, and his views of the Vex.

Speaking honestly and bluntly.

I don’t know how many of you were into Destiny before Beyond Light, so if you were unaware of this it’s not your fault. However I’ve seen a very strange change in tone when it comes to how people view Osiris. Before Season of Hunt people hated - and I mean hated - Osiris. Why? Because he was blunt. They viewed his bluntness as rudeness.

To see a sudden switch to him being secretive and scheming is... alarming, to say the least. (And to see people think that this is the norm is also alarming but in other ways.)

The Osiris before Hunt was not secretive and scheming. He sought knowledge openly. He sought, specifically, the truth. I must stress just how open he was about his plans. First I’ll give you a few in lore examples:

I admit, I found your questions divisive and disloyal, and I feared you might be capable of breaking our unity when the City's position had grown so tenuous. Why divert attention away from the Traveler, our only hope? And then it got worse, dabbling in thanatonautics, Ahamkara-lore, chasing after Xur and the tricks of the Nine. Launching expeditions into the Reef and beyond at a time when ships were irreplaceable. Your quest split Guardians along ideological lines. This was your greatest crime: Hunters chose to pursue your visions instead of protecting refugees, Titans assembled teams to chase the legendary Vault of Glass instead of striking the Fallen, and Warlocks turned away from the study of the Traveler in favor of your ultimate obsession... learning the exact nature of the Darkness. ... Perhaps what drives a Warlock to madness is truth.

Osiris.

"Do not romanticize this burden. We wield a weapon." The Speaker shakes his head. "The Light wields you, Osiris. You are what you make of it. A glorious extension of its majesty, in many directions." Osiris paces at cadence with his words. "Then it would do well to speak clearly. To better direct me." The Speaker cocks his head. "Without will? Then it would be no better than the Darkness." "I am asking only for guidance; it is a delicate game we are playing." Osiris's voice, distressed. Regal again, the Speaker motions to the stone garden. "Will you sit with me?"

13: Margins Part II.

And, while I don’t particularly like using the Fall of Osiris comic as a source, it does have very important lines on his viewpoints that I find relevant yet.

Fall of Osiris #1.

Hell he was open about his plans to fuck with time itself to bring Saint back.

Sagira narrowed her eye at the rogue Lightbearer and lowered herself to Osiris’s shoulder. “Why’s he here?” she asked quietly. “I asked him to consult on the engineering work,” Osiris replied, crossing his arms. “You sicko,” the other man declared, walking a circle around the Warlock, his eyes darting along every surface of the Sundial around them. ... “Just one more question, then. Why all the fuss?” “I owe him.” “I owe a lotta people, Warlock. You’re opening the gates of hell with a Vex key.” “When the Traveler brought me back, I had no friends. No family—” “No one had anything in the Dark Age.” “But Saint was always there. And I saw him grow from neophyte to demigod.”

The Sundial.

"You haven't left the Forest in years," Ikora said to Osiris, the only one to address him directly. "I need help," Osiris replied. "I know," Ikora responded, hands clasped behind her back. She stared intently at her former mentor. Back in her Crucible days, that uncompromising gaze was often the last thing her opponents saw. Aunor glanced sidelong at her superior. Harper coughed and looked down at his datapad. "Two years ago, Guardians entered the Infinite Forest," Osiris continued. "They aided me in defeating the Axis Mind Panoptes, preventing a Vex apocalypse from befalling this system. "In the process," he looked between each of them in turn, "Some Guardians reported a body they found in the Forest depths." Ikora sighed. "Saint-14 never came back from that last mission to Mercury. We finally knew why. I reacted to it the only way I knew how."

Desperate Times.

“I do not understand all of this code. This is Geppetto’s specialty,” Saint-14 says while standing bent over a wide desk covered in data tablets. Holographic images of the Lighthouse shimmer in the Hangar lights. “We could use the Crucible right now. Your trials. This will be very helpful. You mean to stay, yes?” “I will. Long enough to show you how to implement the simulation; but tonight, I must disembark,” Osiris says. “So soon?” Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.” Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.” “Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.” “If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.” Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden. “The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” “So, your mission is dangerous?” Osiris considers lying. “Potentially.”

Immolant I.

There are many more sources I could list on his bluntness and honesty but there’s honestly too much. What is important to extrapolate from all of it is this:

OSIRIS SPOKE THE TRUTH NO MATTER IF IT GOT HIM IN TROUBLE. IT IS ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS HE GOT EXILED.

Protecting the City & Humanity

Idk where people get the idea that he’s abandoned the City and humanity. And I don’t understand where people think it’s “typical Osiris behavior” to choose to put the City in danger.

I want to make something very clear here:

Osiris was exiled. He did not abandon the City. And though others view him as abandoning it, that wasn’t his intention. He never intentionally abandoned it. Everything he did was in pursuit of a brighter future for humanity. Let’s look at one of his lines from the Sundial activity during Dawn.

“By the time I left the City, many believed my practices to be sacrilege. But my methods have prevented countless futures not unlike the one you walk now. When it is laid out before you, would you not sacrifice anything to see this future shut?”

The Sundial.

He left because he weighed his options and he saw that humanity would have better use of him if he left. He cares A great deal about the City. He cares almost too much about it. He would never give Lakshmi the technology to cause it harm, especially knowing that she’s unstable. And I’ve seen some people think he’s playing 5D chess? In what world would he ever choose to bring harm upon humanity for some sort of... agenda; which I’ve already cleared up earlier, he’s open about his plans.

Let’s look at more known lore about Osiris’s feelings of the City & humanity.

"You've wrapped your mind around an idea of your own making. I have always tolerated this fawning 'movement' of yours, but this is a step too far." Osiris seethed. Brother Vance was awestruck. He stared blankly at Osiris, unsure of what he could say to quell his anger and dissolve his frustration. "What I have discovered…" "…is dangerous enough to destroy every man, woman, and child in existence. You're meddling with forces outside your grasp," Osiris reprimanded. "I warn you here and now, remove yourself from this Lighthouse. Find a simple life. Start a family. Write music. Leave Mercury and this fool's errand behind."

Chapter 8: Idolatry.

Osiris was furious to find out Vance was experimenting in his name by endangering people for his goals. And he was especially mad that he would dive into such dangerous areas so much so that it had the potential to destroy humanity.

"It's truth." Osiris considers this. "Truth seems subjective these days," Osiris says, finally observing his entourage for the first time. Among them, a small group of men and women, stand two wayward Guardians—Warlocks, it appears—and a child. Their forlorn faces resonate with him. Castaways and believers. The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him. He was used to working alone, knowing he could fall back to the City's resources should he need them. Now, adrift in the expanse of purpose, he finds himself longing for a place he could return to. A sanctuary.

Chapter 2: Postexilic.

Here’s a few lines from Season of Dawn:

“The Traveler, mutilated. Mercury, a desolate warzone. This is the bleak future the Cabal wants for us all. We do not know what has become of humanity here. I hope we will not find out.”

“There are many terrible futures, but I have not grown numb to seeing them. The future the Cabal wish for is a nightmare for humanity.”

“If the Traveler fled the system, there is a chance that the Darkness would ignore our region of the galaxy entirely. It would sacrifice our second awakening, our ability to wield the Light, but potentially continue our Golden Age. There are too many variables at risk, but it's a variant path worth investigating in the Infinite Forest.”

“This battered Mercury is a blueprint for our system. Lightless, bowed, and nothing more than fuel for an endless war. It must never come to pass.”

The Sundial.

There are many. Many. More lines I could put here about how much Osiris doesn’t want to see humanity suffering. And especially how he doesn’t want the City to be at risk. But I think you get the picture.

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

So. We all know Osiris as “the Vex guy.” His whole thing is on fighting the Vex. However it seems people think that he’d be okay with using them for grounds of a higher purpose? Or something? I don’t know, everyone I see rebuffing Osiris’s actions with Lakshmi don’t seem to be interested in explaining this one.

So anyways. Let’s talk about how Osiris views the Vex as true evil compared to other species.

“The Fallen are not so different from us. How hard would you fight if the Light were taken from you?” “Those stories ring false to me,” said Saint. “They are not a noble people. I’ve fought them, and so have you.” “I have not fought them all,” the Warlock replied, pulling his hands apart to create an intricate web of hovering cubes and points of light. “They are nothing, no threat—not like the Vex. Not like the Darkness.”

Vanguard Commander.

[u.2:06] Have you spoken to the House of Light, like I asked? [u.1:07] I would rather not speak with Fallen. [u.2:07] They may need our help. Their cause is just. [u.1:08] What happened to “trust no one?” [u.2:08] What happened to your sense of right and wrong, hero?

Maintenance Operations Log 30037.

The unenlightened wonder at my so-called "fixation" upon the Vex. They believe our gravest existential threat is the Hive, for those beings have made a pact with the Darkness itself via the medium of the Worm Gods (according to Toland, at least, and I see no reason to doubt him in this). But Darkness is not merely absence of Light. Darkness is an entity unto itself. Put simply, Darkness is not Nothing. But the Vex? The Vex seek neither Light nor Darkness. They seek Convergence, the reduction of all life to its simplest, most meaningless form. An entelechy of zeros and ones. "Evil" is a word for sentimentalists and fools. But, in the ontology of the sentimental, the Vex are more deserving of the term than the Hive. Given a choice between Darkness and Convergence, I would choose Darkness. It is a logical choice. Yet for this they banish me.

Kairos Function (Hunter).

This one is important because Osiris doesn’t subscribe to the idea of “good” and “evil”, and that he would go so far to say that the Vex are Evil shows just how much of a threat he views them as.

It’s just. Mind boggling to me that people think that Osiris would be okay with a Vex invasion. That Osiris would encourage Lakshmi to open up a rift to “send the Fallen away” (Despite being one of the earliest sympathizers!) Osiris isn’t ineffable, he’s just a man trying to do his best to help humanity. His actions aren’t difficult to understand, they have been written to be very clear and with understanding his motives.

Saying that it’s natural for him to be secretive and have contradicting opinions and actions is just. Wrong. It’s not him. It’s not how he’s supposed to be understood. Even in Curse of Osiris I don’t think his actions didn’t make any sense.

This is going to sound very mean but I want to be 100% clear: If you think that Osiris would actively choose to put the City in danger of the Vex, if you think that he would actively choose to stand calmly and watch as his lover was about to die to the very things he spent millions of lives to save... You don’t understand Osiris. Go back and reread his lore.

I leave you with this:

The Vanguard is dubious of our intent and ability, fearing corruption and displacement. They do not trust me. You were held in similar contempt for speaking your truth and empowering free thought. You know what it feels like to be chastised and labeled a traitor. We are mere steps away from a disintegration of our institutions, and they cannot see destruction staring them in the face. ... For so long, we have clung to the Light, denying the strength offered by the Dark. By using Stasis, we will end this war. We see this contest for what it truly is: a game, played by our adversaries. And we have been the pawns. We are pawns no more. This is not a battle I want to wage without you, although we may not have a choice in the matter. Wherever you may be, please come back to us.

To Osiris.

#theus.exe #lore.exe #osiris #destiny osiris #osiris destiny #destiny spoilers #long post

87 notes · View notes

just-some-cat · 4 years

Photo

edit: i’ve no plans to continue this atm, read this for more info! edit2: Clangen is being worked on by a discord server atm by many people and I suggest you go ask questions or shoot ideas there also. This version you download here is an old one and won’t be updated, but you can find recent Clangen updates and the discord server link on Sablesteel’s itch.io page. I’ll keep this version & post up here for archiving reasons.

edit3: also, here’s a link to the web version of the game. It’s not updated or supported the same way as the downloadable version is, but if you’re desperate to try it, it should work.

https://clangen-web.github.io/

---

Clan Generator’s back!! (for now!)

The first version I put out here got much more popularity than i thought and i’m very happy to hear people have been enjoying it and waiting for an update! :D it’s been more than half a year since so I don’t think this update will reach anywhere near that popularity, but that’s fine honestly.

(here’s old post!)

What’s new:

* Timeskip - the cats can grow older now (edit: there is no way to replace the leader yet, so once the leader dies, the clan will have to go without one)

* Pairing the cats, so that they can have litters of kittens together (a cat can have kittens even without a partner, in which case it will show the other parent as ‘unknown’) it will not notify you of new kittens, you’ll have to find them yourself on the CLAN page.

(also; it gives a small note if the pair can’t have kittens together. However while from the settings you can toggle what kind of pairs can have kittens together, it will still give that note even when it doesn’t apply anymore)

* Starclan to archive old dead cats (edit: there is a cat there already waiting, but sometimes that cat will crash your game when you click on it. Usually only happens once, but be careful)

* Cats can die, but only of old age as of yet (be careful so your clan doesn’t get overpopulated with the timeskips! so far the only way to manage should be by pairing a lot of the cats in same-sex pairs and choosing from the settings to not let them have kittens)

* Settings & info page (just a few options yet)

* and other minor improvements and additions

Why it took so long:

A lot of these improvements I already made ages ago. But there was an issue with the first version that I shared (the same issue that I’ve had with all Python projects i’ve shared) and that is the occasional triggered false virus warnings from my program that some people have gotten. I know this is an issue with many Python-program-turned-executables and it doesn’t seem to have a reliable fix for it, but it really stressed me out when i first heard people were receiving these warnings because I didn’t want to look like I was scamming people or something. So once I figured what the problem was, I thought it’s just best I try to convert this project (and future ones) into the C++ language instead.

Problem is… that would take much longer than I first thought it would. Not just because I’m still a total newbie for C++ but also because of how busy I’ve been. So I’m giving up on that for now (I’ll still learn it eventually for the future projects and maybe for a faraway update on this). So enjoy this update. Or don’t, if you decide you don’t trust my word on those warnings being false, that’s perfectly understandable too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

**** Download links: ****

(just download the .zip file and extract into the folder where you want the program to be in! You don’t need the older version for this)

Windows: x

Mac/Linux (might not work; read note below!!): x

note: The ‘mac/linux’ link is actually just a python version that should be able to work on anything that has Python in it. If you know nothing about Python and Pygame and want to use this version, here’s a short google docs guide I made: x

note 2: if you had a previous clan that you want to use in this updated version, you can: firstly, find the folder called “saves” in the old clanGen folder. There should be two files there (’cats.txt and clan.txt’). Simply replace the new files with the same names and same location in the new clanGen.2/saves folder with those two old files. Leave the “settings.txt” file as it is.

*** Questions/answers ***

Multiple save files/saving old clans?

Future plans for clangen?

How did I make clangen?

If you have any questions or issues, feel free to ask me!! Thank you if you decide to try this update out! :DD

(also i’d love it you shared your generated clans with me!!)

#warrior cats #warriors #wc #warriors clan generator #clangen #i'm ngl it's a little hilarious the only way to not have the clan population be way overblow with a few too many timeskips #is just have everyone be gay #and everything else here. this is a beautiful mess

2K notes · View notes

cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

Happiness

Summary: A daughter of Thanos, Eija had grown accustomed to the isolated nature of life on the Sanctuary. Only when her father orders her to keep watch over an injured prisoner does she begin to realize how lonely it is.

Written for @lucywrites02′s Lucywrites19 Writing Challenge on prompt #6

Word Count: 4,078

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

A/N: Lucy: *puts together a list of really nice, sweet, loving prompts that would make for some wonderful, fluffy fics*

Me: And I took that personally

Honestly, this turned into more of a separate challenge for me to see if I could take a fluffy prompt and write an angst bomb. I can say I’m both pleased and thoroughly ashamed of myself.

Happy Birthday, Lucy! I hope you don’t hate me too much after this one ...

Warnings: Implied/referenced torture (it’s not super graphic, but it’s definitely there), blood/injury, character death

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

“Are you happy, child?”

It wasn’t the type of thing Eija had expected the hulking warrior to ask a street urchin like her, especially not after catching her wrist in his pocket. Really, she should have known better than to try to steal from someone so clearly capable of crushing her skull within his fist, but his golden armor had glistened so temptingly in the sunlight and besides, she had never been caught before …

When he caught her wrist and yanked her in front of him, Eija was sure that this was the end. The penalty for stealing was steep to begin with, but stealing from a noble (and certainly this man must have been a noble) could lose you your head. But he said nothing of punishment. Instead, he curled his purple lips into a smile and asked her that question.

“Are you happy, child?”

No one had ever asked her that before. No one ever really asked her anything—the most Eija ever got were the curses spat at her on the street, on the luckless days when pickpocketing had brought her nothing and she was forced to beg for sustenance. No one cared enough to ask after her.

No, she told the warrior-noble, no, she wasn’t happy. She was hungry and tired and cold, and she didn’t have money to buy food.

The towering creature laughed, caressing the brilliant hilt that hung at his waist. “I thought not. Come,” he said, stepping forward and motioning her to follow. “I have something for you to eat on my ship.”

…

Eija tugged at the laces on her boot. She had tied and untied them three times already, but she could think of nothing else to do in this tiny room, so she went in for the fourth. Besides her, the Jotun sagged against his braces in the metal chair, his labored breathing the only sound to break the stillness. He didn’t look very Jotun. Lord Thanos had explained that it was some kind of enchantment—the AllFather had magicked away his blue skin when he was a baby to make him look more Asgardian. Eija didn’t really understand the reasoning behind such an action, but she didn’t need to. Her job was simply to make sure he survived the night.

It was a frustrating assignment. Eija wasn’t a healer—she had no idea what she was supposed to do if death came knocking for the prisoner. Unfortunately, she wasn’t exactly an assassin either, and so unlike the rest of her adoptive siblings her role on the Sanctuary wasn’t considered to be of critical importance.

So here she was. Babysitting.

The Jotun groaned. It was a soft noise, but it was enough to rip Eija’s attention away from her shoes. He shifted against his restraints, but there was no force behind the movements.

“Hey,” she called. “Are you awake?” She shouldn’t have been talking to the prisoner. Somehow, she knew Lord Thanos wouldn’t like it if he were to find out. Still, the metallic room housed a lonely existence, and Eija was desperate for any kind of distraction.

Although the prisoner didn’t exactly seem to be the ideal conversation partner. He flinched at the sound of her voice, his feeble movement falling still as abruptly as it began. Perhaps she should have gone back to her laces, but Eija was intrigued. She left her stool to stand before the Jotun, peering down at him through his shackles.

“Are you awake?” she asked again. He didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, his head hanging limply against his shoulders, as if he hadn’t just been rustling about. The thought of some grand Jotun (Asgardian?) prince trying to trick her by playing dead was so comical that Eija had to bite back her laugh.

“Hey,” she said instead, trying to add some of that Black Order sharpness to her voice as she tapped his arm. “Knock it off. I know you’re awake.”

He looked up at her then, his movement slow and labored. It almost made her wince, just looking at the way he struggled to open his bloodshot eyes. Lord Thanos had allowed Proxima charge of the Jotun today, and she had clearly made the most of it—his face was so swollen that she never would have recognized the man Corvus had pulled out of the depths of space only a week ago.

“What do you want?” he whispered, voice low and hoarse. He was making a valiant effort to control his breathing, but Eija knew the look of fear when she saw it. She had seen it in the faces of almost everyone who found themselves in the presence of Lord Thanos and his children, although those faces were never focused on her. This must have been the first time she was the cause of such terror.

It was an odd feeling. Eija wasn’t sure she liked it.

She shrugged, dropping the serious tone. “I just wanted to talk to someone. It gets very dull in here.”

The prisoner only stared at her.

No, not the ideal conversation partner at all.

Eija sighed. It seemed she’d be returning to her shoelaces in short time after all.

“Can you tell me your name at least?” she asked. No one had mentioned it yet, and Eija had been afraid to inquire. Lord Thanos hadn’t been particularly happy when he gave her this assignment—his anger had been more directed at Proxima, for nearly killing the prisoner, but Eija didn’t want to give him a reason to turn on her. She wasn’t often the target of the Mad Titan’s fury, but the few times she was were enough of a lesson for a lifetime.

But the Jotun made no response. “Is this a trick?” he asked finally.

“No. I’m just curious.” A strand of black hair had fallen into his eye. Eija was tempted to brush it away, but she held herself back. “I’ll tell you my name, if it makes you feel better,” she offered.

She waited a moment for him to give some kind of answer. He didn’t.

“Eija,” she said. “My name’s Eija.”

He inhaled. “Did he send you to kill me?”

The question caught her off guard, although perhaps it was fair. “What? No, no I’m just— no,” she stuttered. “I don’t … kill people.”

He eyed her, unconvinced. “Why are you here, then?”

“To make sure you don’t die,” she said. “They were worried, you know.” Proxima had been quite proud of herself. Eija had overheard her bragging to some of the others earlier in the day about how she had the little prince calling out for his mother by the end. They had been laughing about it, how quickly he had succumbed to childish instincts, but the thought intrigued Eija.

She had never known her mother. Before Lord Thanos had found her, she had had no one but herself, scrounging up what food she could from what she stole on the street. She never cried for anyone, no matter how frightened she was. She had no one to cry for.

She wondered what it was like.

“Are you truly not going to tell me your name?” she asked. It was a bit disappointing. She had hoped he’d be at least a little more interesting than this.

He swallowed slowly, painfully. Whereas before it seemed he was afraid to take his eyes off of her, now he seemed unable to meet her gaze.

“Loki,” he finally whispered.

“Loki,” Eija repeated. The name made her smile, although she wasn’t quite sure why it would. “It’s nice to meet you, Loki.”

She asked him more questions as the night went on—questions about his home, his family, his childhood memories. At first, he wouldn’t answer any of them. He’d just stare at her blankly as she posed her queries or whip his head away as if he couldn’t stand to be faced with the words.

So, she changed tactics. She told him about growing up on Knowhere, before Thanos found her, about how when she was not yet six years of age the man she had known as her father dumped her on the side of the road and flew away into permanent obscurity, and about how she taught herself how to reach into another’s pocket and pull out exactly what she was looking for by practicing on the other unsuspecting urchins who lived alongside her on the street. It was strange, to relieve those stories before an audience. Because he was an audience, like it or not. He was listening to every word she said, even more so, she suspected, than he wanted to let on.

When she left that morning, after Corvus came to take over for the day, her throat was so dry she could barely speak. It was a nice kind of dry, though. The Black Order never demanded her voice anyways, so it wasn’t a noticeable inconvenience.

It was worth it.

“You again,” Loki muttered when she slipped into the cell the following evening. “Eija.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “You remembered my name!”

“You talked a lot.” He blinked sleepily. “You had a nice voice.”

Eija stopped. She wasn’t certain she heard him incorrectly. “What?”

He yawned. “You had a nice voice.”

She felt a flush rising in her cheeks. It was quite possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her, as ridiculous as it seemed. Eija doubted her siblings could even recognize the sound of her voice—if they did, it would have been to scold her for stepping so far out of line, certainly not to pay her a compliment.

“If you’d like,” she said eagerly, pulling the stool across the room so she could sit next to him. “I can tell you more stories?”

It became the part of the day Eija looked forward to most—the moments where she could talk for hours about anything she wanted, without the ever-present fear of her siblings’ mockery or the Mad Titan’s chastening. It felt … safe, in a way that she hadn’t felt safe before. Warm. She always felt so alone on this ship, wasting away whilst awaiting orders. There were points where even her own thoughts seemed to abandon her to the darkness.

But not here. Not with Loki.

He seemed to enjoy it as well. Of course, she held no illusions that he was quite literally a captive audience, but he listened. He remembered the things she said to him. On good days, he’d even ask her questions, add in thoughts and stories of his own.

“You said you don’t kill people,” he asked suddenly, on one such visit. “Did you mean that?”

Eija shifted uncomfortably. This had always been an awkward subject. “Yes,” she said. “I’m not an assassin. I don’t have the training.”

“What do you do here, then?”

She inhaled. “Steal things.”

“Steal things?” he repeated. “What kind of things?”

Eija shrugged. “Anything he wants,” she said. “Weapons, passkeys, precious gems—whatever.” She remembered that day, when Lord Thanos had taken her from the streets to his ship, what he had said as she devoured the soup his servant placed in front of her.

“I have more trained killers than I know what to do with,” he told her. “But perhaps I could use a sneak thief.”

Eija had agreed to everything he said— it wasn’t as if she was in any position to refuse him, and besides, anything had to be better than sleeping in a trash bin. And so, she became the Titan’s personal retriever, sneaking her way across the galaxy and returning with the treasures he coveted in her pockets. Her methods were straight and to the point. She was in and out before anyone even noticed her presence, and, unlike her adopted siblings, there wasn’t a trail of bodies left in her wake.

“But if your role is to steal things,” Loki asked. “Then what are you doing with me?”

Eija didn’t answer right away. Thanos had not ordered her to continue her night watch over the Jotun prisoner. He hadn’t said that she couldn’t, but she was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be pleased to find that she had. What was she doing here?

“I just like to talk to somebody, I guess,” she said. “Besides, somebody has to make sure you make it through the night.”

Although it became exceedingly clear with each passing day that such a task may be outside of her abilities. One night, she could hear his hacking all the way down the hall, rattling the walls as she rushed to his side. She found him sagging limply against his shackles, soaked in blood and sweat and goodness knows what else as he choked on his own breath.

Eija didn’t know what to do—she could only wipe the blood from his face and hold the bottle of water to his lips.

“What does he want from me?” he croaked, once he could finally speak. There were tears running down the creases of his face, although whether that was from emotion or pain Eija couldn’t be sure. “Why is he doing this to me?”

For once, she said nothing. She had no answer for him.

She tried asking Gamora once. It was no secret that the Zehoberei was Lord Thanos’ favorite—if he were to tell anyone his intentions for the prisoner, it would be her.

But the assassin gave her nothing. “He has a use in mind,” she said. “Don’t question him.”

“But,” Eija hesitated. “If that’s the case, why is he hurting him?” She gulped. “If he has a use for him, shouldn’t he be … using him?”

Gamora glared at her. “If he’s not strong enough to survive this, he’s not strong enough to do Thanos’ bidding.” Her tone lowered in warning. “Remember your place.”

Eija did remember her place. She was reminded of it with every passing moment—leashed to her lord’s beck and call, every day walking that delicate tightrope of anticipating his wishes without asserting herself too far in his eyes, living in fear of the day when the bottom finally fell through and he decided to unsheathe the blade at his waist.

Was this his plan for Loki as well? Torture him to death’s edge until it pleased him to make him yet another glorified slave? She thought of Loki, shackled to his chair, heaving and coughing up blood, sentenced to wither away until Thanos found use for him … for what? The mere crime of existence?

And here she was, letting it happen, watching as Thanos sucked the life out of him, simply using him as a receptacle to her own selfish need for attention.

She was just as awful.

But there was nothing she could do about it. Was there?

Unless …

The thought started as a hypothetical. Isn’t that how all treason began? A tiny what-if, buried under one’s daily worries? The hangers of the Sanctuary were hardly well-guarded. There was little reason to guard them, after all—few on this vessel had cause to sneak off of it, and those who did hadn’t the opportunity. And with the current position they had been holding the last few days, only a small way from the Krylor jump point, which could then take you down through one of the major galactical traffic-ways …

Stealing a ship would be almost too easy.

It wouldn’t work, she told herself as she stood amongst her siblings in Thanos’ court. The ship was one thing, the passenger was something else entirely. Loki’s chains were specifically designed by the Mad Titan to stifle the magic of that whom they held. They were the very definition of unbreakable. And the key—Thanos kept it on his person at all times, hooked to his belt alongside his blades. Any scheme was doomed to fail.

But sometimes, opportunities present themselves.

“And where are you going, child?”

Eija jumped out of her skin when she turned the corner and nearly collided with the lord himself. It took her a moment to find her voice.

“To watch over the prisoner, as you ordered, sir.”

He frowned. “That was weeks ago. You’re not still doing that now?”

She bit her tongue, so hard it hurt. “W-with all due respect sir, you never told me to stop.”

“Well, I’m telling you now. Such action is no longer necessary.”

“Yes sir.” She nodded. “Apologies, sir.”

Eija stood there shaking long after he had continued down the hall. Her heart felt as if it might pound its way out of her chest. He had to have noticed. In a moment, he’d come storming back up the corridor, grab her by her neck, and crush her skull against the wall.

But he never did.

It was just Eija, alone in the hallway, clutching the golden key between her trembling fingers.

There was little time. Her theft could only go overlooked for so long. She didn’t have the chance to question herself as she rushed to Loki’s cell—any moment spent in doubt was a moment wasted.

Loki seemed to be unconscious when she first arrived at his side, but he popped up with a start the moment she reached for his chains.

“What—" he gasped, eyes wild. “What’s happening?”

The key clicked in the lock. He heaved a breath, falling forward as the shackles fell open.

“You’re going home.” Eija’s mind was racing at a mile a minute. They couldn’t steal a Q-ship—it was too big; they’d would be noticed immediately … “Can you fly a pod?” she asked.

He gulped. “Possibly?”

“Good enough.” She pulled him to his feet. It was at this moment she became aware of the fact that she had only every seen him seated. Loki was tall. Much, much taller than her, and when he sagged against her it took all of her strength to keep him from tumbling to the metallic floor. For a moment she feared that he was too weak to even stand on his own and nearly panicked, because oh goodness how was she supposed to carry him all the way to the hanger—

But he managed to stabilize himself, gripping her shoulder so tightly that she lost feeling in it, but standing on his own. Slowly, she was able to walk him into the hallway.

The hanger was only a few floors above them, but the elevator ride felt like an eternity.

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop …

If it stopped before they reached their destination, they were both dead.

Besides her, Loki’s breathing was labored. He hadn’t said anything since she had come to get him.

She squeezed his forearm, hoping he couldn’t feel how she was trembling like a leaf. “You alright?”

He nodded weakly. “I assume you have a plan?”

“The pods are lined on the far wall of the hanger.” She inhaled. “When the door opens, we run like mad and get you on one. And then you take off for the jump point, and don’t stop until you’ve hit traffic.”

Loki turned to her, brow furrowed. “What about you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes. Surely you’ll not stay here?”

Eija gulped. There wasn’t time to think about that now.

The elevator doors clicked open to reveal a thicket of barbed shadows and twisted metal. The hanger was lifeless and barren this time of night, lit only by the glow of the cosmos streaming in through the glass. They made their way in perfect silence, the only sound being the pounding of her heartbeat behind her eardrums. Every dark shape seemed like a waiting figure. Now, it was Eija that clung to him too tightly, terrified that at any moment someone would jump out and rip him from her grasp. By the time they reached their destination, they were both wildly out of breath.

The pods were small, thin one-man transports. Calling them ships was really being too generous. They weren’t really meant for long term travel, but they could work for a few jumps—long enough to get to civilized airspace, which was all he needed. She helped Loki into the compartment, careful to keep him from hitting his head on the low ceiling. This damn ship had caused him enough pain already.

He sighed, leaning against the seat in one short moment of rest before turning back to her. “You still haven’t said what you plan to do.”

Eija hesitated. What could she plan to do? She had nothing waiting for her beyond this ship. As with all of his children, Thanos held a piece of her that he would never relinquish, no matter how far she flew.

“I’ll stay here,” she murmured. “For now, at least. They might pick up on something if too much is out of place.”

“But—"

“Please,” Eija hissed. “You remember what I said, right? Take the Krylor jump, and just keep towards Xandar.” She inhaled so deeply it hurt, trying to bury the aching dread building in her chest. “Stay with the crowds whenever you can—he won’t bother with you if it means he has to go through heavy populations.”

Loki nodded, but she wasn’t certain he was listening. There was a sadness behind his eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul. He squeezed her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips in the lightest of kisses.

“Thank you, Eija,” he whispered. “May fate be kind to you.”

…

The alarm went off some hours later, when morning dawned upon an empty cell. They came for her only minutes after. Eija hadn’t been certain of what she would do—would she scream when they broke down her door? Cry for help? Fight for her life? But as the Black Order filed into her room with their weapons drawn, Eija felt only an overwhelming calm. It was good that they were here. The longer they spent with her, the more of a chance Loki had of getting away.

She went with her adoptive siblings willingly.

They took her to the same tiny room where this had all begun, shackled her to the same chair she had watched over so diligently. Eija barely registered it.

Surely, Loki was hundreds of star systems away from here now.

Surely he was safe.

When the pain did come, it filled every fiber of her being, burning through her body as if she were nothing but dry kindling. Her vision bled white. Her screams ripped her throat raw.

They asked no questions. She was relieved for that at least, because her every coherent thought shattered to pieces long before it could reach her lips.

She understood now why Loki had cried for his mother. She would have too, had she a mother to cry for. Instead, she just cried.

Eija wasn’t certain how much time had passed before he arrived. It could have been hours, it could have been months, but at some point when she dragged her aching head to look up she found Lord Thanos staring down at her, the stony weight of disappointment heavy on his features.

Gamora stood next to him. She spared a glance at her former sister, softer, sadder, almost sympathetic, before she turned back to her father.

“Sir, the Jotun is out of tracking range. There’s nothing we can do at this point.”

Out of range.

Eija thought of Loki, raven hair streaming in the breeze behind him as he pulled himself out of the craft, safe on some green, luscious, faraway planet that the Black Order could never reach. She smiled, blood dripping from her lips.

Thanos’ expression remained immovable.

“Well, child,” he finally said, looking down at her as he caressed the glinting hilt at his waist. “Look upon this mess. See what you have done. Are you happy now?” He reached out with his other hand, tipping her chin up towards him with a single finger, as if the mere thought of touching her disgusted him. “You look happy.”

Eija felt a laugh tickle her throat. It came out as more of a cough, blood and bile staining her tongue. Still, she could not bring herself to stop smiling.

“I am happy, sir.”

It was true. A beautiful warmth flooded her aching chest. She laughed again, closing her eyes and letting the feeling wash over her.

She was still laughing when the blade severed her throat.

#lucywrites19 #loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #happiness #cozy writes

60 notes · View notes

fangirlovestuff · 3 years

Text

Everytime - Chris Evans x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this is based on this request, thank you so much nonnie!! honestly i didn’t know this song before and it’s a bop. it kinda spiralled a little more than the song, but i hope you’ll like it!! also, tysm Ev @evansphnx12 for helping me with the ending, you’re a sweetheart!! okay, no more rambles, enjoy<3

Summary: you and chris didn’t want the same things, or at least you didn’t think so. it was pointless to pretend like you did, you’d only end up getting hurt; but the second your eyes meet you want nothing except for each other, and god knows that’s a pull you can’t resist.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic, alcohol consumption (everyone’s the proper age), a little bit of angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello?" you answer the phone curiously. The number isn't one you recognize, not saved on your phone, and you furrow your brows trying to understand who could it be, except maybe a spam call.

"Hey," answers a deep voice from the other side of the phone, "it's Chris, I don't know if you remember, you gave me your number a while ago and-"

"Oh yeah, I remember," you said, "hi!" you smiled even though you know he can't see you. "How are you?"

You both went through the normal pleasantries, but your mind wasn't really in it, running a mile a minute because god, did you remember Chris.

You two met a while back at a bar. You were out with your friends, and you noticed him from the corner of your eye, his friend group smaller than yours but large nonetheless. He was pretty far from where you were seated, but he looked so good you couldn't resist sneaking some more looks at him throughout the night.

Okay, maybe you were staring. Just a little.

And he must've noticed too, because the next time you lifted your eyes he wasn't in his previous seat, and you were about to sigh and assume he went home before you heard a voice greeting you to your right. You jumped a little in surprise before turning your head, only to look up and find his blue eyes staring back into yours, a slight smirk playing on his lips, and shit, he was so handsome it was unfair.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Even his voice was attractive. You contained your scoff of disbelief.

Long story short, one drink turned into a few more, that turned into going back to his house and having what was maybe the absolute best sex of your life, because you were both pretty drunk, but it was definitely up there.

You vaguely remember giving him your number, but you still left early the next morning, because that's what you thought he wanted, thinking the whole number thing was probably more of a courtesy than anything.

Apparently, it wasn't.

"So, I'm gonna be back in town next week," he mentioned casually, "and I was wondering if maybe… you'd wanna meet up? Grab a coffee or something?"

"Sure," you said, your brain catching up with your mouth a short moment afterward, and shit, why did you just say that? Doesn't that make you seem desperate? And besides, wasn't the whole thing supposed to be a one-night type of deal?

This was a bad idea. You knew that, but there was a small part of you that didn't care; small but definitely not insignificant.

"Great!" he chuckled on the other side of the phone. "So I'll text you sometime?"

"Yeah," you said, ending the call on an agreement to meet up Friday when he'd be in town.

So, in five days. That's enough time for your heart to stop pounding this loudly in your chest and the butterflies to stop fluttering around in your stomach, right?

Shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You kept busy the entire week, not giving yourself enough to mull over the plans you had, until it was finally Friday morning, and you woke up to a text from Chris, asking if you were still on for tonight and if you wanted him to come pick him up.

You thanked him and took him up on his offer, before plopping back first onto your bed. You put it off far enough, but now you could feel yourself inevitably freaking out.

The thing was, you really didn't know what to expect, the uncertainty that had been gnawing at the back of your mind for a week now finally taking the spotlight. You thought you'd never see him again, but that clearly wasn't the case.

Well, you'd see soon enough, you gathered, as you distracted yourself for another few hours until it was time to get ready. Chris didn't exactly tell you where you were going, but you two had mentioned a coffee, and even if it wasn't that, you imagined he wouldn't take you anywhere too fancy, so you put on something casual elegant.

I'm sorry, that last bit was kind of misleading, wasn't it? Really, you thought about what to wear for a good 30 minutes, decided on casual elegant and then took another good hour to pull out an obscene amount of clothes from your closet, proceeding to try on different outfits until you finally settled on one.

The advantage of your indecision was that it was very time consuming, leaving you very little time to get everything else you needed in order, thus less time to spiral.

When Chris texted you to come outside, all you could do was take a deep breath and go. After you greeted each other, the music filled the silence between you, not uncomfortably. Without noticing, you started humming the song beneath your breath, and before long you were both singing along, and you could feel the tension seeping out of your shoulders. Once the song ended, you took a deep breath and looked over to see Chris already looking at you. You smiled at him, and he returned it.

"Chris, I gotta, um," you swallowed, "ask you something."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Well, I'm just… is this a date? Not that I'm trying to, I don’t know… look, I just want us to be on the same page, I guess, it doesn't have to be a date, I was just, like, wondering."

Real smooth.

"It's fine," Chris chuckled a little, and you kept your eyes trained on the dash before you so you wouldn't have to meet his. "I guess… I don't really know either? We could just… see how it goes?"

"Yeah, alright," you smiled a little, "sounds great. Speaking of going, where are you taking me? Cause, you know, if you're a serial killer that's taking me out in the woods to kill me, I'd rather know now than later."

"I'm not a serial killer, and it's a surprise," he grinned.

"That's exactly what a serial killer would say," you said, playfully narrowing your eyes at him.

He let out a laugh. "Okay, okay, it's a club not far from here. It's a new one, I haven't been there myself yet, so I’d figured we'd check it out?"

"Sure," you grinned at him. The rest of the short drive went by in a flash, and when you got there, Chris darted out of the car to open your door for you.

"Thank you," you giggled.

"After you," he gestured, and you led your way into the club.

Inside, you took in the atmosphere, which was pretty relaxed since it was still early. You and Chris ate a little, engaging in conversation, and before long your drinks arrived. You were about to bring yours to your lips when Chris reached out and stopped you. You looked at him quizzically.

"We have to toast first," he shrugged with a smirk.

"Okay. So, what are we toasting for?"

"To new beginnings," he raised his glass in suggestion.

"To new beginnings," you repeated softly, clinking your glass with his before taking a sip from your drink.

When things picked up a little, you both got to the dance floor. In no time you found your rhythm, dancing together as if it wasn't the first time. The songs were jumpy, upbeat, and you found yourself beaming when Chris spun you around before pulling you back in.

You danced like that for a while, before you both got thirsty, heading to the bar for another drink.

"You wanna get outta here soon?" he asked, raising his voice to make sure you heard him over the loud music.

"Let's go," you said, grabbing his hand and practically dragging him to the exit. You heard his laugh behind you, and you smiled.

"Sorry," you said once you were outside, "the music was getting a little too loud for me," you shrugged.

"Yeah, it kinda was," he agreed with a soft smile. "So, where to next?"

You checked the time on your phone. "I mean, we could go back to my place if you want a coffee, since I doubt anywhere else is open right now."

"Great!" he smiled, and then his eyebrows furrowed a little, "But I guess neither of us should drive, right? I mean, I probably could, I just…"

"Yeah, you're right," you nodded.

"My place is closer to here, actually," he said, "If you want, we could walk there?"

"Alright," you smiled.

You two started walking side by side, silently at first. "What about your car?" you asked.

"I'll come by and get it tomorrow," he shrugged. "I need to get gas anyway. I'm driving upstate again in a couple of days."

"Can't you fly?"

"Not since the last time I checked, when I was four and nearly broke my arm jumping from a tree," he smiled teasingly.

"Ha ha," you rolled your eyes, a smile spreading on your face despite your efforts to stop it. "I mean, wouldn't it be easier if you took a plane instead of driving?"

"Maybe, but I don't like flying that much. It's exhausting."

You simply hummed in reply.

Before long, you were at Chris' house. Again, your mind unhelpfully supplied, vividly reminding you of the last time you were here, which was-

"So, do you want that coffee?" Chris asked when he showed you in, thankfully breaking your train of thought before you could get too zoned out.

"Um yeah, that sounds wonderful," you smiled at him. As you waited on his couch while he went to get the coffee, your eyes wandered around the large room. You didn't really get much of a look at his house before since you were… occupied with other things, but it was really nice, modestly decorated.

As you were looking around, you heard a soft patter of footsteps come up behind you, and you turned around to see Chris concentrating on the two mugs in his hand, trying not to spill anything, his tongue darting out in concentration a little. It made you giggle a little, making him look up at the sudden sound.

"What?" he asked, putting the mugs down carefully.

"Nothing," you smiled.

He eyed you suspiciously before apparently deciding to drop it, since all he did was sit down and pat the space next to him for you to sit in.

You two decided to watch a movie, but honestly, to each of you the other one was way more interesting than the movie.

Your second night with Chris ended up pretty much the same as the first one, with amazing sex and a good night's sleep. And then, slipping away the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I just, ugh," you plopped back down on your bed, talking to your friend on the phone, "I don't know."

"Listen, it's only been a few days, and he told you he was going away, I'm sure he'll talk to you soon. Or not," your friend said from the other side of the phone.

"That's comforting," you snorted, flipping onto your stomach.

"Hey, you said it yourself, right? You don't know what you two are. If it was just a hookup, he probably won't call." You opened your mouth to reply, but as if she could sense it, your friend continued before you could. "I'm not being mean, I'm being honest. You don't deserve to get your heart broken."

"I know," you sighed. "Thank you," you said sincerely, "talk to you later."

In the months that followed you saw Chris a few more times, each of them ending in pretty much the same way. Some were at your house, and he was gone in the morning, which in a way confirmed you were… what, friends with benefits? In a casual relationship?

You knew you shouldn't obsess about putting a label to it, because it doesn't really matter, except it did matter to you and you'd really like to know.

But you never brought it up. You liked what you had. It was fun. Really fun.

And every time you would be with him, most of your logical thinking skills would fly out of the window, so there's that. You liked to rationalize you didn't bring it up because you were consciously deciding not to jeopardize what you have, but really, it just doesn't cross your mind when you're with him.

It's weird, because when you're with him, you're incredibly calm, happy really, but when you're not, he makes you so nervous you feel like running to get the fidgety energy out. And running sucks.

Now, you were sitting at your friend's kitchen table as she made herself a coffee.

"Hey," your friend said, her voice laced with strictness and affection, "are you listening to me?"

"Yeah," you nodded, shaking yourself from your reverie.

"Really? Or are you thinking about Chris again?"

"What? No, I was just thinking about-" you started denying it, before your friend simply arched her brow at you, making you sigh. "-Chris. God, am I really that obvious?"

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly before sipping her coffee.

"Sorry," you offered half-heartedly, "I know I'm being annoying, I just… I like him. And I don't know what we are and it's driving me up the wall."

"Hold on, did you just say you liked him?" she looked at you incredulously.

"Yes," you said, although it came out more as a question than a statement.

"Oh honey," she said, sitting down in the chair next to you.

"I know, I know," you sighed looking at the table instead of her, "I shouldn't. But I do," you looked up at her. "That's why I'm… scared," the admission fell past your lips, the last word merely a whisper.

Your friend wrapped her arm around you in comfort, knowing you still needed to talk about it.

"If I just knew what he wanted, this would all be easier, because then I could keep the same mindset. But I don't wanna be annoying and end up embarrassing myself."

"You know what I think about this. You don't deserve to get hurt," she replied, squeezing your shoulders.

"I know, I just really don't know what to do," you sighed.

"If I were you," she started, "I'd tell him I'm seeing someone else."

"What?" you frowned.

"Just my take on it. What's the worst thing that could happen? It's not like you can't break up if you're not together," she shrugged.

"Okay, I get it," you scoffed. "No need to rub it in."

Despite your cynicism, you couldn't help thinking maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. Also, it was kind of the only idea you had, so either that or leave things as they were. Not that you were really complaining, I mean, things were wonderful as they are, but the uncertainty was becoming unbearable.

Maybe confronting him about it will be good, whispers a voice of hope in your head.

Yeah, you thought, or maybe it'll bite me in the ass. And not in a fun way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Chris was in town, he called you on a Friday morning.

"Hey!" he said, and even across the phone you could hear he was excited. It made your heart swell with fondness, a feeling you quickly shook off because, well, you weren't exactly boyfriend and girlfriend, so the only feeling you should have is like, attraction. Right?

"Hey," you said, your voice soft.

"So, I'm in town this weekend, and I was thinking, do you wanna do something?"

"I guess," you said, a smile sneaking onto your face, "What'd you have in mind?"

"You'll see," he said, and you could practically hear his smirk, "Just bring an overnight bag."

An overnight b-

"Yeah, sure," you said, your mouth speaking before your brain caught up, and shit, that seems to happen entirely too often when you were talking to him.

"Great! So I'll see you tonight?"

"See you," you agreed, ending the call, not before he told you he'd pick you up at seven.

Well, now all you had to do was pack an overnight bag for somewhere without knowing where, which was just… splendid.

Stifling your groan of frustration, you got up to do just that.

Just like always, when Chris came to pick you up and you got into his car, a smile came onto your face, your previous frustration now replaced with near-giddiness. Focus, you told yourself, you should be telling him you're seeing someone else.

But you didn't, not yet obviously, since you just got into his car. That'd be an extremely weird way to start a conversation.

"Hi," you greeted instead, smiling at him.

"Hey," he grinned, barely waiting for you to get your seatbelt on before he started driving.

"So, where are we going that's got you so excited, you're willing to risk getting into a car accident?" you chuckled.

"It's a surprise, and I'm not risking anything," he rolled his eyes.

"Sure you aren't, mad max," you quipped, making him laugh. "And last time I checked, there's nowhere called 'a surprise'."

He chuckled. "C'mon, you'll see for yourself, we're almost there."

And indeed, a few minutes later he was slowing down and turning to a road that led into a forest.

"Okay, seriously Chris, where are we going?"

"Relax, we're not lost. I know exactly where we are."

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'huh, maybe you are a serial killer after all', but yeah, that's reassuring," you raised your brows at him.

"If I were a serial killer I would've killed you already," he rolled his eyes at your antics.

"That's exactly-"

"What a serial killer would say," he completed your sentence, huffing out a laugh, "I figured."

You giggled at that, relaxing into your seat. You weren't actually worried, but it was nice to know you haven’t been fucking a serial killer for the last few months.

Sooner rather than later Chris parked the car, meaning you arrived, but you didn't really see where exactly you are until you got out. Then, you saw a small clearing in the woods, with what seemed like the remains of a fire in the middle of it.

"Okay, so we ruled out the serial killer option," you called out to Chris, who was busy opening the trunk of the car, "The way I see it you're either gonna sacrifice me in a weird satanic ritual or this is a camping site."

"Well, I considered the first one but it just seemed like a lot of effort," he teased, "Yeah, this is a camping site."

"Awesome," you chuckled, getting your bag. "Do you need help with anything or…"

"Oh, no, just wait a second and I'll get it all out," he said, already lifting his bag out and what seemed like the bag of a tent.

You did as he said and waited by the remains of the campfire. And you know, maybe also ogling him a bit as he carried the bags over.

"So," he started when he put the bags down, "I think we should put up the camp first, before the sun completely sets and then we won't be able to see what we're doing."

"Sounds like a good idea," you smiled.

You two started putting up the tent, a task that was harder than you realized, the flexible poles getting disconnected while you were moving them through the fabric and poking you in the stomach one unfortunate time.

By the time the sun was setting, you were getting pretty sulky, and it didn't escape Chris' attention. "C'mon, now's the most satisfying part," he smiled.

Starting to put up the poles, the tent turned from a pile of fabric and plastic to a tall tent in a matter of minutes.

"Okay, this is the most satisfying part," you laughed a little when you saw the results of your handiwork.

While Chris was setting up the fire, you were rummaging through the food he brought, because you were getting snacky. Just when you found the marshmallows, Chris asked, "So when's the last time you built a tent? Besides right now, I mean."

"Ummm… I don't know. Probably when I was really little," you shrugged.

"I come out here pretty often when I can," he said, "It's nice". You turned to look at him, but he was still messing around with the wood.

"What've you been up to lately then?" he smiled when he was finally done lighting the fire, turning his gaze up to look at you.

Well, it's now or never.

"There's this guy that offered me to hang out sometime," you said as casually as you could, "Mike."

Mike? Really? That's the name you came up with?

You thought you saw Chris' jaw clench, but maybe it was just the lack of light playing tricks on you. When he said nothing you continued. "He's nice."

It was like his whole demeanor had changed in the span of seconds, from smiling and relaxed his muscles tensed, and his jaw was definitely clenched.

"Okay," was the only thing he said after a few moments.

The only thing disturbing the silence were the sounds of nature and the crackling fire. You had a beer with him, and still, silence.

"Is everything okay?" you asked. He just hummed in response, his mind clearly somewhere else.

"Earth to Chris?" you snapped your fingers in front of his face.

"I'm here," he chuckled. "So anyways, did you?"

"What?"

"Did you hang out with Mike?"

"Oh, that," you said, "would it have mattered if I did?" you took a swig of your beer.

"Yes," he said lowly.

"Yes?" you turned to look at him so quickly your neck nearly snapped. He was still looking ahead into the fire.

"I mean," he turned his eyes to you, "What about us?"

"Oh, suddenly now we're an 'us'?" you rolled your eyes, "that's wonderful, Chris. Really, it is. You’re barely here, and when you are, we fuck and you leave, and now this? Maybe I should hang out with Mike," you mumbled the last part.

"If that's how you feel," he said.

You were both quiet for the rest of the night, going to sleep in separate sleeping bags. It was cold, and all you wanted to do was crawl into Chris' bag with him to steal some warmth, but your pride wouldn't let you.

In the morning, you woke up to find the tent empty. You rubbed your eyes and went outside, squinting against the morning sun.

"Good morning," Chris greeted quietly. He was sitting next to where the fire was last night, now obviously reduced to lumps of coal, and if that didn't perfectly represent your mood, you didn't know what did.

"Morning," you replied curtly.

"You know, about yesterday, I-"

"No, I don't know," you burst out. "Or at least I didn’t know, and it drove me crazy, thinking about what the hell I was to you, what we… are we even a 'we'?" you shrugged helplessly. "But I guess now I know, so thanks for that one."

"I'm sorry," he said, coming closer to you.

"Yeah, whate-"

"I'm sorry you felt that way. I shouldn’t have left things so up in the air. I should've told you how much I liked you from the start, instead of doing… whatever it is we've been doing. I'm sorry you felt like I didn't want you, because I do," his eyes pierced into yours. "I'm sorry I didn't say that sooner."

"I- you like me?" you asked, eyes going wide.

"I do," he smiled timidly, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry I was being a bitch earlier," you mumbled.

"It's okay, it’s re-"

"Do you accept my apology?" you cut him off with a smile.

"Yeah, of course."

"Great."

You walked the last few steps between you, closing the distance and planting your lips on his.

Every other time you kissed Chris, there was a rush to it, an aroused urgency, the knowledge of what it would lead to. But now there was the sweet promise of something more. You didn't know exactly what that was, but it made your heart hum in joy and your belly do somersaults.

Later, you found out the promise was happiness.

You felt it when you finally went on your first official "date date" with Chris. You felt it when he kissed you goodnight and good morning and everything in between. You even felt it when he found out Mike wasn't real and he laughed, and honestly you laughed too, because it was pretty funny.

Really, you felt it every time you were with Chris. Which was convenient, since, as he told you on several occasions, he wasn't planning on letting you go any time soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tell me your thoguhts?<3

Taglist: @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff #chris evans angst #chris evans imagine

282 notes · View notes

redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 8

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 3,734

Warnings: none

A/N: If this chapter had a name it would be “me, you, and steve’. Also I know how infuriating they are, so oblivious and dumb but isn’t it the point of pining ;) Thanks for your patience!

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

Bucky’s cab pulled over to the curb in front of his building. He tugged on the lapels of his coat, pulling it tighter around him, and braced himself for the blast of cold air waiting for him on the other side.

He hated the cold, hated winter. It reminded him of the day he lost his arm, alone on that godforsaken mountain until Steve found him. But he could deal with the cold if it meant he’d find you on the other side of that door.

He knew you were home, you had texted him about an hour ago telling him that you had a surprise for him. It had made him smile. He’d hurried home, desperate to see you even though he’d seen you that morning.

He had it bad.

He’d been restless since the gala, unable to sleep without dreaming of you, your velvet dress in a heap on his bedroom floor, your scent lingering on his bed sheets. He would wake up bathed in sweat, on the edge of coming.

He would deal with it with an ice cold shower.

Bucky had accepted the fact that his feelings for you weren’t as innocent as they once were. He had always thought you were strong, full of life and a little awkward, but lately he’d been wanting to kiss you, touch you, feel your warmth against him.

He wanted it so badly it hurt.

He wouldn’t say he loved you. He certainly felt something for you but love was something foreign to him. Sometimes he wondered if his feelings were even real. He’d gone from living an extremely solitary life to spending every single day with you. It could have easily been a product of his loneliness and your soft spoken demeanour.

He had stopped counting the number of times he’d almost kissed you on the lips. The urge was always there, eating away at him, but he always caught himself at the last moment, his lips landing on your forehead, your cheek or your temple instead.

“I’m home,” he shouted, closing the door behind him. He bent to untie his shoes and kicked them off while he unzipped his coat. “What’s the big surprise? Is it something we can eat?”

He hung his coat next to yours on the hook and walked down the short corridor that led to the kitchen. As he walked, he became suspicious of the silence that hung in the air. Slowly he peeked into the kitchen and found you in the company of someone he thought he’d never see again.

“Steve?”

“Not edible, sorry, Buck.”

Bucky’s face broke out into an instant smile, ear to ear and ecstatic. “Fuckin’ hell, Rogers, you look like a yeti.”

Steve barked out a laugh as he stepped forward and hugged him. He wrapped both his arms around Bucky, almost lifting him off the ground despite knowing how uncomfortable hugs made him feel. Chuckling, Bucky returned his hug with one arm; the only kind of hug he could give.

“I’m happy to see you.” Steve pulled back and held him at arm's length.

Bucky looked over Steve’s shoulder at you who were standing behind the kitchen counter, grinning at them. “Is that my surprise?” You nodded. “Ugh, I was kind of hoping for pizza honestly.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m joking, man.”

Steve returned to his seat and Bucky followed. You grabbed a mug from the cupboard and fixed Bucky a cup of coffee. He gave you a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with this punk on your own,” Bucky told you. “Did he give you a hard time?”

“Nah,” you said. “He was pretty sheepish. Also, I almost gave him a heart attack.”

Bucky burst out laughing as Steve’s face and neck flushed red. You told Bucky the story of how you and Steve met outside his apartment building. Bucky doubled over laughing when you made a pretty spot-on impression of Steve’s confused face. Steve rolled his eyes at your theatrics, a smile on his lips.

“In my defense, no stranger has ever screamed my name like that.”

“Oh, if the alley behind the church could talk, it’d call you a fucking liar, Steve.”

“First, shut up!” Steve jokingly pushed Bucky off his seat. “Second, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” That sobered you both up faster than a cold shower. Steve caught a furtive sideways glance between you and Bucky. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you replied with a smile. “I’m his, uh-” you trailed off and looked to Bucky for help but he was unable to speak. “I’m his roommate.”

“Oooh! Okay.”

Was that relief on Steve’s face? Bucky’s stare hardened. A muscle in his jaw jumped when Steve engaged you in a conversation. He asked you how long you’d been living with Bucky and if you liked the apartment. His tone was conversational but Bucky knew him like the back of his hand, he knew Steve was flirting with you.

“Are you staying for dinner?” you asked Steve. Bucky’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. You picked up the laminated meal plan from on the counter. “Creamed spinach and baked eggs.”

“Sounds great,” Steve agreed.

“You don’t like spinach,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

“I’m not twelve anymore,” Steve countered with an arched brow. It made you laugh. “Besides I haven’t eaten a homemade meal in... wow, probably years.” Steve turned to you. “I don’t know if Bucky told you but I’m a landscape photographer. I live in the wild most of the year. It’s kinda like travelling by foot on an endless backpacking trip. It’s amazing but the food is disgusting.”

“Yikes!” You grimaced in sympathy. “Well, Bucky’s an amazing chef. I keep telling him we should open a restaurant together.”

You walked over to Steve and mock-whispered in his ear. “If we ask nicely, he’ll probably make us some garlic bread.”

That made Bucky smile. His first instinct was to answer with his usual ‘I’d do anything for you, angel’ but he couldn’t say that in front of Steve so he bit his tongue. He saw the disappointment in your eyes, as if you were expecting that usual answer too.

“I should go upstairs,” you said. “I have a painting to finish. Have fun, boys.”

Steve watched you go, then he shook his head and heaved out a sigh. He waited until he was sure you were out of earshot before he turned to Bucky.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” he said. “So, are you two...”

“We’re friends,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Is she single?”

“As far as I know.”

Bucky’s jaw was clenched hard, the tendons in his neck looked like they were about to snap. He loved Steve like a brother but, goddammit, he wanted him to leave and never return. He balled his hand into a fist, feeling a visceral urge to punch something.

Yet, Steve seemed completely oblivious to Bucky’s turmoil. After living in the wild for several years, he was having trouble picking up on social cues.

“Do you think I should ask her out? I’m a bit rusty.” He ran his hand through his long hair, tugging at the strands. “I should get a trim first, right?”

“And a fucking shower,” Bucky grumbled to himself.

Steve didn’t hear him, he was too busy glaring at his hair in the big mirror on the wall.

Bucky tried to push away that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was becoming harder to pretend this was all innocent. Not when he had to physically restrain himself from punching his oldest friend in the teeth. Steve was allowed to ask you out, Bucky had no right to be jealous.

And yet...

“How long are you stayin’?” he asked, eyeing Steve’s backpack. It wasn’t unusual for him to take Steve in when he was between assignments, but things were different now.

“A few weeks. Is it going to be a problem?”

“Listen, if it were just me, I’d let you stay,” Bucky replied. “But I’m not alone anymore. She doesn’t know you, you’re basically a stranger, and you’re already thinking of hitting on her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable. This is her home.”

Steve blushed. “No, of course. I understand. I would never-”

“All I’m sayin’ is, she has the final say,” Bucky cut him off. “If she lets you stay, you can take the kids’ room.”

“You sure? It’s right next to her room. I could take the room upstairs, the one above the living room.”

“No, you can’t,” Bucky sighed. “It’s her painting studio.”

Steve stared at him with a suspicious frown. “Are you sure there’s nothing between you and her?”

“Yup, she’s just a friend.”

He tried not to fidget as he forced himself to hold Steve’s gaze. He kept his head high and acted as composed as he could even though his heart was jackhammering in his chest.

“Okay,” Steve drawled out, not entirely convinced. “If you say so.”

As Bucky expected, you allowed Steve to take the guest room, the one with the bunk-bed, though Steve told you that it wouldn’t be a problem. It also meant that he would be sharing your bathroom, and while it didn’t seem to bother you, it made Bucky really uncomfortable.

That evening, he sat down with you and Steve at the dinner table. He made sure Steve was seated at one end of the table, thinking that if you didn’t have him in front of you, you’d interact less. Bucky’s plan backfired pretty quickly. Steve had so many ‘I-lived-in-the-wild-for-ages’ stories that he monopolized the discussion –and your attention.

Bucky spent most of the night lost in his own thoughts, daydreaming, and only smiled when he caught your gaze. He snapped out of his haze when he noticed that he was alone at the dinner table. You and Steve were washing the dishes, talking and laughing.

He felt a pang of envy at the sight before him; it was supposed to be him and it scared him that someone could take you away from him. Then it hit him. He wasn’t special, you were kind and sweet with everyone. It was what had attracted him to you in the first place; your kindness, your fortitude and loyalty.

He couldn’t blame Steve for falling for you, too.

“Guys, I’m going to bed,” he said, standing on the landing between the two rooms.

You turned around mid-laugh and smiled warmly at him. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.” It slipped out. He didn’t even realize what he’d said, but Steve did.

Steve cocked a brow at his best friend’s retreating figure before he hung his head and let out a brief chuckle.

Over the next few days, Bucky’s mood didn’t improve. He was holding back, unable to reach out to you the way he used to. Steve was always there. Always.

In the morning Steve would come back from a run, sweaty and hungry, and wearing a shirt that was two sizes too small for him. He really laid it on thick, even by his standards, but you didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, you would often go out with Steve when Bucky was working on his new book. He took you to art shows, introduced you to important people and you visited art supply stores together, which annoyed Bucky more than he thought possible.

He felt stuck in a Garfunkel and Oates song, praying for Steve to go away.

I could've wished a thousand wishes for Steve to disappear.

Worst of all, Bucky was snappy with you. Especially after he inadvertently overheard you and Natasha talking about Steve. You painted a vivid picture of Steve’s ass. Figuratively of course, though Bucky couldn’t be certain that you didn’t have hundreds of notebooks filled with drawings of Steve’s ass.

“Hey, stranger.”

He looked up when you walked into his study carrying a tray with his breakfast –coffee and two slices of toasted white bread with butter and jam. You left the tray on a pile of papers and closed the door behind you.

“I was wondering about you, since you didn’t show up for breakfast.” You stood behind him and worked your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and let you massage his scalp, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

Bucky was so relaxed that his filter was non-existent. “Yeah, Steve’s bothering me. He stole my angel.”

“He can’t steal a mythical creature.”

“You’re my angel,” he half-moaned when you applied pressure to his scalp.

“I haven’t been feeling like your angel lately,” you said, giving him another squeeze before you let go of his head. You took a seat on the armchair close to his desk. “You’re... I don’t know. You’re moody and irritated, and I don’t know how to help you. I know you don’t like surprises, and Steve showing up out of nowhere and staying here was a pretty huge surprise. It’s difficult to cope with change but I think you’re acting a little weird. I swear, Bucky, sometimes you look at Steve like you want to kill him. Is it because we spend time without you?”

Bucky straightened up in his seat and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I guess. You two are having fun and I’m stuck here, alone.”

“You feel left out.”

“A bit,” he replied earnestly. “But if you like him, you should go for it. He’s a good-looking guy, he’s nice. He’s also a dumbass but that’s part of his charm.”

You laughed. “What? Why are you telling me this?”

“I heard you and Natasha,” Bucky explained, blushing. “You said, and I quote: ‘he's got an ass you can bounce quarters off of.’”

You burst out laughing. “Oh, Bucky.”

“What? I’m just sayin’ if that’s what you wanna do... I’ll give you a bunch of quarters.”

“No, thanks,” you laughed. “I’m good. I keep my quarters for something else.”

Bucky speared you with a suspicious look. “So you don’t think his ass is like a juicy peach.” He blinked. “Also a direct quote.”

“Oh, no, I stand by what I said. His ass is so-” you lifted your hands and made a squeezing motion “-tight.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he rushed to say. “It’s not that impressive. Anyone can do squats. I do squats.”

“Fishing for compliments?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. You looked at him with a fond smile. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He reached for a slice of bread and bit into it, focusing his attention on his laptop screen. You got to your feet and walked to the door.

“Oh, um, by the way, how much of that conversation did you hear?” you asked, leaning against the half-open door.

“Not much, I left after the juicy peach thing.”

You hummed while nodding, your eyes cast down. When you looked up at him, a glint of something mischievous shone in your eyes. “You should have stayed a little longer,” you said enigmatically, your eyes roaming shamelessly over his body.

You raised your eyebrows and closed the door behind you, leaving Bucky speechless and confused. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouted, hoping you could hear him through the closed door. “Angel? Come back!”

Needless to say he didn’t write much after that.

Bucky made a conscious effort to stop being an asshat. A week later, he was in a better mood, and only glared at Steve twice –the first time when Steve put his hand on your knee and the second when he made a vaguely flirtatious remark.

You let Steve and Bucky handle the dirty dishes, and Bucky was sure you did it on purpose. Your little smug smile said as much. Steve didn’t seem happy, he had never liked household chores and probably only did the dishes to spend time with you.

Bucky remembered Steve’s childhood bedroom; shades always down, his bed perpetually unmade, and a monster pile of clean and dirty clothes on his desk chair. He remembered Sarah’s exasperated sigh whenever she entered her son’s bedroom. It made him laugh.

Bucky had always been a neat person, something his mom always took pride in. ‘Look at my son who does his own laundry and sets the table without being asked. Look how well I raised him!’ After his accident, cleaning became an obsession, a way of controlling something that was uncontrollable.

“Did you get Sam’s text?” Steve asked, tossing the now-wet towel on the counter. “Emergency brunch tomorrow at 10.”

“Yeah, I know. Sam has a loose understanding of the word ‘emergency’. Last time he wanted to know if he could pull off a goatee. Not exactly an emergency.”

“Mhh,” Steve replied, thinking. “Are you coming?”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky chucked, “I wanna know what this new emergency is.”

Steve cast him a sideways glance while leaning his back against the kitchen counter. He mulled over something as he watched his friend clean the sink.

“So, um,” Steve started awkwardly. “I have a date tomorrow.”

Bucky’s hand faltered a bit. “Ah? With who?”

Steve looked toward your bedroom door and let out a very loud sigh. “A real-life angel, Buck.”

Bucky let go of the sponge and straightened up abruptly. He glared at Steve, hoping he’d heard him wrong. “What did you just say?”

“I have a date tomorrow night so you’ll have the place to yourself.” Steve smiled to his friend, blissfully unbothered. “I think I’ve been invading your personal space. You always look upset so I thought this would be a great idea. And I’ve been alone for so long, I need... relief you know.”

“Awesome,” Bucky replied, gritting his teeth.

“Great, I’m glad you see it that way,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “See you tomorrow, Buck.”

He watched Steve walk to his bedroom and close the door behind him. Something inside him cracked, and he felt the overwhelming urge to throw something, watch it break into tiny pieces.

He took a deep breath and went in search of you instead. He found you upstairs in your studio, kneeling in front of a canvas, the handle of a pair of pliers in your mouth. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge his presence, and Bucky grinned when you let out a little shocked gasp.

“Did you have fun washing the dishes with Steve?” you teased, taking the pliers out of your mouth.

“I think we need a dishwasher.” He walked into the room and squatted down on his haunches next to you. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m removing the staples on the stretcher bars so I can roll up the canvas and put it in a tube,” you said. “This way they’re protected and I can carry them pretty easily. I have a meeting with a gallerist tomorrow. Apparently Steve knows her well. He mentioned my name and she wants to see my work.”

“That’s amazing, angel,” Bucky exclaimed. “How can I help?”

“I’m almost done. I just need to finish this one. Can you grab that sheet of plastic on the desk? We’ll wrap it in it and then we’ll use a piece of canvas for extra protection.”

He followed your instructions and made sure not to ruin your hard work. Once the canvas was in the tube, you placed it against the wall next to two similar tubes. Then you cleaned up and put away your tools.

“I don’t know if Steve told you but-”

“Yes, I know,” Bucky cut you off. “The date. It’s great. Honestly.”

“Yeah.” You lowered your gaze and studied your shaking hands, unable to meet his eyes. “Listen, I was thinki-”

“I really need some time to myself anyway,” he talked over you. “So it’s great, y’know? We all get what we want.”

“I guess,” you replied. “It’s getting late, I should go to bed.”

“Getting up bright and early tomorrow, uh?” The jovial tone in his voice sounded forced, even to his ears. You nodded mechanically. “Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

You both stood unmoving, staring at each other. Your eyes were asking for something, pleading with him, but he was too lost to understand. He was lost in his own feelings, remembering something Sam had said a while ago.

There’s an entire world between like and love.

And it was true.

Like was doing the dishes with you. It was laughing and screaming while you chased each other around the living room, using fairy lights as lassos. Like was booping your nose when you watched him cook dinner. It was speaking gibberish after watching a foreign film.

Love was that sweet agony that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt. It was letting you hold his hand and play with his fingers even though his nose felt itchy. Love was seeing you wrap his bow tie around your wrist like a bracelet. It was walking around a deserted planetarium with you.

Love was the colour of your favourite lipstick; Carter Red.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, interrupting his train of thought.

“My pleasure.” He tried to smile but it hurt.

Everything made sense now. His crankiness and irritability, his sudden aversion to his oldest friend, the one who had saved his life. The one who had asked you out on a date –or so it seemed.

“Sweet dreams...” he paused, considering, then used your name instead of your usual pet name.

He had no right to call you ‘angel’ anymore. Steve had asked you out first, he had asked Bucky multiple times if he was okay with that, and Bucky’s answers had always been a gritted ‘yes’.

The truth was, his epiphany didn’t change anything. He wouldn’t have asked you out because there was too much at stake: your friendship, your livelihood, your career, the well-being of your family. He couldn’t put you in an uncomfortable position, couldn’t ruin your hard work.

And he was terrified of these feelings. They were too new, too raw.

You pinched your lips together and nodded, avoiding his eyes. He clenched his jaw hard, hating the resigned look on your face. Why did you look so defeated? Without saying anything, you walked past him and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Part 9

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillanwrites #redgillan

1K notes · View notes

snlhostharry · 3 years

Text

romeo and juliet thing

harry styles x reader

“rivals” to lovers au

~3k words

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s to lovers challenge, congrats on your milestone!

a/n: amazing thing I realized while writing this: if you don’t put it off you can actually get it done in a reasonable amount of time... I will not be applying this to any other aspects of my life

You’ve come to enjoy album release parties. The first one you’d ever been to was the one for your first album, something someone from your publicity team has put together, which they did a decent job on but you did not have a good time. You were so nervous about the album coming out at all that you tried to use alcohol to calm your nerves, so you can’t really remember anything about it besides briefly throwing up in the bathroom. After that incident, you resolved not to drink before the party ever again and the next few you’d been too for other artists were actually fun in their own special ways.

By the time your second album is on the cusp on release, you’ve decided that you deserved it after the mess of writer's block you’d gotten in the middle of trying to write the thing, which had gotten so bad that you’d been called into a “special meeting” by management where they talked for what felt like hours about deadlines and marketing and basically tried to intimidate you into finishing faster. Something happened that allowed you to finish, it was an odd timing but it did help.

But that was ages ago, and you’re trying to focus on the party.

Which is easy enough, winding through the room talking to friends and investors, small talk is easy when you're trying to avoid something else. You’re talking to someone who’s name you are definitely not going to remember when this is over, when out of the corner of your eye you think you see someone who should definitely not be here. When you're finally released from said conversation you walk around the room, trying to find the intruder. You make your way all the way back to the bathroom, when suddenly the person you’ve been looking for slams right into you.

You’re far enough in a corner that you think no one can see you, which is good because if anyone got photos of the two of you together you would never hear the end of it. Harry Styles looks at you like he’s been caught in the act, the guilty expression not leaving his face even as he says, “Funny seeing you here.”

“At my own party?” You ask.

He licks his lips, trying to buy time to think of something to say. “Before you say anything,” He says, treading cautiously, “I was told to come here.”

You narrow your eyes, “By who?”

“Someone who works for me,” He replies, “Which means that someone who works for you gave them the information.”

You groan, “Of course they did, well at least make sure they get your good side when someone comes around to take photos.”

He smiles at that, “That’s every side, love.”

You shake your head, typing a message on your phone and quickly sending it, “It’s not but it’s cute that you think so.”

“Ignoring that little comment,” He says, seeing that your attention is divided between him and the person you seem to be very angrily texting. “It’s a good song you wrote, I’m excited to hear the rest of the album.”

“Oh,” You say, eyes widening, “Thank you..?” He tilts his head to the side gently, clearly his way of asking a question without actually asking a question. “Sorry, I just didn’t realize we were doing the thing where we pretend this is normal, and you are normally at my party.”

He laughs, “Didn’t know there was pretending involved.”

“I’m just so used to pretending to loathe you all day everyday that it's just so natural,” You say, and wait to see if he’ll get the joke.

He shrugs, “Really? I don’t think of you all that much.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand before you can respond, one message sits unread underneath the ten you’d sent a few minutes earlier in rapid succession. Honestly? I invited him because I thought it would be fun. Of course that would be her rationale for not telling you about this very obvious stunt. Inviting your “rival” to your album release party is the perfect way to get your name in some headlines conveniently before the whole thing goes live, not like you need them but then again you do pay people to manage this kind of thing so they figure they should be doing something.

Oh yeah, Harry is supposed to be your “rival.” Think of some of the most infamous musical feuds of all time, and then knock it down a few pegs, and that’s where you would put yours and harrys. No one knows how it really started, something between a couple of twitter stans you’ve been told, but it suddenly gave each of your respective “people” the genius idea to milk that kind of exposure for all that it’s worth. The two of you have been pit against each other ever since the release of your debut albums, both self titled and both released within two weeks of each other. It hasn’t harmed either of you, being compared to the other, since you’re both pretty evenly matched in terms of talent.

It seems to only exist to make the occasional headline when the media remember that it “exists.” There have been headlines wondering if you’ve mentioned him in tik toks (you didn’t) in instagram posts (you were shading someone but not him) and if this whole thing started due to a one night stand that went the wrong way (definitely not).

You pull yourself back into the conversation, realizing you're being rude trying to think of something to respond to the text message. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Who are you rage tweeting over there?”

“Rage texting actually,” You say as another one comes through, “Fucking Melanie.”

“Unfortunate that her parents gave her that as a first name.”

You look up at him right away, “Not funny.” He laughs at his own joke anyway, “Melanie-” You say, holding up your phone for dramatic effect, “Is the head of the PR team, which is three people but anyway she is the one who seems to have coordinated this whole thing as a prank on me apparently.”

“It’s kind of funny,” He says.

You narrow your eyes at him, “I’m sure from your point of view it is.” Suddenly, someone comes rounding the corner near where the two of you are standing, and you freeze on instinct until they pass right in front of you without even looking in your direction. You realize that in a panic, you’d grabbed onto Harry’s hand and you decide that the two of you are going to have to finish this conversation somewhere else. “Come with me,” You sigh, leading him through the back of the room all the way to a small door that leads to an outside area at the back of the venue. You look at him again, his eyes glinting in the lights hanging above your heads. “What were we talking about?”

“Are you ever listening to me?” He asks, half joking.

“Don’t take it personally I’m only half listening to everyone,” You answer, “It’s called multitasking.”

“Seems tiring.”

“Better than being bored,” You say.

He looks at you for a second without saying and then shoves his hands in his pockets, “Why are we out here again?”

“I’m trying to figure out what’s the game plan here, if you’re supposed to be seen here alone, seen with me, if I’m supposed to throw some kind of tantrum about it.”

“Besides the one your already throwing?”

You stop looking at your phone, “Ouch.”

“Punishment for continuing to ignore me.”

You turn off your phone and hold it in your hand gently, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening, but only if you’re going to say something that it’s some kind of thinly veiled insult,” You click your tongue, “You’re one of those guys who flirts by making fun of girls aren’t you?”

He thinks about it, “That’s a type?”

“Yeah, for people who are still mentally in high school.”

“So you wouldn't be interested then?”

You smile, thinking about it. Here’s the thing, despite the fact you very much have been pretending to loathe Harry Styles for two years just so you don’t slip it if someone asks, you recognise now that he is objectively attractive. The curls, and the eyes and the borderline too busy suit jacket he’s wearing (that both of you know costs an exorbitant amount) is all contributing to a look that is working for you at the moment. Also working in his favor? The semi enemies to lovers arc that you have going on in your head. “Despite the fact that I think that kind of flirting is beneath you, at this moment, it’s currently working for me.”

You take a step forward, closer to him, and suddenly your phone starts going off again. You check it briefly, trying very much not to ruin the moment but very cognizant of the fact that this is your party and people are going to start noticing if you're gone. You look down, see it’s not a life or death emergency and look right back at Harry. “Let me guess,” He says, “She wants you to kiss me for the cameras?”

You laugh, “No, but I’m going to do it anyway.” You kiss him, he leans in and you think that you might just seal the deal with harry styles out on this very nice patio when your phone rings again. You pull away when it’s clear that whoever it is needs you desperately, you look at the message, and groan, “Fucking Melaine.” You look towards the door and back at Harry, “Okay this is not over, but I have to go take care of stuff, so just meet me here after the whole thing is over and we will finish this thing.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” You smile, “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending.” You pause, “Well maybe with the end if Melanie kills me with her bare hands for not talking to this producer she wants me to meet.”

“Later, then.”

You take him back to your apartment that night. And you invite him back the next day, and then the week and then a few more times after that. As much as you had meant it a joke at the time, the kind of forbidden lovers aspect of trying to keep this whole thing under wraps is sexy in a way that you would never admit outloud.

You’ve both become shockingly adept at sneaking in and out of apartments, neighborhoods (Harry has multiple priorities; why that is you're not exactly sure) and sometimes clubs if you're in a group and it’s dark enough that you think no one will see you.

“Should I climb up through the window?” You ask Harry as you stand in the backyard of his house in London, swimsuit clad even though you’ve gone nowhere near the pool.

Harry looks at you from his place on the ground next to you. He’d refused to get a chirhair to sit on, so he just sits on the ground, looking out over the pool and the fence. “Why would you do that?”

“Romeo and Juliet thing, didn’t he climb through the window to see her?”

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around your bare legs in some attempt to keep your attention on him, “I don’t know, never read it.” He laughs a little, “But I think if you did that some pap would catch you with your ass hanging out of my window.”

You laugh too, “And you would never fucking stop laughing at that.”

“No, I would not.”

You kick your leg out so that you almost hit him right in the face, “Fucker, I thought you were over being mean to me as a tactic. You have successfully romanced me.”

“Really? Because you’re staring at the house like you’re going to kill me for my money.”

“You’d put me in your will? That’s sweet,” You turn to him, pulling your sunglasses onto the top of your head.

“You are so hot right now.”

“It is hot,” You say, looking out at the clear sky, “What an observation.”

“You’re screwing with me.”

“Because I’m too tired to screw you at the moment,” You say, “Can’t we just enjoy one day in one of your two properties out in the sun before you start making me exercise?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“It is work,” You say, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that song you played yesterday, I think it needs to be less.. Ethereal.”

“What does that mean?”

You sit down next to him, laying your head in the grass. “Harry Styles is a rockstar, if you’re going to do a sad song, which seems to be your specialty, it needs to at least have a beat.”

“People don’t want to dance to sad songs.”

“Dude,” You say matter of factly, “Of course they do, I do and I think I speak for a very large section of the United States population.You need a sad song you can at the very least scream too, if not full out dance.”

“So what’s your suggestion?” He asks.

“Add more guitar,” You tell him, “Like a lot more. Take all the lyrics you have and put them on a track that sounds like it should be about your new puppy or something.”

“Who writes songs about puppies?”

“It was an example, H.” You sigh, “but you get the point.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t be like that.” He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you let it go as one of his moods for a while. But it goes on for longer than you thought it would be, and eventually you sit up. He’s staring down at his phone, frozen, and then he starts typing without saying anything to you. “What are you looking at?” You ask him, and he doesn’t say anything. “What is it H?” You ask again.

“Fuck it all,” He says, dropping his phone to the ground, and covering his face with his hands as he laid down with his head in the grass.

You pick his phone up off the ground and see that he’s opened twitter. Staring right back at you is a picture of the two of you kissing outside a small restaurant from the night before, you rack your brain trying to think if you saw anywhere when you were there and you swore you didn’t. Like it or not, everyone is going to know about the two of you now, including Melanie who had told you not to interact with Harry after the party expressly. “Shit,” You say, and your phone begins to ring the sound of Temporary Fix filling the small backyard.

“Fucking Melanie,” Harry says, still lying on the ground, “She’s going to ream me.”

“Well at least she’ll do it to both of us,” You groan, not even bothering to go and get your phone. You stand up, as a tension headache begins to form in your temples, “Well I’m going to get into the pool.”

“Now?” He asks you. “Seems like the perfect way to avoid this problem, doesn’t it?”

He also gets to his feet, and takes your hand, “Yeah it does.”

And together the two of you jump into the pool.

It’s an hour before you finally call Melanie back, even though you meant to avoid it for at least another hour. You sit at the kitchen counter while Harry takes a call in another room, dreading this call because you do not want to hear her yell at you for nothing, mostly because you're a grown woman and are above being lectured.

“Were you just not going to tell me about this?”

“Yes, that was the plan.”

“I told you not to-”

“Yeah but I had already made plans by then that I couldn’t cancel.”

“There was one man in the entire world, who you couldn’t fuck-”

“I know, what are the odds?”

“Could you please stop fucking with me for one second?” She says, “This is serious.”

“It’s not that bad, for you I mean.” You shrug, “I mean for me my personal business is all out on the internet now and I’ll be permanently known as one of Harry Styles’ girlfriends but for you what’s better press wise than a good ol enemies to lovers arc? I won’t tell anyone the enemies part wasn’t real if you won’t.”

You hear her sigh from the other end of the phone, and then tap her nails against the desk. “You might be onto something there.”

“I’m always onto something Melanie, I’m the artist here aren’t I?” And you hang up, before you say something that you’ll regret. You’d meant what you said, you were mostly just uncomfortable with everyone knowing who you're dating, especially the harry twitter stans who are known for being very excitable to say the least, you could see why they liked him so much but you would be lying if you said they didn’t scare you. You think of all the interviews you’ll do in the future where people will ask about him, about your relationship and maybe about how it ended.

Harry comes back into the kitchen and grabs two beers from the fridge. He opens both and sets one out in front of you. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” You say. You look at him, “Is this the part where we break up because you can’t be seen with me?” You put your face into the counter and let out another groan.

“Never,” He says, taking a drink, “No one else I would rather weather this shit-storm with.”

You smile, “Same here.”

#guys.. I wrote this so fast #it only took me two days #which makes me nervous that it's bad because it was so fast #but anyway #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction

255 notes · View notes