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russett-pots · 2 years

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Always with Family: A Tale of Being Alone Together

Nagai Hina

Words: 2.8k

Merry Christmas Everyone! The last fic of the year then I'll have my break.

I really want to say thank you to @iznsfw for really helping me get started on writing. Merry Christmas to you and to everyone. I hope you'll enjoy this.

“Merry Christmas, Sumit!”

“Merry Christmas!!!!”

“Merrrrry Christmasssss”

A few words of the rookie group, Lighsum, for their fans as they say goodbye. Their Christmas vlive just finished. All the members are happy with the successful broadcast, waving and joyfully smiling back at the camera. Typical stuff happened; they just played games, sang songs, and occasionally responded to the comments. But of course, the girls themselves enjoyed the show.

You stand there, the one in charge of the camera. Counting down with your fingers,

Three

Two

One

Click!

That’s the end of the show.

“Okay, girls, that’s it.” You nod to them that the camera is off.

Nayoung cries, “I hope sumit will be happy with that,” jumping up and down with hands wiggling.

Tightly grasping her hands, Juhyeon replies, “I think they did. The comments were nice.” praying that it did go well.

Then, a small Japanese girl jumps in front of you. “Hi, Oniisan, Merry Christmas!” She gives a sudden, friendly hug to you.

You return the favor, embracing her with all your might.

“Hina, you have to practice your korean!” you scold her

She just laughs back, “Okay, ‘Oppa’.”

That is Hina. The one and only member from Japan. It is no secret that you are good friends with her, and everyone in the room knows that. She is very fond of you. Always telling you her secrets, especially her struggles of being an idol, notably an idol from Japan. You also always give her the small thing she asks, well you do for everyone, but Hina always asks from you and only you. Both of you have had this special bond with each other. Maybe it is the small age gap between the two of you. Perhaps you are the only person who can speak Japanese to her. Or it is something else.

“Okay, we need to pack up now. Girls, your schedule is first thing tomorrow morning.” Your senior instructs everybody. She looks at you. “Is it alright if you bring them home tonight? Once you are done, then you are free to go home.”

“Yes, ma’am!” accepting the job, knowing the day is finally done. Time to relax during Christmas eve.

“Can we hurry up?! My family is waiting for me. We are going to have a special dinner tonight.” Huiyeon pleas, being excited and all.

“Okay, girls, let’s go to the car.” you struggle to say, carrying all of their heavy bags containing gifts that fans mailed.

The girls stroll to the car, hopping up and down, chatting about how much how they’ll enjoy their Christmas, except one.

“Did you receive what you wanted, Jian?” Yujeong asks.

“I hope so. There are plenty of gifts under my Christmas tree.” Jian sighs, drained from today.

Grabbing something from her bag, Chowon chuckles as she takes boxes for everyone. “I hope you like this. My mom made cookies!”

“Wow! I love cookies.” Sang-ah exclaims, delighted about the food. ”Mmmmm, delicious,” grabbing one to take a bite.

But there is Hina, trying her best to smile once she receives it.

As all the members get inside the van, Hina opens the front door quietly and sits shotgun with you. Her eyes are on the ground, her head leaning on the window and letting go a deep breath as she takes her seat.

You leave her alone to give her some space. But all the other members just are at the back, chatting about how they’ll spend Christmas with their families. You drive, but it gets tricky once the girls start looking back and passing gifts around for each other. Hina joins them, but once her turn is over. She goes back to her vegetative state of isolating herself from everyone.

With bringing them home:

First with, Jian, not much to note; then Huiyeon. You see her run to her front door, waiting for her parents to open it. She cutely waves with a broad smile at the others before being let in. Next, Chowon walks to her old brother waiting for her in their apartment lobby. He wraps his arm around her and gives her a gift as they go inside.

Each member gets dropped off, meeting their family members as they arrive home. Hina stares at them, envious, as each member meets their family.

Lastly, it is Nayoung. She runs to the arms of her father. He swings her around joyfully, finally seeing his daughter for Christmas. He pats her head as she presents him the cookies Chowon made for everyone.

Then, Hina is leaning on the windows with tears rolling off her soft cheeks. It hurts that she cannot see her family members while in Japan. It hurts more than she sees people have what she doesn't. She sits and sobs. You can’t do much but just be there for her.

“Hina…are you alright?”

“I’m…fine. I just miss my family.”

You go off, but Hina remains quiet and sits there staring out of the window, wondering when is the next time she’ll see her mom.

“Hina, I’m sorry you can’t see your family.”

“It is okay, Oni- sorry, Oppa. It isn’t like you can do anything about it.”

Sitting there speechless, you know she is right. But you think of something for her.

“Maybe a video call will be okay for tonight?” you propose

Hina’s face is lit up by your idea. The thought of seeing her mother’s face is maybe just enough. She turns on the camera and uses her phone to do a short chat with her mom.

A/N: From here, Japanese dialogue

“Hi, mommy. I miss you!” Hina says, already crying at her phone.

“Oh my baby, how are you?”

“I’m fine, mom. We just had our vlive!”

“Oh, I’m so happy. I wasn’t able to watch it. I’m so sorry.”

“It is okay, mom. I am just happy to see you right now. Oh, here is one of our managers. Can you say hi to him?”

You wave them off, trying to keep your eyes on the road. “Oh no, Hina, I shouldn’t. I’m driving.”

Despite your objections, she points the camera to your face.

With one hand on the wheel, you use the other to push the phone to a more reasonable distance. “Hello, ma’am Nagai.”

“Hi! Hina told me a lot about you.”

You sit there silent.

What did she say?

“Hina said you have been very nice to her.”

Thank God

“Yes, ma’am, she has been very behaved.”

“That’s nice to hear. I have to go now. Hina. I still have work to do. it is nice to see you!”

“Nice to see you too, mom.”

“Love you, Hina.”

“Love you too.”

*Call ends*

A/N: Japanese ends

“Are you happier now, Hina?”

“Very.”

You pull over at their dorm.

“So, this is your place.”

Hina slowly starts crying again. Tears again are rolling down her eyes.

“Hina, what’s wrong?”

“Oppa, are you doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing, my roommates are out of town, and my family is still at Busan. Why?”

A gentle smile emerges. “Do you want to stay over?”

You sit there confused. Hina is still someone your company entrusts you to watch over. But she is your friend. Then, it dawns on you; she’ll be sad and be alone for Christmas eve.

“Hina, Umm, are you sure it is okay with you?”

“It is okay with me. We can watch a movie together. I’ll try to prepare something for dinner. I’m not the best cook, but I can make something for the two of us.”

You are hesitant. Imagine being caught at the dorm of the idol.

“Sure.” Making Hina happy is worth the risk.

She claps in cheerfully, knowing her friend will be with her for Christmas.

You pull into the garage and park.

“Thank you, Oppa.” Hina gives a quick peck on the cheek and exits the van.

You get off yourself. Hina then leads you to their dorm, up the elevator, down the hallway in front of the door.

As she lets you in, you see clutter around the living room; “Sorry, Oppa. If it is messy.” She quickly tries to pack up all the clothes around and fix all the hangers in the rack. “Do you want to watch the movie first? I know this nice romance movie.”

You really cannot object. The point of you being there is to make sure Hina would be happy, and if that’s what will, then it is.

“Oppa, You can be comfortable on the couch while I’ll change.”

Sitting there and checking out their place, it isn’t much. Just the usual. Kitchen with a small dining room at one side. The other is the living room and the racks and racks full of their clothes. Down the hall are the different bedrooms and the bathrooms.

Pops out Hina wearing these skimpy shorts, showing her thick thighs and a shirt that can hold her sizeable breast as much as it can. “Hi, Oppa. I brought a blanket just in case. We’ll get cold.”

She turns on the TV, opens Netflix, and puts on her favorite movie. You both sit there and watch. The film is a typical rom-com. But at least it is engaging enough for you. She adjusts the small blanket, pulling you closer to her. If you look down, you can already see her cleavage. Being the naughty girl, she isn’t even wearing a bra to cover her nipples.

The kissing scene comes up. You look at each other. Hina’s plump lips staring at yours. Slowly your cock hardens, popping up on the blanket. She knows it is there but ignores it. You look down at her chest. It is pressing up against you. Like in the movie, as soon as the main characters kiss, you do too. Passionately going in her mouth, then your tongues connect.

You push her down on the couch without breaking the kiss. She moves your left hand to feel her firm breast. You straighten yourself on top of her, allowing your other hand to rub on her already wet crotch. Putting the right hand inside her panty-less shorts, you insert your finger inside her slit, massaging her insides.

Hina moves her fingers on each button of your shirt, undoing each of them. Your chest, now unveiled to her, gets softly scratched by her fingernails. Her hand goes down to the top of your pants and invites itself inside. First touching the tip, the gentle rubs down to the base.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask.

“Never been more sure.” excited about what’s about to come. Suddenly, Hina removes her shirt and shorts all at once.

“Hold on, slow down.” you chuckle a bit.

Gradually removing your shirt, you dive down to Hina’s crotch, smooth-clean shaven. Breathing on it tickles Hina a bit, but regardless you lick it. Her wet juices are on your tongue. You lookup. Hina’s eyes are closed shut, but you know she enjoys it. You lick her clit, but this time your finger enters. It repeatedly shoves inside, smoothly passes in and out. The variations of you moving inside of her force Hina to scream. She grabs onto your hair as her climax approaches.

“Shit! Fuck! This is good!” Hina exclaims.

Without warning, she squirts all over her thighs, your face, and your hair. Panting, her hair messed up, Hina looks down, tired.

“Your turn?” she turns her head, eyebrows raised.

Hina stands up and walks between your legs, giving you a quick kiss on the lips before going down. Your pants are still the barrier between her and what she wants. She unbuttons the top. You can hear the sound of your zipper down as well. Gently, your pants get dropped down until to your ankles. Her hands make a line through your skin. The tip of your cock is already peeking out of the top of your underwear.

“Oh, hello there.” Hina looks excited, wanting to taste the long snack underneath your boxers.

She pulls down your underwear the same way with your pants to expose the long, hard, girthy cock. Rubbing her hands on your skin again, the tingling sensation makes you wiggle yourself, shaking the whole length side to side. Hina chuckles for a bit.

“Oppa, does it always do that?”

“Only if you are playing with it?”

Amused with your answer, Hina dives in, first with the tip. Kissing it, twirling it with her tongue until pre-cum starts to leak. Once she can taste it, she moves in. Her lips encircle the entire circumference. After going down halfway, she gets up, leaving her hand to stroke it.

“Is that it, Hina?”

“Of course not. Just wait.”

After taking a deep breath, she engulfs it. The entire length. Her tongue wraps around it. Your face can only express one thing, pure pleasure. The whole combination of her tongue, lips, and her hand playing with your balls sum up her technique. Your eyes open wide, your voice moans, and your back sinks deep. She increases her vigor. Taking an extra inch every minute.

Your legs shudder. The pins and needles feeling runs up until your crotch. Hina’s breast presses against your crotch as her weight pushes down on your thighs. You grab on to her hair, the grip getting tighter with each suck.

“Hina, Hina, you are too good….”

“If you want more… you know what to do.”

You ponder what she means. But then you know it. Your hand shoves her head down your cock. The whole euphoria is now on top of the excellent blowjob.

“Is this what you mean?”

She nods. You push her even further. The tip of your cock, now touching the back of her throat. She holds it for a good 10 seconds. Finally letting go of your grip, Hina resurfaces, all messed up from her saliva.

You want more, of course, so you pick her up and lie on the couch, facing down. With a foot on the ground and the other on the sofa. You align up your cock on her tiny pussy. Teasing her at the beginning. Hina can only moan and chuckle at all of the sudden action.

So you push in. Entering it, you can feel how it narrows as you move deeper. Hina's pussy pulsates from all the excitement. Then Pull out coated with all of her juices. You thrust in again, pushing in all the way, going as deep as you can. Grabbing onto her hips for stabilization. Instead of pushing in, you pull her closer, in and out. Those painful thrusts make her scream in agony.

“Hina, you are so tight… I can’t stop.”

“What are you waiting for? I also want more.”

Those words only mean one thing. You have to speed things up. The movement of your cock gives you great pleasure. Hina's screams begin to fill the room as your moans echo around. You breathe heavier as you move faster.

You toss her over, her eyes facing yours. Hina laughs as you resume smashing her. Soon, the laughter returns to screams of pleasure. You grunt faster as Hina constricts you. You push in deeper and faster to yours and her delight.

The telephone starts ringing despite it asking to be answered. You continue to smash Hina harder as her moans mask the sound.

“Oppa, I should get it?”

“Just…leave…it…I’m… almost…done.”

It continues to ring. But you ignore it. The only thing in your mind is Hina and how to make things feel better. But you start to think where would be a good idea to finish. Breast? Ass? Face?

“Hina, where do you want it?”

“Inside Oppa. I want it inside.”

Soon you can feel it; the climax is close. You thrust in faster, moving in and out to speed things up. Those efforts are in no vain. Hina orgasm again and moan for the last time. While you gush out everything inside as Hina wished. You both simultaneously finish at the same time. But you still slowly moving inside to squeeze out every drop in her.

Exhausted, you fall down and lay on top of Hina. She moves to go on to of you. You kiss, still feeling her breast and her leaking cunt.

Suddenly the door swings wide open, Nayoung comes in.

“Hina, I just forgot something.”

All three of you stare at each other. You and Hina look at Nayoung in Horror. Nayoung stares at the both of you, naked and finished all over each other.

“Umm, Unnie. It isn’t what you think.”

“I definitely am thinking correctly.” But her tone changes quickly. “You know, Oppa, Hina. I was always jealous of you two.” She inches closer, unbuttoning her shirt. Standing right beside you, “I know you are close. I didn’t know you were this close.” She leans in to peck you on the lips. “Is it alright if I join you?”

~The end

#lightsum smut #kpop smut #Nagai Hina #Hina smut

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

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The Waiting Game

Warnings: tickling, fluff

Word count: 3200

I'm not as happy with how this one came out as the last two, but if I keep thinking about it I'll never post it so... hope it's alright!

* * *

You knew you shouldn’t tell anyone. You knew there would be consequences. But it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

You had been taking care of your friend’s pet hamster while they were away for the weekend. For the most part, you’d kept it in your room in its cage to avoid bothering the others with all the noise it made overnight, running on its squeaky wheel at all hours. When everyone else had left the compound for the day, you decided the poor animal could use some real exercise. You had placed the critter in his little hamster ball and brought him to the common area so he could roll around freely.

Except, the little door that closed the ball wasn’t latched all the way. Oops.

Before you knew it, you were crawling around on your hands and knees trying to locate your friend’s pet. You left little snacks out around the room in hopes it would get curious and come out of hiding to munch on something. You were so focused on the task at hand you hadn’t noticed Loki had entered the room, until you heard his voice behind you.

“What in the norns are you doing?” he inquired. You turned to look at him, just as you saw a little fuzzy creature tear across the room and right in front of the dark-haired god. He let out a somewhat undignified yelp as he jumped back. Luckily, the hamster stopped at one of the treats you’d left for him, giving you ample opportunity to scoop him up in your hands. “W-what is that?”

“This is my friend’s hamster!” you explained, giggling at his reaction. “The better question is – what was that noise you made? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this little thing?”

“Of course not! It merely startled me, is all,” he quickly insisted. You held the hamster out toward him, and Loki took a nearly imperceptible step backward.

“Mmhmm, ok. Not scared. Got it.” Grinning, you moved your hand back and petted the hamster gently on the head. “What would the others think if they knew you a tiny little rodent made you freak out?”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “Never speak of this,” he demanded, pointing a finger firmly at you to emphasize. He quickly left the room after that, likely to regain his composure.

But you couldn’t just not tell anyone about this gold nugget of information you’d just learned. So, naturally, you told his brother. And Thor, not one for keeping secrets, told everyone else. Needless to say, there was quite a bit of teasing over the next couple of days. You steered clear of the god, knowing he would not take kindly to your having informed the rest of the team about the little incident.

You couldn’t avoid him forever, though. A couple days later, after having returned the pet to your friend, you were making breakfast for yourself in the kitchen when Loki’s voice echoed from the doorway.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, his tone ominous. You turned from the stove to meet his eye, smiling sweetly to mask your nervousness at being confronted by the trickster.

“No, of course not! We just haven’t crossed paths,” you fibbed. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes – I suppose yesterday in the hallway you just realized you forgot something SO important you had to literally sprint in the opposite direction as you saw me approach?”

“Oh… alright, fine. Yes, I’ve been avoiding you. Wouldn’t you do the same?” Loki stepped into the kitchen, taking a few gradual steps toward you.

“You must know there are consequences when you cross me,” he warned. “You humiliated me, and so I think it only fair I do the same to you.”

“Well good luck with that, I’m an open book. There’s no secrets you can use against me,” you quipped.

“You see, I thought that may be the case, so I started querying the other Avengers,” he explained, now standing only a few feet away from you. Instinctively, you put down your half-cooked breakfast and took a step away from the advancing Asgardian. “Most of them had fairly useless information – scared of spiders, fairly standard human weakness… sleeps with a stuffed bear, which everyone already seemed to know about…”

“Please. That’s not embarrassing,” you huffed.

“…and then I spoke to the spider child. He provided me with some very interesting information about you.” Loki smirked, causing you to laugh nervously.

“Oh, do tell,” you urged, folding your arms across your chest, and trying to play it off as a laugh of disbelief. Loki had now backed you into the corner of the kitchen, which you hadn’t realized until your back met the cold plaster of the wall.

“He informed me that the only time he’s ever seen you truly flustered and embarrassed was during one of your sparring matches, when he accidentally learned about your little secret.” Realization dawned on you, and you tensed up immediately. “He described how you’d begged him not to tell anyone, and he hadn’t up until this point. Apparently he finds me threatening, so it wasn’t difficult to convince him to start talking.”

“I-I don’t know what he could possibly be talking about,” you muttered.

“I think you do,” Loki argued. He pounced at you, lunging with his hands aimed at your sides, causing you to squeak and curl into yourself. His hands stopped inches away from you, close enough that your skin tingled from sheer proximity to his fingertips. “You’re ticklish. Severely, based on that reaction.”

“Pshh, no I’m not! That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you denied, your lie exposed by your nervous giggles and blushing face.

“Mmhmm, I’m sure.” His hands darted toward your belly, again stopping right before he made contact. You yelped and whipped your arms down across your torso to protect yourself. Loki’s smirk only grew wider.

“Ok, fine. You’re right. Just… get it over with!” you begged.

“Oh no. Where would be the fun in that?” he chuckled, stepping back and allowing you space to move away from the wall. “I’ve got to build some anticipation. Catch you when you least expect it.”

“That’s just mean!” you groaned. Loki laughed again, turning around to leave the kitchen. Just before he left, he called over his shoulder.

“You’d better watch your back.”

* * *

Loki’s little game went on for days.

You were on edge at any given moment. Peeking around corners before entering rooms, listening through doors before opening them, trying to ensure your safety before making a move. You half expected him to jump out of nowhere and attack you with tickles on your way down the hallway, but it never happened. Still, you made your travel between rooms as brief as possible.

You wouldn’t say you were dreading the moment he finally did decide to pounce. In fact, in a way the idea made your heart flutter with excitement. What made you most nervous was the thought of the team figuring out you actually enjoyed being tickled, especially Loki. You were certain that that would be the embarrassing part. That, and the fact that you were already flustered by being around Loki long before he figured out this bit of information about you.

You couldn’t always avoid him. There were times that you had to be in the same room for prolonged periods, like during meetings. Loki always seemed to have things set up before you arrived so that the only seat remaining in the room was next to him. You considered sitting on the floor, once, but Steve gave you a scorning look which made you shrink down into the chair beside Loki, albeit begrudgingly. During these meetings, Loki always made sure to keep you on your toes; leaning towards you abruptly and placing his hand on the back of your chair, making you jump, only to whisper something about the meeting presentation, or some ridiculous observation about his brother.

It wasn’t just during work-related gatherings, either. One night, you joined a few of your teammates in the common room to watch a TV show together. Wanda stood up from the couch beside you to go grab a snack from the kitchen, and out of nowhere Loki swooped in and sat down in the spot she previously occupied.

“Good evening,” he greeted you, smirking as you shuffled further toward the edge of the couch to increase the distance between the two of you.

“Loki,” you grunted stiffly in reply.

“Now, y/n, that’s no way to greet your fellow team member,” he scolded tauntingly, clapping a hand on your shoulder, and causing you to flinch away reflexively. He leaned back against the couch, casually propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of you – a stark contrast from your position, huddled in the corner of the couch hugging your knees to your chest in an effort to make yourself as small as possible. “Pray tell, what are we watching?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you huffed. Maybe this whole situation was making you feel a little bratty toward the Asgardian, but in all honesty he really did deserve it.

Suddenly he lunged toward you, causing you to squeak and jolt away from his fingertips. He never touched you, though, closing his fingers around the TV remote sitting on the couch beside you with a smug grin on his face.

“My, my, aren’t we jittery this evening?” he teased, settling back into his seat as he pointed the remote toward the TV to check the guide and find out the show title you had refused to provide.

“Everything alright over there, antsy-pants?” Tony asked, having witnessed the whole interaction.

“Yup! Just peachy,” you replied quickly, shooting Loki a quick glare.

“Peachy? Uh… alright then…” Tony scrutinized you for a moment before turning his attention back to the TV screen.

Needless to say, you didn’t really remember any of the rest of the show from that evening.

Then, as if these group gatherings weren’t enough, there was also your regularly scheduled training sessions. One morning, when Nat had you practicing throwing punches at the punching bag, you sensed Loki lurking around behind you. You turned your head just enough to catch him in your peripheral vision standing a few feet away, observing you silently.

“Better watch yourself – I might just throw one of these punches in your direction,” you threatened, keeping your eye on him as you continued to practice.

“Such hostility,” he teased. “Surely this much stress can’t be good for a mortal such as yourself.” He quickly advanced toward you, causing you to spin around and throw your hands up in front of you in defense. A deep, throaty laugh escaped his lips at your reaction. “You’ve only proven my point. You must learn not to be so tense.” He grabbed hold of your shoulder and turned you around, kneading both shoulders with his strong hands. Under normal circumstances, you’d have melted under his touch, but you were unwilling to let your guard down even for a moment. You grabbed his wrists and turned back to face him, pointing an accusing finger in his face.

“I’m not just going to let you slip past my defenses that easily,” you warned, stepping backward toward the door to leave while he smirked at you in amusement.

“Oh, don’t worry - I’m certain of that.”

* * *

After a week of this charade, you were really getting anxious. You were starting to flinch at every little sound, every rapid movement anyone made in your direction. Even when it wasn’t Loki you were interacting with, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The anticipation was literally driving you insane.

You entered the training room that morning ready to release some of your stress in your sparring session. Unfortunately, Steve had started noticing over the last few days that you and Loki were in the middle of some sort of conflict, and so he assigned the two of you as sparring partners, telling you to either fight it out or get over whatever it was. Reluctantly, you stepped out onto the sparring mat and faced your opponent, already starting to feel nervous butterflies in your stomach. Loki shot you his characteristic mischievous smirk, ducking into his fighting stance.

“I’ll do my best to make this a fair fight,” he goaded. You mimicked his stance, narrowing your eyes at him across the mat.

“Just get on with it, Loki,” you ordered. You didn’t wait around for him to make the first move, throwing a quick one-two punch which he dodged easily. He countered with a jab toward your ribs, stopping just before he made contact, but it was enough to make you flinch. You aimed a low-sweeping kick at his ankles but missed again as he hopped over your leg. Frustrated, you threw another sloppy punch toward his shoulder, but he grabbed hold of your wrist and yanked you toward him, spinning you around easily and pinning your arm behind your back, his other hand gripping your waist.

“Do you yield?” he asked, his voice low in your ear. You spun back around and yanked your wrist free in one fluid motion, driving him backward by slamming your forearm into his chest.

“Not just yet,” you grunted, grinning as he stumbled from the unexpected force. Loki quickly regained his balance, wasting no time in lunging at you again. This time, he aimed his hand toward your side, causing you to yelp and twist awkwardly to avoid his touch.

“Did Natasha teach you that move? Your form is getting sloppy.”

“You know exactly what made me move like that,” you muttered, jumping back on the offensive and landing a couple of blows to his shoulder. He retaliated with a jab straight at your stomach, stopping his own momentum early enough that he merely tapped his fist against your belly. You doubled over, wrapping both arms around your torso protectively.

“It seems your fighting skills require quite a bit of work.”

“Damnit, Loki!” you shouted, unable to take it anymore. “If you’re going to do it, just do it!”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean. You’ve been finding every excuse to lean toward me or make a sudden move in my direction to make me think you’re going to do it. I can’t stand it anymore!” You didn’t quite realize how loudly you were shouting at this point, causing heads to turn in your direction without your noticing. “I know this was all part of your grand plan, to drive me insane with anticipation. You win! I give! Just… get it over with already, please!”

In one swift motion, Loki tackled you flat on your back onto the mat, arms pinned over your head. You felt your stomach somersault, partially from the sudden drop to the floor and partially from the wide smirk on Loki’s face as he hovered over you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Loki released both of your wrists and latched both hands to your sides, squeezing rapidly. You burst into uncontrollable laughter at the agonizingly ticklish sensation. Even Loki seemed somewhat taken aback by your reaction. “No wonder you were so concerned; the spider boy certainly wasn’t lying.”

“Damn you Peteheher!!!” you groaned through your laughter. At this point, everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing to see what the sudden commotion was about. You could feel your face burning, knowing everyone’s eyes were on you as Loki tickled you senseless.

You couldn’t bring yourself to fight back very hard, though; after all, you’d been waiting for this to happen for an entire week. You hoped it didn’t seem too obvious. You didn’t dwell on it for long, though, as Loki’s fingers crawled up to your ribs, depriving you of all coherent thought.

“Do you regret spreading humiliating rumors about me yet?” he teased, his smirk widening.

“N-no!”

“Tsk, tsk, wrong answer, darling,” Loki shook his head in mock disappointment, his hands darting back down to your sides so he could dig his thumbs into your hips.

“Lo… Loki… wahahait!” you pleaded, shrieking at the new sensation, and swatting feebly at his hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m not comprehending what you’re trying to tell me.” He was laughing now, clearly enjoying himself as he made you squirm under his torturous fingers. “Come, now, darling; I know you can fight better than that.” You shook your head rapidly, grasping weakly at his wrists. He moved to scribble lightly into your belly, trying to allow you the chance to talk while still keeping you giggling. “Use your words, love.”

“I-I cahahan’t!” you protested.

“You can’t? Or you’ve chosen not to?” Your eyes widened a bit, realizing he’d caught on to you. “Are you enjoying this?”

Blushing furiously, you rolled abruptly to the side to break his hold and scrambled to your feet, gasping for breath. Loki stood as well, staring you down for just a moment before lunging toward you. You turned and began to run, but the god easily caught up to you, grabbing hold of your arm and yanking you backward so he could trap you in what you could only describe as a bear hug.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Um…” Your heart was pounding in your chest from both exertion and embarrassment. “No? That would be… that would be weird.”

“On the contrary; I find it amusing. Dare I say… endearing, even.”

“Really..? Are you sure-” You were cut off by your own hysterical laughter as Loki dug his fingertips into your ribs, tickling you with renewed vigor. With your arms pinned to your sides and your back pressed flush against his chest, there was very little hope of you escaping this time.

“Surely you understand the implications of this newfound knowledge, dear? You’ve provided me with the perfect excuse to torment you whenever I’d like.”

“Stohohop teasing… LOKIHIHI!” you pleaded, your knees going weak as his fingers darted up and down your sides. You’d completely forgotten about everyone else in the room at this point, your mind going fuzzy. The only thing keeping you standing upright at this point was Loki holding your weight up as he tortured you.

By the time he released you from his hold, your stomach hurt from laughing so hard, and tears of mirth blurred your vision. It had been quite some time since anyone had tickled you like that. Heat still prickled in your cheeks, but you felt happy, nonetheless.

“Damn. Now I know how to cheer you up when you’re moping around the tower,” Tony quipped, walking past you and patting your shoulder as everyone finally returned to their own training exercises.

“Shut up, Tony,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. A swift poke in the sides made you jerk both arms down away from your face.

“I do believe we’re even,” Loki stated, smirking.

“Fine. We’re even. Now – can we finish our sparring match? Without cheating this time?” You shoved his shoulder playfully to emphasize your point. He only grinned wider.

“Darling, I refuse to make promises that I don’t intend to keep.”

#loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #marvel tickle #tickle fic

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

Count the Shadows - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where Bucky wants you to sit on his face.

Warnings: smut, a more dominant reader than I’m used to writing, pining!Bucky, all of the good stuff, second hand embarassment

A/N: so... this is a gift to @navegandoaciegas. She gave me the idea for the Graveyard series ending, and that actually inspired me to keep working on that fic that was supposed to only be a oneshot and then became the pride of my eye. I hope you don’t mind that I’m dedicating this to her 😅 It also allowed me to explore some new kinks that might be appearing thanks to her writing and so really, I felt like this had to see the light of day. But really, if it weren’t for @world-of-aus, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog and @awesomerextyphoon‘s support, I probably never would have had the courage to publish it, so thank you guys so much!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Friday nights at Stark tower meant that something out of the ordinary was about to happen, and I’d already grown used to it, after being a part of the Avengers for the last two months. However, that didn’t mean that the prospect of a night planned by Tony Stark didn’t bring me a hell of a lot of anxiety, to the point where sometimes I’d catch myself wishing for a simple recon mission to take me away for the weekend.

Despite all of my fears and discomfort, I’d been lucky so far. Not once had his attentions turned towards me, and he never even so much as called me to dance with him during one of the raves he liked to organize, so I was able to slip by unnoticed, seizing the opportunity to drink the good (expensive) booze and talk to my friends before retiring for the night.

By Wednesday that week, it was clear that the same couldn’t be said about the next event he’d be hosting.

“Say, Y/L/N, have I thrown you a welcome party?” Was my rude awakening on that fateful morning. Until his arrival, I’d been happily whipping up some pancakes for the supersoldiers and Sam, my morning run partners. The moment his question was processed in my brain however, I froze on my spot, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, now, don’t give me that look. When have I ever thrown a bad party?”

Bucky choked on his coffee, and I immediately was by his side, lightly tapping his back to help him. “I guess this answers your question,” I joked, but with a serious face. Unfortunately, Tony simply rolled his eyes, too used to Bucky and I’s “antisocial behavior”, like he usually described, to give us any attention. “Okay, so maybe not bad, but if you’re going to throw a party using me as an excuse, I have at least one request. And it’s a dealbreaker for me.”

Something in my words truly interested Tony, because instead of brushing me off he actually turned to face me, raising his eyebrows in expectation. “So what you mean is that if I don’t give you what you want, you won’t join the party?”

I nodded, standing my ground. “That’s right.” Next to me, Bucky stood straighter in his chair.

“Neither will I.” That brought a smile to my lips, and I turned to hug him quickly.

“Thanks Buck,” I whispered in his ear, relishing in the way he always held onto my embrace just a second longer than I expected. It was always like this with us. Ever since I first noticed just how touch-starved the super soldier was, I’d find little excuses to touch him. And if I ever doubted my first assumption, the way he always chased away my warmth for just a second longer was enough to prove to me that I was doing something right.

“Very well,” Tony said after clearing his throat to regain my attention. “What’s your request?”

“Only the people who live in this tower can be invited.” I was expecting a lot of fuss from the billionaire, but surprisingly, all I got was a disappointed sigh.

“Figured as much. Okay, big shot. But here’s the deal: you’ll have to stay the entire night and participate in every game we decide to play.” I shrugged, taking a sip of my coffee. That sounded fair. “It’s a deal then! All you have to do is be here on Friday night, capisce? Don’t be late.”

I should have known something was up back then, but as it were, I was just happy that I was able to stop him from filling the Tower with people I didn’t know. Not only would it help to keep Bucky relaxed (and perhaps even allow him to enjoy himself for once!), it’d also help to keep myself relaxed.

I’d never been one to enjoy big crowds, and I especially didn’t want to celebrate joining the team with people who weren’t even a part of it. It made sense. So when Friday night rolled around, it found me in a way better mood than I expected. I even accepted Nat’s suggestion and let her pick my clothes. I was feeling so great, in fact, that I felt bolder, brave enough to accept to wear a satin red dress with a deep neckline that seemed to be able to attract every man’s attention upon seeing me.

Even Bucky seemed drawn to it. And I couldn’t deny that knowing I held that sort of power even to a man of his caliber, a man that attractive, made me feel even braver. But with braveness comes stupidity, and I was brutally reminded of that fact by Tony’s smug face when I heard the dare he had for me.

Listen, I would have never accepted the idea of fucking truth or dare if it wasn’t for this stupidly sexy dress. I mean, the powers that clothing can have… They can make you blind with clout. That’s the only way I could justify what happened next.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I argued, much to Tony’s (and the rest of the team’s) amusement. Each and every single one of them looked at me with barely contained laughter, with the exception of Bucky, apparently.

“Careful, sweetheart… The dare’s already on and that wasn’t very sexy of you.” Narrowing my eyes at him, I very carefully thought out my gameplay here. I could very well retreat to my bedroom and go to sleep. But then again, this whole night had been so fun, and Tony had been really nice to abide by my wishes to only invite people that I knew…

“Fine. I’ll spend the rest of the night being as blunt as possible as I hit on you guys. After all, this is probably the only way you’ll ever get to hear me talking dirty, huh?” And with a wink in Tony’s direction, I resigned myself to face the challenge ahead. “So, let’s get on with this orgy, shall we?”

Bucky’s P.O.V.

It’s not that I was jealous. Of course, I wasn’t jealous. It’s just… hearing her say those things in front of everyone else made my blood boil like nothing else. I knew it wasn’t my place to feel this way. It’s not like she owed me anything, much less attention. As much as I wanted, she wasn’t mine, or even close to that.

Despite being head over heels in love with her, I still hadn’t gathered enough courage to even ask her out for a cup of coffee - or anything else, for that matter. And the worst part was that everyone but her seemed to know about my feelings. Which made this whole night even worse, since I was pretty sure Tony had done all of this on purpose.

So I had to sit through a lot of “Oh, please fuck me”, and “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed,” none of which were addressed to me - and those were the least graphic ones. I couldn’t really blame her, since I hadn’t spoken a single word from the second this whole dare started, but still, I was sulking, and I knew it.

In fact, I was so lost inside my own head, that I didn’t even realize what had happened when she asked “Do you want me to sit on your face or what?” (which I’m pretty sure was directed to Sam) until a heavy silence took the place of the animated chatter that had been going on. Imagine my surprise when I realized everyone was staring at me.

“What?” I asked, my heart already beating out of control, looking from one face to the other in the hopes of grasping what I had lost in the conversation.

“You just said you wanted Y/N to sit on your face,” was the response I got, from no other than Sam himself, and if my heart had been pounding on my chest only seconds before, now it felt as if it had stopped altogether.

“You’re crazy,” I tried to joke, trying with all of my might not to look at the woman who was staring at me. I could feel her gaze on my face. It burned and I ached to look, to see what sort of expression she was wearing, but my anxiety was just too strong - stronger than my curiosity ever could be.

“I wish I was, man. But you literally just answered ‘Please sit on mine’ when she asked if she could sit on my face.” I was going to die. I was sure of it. My face felt so warm, there was no way I wouldn’t just spontaneously combust any second now.

The worst part was, I knew Sam was telling the truth. Because those were the precise words I thought the second that I heard the offer leave her beautiful lips. And now I didn’t know what to do.

“Fine, your room or mine?” She broke me out of my self-deprecating thoughts, surprising me so much that I automatically raised my eyes to meet hers, finding her looking down at me with a mischievous smirk on her lips. Was she joking? Was this part of the dare?

The room erupted on laughs and I forced myself to join them, praying to whoever was available up in the heavens that they would let me be and thankfully, soon enough, the conversation smoothly transitioned away from me and my stupid malfunctioning. Y/N didn’t look in my direction again, which helped with my task of trying to get my breathing pattern into a normal one once more, and in a half hour people were breaking up into small groups and going back into their own rooms for the night.

I figured it was safe to do the same. So I got back to my bedroom’s floor with my hands buried deep in my pocket, trying to figure out what the hell had happened that night, when the door to my room suddenly opened and a tiny hand wrapped around my wrist, hauling me as best as they could into my own living quarters.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Bucky looked beyond surprised as he stared down at me with his mouth hanging open. I was tempted to tease him about letting flies in if he stayed like that, but I didn’t want to make this any more difficult for him than it clearly already would be. To be honest, I also had no idea how I’d been able to move that mountain of a man.

“What are you doing in my room?” Oh, right. That’s what he was concerned about. Fair enough.

“I wanted to show you something.” By the way he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally being able to say anything else, it was clear that it wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but then again, he obviously wasn’t expecting me to be in his room.

“W-What?”

I grinned, immediately curling my fingers on the edge of my dress before promptly pulling it over my head and sending it flying across the room. Bucky’s jaw dropped, and it only made my smile grow bigger as I quickly got rid of my bra before finally doing the same to my underwear.

“What? Did you think I would let you suffer?” The poor thing, he didn’t seem capable of answering at all, eyes the size of plates as he stared at my naked body, practically drooling. I ran my hands over my breasts, cupping them slightly before trailing further down.

“Did you think I’d let Sam learn what my pussy tasted like? Or Steve? No, no, no, James. This is for you and you only.” Burying a finger inside of me, I made sure to let out my loudest, most pornographic moan as I slowly thrusted it once inside of me before raising it to his face.

“See how I’m soaked? I always get like this when I’m near you.” Bucky actually whimpered, knees faltering for a second as he reached out to grab a hold of himself with the wall next to us, and I laughed before raising a challenging eyebrow in his direction. “What are you waiting for? Get on your knees.”

My breath hitched as I watched the mountain of a man before me literally do exactly that, hypnotizingly staring at the space between my legs before slowly meeting my eyes with a look of pure need in his perfect face. Jesus. How the fuck was I supposed to control myself when he was looking at me like that?

I had gathered the sense that Bucky wanted me, that much became clear tonight, but I had no idea the extent of his desire until just then. Until he looked at me with pupils dilated from under his stupidly long eyelashes, breath coming out from his open mouth like he was desperate for me, desperate to taste what I had to offer.

He looked like he would do anything I asked him to in that second, and the feeling of power that thought gave me left me horny as nothing else. So my first order of business was to command, “Eat me.”

The second the words were out, it was clear that was all he was waiting to do what both of us so clearly wanted. Two strong hands grabbed me from behind and with that grasp of my ass, he pulled me to him until I was in fact seated on his face, wholly dependent on his muscular body to keep me up.

“Oh God,” he was the one to whisper, and a shiver ran through my body as he licked my pussy from clit to hole before diving in as if he was determined to rid me of all of my wetness - knowing fully well it was an impossible task.

Bucky Barnes didn’t need any guidance in the art of eating pussy, that quickly became clear to me, but I still felt the need to grab a hold of his hair just to help keep myself grounded into the reality of this moment. The way he moaned against my cunt at the action, the vibrations running through my body and making me tremble on top of him, certainly didn’t make me regret any part of my decision. It was clear he liked that sting of pain.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

I was having a hard time believing this was really happening, even though I had Y/N’s completely naked body on top of me, her cunt spread open by my own tongue, her juices covering every inch of my tongue. I couldn’t even convince myself to close my eyes to fully enjoy her taste, too preoccupied with memorizing every little thing about this moment.

And the second she opened her eyes to find me already looking up at her, I was particularly glad for my decision, if only because I got to witness the delicious smile that took over her beautiful face before she grinded her pussy against my lips.

“Fuck, you look so good like this. I could get used to this.” A jolt ran through my body at the implications of what she was saying. Before I could even fully process it, I was already responding with the only thing that occupied my mind then, “Please do.”

If I thought I would scare her away with my desperation, a delighted giggle immediately managed to calm my nerves. “Do you always say what you’re thinking?” She asked, still rubbing herself against me, so it took me a while to be able to moan against her wetness an honest, “Yes.” When I did though, the vibrations managed to be exactly what she needed to gush her release onto my waiting mouth, making me growl in excitement. She was so fucking sweet. My cock was so fucking hard it hurt, but all I could think about was how much I wanted to pleasure her, how much I never wanted this night to end.

Unfortunately for my plans, she decided to climb down from me, eyes drinking my kneeling position while she caught her breath for a bit before she threw herself on my bed, feet on the mattress so I’d get a perfect vision of her perfect pussy. Hypnotized, I didn’t even notice I’d gotten up and approached her until her voice broke me out of my reverie.

“Would you like to take a picture?” I knew she was joking, but there was no way I’d miss the slightest possibility of getting at least a permanent reminder of this night, so I answered as truthfully as possible yet again, “Of course. Would you let me take one?”

I was expecting her to laugh it off and move this along, but once more her answer surprised me. “Only if you promise me you won’t use it to jerk off to.” The confusion must have been clear in my expression, because she quickly added, “That’s what I’m here for.”

My heartbeat picked up as I struggled to process her words. “D-Does this mean you’ll want to do this again?” I watched as a small smile grew on her lips and she sat up on the mattress before reaching out to me.

“Every night, if you’ll have me.”

Another moment of silence as I struggled to accept that this was real, that this was really happening.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t contain my delighted giggles at the lovestruck expression on Bucky’s eyes. But my need for him was growing deeper every second, so while he stared I reached out for his jeans, quickly managing to unzip them and push them down until I could wrap my hands around his member.

“Jesus, you’re so hard.” Even without any actual stimulation, apparently just giving me pleasure was enough to get him ready for me. I could barely wait to feel his cock inside of my pussy.

“I-I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered while climbing on the bed and settling between my thighs. “I’ve been dreaming about this for the longest time.” Gosh, could he be any more perfect?

“Well, it’s happening now, James. Please, please, fuck me. I need your cock in me.” His lips looked wet from our earlier activities, and my gaze immediately fell on them when he gasped at my words and the feeling of his cock rubbing on my pussy. When I positioned the head and pulled him closer to me, signaling what I wanted, he followed without any resistance, his entire body trembling as he struggled to keep himself up with both hands on either side of my head.

“You’re doing so great, baby. God, it feels so good to be with you like this.” Apparently, Bucky grew tired of fighting against his own body, since he allowed his massive frame to fall just over mine, resting his forehead on mine.

“Fuck.” Hearing the word whispered so close to me, his warm breath dancing over my skin, while he was effectively about to do just that, felt incredibly arousing for something so small. “It’s like I can’t get close enough to you.”

In the search to feel more connected to me, he finally started thrusting, and then it was like I’d forgotten to speak altogether. Only able to hold tight to those shoulders that tempted me for so long, I struggled to keep the moans and whimpers inside so I could continue to hear the little breathless whispers that he was releasing, almost like he was speaking to himself…

“So wet…” It all only made me more desperate for the enchanting man on top of me, so beautiful, and yet so insecure of his own allure. I hoped after tonight he’d start understanding just how attractive he truly was, at least to me.

“Bucky…” I managed to whisper, calling out for his attention and earning it when his eyes snapped open to meet mine. “Bucky, kiss me.” I needed to feel those lips against mine, to have that one sweet gesture of entwinement that we still hadn’t shared. Apparently, he felt the same need, because in a second, he was onto me, mouth slowly prying mine open so his tongue could explore yet another part of my body that now belonged to him.

By then, he couldn’t contain his moans anymore, and I was grateful that I was still able to keep mine low so I wouldn’t miss the symphony of whimpers and whines, especially after he pulled away to catch his breath and his eyes met mine.

“Fuck, darling…” Each sound from his lips made my pulse grow quicker, my body warmer, that incredible high closer and closer to me. And still, because I needed to tease him, I found myself saying, “For someone who was so embarrassed about the team knowing you wanted me, you surely can be loud.”

Bucky hid his head on the crook of my neck, making goosebumps rise all over my body as he rubbed his nose against my skin, breathing me in. If I thought it was a gesture of shyness, his next words assured me that wasn’t the case at all.

“I want them to hear. I want them to know I’m yours.” The confession had the fire of desire burning brighter inside of me, and my hands slipped around his back, certainly leaving nailprints behind.

“Oh, is that it? You’re mine now, James?” The thought thrilled me to no end, but I needed him to say it, not only because I wanted to be sure there was no uncertainty in his feelings for me, but also because it made me even weaker for the soldier and the dominance he had over my body.

“C-Can I be? Please?” There was so much vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes that the only answer I managed to give at first was the connection between our lips again, pulling him down to me so our bodies were completely glued to one another once more. My fingers buried in his locks, I pulled on them when I needed to gather some air, and finally give him an actual answer.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“Hell fucking yes. We’ll be the hottest couple on Earth.” A shiver went through my body at the realization that she truly wanted this, that she truly wanted me. A sound escaped my lips before I could realize, and in fact, I only noticed it because she broke me out of my reverie by saying, “You know, everytime you whine, I have the overwhelming urge to just tie you down to this bed and give you a reason to do so.”

Shit. This woman made me weak. And the moment I lost control of my own weight, she took advantage of it, inverting our positions so she was the one on top, while managing to keep my cock nestled deep inside of her.

“Do you want to cum, sweetheart?” Hearing the filthiness that spilled out of her lips only made me hotter and hotter, my hands flying up to hold her waist as she began to ride me. “Tell me just how badly you want it. Say it, or I’ll leave you right here, right on the edge of bliss, and I’ll cum on your thigh instead.”

I heaved loudly, trying to force my own tongue to work, but the sight of her breasts bouncing with her movements was too hypnotizing. I would never regain full control of my body again, I realized, for as long as she wanted to keep me around. But instead of feeling lost, like I did when the Winter Soldier took over, all I could feel was peace.

She wanted me. She wanted my body, my soul, every part of me. Despite every missing piece, every scar. Everything anyone had ever done to me, everything I’d done to so many. And I’d gladly give it all to her, forever.

“Please, please let me cum, ma’am.” The name left my lips before I could realize, but it made her smile. And right then, I knew I’d done the right thing. Her movements picked up, her hand searching mine to guide my thumb to meet her nub, and as soon as I started rubbing it, she gasped in the most melodic of sounds.

“Cum for me, James. I wanna feel you cumming inside of me.” Jesus fucking christ. I didn’t have a choice, my body reacting to her calling like she was a siren and I was helpless. I felt helpless. It wasn’t difficult to see that I liked it, though. I liked being under her control. I liked how she pulled me apart and held me in place all at the same time.

“If you don’t take your thumb away, so help me God.” Her voice broke me out of my thoughts, realizing her chest was heaving with the effort to breathe properly now that she’d reached her climax with me. I smiled sheepishly before adjusting on the bed, right when she climbed down from my body, and a whine escaped my chest despite my better wishes, making her look at me with an amused smile.

“I’m sorry, I just… I kinda miss you already.” Her smile grew bigger, her eyes twinkling under the moonlight as she leaned over me to kiss me, and I couldn’t help it. I just had to hug her closer, have her falling on top of my chest just so I could invert our positions and kiss her some more.

“I want something that’ll show them I’m yours.” I admitted once she pulled away to gather her breath, and her eyebrows rose in surprise, but also interest, I could tell.

“Like a collar?”

“I was thinking more like a love bite, but I don’t mind.” Her giggle was the most adorable sound in the universe, I was sure of it.

“Baby, I’ll let you fuck me in front of them, if it’ll help your insecurity,” she soothed me, and the thought of having everyone see us together, fully understand that I belonged to her, electrified me. “You’re mine now. You can be damn sure if anyone tries to flirt with you, they’ll have to deal with me. And I’ll make sure they know I’m yours and only yours if they try to chat me up.”

The thought made me smile, and I laid back on the bed and pulled her to rest against my chest, my hand instinctively coming up to play with her hair. “I can get used to that.” We stayed like that for a while, just breathing in each other’s presences, relishing in the comfortable silence between us, until I felt the need to break it.

“Can I kiss you again?” I felt her smile against my skin, before she pushed away to reach for me and connect our lips once more. God, I don’t think I’d ever get used to knowing I could have this anytime I wanted. “One more,” I begged when she pulled away, and she pretended to think for a moment before shooting me a mischievous grin.

“Only if you come fuck me in the shower.”

The only thing I could think to say in response, as I watched her strut in the direction of the bathroom, was “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

#my fics #bucky barnes smut #smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes reader inserts #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes oneshots #I'm gonna reblog it with the taglists later

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sugamamacustard · 3 years

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Two for One Special!

Pairing: Alpha! Tendo Satori x Omega! Reader X Alpha! Nishinoya Yu (Poly!)

Genre: Fluff

Request: Heyo! :3 could I request a omega!reader where they’re kinda in a love triangle between two alphas of your choice? But then they kinda compromise and end up being in a poly relationship? Fluffy or not is up to you! -Mochi

Summary: You weren’t even a manager. You were a medic for the Nekoma team and yet, you still caught they of not one, but two, powerhouse alphas. What could go wrong, right?

Author’s Note: This is literally the rarest rare pair to ever pair but I think they’d make a cute couple??? Like, their energy just looks like it would be compatible. idk, i just want a fic with these two, 🥺 Also- hi Mochi! :DDDD Also also- I thinking of changing my banners, any idea on what kind of aesthetic I should change them too? Or like a new website to make them on? Idk anymore.

Requests: Open!

Satori Tendo & Yu Nishinoya

➵ “Tetsuro Kuroo!”

➵ You weren’t necessarily scary in the grand scheme of things, but when you were armed with not only a med pack, but a rock fucking hard ice pack?

➵ Terrifying.

➵ The head alpha was shivering just thinking about it.

➵ They were at a training camp where every team in their precinct was forced to go, and while they were in the middle of a practice match against Fukorodani, Kuroo had landed on his ankle wrong.

➵ You were the resident medic-- as one of your relatives was a paramedic and you were well versed in the world of medical needs.

➵ So you were the nurse for Nekoma, and apparently every other volleyball player.

➵ You didn’t mind though.

➵ You were happy to help. Even if sometimes, you felt the injuries were a little... overplayed.

➵ You checked over Kuroo’s ankle quickly, placing the ice pack against it and helping him off the court. He’d be fine, but better to be safe rather than sorry.

➵ He’d rest it for the rest of the game and be as good as new.

➵ You continued explaining why he needed to rest, unaware of the eyes watching you.

➵ “Tanaka, we’re bros, right?”

➵ Looking over, Tanaka raised a brow at Noya. “Last, I checked, yeah?”

➵ “Good, good. Can you do me a favour?” Noya now looked up to him, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint.

➵ “I...can? Depends on what it is-”

➵ “Punch me in the face.”

➵ “What-”

➵ “Please. Tanaka. Your my bro, Ryu. Punch me in the face.”

➵ At this point, even Daichi was looking to Nishinoya, raising a brow.

➵ “You know, getting Kiyoko’s-”

➵ “Daichi, it’s not Kiyoko anymore.” Noya clasped his hands, holding them up to his cheeks as he fluttered in a weird, love induced fluke. “Have you seen Nekoma’s medic?”

➵ There was a moment of- what the fuck that rushed over the court, making Daichi face-palm.

➵ Tanaka was busy cheering that he had Kiyoko to himself, but Noya didn’t care.

➵ He just needed to get you over here some how.

➵ “A shrimp like you? Thinking you have a chance?” The tall middle blocker of Shiritorizawa sneered.

➵ Tendo had been watching you as well, eyes careful and locked on.

➵ “What’s it to you?” The libero growled, making Tendo snort a laugh.

➵ “I mean, just looking at the grand scheme of things, do you even stand a chance?” It was mean, yes, but Tendo wasn’t a nice person.

➵ The libero winced. “Of course I do. I’m not watching her like some sort of stalker.”

➵ Shit. That one hurt. Tendo let out a warning growl, this time actively being aggressive towards the much shorter alpha. He didn’t back down, growling right back.

➵ No one knew what to do except watch. If they interfered now, that could result in a full blown pack fight. Karasuno vs. Shiritorizawa would turn very ugly, very quickly.

➵ “Hey! If you two knotheads are done stinking up the gym, why don’t you continue on with your game, huh? Other teams need the court.”

➵ All heads snapped to you, silently praying for your, probably now limited, life.

➵ You stood with your hands on your hips, one jutted out. You looked bored with having to yell at the alphas, but knew it had to be done. Like a tired mother.

➵ To everyone’s shock, both backed down, grumbling under their breath as the next set was set back up.

➵ You knew this was far from over, but shook your head at the small bit of peace you had for the moment.

➵ Even if you had to hit Kuroo when he started cackling.

___

➵ You knew the peace wouldn’t last long. The minute the game was done and you were alone filling water bottles, the two were hounding you.

➵ Asking you questions about your life at Nekoma, you, your life, everything.

➵ You answered them, occasionally asking some back, but it was obvious you were focused on the water bottles.

➵ Then the fated question came.

➵ “Can I get your number?” “Wait-no, me too!”

➵ You rolled your eyes, giving them the digits before turning and leaving.

➵ That was probably your first mistake

➵ You were constantly bombarded with texts to the point you just made a group chat with the two of them and let them figure out their own rivalry.

➵ That turned against you as well.

➵ Since now, they weren’t fighting, they were teaming up against you.

➵ “I’ll beat up those deadbeats if you need me too.” “Without me? For shame, Noya.”

➵ “Paradise, you are literally the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen.” “Step on us.”

➵ “Okay, but like, what if- hear me out- we stole the horses from Shiritorizawa, and totally went princess bride on you?” “Well guess what buddy boy. I got an extra uniform to sneak you in and I know the horses by name.”

➵ Yeah. You didn’t know what was worse. Having two alphas pinning after you or having both show up on horses, dressed in the most ridiculous outfits you’ve ever seen.

➵ As annoying as they were though, you grew closer with them.

➵ You all would take turns travelling to the others during the weekends, grabbing lunch, coffee, whatever was suitable for the time you guys met.

➵ While you didn’t pursue a relationship immediately, by the time you all were in University, you were mated to them and happy.

➵ You were making plans to live in Paris, where Satori could pursue a career in chocolate, Yuu was finishing up a photography degree where he would also get a good lift off in Paris and you were finishing your residency at a nearby hospital, planning a wedding in your free time (With the boys helping every step of the way)

➵ Life was good, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

➵ “Hey, if Tanaka actually punched me, would you have helped me?”

➵ “I would’ve laughed at you and threw an ice pack at you.”

➵ “Mean, baby, so mean.”

➵ “Aw- I totally could’ve gotten Ushiwaka to hit me back then. Smart thinking, Yuu.”

➵ “Please don’t feed his ego.”

➵ “EGO IS ALREADY FED BABY-”

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gentrychild · 3 years

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Hey. Hey Gentry. Wyvern!AfO getting hit with Eri's Rewind so he's tiny hatchling, but still has all his memories.

(The Muses wanted Deaged izuku instead... Sorry, @proclaimersofheroes)

All Might had tears in his eyes but he was starting to stay strong and not to succumb to unnecessary emotions… No, that was it, he was crying. Midoriya Izuku, proud wyvern, somewhat okay squire, watched the Symbol of Peace break all composure and cry.

“You’re so cute,” the eighth One for All holder sobbed.

Izuku, currently lying in the fireplace, the flames a warm blanket over his juvenile scales, flicked his tail, unamused.

That was apparently not the thing to do as all of 1-A, All Might, Shinsou and Eri cooed. Everyone except Kacchan, who had his back against the wall, as far as he could physically be from Izuku. His unease didn’t make sense, though, not when Izuku was far smaller than that time where Kacchan had damaged part of his hoard and Izuku had amicably tried to eat his face.

He deserved it. Hoardbreaker. Worse than a thief.

Ashido even started to reach out, remembering at the last second that Izuku had set residency inside the hearth. The best decision he had taken in the past hour as, when people had calmed down then calmed down Eri, everyone seemed to have mistaken him for a plushie.

He didn’t fail to notice how no one wanted to cuddle when he was his usual size. It was all “Midoriya, don’t sleep on me, you’re too heavy.” “Midoriya, don’t pounce on me, it’s scary to see a predator do that.” “Midoriya, don’t even think about –AAAAAAAAAH-“ or “Is it breakfast time yet… DRAGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON! – Oh, sorry Midoriya, my brain thought you were about to eat me.”

But as soon as he was the size of a young cat, no one seemed to be able to keep their hands to themselves!

“Traitors,” he muttered under his breath in Draconic, not because he didn’t want to be heard by his classmates but because his wyvern throat couldn’t speak Common.

Of course, All Might picked on it –the Supreme knight had to know all the basic languages- but curiously, that made him smile. Izuku wondered why, was distracted by some fireproof fingers that wanted to tickle him and which were about to be bitten off when Aizawa barged into the house they were borrowing, on the outskirts of the village.

And he was bringing a full rabbit!

Yaoyorozu took a step back when she saw it.

The best in teacher in the world, the man that Izuku loved very much, knelt by the fireplace, worry all over his face. Izuku immediately decided that this man deserved half of the rabbit. Or maybe a quarter. He was a growing reptile.

“Midoriya, do you feel warm enough?”

“Sensei, he is literally standing in fire.”

Aizawa turned towards Kaminari and whatever the Roc bird saw inside his bloodshot eyes made hm take a step back, his hands raised to show that he wasn’t a threat.

“Young draconics imperatively need to be kept warm,” the teacher explained, managing to make it sound both like an impromptu lesson and a threat at the same time. “If he was a dragon, he would need to be kept in a bigger dragon’s mouth. If he was a wyrm, he would need to be buried in a warm soil and also to be underground. But since he is a wyvern, I have no idea of how to take care of him!”

According to his dad, young wyverns had to be kept right under their father’s wing and to stay right there during the entire winter instead of hiding under piles of gold and playing with cursed objects. However, since Sensei seemed a little stressed, Izuku decided not to tell him that.

“And worse, if anything even slightly reptile shaped learn that we have a hatchling…”

“NOT A HATCHLING!” Izuku hissed.

“… here,” Aizawa continued. “They will bring chaos and destruction in their wake to rescue him. With a little luck, they might even eat me and stop putting me in situation where I have to set a student on fire.”

All Might patted his colleague’s back. “It won’t last. It’s a matter of days at most. We just have to get him to that Fallen in Tartarus who can age people and all will be back to normal.”

“I doubt it will be so simple,” Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the perspective of things coming back to normal wasn’t as relaxing as one would have thought. “She is locked up for life. How are we supposed to convince her to help?”

“I was planning on biting her ankle until she used her blessing on me,” Izuku informed him.

Aizawa blinked.

And before he could say anything else, the sound of the bells. One ring, that echoed from the entire village, for the bells of the temple ere either used to celebrate or to warn everyone of a danger.

One ring for something roaming in the woods, that wouldn’t approach as long as you were with the rest of group, safe with the rest of your people, everyone with one hand or their pitchforks. Two for a Fallen, enough for a knight to intervene. Three for something worse. Four for when you had no other choice than to hide into your house and to pray that the law of hospitality and the sanctity of the threshold would be enough to keep back the force whatever was passing through.

And if you had offended it, curse on you and your blood for bringing back a calamity to your home.

Izuku, just everyone, counted. One. Two. Three… Four… Five?

In all his life, he had never heard of five rings.

All Might rose to his feet, the goofy teacher gone, replaced by a knight about to go on a hunt. His sword started to sing, a low hum that Izuku could only hear when he was wearing scales, and that made him want to hide far back in the fireplace and not to come out.

The sound of wings covered it and a shadow fell over the village, whatever was flying above them high enough to obscure the sun.

A roar followed. But of course, that word wasn’t enough to convey how that sound felt. Coming from such a massive beast, it was a force, something that could be felt to the inside of one’s bones, bringing memories of dark nights back when men were powerless and the predators knew it. It was mighty on its own but just a shadow of what had created it, a warning for what was to come.

Students whimpered. Aizawa grew pale, gulping down, afraid but refusing to show it. All Might’s hand clutched the sword at his side until his knuckles became white.

And Izuku left the warmth of the fireplace, barely paying attention to it as he had recognized the presence far above them.

“Oh, my dad is here!” he explained.

He flew out, snatching the rabbit Aizawa was still holding because it would be a shame to waste it, and he left by the opened door. The least he could do was to greet his dad. Maybe they could share the rabbit.

In any case, he didn’t want his dad to see his classmates and his teachers.

For now, he didn’t need to know Izuku was a squire.

#wyvern au

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thebigbadbatswife · 3 years

Text

One Single Thread Of Gold Tied Me To You

Summary - Everyone is tied to their soulmate with a red thread tied to their wrist. All except Y/N’s, who’s thread is gold. Tired of waiting for her soulmate to come and find her, she decides to go and find them. It doesn’t go quite how she expected it to.

Warnings - A little angst

[A/N] - This is a soulmate au where you and your soulmate are attached by an unbreakable red thread (or, in this case, gold), tied to your wrist. This was inspired by the song 'Invisible String' by Taylor Swift.

Word Count - 4k

As the early morning sun slowly filtered into your room, through your blinds, you carefully examined the thread attached to your wrist. Everyone had one; it was your link to your soulmate. Yours was different to everyone else though. While everyone had red, yours was gold. As you turned your wrist, it caught the sunlight and glistened a little.

Everyone you knew had always been fascinated by it. As was nearly every stranger you met. Why was it gold? What exactly made you and your soulmate so different to everyone else’s? Questions you had often asked yourself as well. Why were you two so different?

Your family had a theory that whoever it was, they were rich. Very rich. That was surely the reason it was gold. Nothing else made sense to them. Meanwhile your friends were completely convinced that your soulmate was some kind of God.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s the only thing that makes sense!” Tracey said before taking another sip of her third glass of wine. Her usually bright emerald eyes were glazed over from all of the alcohol. “Why else would it be gold?”

“You gotta admit, Tracey might be drunk right now, but she has a good point!” Skylar joined in. She took her brown eyes off the blonde and looked over at you before continuing. “Oh! What if your soulmate is like Wonder Woman or Superman or something! How cool would that be?”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your own glass of wine. “Stop it. You’re both being ridiculous,” you had told them because they really were being ridiculous. There was no way your soulmate was a member of the Justice League, let alone an Amazonian Princess or the Man of Steel.

You were, of course, curious of your soulmate yourself. Who wouldn’t be curious of the person they’re destined to end up with? But you didn’t think up the crazy theories your friends and family liked to come up with. Instead you wondered things like, what kind of hobbies do they have? What’s their favourite colour? What type of music do they listen to? Were they a cat person or a dog person? And other things like that.

Another thing about the thread that tied you to your soulmate was that, while everyone could see the thread around your wrist, only you and soulmate could see where it led. While you had always wanted to follow it, you had decided that it would be better to focus on having a decent job and place to live first.

During that time a small part of you had hoped that maybe your soulmate would come looking for you, but since they clearly weren’t, maybe you should? After all, you had a well paying job and a great apartment, so why not? Every job was legally required to allow people time off to go search, so that wouldn’t be an issue. It was paid time off as well so you didn’t have to worry about money. You also had a car so you wouldn’t have to spend a shit ton of money on travel. At least, you hoped you wouldn’t. In truth, for all you knew, your soulmate could be in a completely different country. Now that would certainly complicate things.

Shaking that thought away (because there was no way fate could be that cruel), you got out of bed and set about putting the wheels in motion that would allow you to start following your thread

‘ Welcome to Gotham City! ’ the sign read as you drove past it. When you had told those close to you, your plan, they had been super supportive. Now, if they knew where your thread had lead you, you doubted they’d be as supportive. Hell, even you were rethinking things now. Out of all the cities for your soulmate to be in, it just had to be this one.

How did you know it was this city that they resided in and it wasn’t just another stop along the way? It was hard to explain, but you had a feeling deep within your gut, almost like a sixth sense that just yelled “Yep! This is the place!”.

You felt extremely uneasy as you drove through the city. It was night-time as well which did absolutely nothing to help. Honestly, of all the times to arrive in Gotham, night-time was definitely the worst. Well, there was nothing you could do about that now, you just had to keep on going, so you did.

The golden thread snaked through the gothic city and went from the “posh” part of the city all the way to the worst part of the city. The buildings were run down and most of the windows were boarded up. Each turn you took there were shiftier and shiftier characters on every corner. You started to get the feeling that you really shouldn’t be here. Plus you were starting to wonder if you really wanted to know who your soulmate was if they were hanging out in neighbourhoods like this.

You brought your car to a stop in front of a particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway. A particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway that your golden thread lead straight into. Coming to this part of this city was already a bad idea. Continuing to follow that thread to what had to be your certain doom was even worse. Yet, at this point in your mission, you were pretty much committed.

You couldn’t help out a quiet and very nervous laugh as you climbed out of your car. ‘ This is fucking insane ,’ you thought as you stepped out of your car. Before shutting and locking it (though you doubt that would do much to protect it in this area), you grabbed your pepper spray. ‘ I really hope your worth all this .’

As you followed the thread down the alleyway, you heard a sudden loud bang. A gunshot. You stopped in your tracks and you could feel your heart pick up its pace. Your thread lead in the direction the shot had come from. ‘ I really hope you weren’t involved with that .’ Taking a deep breath, you continued down the alleyway.

The alleyway lead out onto another street. There was a small crunching sound as you stepped out onto the street. Taking a step back, you looked to the ground to see what you had just stepped on. The ground was littered with small shards of glass. Looking up, you figured the shards of glass were from the bulbs from the streetlamps. Something had broken them. It didn’t take you long to figure out what, or rather who ,was responsible.

Further down the street, taking on group of ten men, was none other than Gotham’s Caped Crusader. The Batman.

You quickly ducked back into the alley you had just left. You then carefully peered around the wall, so you could watch the fight. You were well aware of the fact that your thread was leading straight toward the fight. Which meant that your soulmate was involved.

You watched the fight intensely, both intrigued and terrified to figured which one of the men was on the end of your thread. There was a voice in the back of your head praying hardcore that it was the hero in the centre of the fight.

Batman was a blur of black and dark grey as he rapidly made his way through the group of men. With a variety of different punches, kicks and gadgets, he made short work of them. During his combat flow, you followed your thread with your eyes and a small gasp left you as you realised who the other end was attached to.

Holy fuck. You’re friends had, kind of, been right. While your soulmate wasn’t Wonder Woman or Superman, like they had suggested, he was apart of the Justice League’s ‘Big Three’. Your soulmate was Batman . At least now you knew why he hadn’t come looking for you. He’d been busy saving the world.

Now you had to figure out how to approach him before he ended up disappearing into the night.

Exiting your cover, you took your thread between your finger and thumb and gently tugged on it a couple of times.

Batman looked at his end of the thread curiously as your tugs had gotten his attention. Then his head drifted upwards, following where it lead till his eyes settled on you.

If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. He just stood there, his eyes never leaving you. Part of you wanted to cower away from the intense stare, but you willed yourself not to. He was your soulmate, and you weren’t a criminal, you had no reason to be afraid.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, finally ending the silence between you. His voice was deep and almost robotic sounding. Probably some sort of voice modulator to help hide his identity, you figured.

“In Gotham? Yeah, this place really sucks,” you replied, thinking about all the things you had heard about this city, “but I came here to find my soulmate; to find you.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice was sharp and serious as he spoke. He also sounded irritated at your sudden appearance, which caused you to frown. That couldn’t be right… could it?

“What?” You hated how meek and pathetic your voice sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy moment? One of the happiest in your life in fact. Instead you felt like you were being scolded rather than meeting the person who was supposed to be your other half.

“I didn’t want to meet you. Now I suggest you go home. It’s not safe here.”

What? You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. There was pressure behind your eyes and your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath as you took a step backwards away from him. It quickly sunk in that the man you’d been destined to be with, the man you had thought about since you were old enough to understand the concept of a soulmate, wanted nothing to do with you.

“I-I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Your voice broke as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. You weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. You then turned around and ran back toward where you had left your car.

As fast as you could, you started your car up and made your way to a safer part of the city. It didn’t take you long to find a somewhat empty parking lot to park in. Once the engine was off, you screamed and aggressively slammed against the wheel as you let the tears freely fall.

You felt like a complete and utter fucking idiot. Of course he didn’t want you. You’d probably just get in the way of him saving the world or something like that. Besides, what was that article you had seen a few months ago? Something about Catwoman and a relationship between the two? While it happened very rarely, some people in the world had been known to reject their soulmate because they had found someone they deemed better. Is that what had happened? Whatever the reason, you could feel your heart breaking.

You had used to think that, out of all the members of the Justice League, Batman had been one of the cooler members. Now all you could think was that he was a massive jerk.

Maybe it was your own fault for romanticising the whole thing and thinking that your meeting would be something out of a fairytale. Apparently fate was far crueller than you could have ever thought it to be.

Bruce watched as she ran away from him, back down the alleyway she had come from. A small voice in the back of his head told him to go after her. To grab her, hold her close and apologise, tell her that he hadn’t meant it. He ignored it and headed off in the opposite direction, back to where he had left the batmobile.

Over his comms, he heard a barely audible sigh and he could easily picture his butler and lifelong friend shaking his head in disappointment. No doubt he was going to get an earful once he got back to the batcave. Well it certainly wasn’t the first time.

As the batmobile pulled up in the batcave, he could see Alfred waiting for him. ‘ Here we go ,’ he thought as he got out of his car and removed his cowl.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he stated as he walked past him and toward the batcomputer. He set his cowl down on the desk. Even as the words left his mouth he knew he had wasted his breath. If there was one thing that Alfred had done consistently since Bruce had started down this path, it was letting him know when he disagreed with something he did.

“Was that really necessary Master Bruce? She’s come all of this way…” Alfred started, but ended up trailing off. There was a small moment of silence before he continued. “You know, I remember a small boy who couldn’t wait to go out there and find…” Before he could finish what he was saying, Bruce promptly cut him off.

“What would you have me do, Alfred?!” His voice echoed off of the cave’s walls and disturbed some of the bats still hanging on the ceiling. Bruce gestured toward his equipment and the display cases that held some rather badly damaged batsuits. All of them testaments to injuries that had come far too close to killing him. “Would you really have me force this life on to her? The dangers, the no guarantee I’ll come home…” He took a deep breath and rested both his hands on the surface of his desk. “She deserves so much better.” His voice was quiet, but still easily heard in the, almost, silent cave.

“With all due respect, sir, I believe she should be allowed to make that decision, not you,” Alfred replied before leaving the batcave, not giving Bruce a chance to respond.

He looked in the direction of the stairs that lead up into the manor. The direction that Alfred had headed in. Was he right? Should he be leaving it up to her to decide what she wanted? But with all the dangers he faced nightly… No, it was better for him to stay far away from her.

Over the following week Bruce found himself distracted. It didn’t matter where he was, what he was doing, he couldn’t focus. And considering what he did once night fell over Gotham, to say being unfocused really wasn’t good was a complete understatement of the situation. He had been having far too many close calls recently.

He couldn’t get it out of his head. The way she had looked at him as he told her he didn’t want to meet her, that she should leave. Alfred’s words echoed in his mind and he found himself questioning the decisions he had made that night. Something that Bruce rarely, if ever, did. Everything he did was meticulously planned and there was never any doubt when he made a decision. Was this what happened once you met your soulmate and rejected them?

Bruce was sure that the rest of the Justice League had taken notice. With how off beat and slow to react to certain things, it would be hard not to. Of course, if they had, none of them had mentioned it to him. Apparently they knew better. For the time being, at least. He was sure it wouldn’t be long before they did try to pry into his personal life.

Which lead him here. On the roof of the building opposite of Y/N’s apartment building. He hadn’t needed to do any extensive research to find her, or learn her name, because he had been in this exact spot a couple of years ago.

Two years ago Bruce’s own curiosity had gotten the better of him. He blamed Clark and his soulmate, a reporter by the name of Lois Lane, for it. He had seen them one too many times in the Watchtower together and had found himself wondering who exactly his soulmate was and what they was like. As a result, he had gone looking for them. Not because he wished to finally meet them, but so he could make sure his soulmate was safe and happy. And she was, so he had left. Only ever checking up on her every now and then to make sure she had stayed that way.

He looked down at the golden thread that came out of his gauntlet and lead down toward the apartment he’d been watching. Both as Bruce Wayne and Batman he had made sure to keep it well hidden. With its unique colouring he couldn’t allow anyone to see it. It would be all too easy for his enemies to find her if they did see it.

He knew that by being here he was easily undoing everything he had done to keep her safe, but, then again, had she not done exactly that when she had tracked him down in Gotham? Besides, and while he would never say it out loud, Alfred had been right. It should be up to Y/N to decide whenever or not she wanted all the baggage that came with him being in her life. Baggage that had driven more than one person from his life…

He shook that thought from his head and got up from his crouched position on the roof. Bruce then leapt from the roof and allowed himself to fall for a couple of seconds before opening up his cape and let it catch the wind that was rushing past him. He silently glided over to her apartment’s balcony.

Y/N was in her apartment alone. She was sat on her sofa, the light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room.

Bruce was unsure of how exactly to go about this. Back in Gotham he had originally thought of approaching her as Bruce Wayne, but quickly discarded it. Bruce Wayne showing up at an out of the way apartment building was sure to garner attention. As would Batman using the front door, so the balcony had seemed to be the best option. But now that he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure it was.

Should he just knock? That seemed like the best way to go about this. It was going to scare the everloving daylights out of her, but he could deal with that.

He gently rapped the glass of the balcony door with his knuckles. As he had expected, Y/N leapt up from her seat. A bowl and the contents of the bowl followed her and scattered across her carpeted floor. She spun around and when she saw him, the look of shock on her face quickly turned to anger. Her eyes narrowed and he swore that glare would be enough to make even the toughest of Gotham’s thugs would cower at its intensity. Maybe she would deal with his life better than he thought.

After a minute of glaring at him, she turned around and walked toward the lightswitch. At the same time, she gestured for him to enter.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded as soon as he had entered the apartment and shut the door behind him. The rage in her voice was evident and Bruce was sure he could cut the tension in the room with a batarang.

“I came to apologise,” he said, his voice gentle despite how distorted his modulator made it sound. Y/N scoffed immediately. He didn’t blame her. If he was in her shoes, he wouldn’t believe him either. After all ‘Batman’ wasn’t exactly known for making apologies.

“Yeah right.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m being truthful. I… I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t right.”

“Then why did you say it?” A fair question and one he had an answer to. Before he even said it, Bruce was aware how cliché it sounded.

“I wanted to keep you safe. This life isn’t for everyone.”

“So without even meeting me, you decided that it wasn’t for me.” She shook her head. “That’s not your decision to make!” she yelled at him.

“I know. It’s been pointed out to me before.” In fact that night in the cave wasn’t the first time Alfred had told him that. “But that’s why I’m here now. To give you all the information you need to make that decision.”

You listened intently as Batman explained the dangers of the life he was leading. The dangers that effected the people in his life in one way or another. He also made it a point to reiterate the fact that when he left at night or was summoned by the Justice League there was no guarantee he would return. You asked the occasional question, but for the most part you just listened to him to talk and let his words sink in.

You got it. You understood the very clear concerns that Batman had about this whole thing, they concerned you as well, but you weren’t about to let it deter you. You wanted to know your soulmate. Even if it ended horribly, like he was saying it would, you felt it in your core that you would regret not knowing him, especially if the worst truly did happen. And you told him so.

“Even if you’re not wearing a mask, this life is dangerous. Anything can happen.”

“Anything could happen to me when I leave my apartment each day.”

The superhero life wasn’t special in that regard. As you spoke, your voice was a lot calmer than it had been earlier. In fact, as he had spoke and explained you had found your anger slowly fading. You still wanted to slap the jerk superhero before you, but that was a considerable downgrade from your overwhelming need to deck him when you first saw him standing on your balcony.

“It won’t be easy.”

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”

You admired his commitment to deter you, but it wasn’t going to work. You were too stubborn to let it. Something you were positive he was learning very quickly.

“There’s nothing I can say to convince you that this is a bad idea, is there?”

“Nope.” You made sure to pop the ‘p’.

Batman sighed deeply. You watched as he looked away from you and toward the golden thread that linked the two of you together. You could almost hear the gears in his brain turning as he thought. Then he was looking back up at you.

“In that case then.”

You watched as Batman brought his hands up to his cowl. Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as he removed the cowl and revealed his identity to you. Bruce Wayne. While you didn’t live in Gotham City, you were well aware of Gotham’s favoured son. You would’ve had to have lived underneath a rock to not know who he was.

And apparently your family had been right on the money, literally. Not that you cared about the money, you weren’t superficial like that. Personality was far more important than the material items someone may or may not have. In your eyes, at least.

You both stood in silence, his blue eyes studying you, probably trying to gauge how you were going to react. To be truthful, you weren’t entirely sure how to react. Except maybe…

“Well, it’s… it’s nice to meet you Bruce Wayne. I guess this is the part where we forget about what happened and start over?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Yeah, sure, this was probably going to end horribly, but you were looking forward to the adventure that lie ahead.

#bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne imagines #batman imagines #soulmate au #my writing

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Small Gods: Patience - 4

Patience: A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1786

Warnings: canon typical violence

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

Chapter 4

Natasha was not good at emotions. She didn’t like them - so she buried them. It was better to be the cold and heartless assassin who could be killed at any moment than to risk being hurt in a way that mattered. She shut people out and pushed them towards others so at least she could see what being happy might look like on someone else, even if she never felt it herself.

Except - Natasha was happy.

It took her a little while to realize that was what the feeling was. She recognized happiness in those short joyful bursts where she’d be with a group of people you care about and they’ve all let their walls down and just briefly she would too. That quick burst of serotonin never lasted but always felt good while she had it.

That was nothing like what she was feeling now. It was a long-term contentedness, mixed with hope, and just enough excitement to keep her interested. It was scary really. She was vulnerable. She had something to lose.

Yet all around her things seemed better. Food tasted better. Spending time with her friends felt different - she could connect with them more. Even Clint’s annoying habits seemed to lean more to funny than annoying.

The others noticed it. Sometimes Clint would flinch when he made some stupid joke - like he was expecting to get cuffed on the back of the head, and when it didn’t come he’d look at her suspiciously - almost as if he thought she was saving up to get him later.

She put it all down to you.

Natasha was falling for you. Hard. She sought you out in her free time, and you popped in her head even at awkward times like on missions. You had cracked through her hard outer shell and even though she was scared of her soft parts being exposed, it felt good.

“Nat, head in the game,” Steve shouted.

Natasha whipped around to see a HYDRA agent running directly at her. She flipped forward, kicking them in the head and then following through with her baton. The agent practically flew backward and landed in a heap.

“Nat’s daydreaming about her lover again,” Tony teased as he blasted his way through a bunker.

Natasha scowled. She had been distracted, and she had been thinking about you. This kind of grunt work always felt mindless and repetitive, like putting books into boxes. She was a spy - not a soldier and it was easy to start thinking about other things when she was doing such repetitive work, but usually, the only thing she had occupying her mind was the job and the mindless banter happening over the comms.

“Please never say lover again, Tony,” Clint teased. “That gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Thor says it all the time!” Tony argued.

“Yeah, but that’s Thor!” Clint said. “Thor can say all kinds of weird shit and it sounds good. Doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Why thank you, Barton,” Thor chuckled. “That is very flattering.”

“I’m as good as Thor!” Tony yelped.

There was a sudden group shouting of dissent and Natasha couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. She had always had such a love-hate relationship with the group’s banter during battle. It was nice being part of them, and she did enjoy dropping her own snarky comment into the mix but growing up the way she did - fights were serious - fun was for other people. It felt slightly wrong to be joking while you were also fighting for her life.

“Let’s all agree right now that no one, not even Thor mentions anything about my lovers,” Natasha snarked.

The group continued to fight, Natasha pushing all thoughts of you down and focusing on the job. By the time everyone had been arrested, the operation had been shut down and Natasha had performed the lullaby on Hulk, it was late and Natasha was exhausted to the bone.

She piloted the Quin back silently, just listening to Clint jabber away as her thoughts drifted back to you. She knew there would be a debrief to go to, but what she really wanted was to go straight to your place and curl up next to you before passing out for a good twelve hours.

She could wait. She was better at that now. Besides, it was worth the wait.

She guided the jet down onto the launch pad and as it drew the jet down into the hanger, she and Clint began the cool-down procedures. The back of the jet opened up and everyone got up and trudged off.

When Clint got up to disembark, Steve took his place. “What happened out there today?” He asked. “You nearly lost your head.”

“That’s why we’re a team, isn’t it?” Natasha asked. “Make sure no one misses anything? Get each other’s backs?”

“Of course,” Steve assured her. “And we’re all here to pick up the slack.”

“I’m hearing a big ‘but’ coming,” Natasha said.

Steve smiled and shook his head. “But…” he said. “It’s not like you, Nat. You always have your head in the game more than anyone else. You’re the one I don’t have to worry about. So when I do, it worries me. Is everything okay?”

Natasha frowned. Her head wasn’t in the game. Steve was right. She was happy and happiness meant her work was suffering.

“Everything is fine, Steve,” she said.

“You sure?” Steve said. “I’m only asking as a friend. If there was something up, I’d want to help.”

“It’s fine. I’ll sort it out,” Natasha said.

Natasha was exhausted by the time she showed up at your place. She hadn’t slept for almost thirty-six hours and she thought that she’d broken a rib in the battle. She needed to see you though. Rip it off like a band-aid. She liked you. She liked you a lot. So much that if she didn’t cut it off now it was going to turn into love and once that happened, she wouldn’t be able to do it. If she was with you, she would be worse at her job, and if she didn’t have her job, she was nothing.

She knocked on your door.

She could hear you singing on the other side and when you pulled the door open your whole face lit up. “Tasha!” You squeaked and launched yourself into her arms. She made a pained ‘oof’ sound as you wrapped your arms around her, but that didn’t hurt as much as her heart did right at this moment. You were always so cool and put together, the excitement and pure joy you expressed seeing her were too much. Natasha was going to hurt you and it was going to kill her to do it. “I didn’t know you were back. I am so happy to see you.”

“Krasotka,” Natasha said, closing her arms around you and breathing you in.

You must have heard the pain in her voice because you pulled back immediately and looked you over. “Are you hurt?” You asked, pulling her inside. “Let me get you some ice.”

“It’s fine,” Natasha assured you. “I’m fine.”

“I can tell you aren’t,” you said, guiding her to the couch and almost pushing her down on it to sit. “What do you need? Have you eaten? I can get you food. Something to drink?” You paused and quirked your eyebrow. “Earth-shattering orgasm?”

“Sit down, Krasotka,” she said. “We need to talk.”

You narrowed your eyes and took a seat, folding your arms over your chest. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Natasha nodded. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“‘This’ as in ‘us’?” You asked.

“That’s right,” Natasha said. Her heart was already hurting. She wished she was a stronger person. Someone who was allowed to have everything. Someone who could be in love and do her job. Someone who could be happy and not feel like the world was falling apart because of it.

“I supposed I should be glad you’re doing this in person,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “Do I get a reason?”

“Does it matter?” Natasha asked.

You nodded. “Yes. Because I know you’re happy when you’re with me, and I know you like me, so whatever it is, is stupid and if you say it out loud, I’m hoping you’ll be smart enough to figure that out yourself. I have faith in you.”

“I do like you,” Natasha said. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, raising your hands. “I don’t think I have ever gotten the ol’ it’s not you, it’s me before. Continue.”

Natasha was getting angry now. She had expected you to be upset, not hostile. She had prepared for tears and begging, not to be told she was an idiot. She sat up straight and folded her arms. “This is hard for me, okay? I don’t owe you an explanation. It was fun. But now it’s over.”

“And that’s that?” You said.

“Yes,” Natasha said, getting up. “That’s that.”

You stood up too, bailing her up against the wall. She was half tempted to actually fight you. If that’s what you wanted to make this, she was quite capable of kicking your ass. You brought your face close to hers, she could feel the warmth of your breath on her lips. “You’re making a mistake, Natasha. I don’t know what happened while you were gone that got you all up in your head and made you think you don’t deserve me, but it doesn’t really matter. The world is not a place of fairness or balance. It’s just random chaos and in that, you called to me and I came. You’re going to realize that breaking up is a mistake. I know you will because it is. We’re good together and you wanted me. I can wait. I’m very patient.”

A million different arguments popped into Natasha’s head but instead, she just pushed you away and stormed out. She had never felt the desire to cry as much as she did right now. Her heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces and she’d done it to herself. She walked down the street not even knowing where she was headed, all she knew was that she wanted to go back up to you and tell you she was sorry and that you were right, but her anger and her pigheadedness stopped her. There was a bar on the corner, she went straight inside. She wouldn’t cry but she would drink. Maybe she’d even find someone to take her home tonight. Right now she’d do anything to stop herself from thinking that she’d made a huge mistake.

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #patience

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alinastracker · 3 years

Note

for the prompt thing: 62 or 69 <3

you got it bb <3

prompt: I wanted to tell you that I liked you before prom but chickened out and now we’re about to graduate college and I can’t hold it in any longer

i can’t fight this feeling any longer (and yet i’m still afraid to let it flow)

"Mal, I love you."

Alina frowns, shakes her head, and tries again.

"Mal, you've been my best friend for so long, and I love our friendship, but you see, I'm also head over heels in love with you."

She blows out a frustrated breath, her newly chopped bangs briefly floating off of her forehead. Telling her best friend of nearly six years she’s in love with him should not be the number one thing on her mind right now. It’s graduation day, for Saints sake. A day she hadn’t been sure she would ever see. But all she can think about is Mal.

She had met him on one of the worst days of her life. Alina had been transferred to a new foster home in the middle of her junior year of high school. There were few things worse in adolescent life than moving to a new school in the middle of the year — especially in high school, in a small town where everyone seemed to know each other.

Alina had walked the halls that day clutching onto the straps of her backpack, late to nearly every class because her sense of direction was shit, and had even gone as far as to eat lunch in the bathroom like a stereotypical teen movie, the thought of walking into the cafeteria with all those eyes on her nearly ruining her appetite entirely. She had been stared at enough as it was.

Her last class of the day was art, and she was praying for it to be the reprieve she so desperately needed. If only she could fucking find it. The warning bell rang, heightening her already raised anxiety. Alina took a corner too fast and slammed right into a wall. No, not a wall — a boy.

“I’m so sorry!” she blurted, scrambling to her knees to help pick up the papers she made him drop.

“All good,” the boy reassured her.

Once the two of them had the papers off the floor, Alina looked up and nearly dropped them again. She was looking into the warm brown eyes of possibly the hottest guy she had ever laid eyes on. He had a strong, defined jaw, grown out hair that wasn’t too shaggy, but still long enough to run her fingers through. And Saints, his lips. She was already imagining what those lips would feel like, subconsciously licking her own.

One side of the boy’s mouth quirked up, just a hint of a smirk, like he was used to having this effect on people. Shit, had he noticed her staring? Say something, Alina.

“Um, sorry,” she managed finally, handing him the pile of collected papers.

He chuckled. “You said that already.”

She tried a laugh of her own, but it came out all wrong, choppy and nervous. “Right.”

The boy stood to his full height, and for fucks sake, he had to be tall, too? She rose from her knees and he still towered over her. It was extremely attractive.

“So you’re the new girl,” he said, not a question but a statement. “I’ve heard murmurings about you today.”

“Murmurings?”

“Nothing bad. It’s just a small town. When someone new shows up, people notice.” He smiled, stuck out his hand. It took everything in her not to think about how long his fingers were. “I’m Mal.”

She took his hand, her own so tiny in comparison. “Alina.”

“Nice to meet you, Alina. Where are you headed?”

“220B? History of Traditional Art.”

Mal nodded. “Well, I can’t say that’s a room I’m super familiar with. I’m a shit artist. These hands are much better for other activities.” Her eyes must have widened, revealing just how filthy her mind was, because he quickly added, “Sports! I meant sports!”

A look passed between them, and then they were both laughing. It felt so good to laugh after the day she’d had.

“Anyway,” Mal continued, “I can help you find your way. I might not visit the art hall often, but I know my way around.”

Alina shot him another pointed look, and Mal groaned. “My way around the school! Saints, I’m really shooting myself in the foot as far as first impressions go, aren’t I?”

She grinned, but only said, “You��ll be late for class.” The final bell was going to ring any second.

Mal waved her off. “That’s all right. What poor representation of Stag Spirit would I be if I let the new girl walk around like a lost puppy? And besides,” he shot her a grin to match her own, “we can’t have you running around, terrorizing other kids and their poor papers now, can we?”

Alina let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I said I was sorry!”

He turned, walking backwards toward the stairs. “Did you? Must have missed it.”

She shot daggers in his direction, but she smiled the whole way to the art room. The next day, she dared to actually step into the cafeteria for lunch. People were still staring, but after yesterday, she expected it. Part of her was hoping she would find Mal in the crowded space, but she doubted it would matter even if she did. After some social media stalking last night, Alina had discovered what she should have known from the start — Mal was popular. He would already have a flock around him, friends he had known since childhood, who were just like him — attractive, athletic, alien to a kid like Alina who preferred quiet cafes and sketchpads to football fields and pompoms. He had been nice to her yesterday, sure, but that didn’t mean—

“Alina!”

Her head popped up, scanning the sea of tables until she saw him, standing and waving her over. Sure enough, Mal was at a table filled with pretty, sociable looking people. But there was a space open next to him, and she realized with a little jump of her heart that he had saved that space for her.

It was the start of the fastest and fiercest friendship she would ever have. Mal was popular and sporty, yes, but he was also kind, funny, smart — and most surprising, had grown up in the foster care system, too. Alina made friends with his friends, a few of her own from her art class, but none of them matched what she grew with Mal. Suddenly she was a football field kind of girl, dressing from head to toe in school colors for each match, cheering for her best friend so loud she gave the cheer squad a run for their money. Over the next year and half, they were entirely attached at the hip.

And while it had truly started as a friendship, by the time senior prom came around, Alina had to face the fact: she was head over heels for the boy. Hell, she had noticed how attractive he was from that first fateful meeting. Mix that with how genuinely good she knew he was — how caring, how attentive, how it felt to have his head rest on her shoulder as he fell asleep during a movie; who could blame her for falling for him?

“You have to tell him!” her friend from art class, Yelena, had insisted.

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “I’ll do it at prom.”

They were going as a group — her, Mal, Mikhael, Dubrov, Yelena, and a few others from their meshed circle of friends, brought together by the two of them. But Mal had still matched his tie to her dress, a stunning royal blue. Mal had still bought her a corsage — a delicate thing of mostly blue irises, her favorite flower. He was not her date, yet in every way except in name, it felt like he was, and Alina basked in the feeling.

But as song after song played, Alina found herself backing out each time she tried to approach him. Yelena was shooting pointed looks at her all night, murmuring as she passed her, “You’re running out of time.”

Then a punky pop song came on, one of her and Mal’s favorites. She called him over. “Dance with me!” she exclaimed, and laughed as he all but pulled her onto the dance floor. Neither of them were good dancers, but they were enthusiastic, at least with each other. As the song neared its end, Alina sucked in a breath.

“Mal, I have to tell you something.”

He raised a brow, waiting for her to speak. The song ended, and their principal took to the stage. “All right folks, it’s time to announce your prom king and queen!”

Everyone was cheering and turning to the stage, but Mal was still looking at her, still waiting for her answer.

Alina opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, “Thank you for the corsage. I really love it.”

Mal gave her a quizzical look, lips tugging down — and was that disappointment in his eyes? Before she could fully read him, his face smoothed, his usual charmed smile returning. “Of course, Lina.”

“And your prom king is,” the principal was saying, “Malyen Oretsev!”

The crowd roared. Mal’s smile turned sheepish, and he took to the stage to accept his crown. Ruby was named prom queen, to no one’s surprise. Alina watched them dance together in the middle of the room to a romantic song that would now forever be ruined for her. A little later that night, Mal came up to her, said, “You can get a ride home with Yelena, right?” He motioned behind him, flushing a little even as he grinned, to where Ruby was waiting. “I’m gonna head out.”

Alina swallowed the stupid lump in her throat and nodded. Mal pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and then he was gone. She would spend the night at Yelena’s, crying on her shoulder that she had missed her chance — if she’d ever had one to begin with. Because of course Mal would choose Ruby. Beautiful, blond Ruby, much more his equal than Alina could ever be.

Graduation came, and it was happy. But in all of the pictures and celebrations was Ruby — no longer just captain of the cheer squad Ruby, but Mal’s girlfriend Ruby. She watched them partake in a summer romance that she was guiltily happy to see fizzle out once college came and split them apart. Luckily, her and Mal were off to Os Alta University together, home of the Firebirds. They forged a new friend group there: the twins, Tolya and Tamar, Nadia, David, Genya, Zoya, Nikolai. Mal didn’t really date freshman year, sticking to little flings that Alina told herself didn’t matter. In sophomore year, the tension between him and Zoya finally snapped, and the two of them had a brief . . . something together.

Of course, Alina had her own dabbles in romance — Alexei being the sweetest, Aleksander nearly making her swear off men all together. Her next two flings were with women, both because she had finally fully accepted her bisexuality and because she truly had lost trust in the male species. She even made out with Nikolai a couple times, but they had both just been using each other. They’d spent one night in a club so obnoxiously all over one another that Zoya had stormed out. Her thing with Mal had been off and on at that point, and the next morning, she texted him that they were off for good.

Two weeks later, Nikolai and Zoya were dating. Mal was single.

And still, she hadn’t made a move.

Alina stares in the mirror now, watching the tassel on her graduation cap sway back and forth. In an hour, she’ll be moving it from the right to the left and leave Os Alta University in the rear window. It hadn’t been easy getting here — nothing is easy for a foster care kid, especially one who wants to be an artist. But she’s done it. She’s graduating with top honors. Saints, she even has a job lined up. Everything she worried about growing up — making a future for herself, being swallowed by the system, figuring out who she is without the guidance of her birth parents — she has faced all of it head on. At every step, she’s run after what she’s wanted and grabbed it by the hands until it was hers.

Everything except Mal.

And try as she might, she can’t imagine a future without him in it.

He’s not seeing anyone — for now. Last night he texted her, laughing about how Ruby of all people had hit him up. She’s going to be in the city this weekend, apparently, and asked if he wanted to get a drink. It felt like prom all over again.

“Alina, come on!” Genya calls. “We’re going to be late!”

“Coming!” she calls back.

Alina follows Genya and Zoya down to the car, sits numbly in the backseat as they drive to the giant building holding their graduation ceremony.

“Look alive, Starkov,” Zoya says as they get out of the car, linking their arms. “Today is for happy things. New beginnings.”

Genya takes her other arm. “No pouting about boys unless you’re going to do something about it.”

She smiles, and for a little while, it’s not forced. There’s a rush of excitement as they walk inside and find their seats. Genya isn’t too far off from her, but Zoya’s a few rows ahead. In the rows between them, still too far to talk to but not too far to make out the back of his head, is Mal. He’s talking to the guy next to him, even though she’s pretty sure he doesn’t know him. But that’s Mal, blooming wherever he’s planted.

Alina knows she shouldn’t, but the ceremony hasn’t started yet, so she stands and calls out, “Mal!”

Somehow, he hears her over all the ruckus around them. The smile he gives her has her heart beating double time. “I’ll find you after!” he shouts back, though of course, she already knew that. Mal always finds her.

As the ceremony starts and a handful of different people come up to make speeches, she finds herself slipping into her thoughts from earlier. In her head, she sees Mal and Ruby, meeting for that drink. They pick up right where they left off. Ruby moves to the city, moves in with Mal. Alina’s there through all of it, supporting Mal like she always has, always will. On the sidelines she stays, watching him as he gets married and has ridiculously beautiful babies. None of it is real, not yet, but the thought is so painful she has tears in her eyes.

Well, at least she can blame the tears on emotional graduation bullshit as she watches her friends walk the stage, cheering for each of them even though they’re not supposed to. Tamar and Tolya, the latter looking pretty emotional himself. David, who walks quickly even though he’s probably the most awarded student of the whole graduating class. Nikolai, who dramatically presses a kiss to the hand of the Os Alta University President after she hands him his diploma. Zoya, who walks the stage as if she owns it.

Then Mal’s name is called, and she cheers so loud she’s pretty sure he hears it, if the grin on his face is any indication. Genya crosses, graceful as always. When her own name is called, she’s not expecting much. She has no family here save from the one she forged for herself. But as she walks, she can hear a very distinct cheer from a very distinct voice, and butterflies swarm drunkenly in her stomach.

In the minutes that pass between her walking the stage and the last name being called — poor Nadia —Alina knows what she’s going to do. No backing out this time.

“Congratulations, Class of 2021!”

Everyone cheers, and graduation caps go flying through the air. Alina tosses hers with everyone else, and then she takes off, pushing through her classmates as they jump and shout, running until she finds the right row, forces herself through the bodies in her way, until she’s in front of him. Until she’s found Mal.

“Alina,” he says in surprise. “What are you—”

“Don’t get a drink with Ruby.”

Mal frowns. “What?”

“I said don’t get a drink with Ruby!” she says, louder this time.

“I heard you. I’m just confused.” He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. “Why shouldn’t I have a drink with Ruby, and why did you run to tell me this right now?”

Because I’ve been in love with you from the first moment I saw you.

Because I wanted to tell you at prom, but I chickened out.

Because I’ve watched you kiss other girls for almost six years now, and I can’t stand to just watch any longer.

Alina doesn’t say any of that. Instead, she presses onto her tip toes, takes his face between her hands, and kisses him.

Mal stiffens, but doesn’t give her time to worry before he relaxes again, pulling her body against his, lifting her so she doesn’t have to stretch so far anymore. All around them are the happy cheers of a group of people at the end of one road stepping onto another. Families in the stands hoot and holler for their children, wipe tears and think, they made it.

But for Alina, it’s like being in a room where nothing exists except her and Mal, her best friend, her constant, the most important person in her life. She’s kissing him, she’s finally kissing him, and he’s kissing her back as if he’s been waiting for six years to do this, too. Like maybe he’s wanted her all along.

“Alina,” he breathes when their lips part, their foreheads pressed together instead. “Thank the bloody Saints.”

She giggles, actually fucking giggles, like a lovestruck school girl. “I’ve wanted this since prom. Before, even.”

Mal smiles, shakes his head the tiniest bit. “Me too.”

They laugh, so close that they’re breathing each other in. Two idiots, that’s what they are. But there’s no room to groan about what could’ve been sooner, no room to drown in regrets. They are young, and there is only room for joy in knowing they have the rest of their lives to make up for lost time. Starting now. Their lips meet again. Mal is steady and warm against her. He feels like home. It’s everything she’s ever imagined. It’s better.

Alina can see her future so clearly now, because she knows no matter what comes next, she’ll have Mal beside her to navigate through it.

He is all she’s ever wanted — her forever person, who won’t leave when she’s being unreasonable, who’s love is not conditional. He is all she’ll ever need.

#malina fanfic #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #writing #mine #this didn't quite turn out how i expected but then again when does anything i write lmao #just some nice sweet malina feat idiots not realizing they love each other and lots of fun pining!#I HOPE U ENJOY ANA MY LOVE #it's 2am why do i keep writing at this hour sksksk #also don't entirely know how i feel about this but it issss what it isssss #maybe one day my writing style will be everything i want it to be

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mearcatsreturns · 3 years

Note

/whispers/ So maybe I now have to ask for Ivan and the No Good Terrible Very Bad Day Attempting to Babysit a Grisha Child Who Can Summon Light and Shadow. How could this possibly go wrong.

Once again, this got long, so here's the first chapter of A Day in the Life of Ivan, Or: Ivan’s Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day.

The worst day of Ivan’s life begins years before the fateful day itself, if that’s possible. He’s grateful not to know the precise day, but he knows who—or what, rather—is to blame.

It’s the damn heterosexuals. They just won’t stop fucking, and they’ve made it everyone else’s problem now.

The heterosexuals in question are, of course, Kirigan and Alina, or as they’re known now, the Tsar and Tsarina.

&&&

About three years before the Worst Day™, Ivan is minding his own business, just trying to find some decent food after returning from a mission to the northern border. It wasn’t a bad trip; Fedyor had been with him and they’d enjoyed the opportunity to spend some time together outside the political games of Os Alta.

Nevertheless, Ivan is eager to eat some food that isn’t dried and to sleep in his own comfortable bed. He’s already debriefed with the Tsar and bathed, so he’s delighted to find it’s time for dinner. It’s to be a small group tonight, just the king and queen, Nikolai, Zoya, Tamar, Nadia, Fedyor and him. He can tolerate them all (except Fedyor, who of course is the light of his life), though Alina remains permanently on thin ice. She makes the Darkling light and happy, and it’s just unnatural.

They settle around the table and fall into comfortable conversation. Tolya is on an assignment and intends to travel to Kerch after this. Tamar and Nadia are beginning to formalize their union and are looking for a house. If their bickering and the obscene looks Zoya and Nikolai are giving each other are any indication, Ivan expects some kind of announcement from them any day. The Tsar intends to invite some dignitaries from Novyi Zem to the palace in a few weeks.

And Tsaritsa Alina is pale and...unwell. She looks queasy, and Ivan feels a moment of alarm. Grisha can’t get sick, not unless they don’t use their powers. Given that Alina is the Sol Koroleva, the renowned Sun Summoner, that seems unlikely. Few things lead to such ill appearances. Maybe some kind of poison? If she or her food are being poisoned, they need to know as soon as possible.

Ivan does his usual first step; he counts the heartbeats, checking their speeds. One, two, three, four, everyone is normal, five, six, seven, eight, nine...ah, the ninth is faint and fast.

Wait. Nine? There are only eight of them here at dinner, and the attendants have long since departed.

It hits Ivan like a lightning bolt, and he gasps aloud in shock and horror. The most reasonable explanation for the extra heartbeat and Alina’s ill looks is—oh, saints protect them all—a baby.

Everyone turns to look at him, as though he is the one who’s done something strange and dangerous.

Ivan gapes at Alina and points a finger accusingly, “You’re pregnant! With a baby!”

Beside him, Fedyor closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a sigh. Tamar and Nadia exchange a knowing, amused look, though they manage not to laugh. Zoya raises one shapely eyebrow.

Nikolai grins. “One generally is pregnant with babies, as opposed to anything else. Except perhaps with genius ideas, in my case and David’s. Alina, moi tsar, congratulations to you both.”

Alina glares at Ivan. What? He’s not the unholy saint about to unleash terror onto the earth from their womb.

Once he glances at Kirigan, though, Ivan stills. The Tsar is ashen and looks as though someone has dropped an iron on his head, or told him that his beloved horse is Grisha too.

“Aleksander, I wasn’t sure. I was waiting until I was to tell you,” Alina says, one hand on her husband’s forearm. “Are...are you all right?”

The Tsar opens his mouth, but no sounds come out.

Tamar and Nadia stand, hand-in-hand. “We, ah, think we’ll take our leave now. Thank you for a lovely dinner, Sol Koroleva, my King,” Tamar says, and she and her fiancée flee.

Zoya clears her throat and gives Nikolai a look that is very different from the hungry one Ivan so despises on faces that aren’t Fedyor’s.

With a nod at her, Nikolai stands and helps her to her feet. “Indeed. Your hospitality is, as always, boundless, though I can’t help but feel we’re trespassing on it every second we linger here. Erm, do let me know when I can get you a gift.”

“Congratulations,” Zoya says, and to Ivan’s disgust, she actually sounds sincere. He watches as she and Nikolia leave, one of the Lantsov pup’s hands at the small of her waist. One would think the heterosexuals would have learned from this evening that touching each other is dangerous, but apparently some of them are just utter fools.

Fedyor elbows him, and Ivan turns to scowl at his beloved. “Wha—”

A point of his head in the direction of the Tsar and Tsaritsa quiets Ivan.

Alina is kneeling beside her husband’s chair, stroking his arm. Aleksander Kirigan, King of Ravka, Shadow Summoner, the Black General, sits still as a statue, eyes wide with shock.

“We’ll head out now too,” Fedyor says.

Ivan nods, grabbing Fedya’s arm and hauling him from the room. Over his shoulder, Ivan yells, “Good luck!”

Fedyor smacks him, whispering furiously as they close the door behind them. “‘Good luck’?! You’re supposed to say ‘congratulations,’ or ‘have a nice evening,’ you utter troll.”

“I’m a troll now? See if I give you a massage when we get back to our rooms,” Ivan grouses. He pulls Fedyor along, pulling him away from where he seemed inclined to linger by the door. Eavesdropping, pah. He can’t believe he’s married to such a busybody.

Who would want to stay to hear whatever nonsense the Darkling and his wife are about to say or do? He’s had enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much.

Ivan shudders. The two most powerful Grisha on the planet, one a sun summoner and the other a shadow summoner, having a baby? The world is definitely doomed.

&&&

The next day, Ivan receives a summons to go see the Tsar. Dread churns in his stomach, and he rubs his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, especially after he and Fedyor had a tiff about “inappropriate behavior and outbursts.” And now he’s to see his boss, probably about said outburst the previous night.

He accompanies Anton, the young oprichnik to the Tsar’s quarters, and the boy brightens with excitement to be talking to one of the Tsar’s most favored Grisha. “Thank you, Andrei. I’ll make my way from here.” The boy’s face falls, but Ivan dismisses him with a nod. If the oprichniki got any more friendly, they’d start calling him Vanya without his permission. Appalling.

Ivan takes a deep breath, then knocks at the door. He’s long since learned the value of knocking after Alina and the General got together, especially now that they share their quarters. Unfortunately, no healer has yet to find something to wipe certain sights from his brain.

“Come in,” Kirigan’s faint, disembodied voice commands.

Ivan lets himself into the room, waiting while the Tsar steps around the corner from the bedroom he shares with his queen.

“Good morning, Ivan.”

“Good morning, moi soverennyi. I hope you rested well,” Ivan replies, tone funereal. Saints, he prays he’s not about to be sent to Tsibeya permanently. He runs his hand under his collar, annoyed to find he’s actually sweating.

Kirigan’s face gives nothing away. “I did, thank you. The Tsaritsa is with Genya and one of the healers.”

“And she...she is well?” Ivan gulps.

“Yes. She was apparently a bit surprised last night herself, as she’d only just begun to suspect she might be pregnant.”

As much as Ivan hates when the Tsar’s feelings show—it’s usually him making soppy, annoying faces at Alina—he wishes Aleksander would just say what’s on his mind.

“My apologies, sir, I was also surprised. She seemed unwell, and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t, say, being poisoned.”

“You thought someone might be poisoning my wife?” Kirigan is incredulous.

“Things have been very calm with Fjerda lately. I don’t trust it.”

The General mutters under his breath, something about not trusting anything.

Ivan waits. Finally, Kirigan breaks the not-so-silent silence. “Well, thank you for your concern. And, ah, the surprising news.”

“You’re most welcome,” he replies gloomily.

“You don’t seem thrilled.”

“Forgive me, moi tsar, but I don’t see a need for excitement at a natural result of your conjugal activities. Sir.”

Oh, saints, is Kirigan frowning at him? Ivan mentally starts packing his belongings when the frown becomes a smile and then a laugh.

Perhaps Aleksander still isn’t quite recovered from the shock of his impending fatherhood.

He’s not paying attention to Ivan anyway. Kirigan makes his way to the table, shuffling the papers there unseeingly. “I didn’t think it was possible, you know.”

“I did not.” And Ivan would like to keep it that way.

Alas, Aleksander seems inclined to continue talking. “In all my long life, longer than you know, I’ve never fathered a child.”

Ivan grimaces. The world is probably grateful, though now it has much to fear. “It would have been challenging to have had a child during the wars, sir.”

Kirigan waves this aside, and unfortunately continues speaking. “Still, for it to happen with Alina...I’m so thrilled, Ivan.”

“And I am...happy for you, General.” Make it stop. Ivan is queasy.

“Of course, it’s probably for the best that it didn’t happen when Alina and I first got together, especially now that I know how possible that was.”

Ivan wants to cover his ears and sing “la la la la la,” but the implications of what his boss is saying finally sink in, and his horror at this whole situation increases exponentially. “Wait. Do you mean to say you weren’t using, ah, preventative measures?”

Kirigan’s face grows sheepish. “Until my conversation with Alina last night after you all departed, I wasn’t aware there was such a thing. In my day, one simply planned around the time of the month or withdrew from—”

“I beg you to stop talking. Moi soverennyi,” Ivan adds as an afterthought.

The Tsar falls silent, and Ivan sighs with relief.

But something bothers him. “Did you not get any sort of talk about how to prevent pregnancy when you were training? Even I did when I was young, before everyone knew I wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“Like I said, there weren’t those kinds of options when I was young, as far as I know,” Kirigan says with a shrug.

Ivan begins to realize that his boss is, in fact, much older than he thought. That explains the herring and rye, too. He hesitates before venturing to speak. “Do...was Alina—the queen, that is, did she explain the different kinds of birth control, or…?”

“Well, I can’t get her more pregnant, Ivan.”

It’s too horrible to even contemplate, and Ivan shudders.

Kirigan laughs and slaps his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to give me The Talk. Alina was so upset I didn’t know that she told me everything last night.”

Ivan’s lips twist in dismay at Aleksander’s rapturous expression that indicates there was a demonstration of some practical applications. Ugh. “Small mercies.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll consider this next a mercy: I want you and Fedyor to stay close through Alina’s pregnancy, especially once word gets out.”

Staying in Os Alta won’t be so bad, but the idea of dancing attendance on Alina, all while some parasite hijacks and distorts her body...well, hopefully he’ll get a good field assignment once this pregnancy is over. “Of course, moi tsar. And when will it end? I mean, ah, when is the blessed event?”

“In seven and a half months or so, perhaps eight. She’s about five or six weeks along, the healer says. And that, well…” Kirigan smiles at what is clearly the memory of this child’s conception.

Ivan fervently wracks his brain, desperate to keep his boss from offering more information that will give him nightmares about heterosexual intercourse. “And is there any way of knowing whether the babe will be a shadow summoner or sun summoner? Or both?”

A stricken look comes over Kirigan’s face. “Both?” He clearly hasn’t considered this possibility yet. “But that…” He doesn’t continue, instead going to fall into his chair and stare into distance.

It’s going to be a long few months.

&&&

It’s roughly eight months after that when Ivan is rudely pulled from sleep by Genya bursting into his and Fedyor’s room like she has the right.

It’s obscenely early in the morning, Ivan is, as is his usual habit, sleeping on his side facing the window. Fedyor, as is his usual custom, sleeps with his arm slung over Ivan’s waist and his head buried between his shoulder blades. It’s very soothing, normally.

Not today, though. The door opens with a bang, and Genya yells, “It’s time! She’s here!”

Ivan, suddenly wide awake, goes to jump out of bed. Instead, he finds that Genya has slowed their heart rates enough that hurrying is impossible. He glares at her. “What the fuck are you doing in our room? Who is here?”

“The baby is here. The tsarevna.”

“It’s a girl?” Fedyor asks with a smile.

Genya grins back. “Yes. She’s adorable.”

Ivan does not smile. “I’m glad she’s arrived. But why are you here in our bedroom at—” he glances at the clock and continues, “4:52 in the morning?”

“Everyone is going to see here. You’re the Tsar’s right-hand man, Ivan, so they’ll be expecting you.”

“Well, Genya, darling, you’ll have to let our hearts do their normal thing if you want us to do that,” Fedyor adds.

She shakes her head and drops her hand. “Of course. Sorry. See you there in fifteen minutes, and please be wearing pants. And shirts.”

Ivan grumbles, but gets out of bed. It’s difficult to want to leave when Fedyor is looking over him like that, but Kirigan probably will be upset if they don’t come to fawn over his spawn in what he deems a reasonable amount of time.

He and Fedyor make their way down the halls of the palace to Aleksander’s and Alina’s private apartment. The door is open, but Ivan nods at the guards and knocks anyway before stepping inside, Fedyor on his heels. He walks back to the bedroom, where he can hear hushed, happy conversations.

Alina is lying on the bed. She looks sweaty and disgusting, but in a radiant and maternal way that the Tsar seems to find beautiful, since he can’t look away from her. Typical, and exactly what got them into this mess.

The mess in question is wrapped in a blanket in her mother’s arms. Ivan glances at the small bundle, which seems to be sleeping. It is certainly very red.

Kirigan sits in a chair beside the bed, as close to it and his wife and new daughter as he can. He’s resting one hand on Alina’s shoulder, while the other trails along his daughter’s tiny head.

“The tsarevna is lovely,” Fedyor says, smiling down at the family.

Ivan thinks that’s a bit of a stretch, but he nods. “She looks like a baby. A healthy one.”

Fedyor elbows him, but Alina just rolls her eyes. “Thank you, I think.”

“She’s beautiful,” Aleksander says firmly, his face still disturbingly dreamy. “We’ve decided to call her Anastasia.”

Nastia. That seems about right.

Just then, the wee girl stirs and starts to wail. As her cries grow louder and Alina shifts to be able to feed her, shadows creep into the room. Then through the darkness, Ivan sees little flashes of light coming from the baby.

Fuck. This tiny child can summon shadows and light.

Nasty little Nastia indeed.

#fivan #heartrender husbands #darklina #heartrender husbands ff #fivan ff #ivan ff #darklina ff #sab ff #shadow and bone #grishaverse #my fanfic #next chapter should be up tomorrow or the next day #Ivan remains a beleaguered and snarky fool #will be on ao3 too #give ivan a raise 2kwhatever

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extravaguk · 3 years

Text

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

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abbynx · 3 years

Text

Encounter (Gelato and Sorbet X Reader)

Genre: Platonic, found family, fluff, wholesome

Warning: Harassment, stalking

You didn't found this coming, associating yourself with the Mafia in a way that one wouldn't thought of and can only fantasize about— if being practically adopted by a pair of couple from most heinous, most successful mafiosi syndicate Passione's hitmen team is someone's fantasy. It just happen to be that you found yourself in a bad situation, one thing lead to another and then all of the sudden you were like a child to Gelato and Sorbet without calling them your parents. And to be frank, so did the entirety of La Squadra, as they thought the couple were content with each others company but nope— they decided to pick up a random kid from the street... At least that's what they knew based in the info the couple has given them. To you, it was an entirely and distinctively different narrative. It all started after spending an over time in school tending to the Mount Everest tall school requirements, picking up numerous books and shoving all of it in your bag. If ever you were pushed in a river, you swore that the bag will simply weigh you down in it. It was in the middle of the evening, idly walking back to your home passing through crowds of strangers. Your home was quite the distant, but you decided to persevere and walk home, as you had to spare money for an extremely expensive fare at this time of the night. Naples' streets were still busy despite the time, but you couldn't blame them. All the sights and sounds visible during the night can be quite pretty and desirable than the day. And so there you were, minding your own business, walking... Walking... Walking... And musing about the possible dangers of the night may bring I mean come on— this is Naples for crying out loud. It was sadly the norm, but you were used to it. All you can do was to look down, and prayed that it wouldn't be your day to encounter these type of people. But of course, the universe operates in a way in which it will take any opportunity to fuck one up, one way or another. You take your usual route home, idly swaying along to tunes you've made and mumbled to yourself when you noticed a particular person who has been walking behind you ever since you've set foot outside of the school gates. At first you shrug, knowing you weren't the only one taking this route and so you ignored the stranger completely clad in dark colours, with no chance of identification. This was your first mistake. Finally, you noticed how much he took the same turns as you did, watching you intently through their dark tinted glasses. And so, you picked up the pace of your strides and so did he. Panic arose in your stomach, but you made no move to implicate your extreme anxiety pulsating through your nerves. It felt like drinking five cans of energy drink in the middle of the night in a span of two minutes after being dared by friends (oddly specific, I know.), except you were actually fearing for your life. You looked around you for a possible place of escape, gaze darting from structure to structure until it landed on people. It was a good idea to hide or perhaps blend yourself with groups of people and yet somehow, your first instinct upon laying eyes on people was latching yourself on the first civilian you can latch on. This, being the couple who had decided to take a breather from the suffocating environment of La Squadra headquarters. Sorbet was confused the moment someone clung to his arm, tight and showed no signs of letting go. He was pissed, but got a glimpse of your shaking hands and the fear in your eyes. Whilst Sorbet was busily analysing your intent, a wrathful blond was ready to shed some blood. Gelato was more than prepared and had no problem to discretely retrieve his revolver from his back pocket, pull the hammer and trigger, empty the whole damn barrel in your brain when you had the most brightest idea to cling on Sorbet's arm whilst they were having a peaceful walk. He was more than pissed at the fact that Sorbet hadn't shoved the bitch away the moment they clung to him. "Please help me..." Your voice low, small and desperately pleading

for help. This was then further solidified at your shaky hands clinging tightly onto Sorbet's arm. "A man... He's following me, sir... Please... He's walking behind us... Wearing all black. I don't know what to do, please help me." Well then, it turns out Gelato was plotting to empty the barrel of the gun on the wrong person! Well at first he was righteously indignant by your audacity to cling onto his husband so suddenly, and rage has further blinded him that he didn't notice the fact you were wearing a school uniform, smaller than they were. "Oi kid, your padre and I were worried about you! Why are you still out this late, hmmm?" Sorbet acts naturally, assuming into the position of a stern and protective father far too perfectly. Knowing his husband truly well, Gelato knew what to do and decided to play along. He lets go of Sorbet's hand, before going around to grab yours so they had you between them. "What were you doing in school anyways? Is it your damn teachers again?" For a moment you were taken aback, before realization dawned on you and cleared your throat to answer, "Well I was just finishing up some works school. I thought you wanted me to improve in school?" "It's flipping eight in the middle of the night! What if some sicko snatched you up?" Sorbet scolds, momentarily looking behind his shoulders before noticing the figure dressed in black still following. "We will discuss this back at home. Let's just get dinner for now." Gelato chimes in, as the three of you stopped in front of a restaurant. The couple had just gotten out to eat, but fuck it. Sorbet sighs, "Fine. Next time you won't do that again, alright? Your padre and I were just worried is all." "I'm sorry, Papá, it won't happen again." You entered the restaurant and reserved yourself a booth. You were more than relieved upon entering the restaurant and seeing the man following you scurry back. Letting out a sigh of relief, you look across the booth to give the couple your words of gratitude. "Thank you so much, I didn't knew what to do! I'm so sorry for disturbing you!" You profusely pouted out, picking your bag up from the foot of your seat, preparing to leave when the blond assassin gently got a hold of your wrist prompting you to stop. "Kid, it's late. I think it's best if we wait this out for a little bit, okay?" Gelato said, whilst Sorbet nodded beside him. "What's your name?" "It's Y/N... Signore." "My name is Gelato, this is my husband Sorbet." "It's great meeting you, Y/N. Would you care for some refreshments? Our treat." After getting to know each other, how they now knew you were an orphan residing in the local orphanage, they took the time and care to make sure you arrive home safe and sound. The couple had the mutual revelation and agreement they wanted a child of their own. The way you referred to Sorbet as Papá somehow awaken the remaining fondness he has for another human being other than his husband, Gelato. Time exploded like a bullet from a gun and after school you found yourself spotting the couple, waving hi to them and stopping for a quick chat before going your separate ways. To you, your encounters with them were purely coincidental, you only get to interact with them within occasions you can see them. The couple, on the other hand... They were settling some paperwork in the orphanage from where you resided your whole life. "And now I'm here, I guess." You shrugged, as Formaggio and Pesci seemed to have been frozen in time, taking the time to comprehend how distinctively different your telling was from their colleagues. "Now you know." "Heh, I knew it." Illuso proudly proclaims, crossing his arms to.his chest with a lopsided grin. "Y/N, it's late. Go to bed. Your fathers are going to kill us if they found out you're staying up late." Prosciutto says as he passes the couch you were seated on. "What? But it's the weekend tomorrow! There's no school tomorrow!" You whined, watching as Prosciutto disappear from the hallways. "Huh, I always knew the two weren't painting the whole picture." Melone

mutters out loud. "Painting the whole picture? What's that supposed to mean!?" Ghiaccio suddenly chimes in. "Y/N, it's pass your bed time. Please go to your room." You jumped upon the sudden intrusion of a new person speaks up behind you. Looking back from your shoulders, you see the Capo's lingering and towering figure over you. "Y-yes sir. Off I go to bed." You stepped away from the couch. "Goodnight everyone." A chorus of goodnight responded, before you entered your designated room. The whole La Squadra may not have seen this coming, nor do they thought it was practical but seeing the couple happy with this decision of theirs, then they'd brush it all aside. They're just happy that they're happy.

#jjba part 5 #jojo vento aureo #la squadra x reader #gelato x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet x reader #platonic #found family #wholesome #fluff

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starsandmoonys · 4 years

Text

Truth or Dare

based on this amazing post and idea by the awesome @ravenclaw-reblogs . So, I tried. and it may have gotten out of hand. so I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!

Part 2

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

It was a late cold November night. Most of the students were already asleep. The common room was filled with 8 students, Remus was sprawled on the floor near the fireplace next to Lily, discussing some muggle book they both had recently read. Peter and Mary were engrossed in a very bad chess game since they both really suck at it. Sirius was playing arm wrestling with Marlene. James was in a heated argument with Dorcas about Quidditch teams. The most significant aspect about this night was the bottles of Fire whisky being passed around, it was sufficient to say they were all positively tipsy.

“You know what, Dorcas? Fine! You’re right. Sure, we suck!” James said, rather loudly. “Oi, Jamie, enough about that. Both teams are good.” Sirius said, during another losing match to Marlene. His arm hit the table and Marlene started celebrating, flexing her arms, “Yeah, look at that. I’ve won, again. You still weren’t ready?” she said, sticking out her tongue to an annoyed Sirius. “Oh, bugger off, blondie.” Sirius huffed.

“You got bested by a lady two times in a row, Padfoot. I’m starting to think you’re a beater because James is captain,” Peter chuckled, moving a knight forward on the chessboard then frowning, realizing it’s the wrong move.

“Shut it, ratboy, I’m a beater because I’m talented.”

“And because I’m the captain,” James added wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, is it ‘roast Sirius night’? Cause then count me in,” Remus rose up from the floor. Sirius was about to shoot him a comeback until his eyes landed on the boy in front of him. His cheeks were flushed, from the warmth or the alcohol or both, eyes shining bright hazel from the firelight, his hair so messy, curls falling on his eyes. Sirius’ brain wondered what it would be like to run his hands through it and- he felt pain, actual pain, on his thigh. He looked at the source and his eyes met Marlene's all-knowing smirk. “Stop staring,” she mouthed to him.

“Yeah. Whatever, wolfy.” He stuttered a reply before going to occupy himself with anything other than Remus’ eyes. “Let’s play something,” He proposed partly because he was bored and mostly because he wanted to get away from Marlene's gaze.

“What shall we play?” Dorcas asked. “Nothing tiring, we don’t want to wreak havoc,” Mary added.

“Truth or dare?” James suggested. “Very creative,” Lily said sitting up and grabbing a bottle of fire whiskey, finishing the rest of it. “You suggest then, Red,” Sirius said backing up his best friend.

“No, I’m alright. Sure, we play truth or dare, Black.”

“Good, now let’s just sit properly,” Remus said crawling near to the foot of the couch, almost sending Sirius to overdrive. It’s like the brunette boy is doing it on purpose. It’s been like that since they started their seventh year. The last two months had been filled with hand brushes, long stares, and longer hugs. Sirius didn’t want to read into it, maybe he was just imagining it, being lovesick and all. Then Remus does these things, like right then. What does it mean? Does Remus feel the same thing? Or is it just a normal thing he does? And if it’s normal, why does Sirius hyperventilates every time? So many questions were running through his mind. He came back to reality with a shove, “Earth to Sirius, we’re starting.” Dorcas said sitting now beside him.

They were all sitting in a circle legs crossed on the floor. It was Sirius then Dorcas and Marlene, James and Peter followed by Remus, Lily, and Mary. “Cool, I’ll begin,” announced Marlene. “So, peter, truth, or dare.”

Peter, taken by surprise she picked him, stammered dare. “Try to put your whole fist in your mouth” she shot him the dare. “damnit marly, go easy on the guy.” Dorcas chuckled beside her. “Rules are rules, do it, Petey,” Sirius said. Peter sighed, “This is ridiculous,” before following through with the dare. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do it, and the attempt earned him a laugh from the whole group, “amateur” Remus said, giggling, which of course Sirius heard. Again, eyes getting wide and brain going blank. This boy is going to be the death of me he thought.

“Yeah, whatever, guys. It’s my turn now. James, truth, or dare?” Peter said, partly exasperated, but still light-hearted.

“Well, dare, I say,” James answered, smugly. “Fine, you let Marlene draw on your face.” Peter said, “oh oh, and you’re not allowed to see it or wash it off till morning.” He added, evilly.

“Peter, did you have to pick her,” James started complaining, while Marlene got up to retrieve a quill from the nearest table. “No, backing off dares, pretty boy,” Lily said.

“Oh, you think I’m pretty, Lils?” He said with a smirk and a very corny wink.

“Not for long,” Marlene said, sitting down again and grabbing his face. “Oh Merlin,” he tried to squirm away. “Now, stay still, so I can focus on my art,” she started drawing first on both of his cheeks and then on his forehead, everyone was snickering around them. She lifted the quill off his face with a shit-eating grin. “There you go,” she said, proud of her work.

“What is it, guys? Is it bad? Oh my god, is it a penis?” James asked, looking at each and everyone for answers, except that everyone was doubling on the floor from laughter, “Don’t worry, you look positively stunning, Prongs.” Sirius replied from between laughs. “You’re really not going to say?” he asked the group.

“No cheating, you very pretty boy,” Lily said, face completely red.

“Sure then, this is getting real. Truth or dare, Siri?” he asked, trying to hide his annoyance.

“Oh, me... Well, to change it a little, I’m picking truth,” Sirius replied. His best mate raised an eyebrow, which looked amusing because it had a deer antler drawn above it, getting Sirius to snort and chuckle. “You think it’s funny? Good, here is the question.” James went silent for a second, “What are your kinks?” He asked, dragging every word. His question shifted the air in the group and everyone was now staring at Sirius, including Remus. He looked at him, curiously.

Sirius is not being phased by the actual question, but by Remus’ stare. He doesn’t know if it was the alcohol or the Gryffindor bravery, but he decided to throw caution out of the window and lock eyes with Remus, the boy he’s been possibly in love with since the fifth year. “My kink...” he started, ignoring everyone around him, he was sure Remus was giving him the same look, here goes nothing he thought. “My kink is werewolves with soft smiles and pretty eyes.” He said into the air, but still intensively watching Remus for a reaction. He prays he didn’t mess everything up when Remus’ mouth shapes into an O. He finally broke eye contact to find Dorcas and Mary high-fiving, Marlene talking about a bet, and James looking all smug.

“You know what, I think I’m going to sleep,” Lily said, faking a yawn and getting up. The girls got up after her. “yeah, we’re going to crash, good night, guys” Dorcas added, locking arms with Marlene.

As the girls walked away, James also got up, stumbling around a little, “Us too, c’mon, Wormy,” He gestured to peter. “But we were playing,” Peter complained. “Oh just move it, idiot.” James grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

“The room is all yours, boys,” James said with a wink and also walked away. Leaving Sirius and Remus alone, with a very long conversation ahead.

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platoniclokiimagines · 3 years

Note

i’m going through the stages of grief all over again after having to watch Loki’s death in HD since IW came out on digital. can you please cheer me up by writing something about if loki survived and thanos was defeated so loki and reader go out to celebrate after the craziness?

WC: 1413

TW: none

A/N: I know this was likely meant to be a fix-it for IW, but I thought it would give it a little more ~spice~ if I fixed Endgame instead. Might explore this idea a little more thoroughly in the future, if people seem interested. But I hope you enjoy this!

You’d expected the battle with Thanos and his army to be tough, but you hadn’t expected it to be this much of a bloodbath. You felt like you’d seen one too many of the other Asgardians- or what had the Captain called you all, Avengers?- fall during the fight, and try as you might to remain positive, you were terrified that you were going to be the next one on the chopping block.

You could hear through the earpiece you’d all been given that the gauntlet was currently being passed along in an attempt to get it to some kind of vehicle that could allow people to time-travel, and you were just far enough away from them that it would do you no good to intervene, so you took what brief time you had to regroup and regather your thoughts, leaning heavily against a pile of rocks that kept you out of sight from the battlefield.

You had just about psyched yourself up to get back into the fray when a shimmer of green caught your eye, and you turned your head to watch as it slowly began to expand, like someone was ripping the very fabric of reality right in front of your eyes.

It wasn’t until you saw someone step through that you realized it was a portal, and once that had set in, all you could do was stare dumbly at the person who had walked through.

“……Loki?”

Everyone else had just assumed they had died. Thor had said that they had, and that had been taken as the truth by the rest of the Asgardians, but you’d held out hope for five years, praying to the Norns that Loki was just playing a really long trick, and would show up just in the nick of time.

Right now, it certainly looked like you had been right.

“What, you didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you?” Loki grinned, and there were a million things you wanted to say and ask, but Loki cut you off before you could. “Where’s the fight?”

Right. You were in the middle of something.

Heaving an exhausted sigh, you gestured half-heartedly to the space around you. “You’re looking at it.”

Loki only nodded, and summoned two daggers at their sides. “Well. Shall we get back into it then?”

Finding that you had a bit more energy now, you nodded, and ran after Loki back out into the battle.

Once everything had been said and done, you supposed that you and Loki had come out of this fight luckier than a lot of the others had. Everyone that was left was tattered, and had more cuts and broken bones and wounds than you could count, but you and Loki had somehow managed to come out of everything with only a few scrapes, bruises, and minor cuts between the two of you.

And the ones that hadn’t survived… Well, that was a grief weighing over everyone that had.

You didn’t know the one who had used the stones and perished in the process. You knew of him, and recognized that he had made the ultimate sacrifice, and so you mourned with the others for everything that he had done so that you all could survive, but you still felt a little distanced, like you were looking in on the whole ordeal rather than actively participating, and it wasn’t until you felt a familiar presence at your side that you tore your gaze away from what was happening, looking up at Loki.

“…did you know him?”

Loki’s expression was unreadable as they watched their brother and the rest of the Avengers grieve and mourn together. “…I did. But I was a much different person then.”

You could tell Loki didn’t want to talk about it, and so you didn’t push the subject, only nudged your shoulder against their arm. “…we did it.”

“We did.”

“Do you suppose there’ll be revels?”

“Oh, without a doubt. The entire world will celebrate. We just saved all of humanity. I reckon it won’t end for days.”

“…we should go find one of those medics the others were telling us about. Get patched up and stuff.”

“In a moment.”

You followed Loki’s gaze back to Thor and the others, and for a long moment just watched in silence. You didn’t know much about what had happened the last time Loki had been to earth, but you knew that it wasn’t exactly good. “…you should go talk to them. Your brother, the others. Make amends. You can find me later. When we’re all celebrating.”

Loki nodded, and hesitated for a while longer before steeling themself and heading over to the group, and you watched in silence as Thor ran to them, and hugged them, and began talking to the rest of the group, no doubt singing Loki’s praises and how they had changed so much in so little time, and it made you smile to see Loki relax a little bit.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask them, about where they’d gone, and what they had done, and why they hadn’t come back sooner, but you supposed, for now, it was enough to just know that they were alive, that you all were.

There would be time for catching up later.

Much as Loki had predicted, the celebrations around the world had started almost immediately, once it had been announced that there was no more threat to the world, and that the vanished half of humanity had been returned. The fireworks and parties and celebrations had been going strong for more than a week, and you were certain they’d go on for much longer, and for once, it was nice to not have to worry about anything except how much you’d had to drink in a night.

Over the course of that week, you’d gotten answers, albeit a little cryptic even for them, about where exactly Loki had been for five years. Something about an alliance that oversaw time and those who traveled through it, or the sort. It hadn’t made much sense to you, and mostly you just cared that Loki was back, so you hadn’t pressed for any further clarification.

“You’re supposed to be in there with the rest of us.”

You snapped out of your reminiscing, looking up as Loki came to a stop at your side on the balcony of the fancy hotel everyone was staying at until they could figure out how they were going to rebuild the Compound, and for a while, you both just watched the fireworks in the distance. They hadn’t stopped for as long as the world had been celebrating, and it was new and fun to watch, so you found yourself out there watching them often.

“I can celebrate just as well out here, you know.” You smiled and took the glass of too-strong alcohol that Loki had brought out for you, taking a long sip of it as you both continued to watch the night sky light up.

“…it is weird, isn’t it? Not having something to fight for, or against.”

“I wager that’s how most people spend their lives. Just living. Making friends, going out to dinner with their families and loved ones.” You shrugged a bit, turning back to Loki now.

“Yes, well. We all get to do that now, too.”

You huffed out a skeptical laugh. “For now. There’ll be other threats.”

“There always are, yes. And there always will be.” Loki spoke solemnly, and then in the blink of an eye, grinned again. “But we’re not thinking about that right now, we’re celebrating.”

By now you could tell that Loki was mildly inebriated, certainly a feat with the meager excuse for alcohol Midgardians had, and you couldn’t help but to smile a bit at Loki’s eagerness to get you back in with everyone else.

“Fine. Someone has to stop you from making a fool of yourself, anyway.”

“Hey! I haven’t even started telling embarrassing stories about when Thor and I were kids yet!”

You couldn’t help but to laugh at that, and with an unnecessarily dramatic sigh, you threw back the rest of your drink and stepped away from the balcony railing. “Well, let’s change that.”

Loki grinned, and immediately took you by the hand and started pulling you back into the building, and you smiled softly as you let yourself relax.

Perhaps you deserved some rest now, too.

#Loki imagine #platonic Loki imagine #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki x reader #platonic!Loki x reader #anonymous #ask #answered #thank you for the prompt #slight angst

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charlottedabookworm · 3 years

Text

#2: Aberrant

written for day 2 of ffxivwrites, this is (probably) the start of a time travel fic. also this is in minfilia’s pov and i’m not sure how well i’ve gotten her voice. otherwise no spoilers for anything except early ARR because it’s in minfilia’s pov

couple things: set originally cuts his hair short in stormblood, in arr he had bright purple hair with a plume and braids and golden tips. he cuts it again when he gets back in time (which is shortly before the remembrance ceremonies). also his hair bleached itself slowly white during shadowbringers and that colour actually came back with him so now he’s lying through his teeth to explain it. little brother is alphinaud because of course the twins came back too

(oh and btw set is only 19 he’s just tall and looks grumpy so everyone assumes he’s like twenty-something including the scions at this point)

“Ah, Set,” Minfilia smiles at the newest scion as he slips into the solar. “Pray, sit down and tell me, how were the remembrance ceremonies? Did they help you to make your decision?”

“They were… enlightening,” the Auri rumbles, running a hand through a shock of suddenly short, white hair.

She frowns. “Is aught alright, Set. Your hair..?”

“My hai- Oh.” Set blinks slowly at her a moment before his eyes lighten in realisation. A smile tips at his lips. “I’m afraid I stood too close to a group of young Thaumaturges while in Ul Dah. My hair came out the worst of it.”

A picture forms in her mind of the scene - new mages showing off their new abilities with fire while standing a little too close to a visitor - and a hand rises to her mouth to stifle the giggles that want to emerge. “And the colour? I can think of no magick a Thaumaturge would know that could cause such a drastic difference.”

Brilliant purple and gold to shocking white is no small change.

His smile stiffens, fingers running along newly buzzed sides. His eyes dart to her desk. “They accidentally stripped the glamour I use for the colour and I’ve yet to find time to replace it, with needing to visit an aesthetician. This is my natural hair colour.”

“The colour suits you,” she says, easily reading the tension in his form and worrying at the cause of it. The words are also true; the colour helps to age him and soften him at the same time, drawing attention to his eyes.

He relaxes ever-so-slightly, dark eyes rising to meet hers. He opens his mouth and-

A linkshell chimes.

Minfilia’s hand rises to her ear instinctively at the sound, pausing only as Set sighs.

“May I?” He asks, already rising to his feet. She nods and his hand goes to his ear, he turns away. “Is everything well?” Set murmurs into the linkshell, his voice softer than before.

She blinks.

“No,” he says to the other person and she can see the corner of his lip spread into a grin. “I haven’t managed to get myself injured, I promise. Yes, little brother,” the words are spoken affectionately, reverently, and it’s so different from anything Minfilia has heard from him before now that her eyebrows rise.

Little brother?

“Everything is going well, yes, you don’t need to worry about me-” He laughs, a bark of bright, unrestrained laughter that takes years off of his face. “I’m not the reckless one in this family, little brother. Have you eaten at all today? No, fruit juice doesn’t coun- I’m calling Ali later. Please eat something, okay?”

Minfilia tunes out the rest of the family conversation, focusing instead upon the intelligence upon her desk and only looking up when Set clears his throat.

“My apologies,” he says awkwardly, a flush tipping his ears and making him look all of 16. Despite this, he looks lighter; shadows she had not even noticed chased from his eyes.

The smile on her slips comes easily. “Is your brother well?”

Set nods. “He worries,” he murmurs and already the darkness is returning to his eyes. “Is there anything else we needed to discuss?”

“You have passed your decision onto the Grand Companies?” She asks, setting the report in her hands down.

“I have.”

Minfilia watches exhaustion in his shoulders, at the smile on his face that now seems strained. “Then we have naught to discuss that cannot wait. Eat, Set, and rest. We shall reconvene in an hour.”

His smile shades relieved and he thanks her, yet Minfilia cannot help but notice that the smile falls entirely as he turns away. Suddenly, the Auri’s profile looks ancient and she feels worry settle itself in her breast.

Master Louisiox, she thinks, looking up to Tupisimati. What have I missed?

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #my fic #set aneirin #minfilia warde #time travel #outside pov

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ororowrites · 3 years

Text

Scripted - Yahya x Black OC

Sweet Thang- Chapter 3

One-shot: By the Open Fire

Chapters: 1 2

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,003

Two months later

Candace finished her last night at Dynasty and vowed to never return. She had collected enough money to support the remaining tuition payments, graduation fees and the application fee for Yale’s School of Drama. March had snuck upon her and her application was due in a month for the 2012-2013 school term. The process was daunting because this was the only M.F.A program she planned to apply to and she prayed this wasn’t a mistake. Yale was her dream school and though she was the type to have a plan B, C and Z, she was gambling on her resume and audition tapes.

Yahya had already made one visit to Los Angeles, since he met Candace at Dynasty. He was collecting unemployment and attending acting classes to get more experience to add to his resume. They had talked about his plan moving forward and Yahya was enjoying acting so much, he planned to apply to Yale as well. Candace had convinced him to live a little and follow his heart and talent. Even if his application was denied, he would have the experience and could apply to another program. During their acting class, Candace was surprised by Yahya’s natural talent in theatre. He deeply connected with the scripts and scenarios and she was in awe of how he could change his entire persona to fit the character. Candace wouldn’t admit it, but her attraction to Yahya was growing. Not only was he physically attractive, but his sensitivity and thoughtfulness made him appealing. He was also attracted to Candace and took his time getting to know her, while also respecting her space after her breakup.

Another acting coach was in town and Yahya made the trip to LA to attend a session with Candace. It had been two weeks since his last visit and he was eager to get into another class and spend time with his friend. They decided to meet at Candace’s apartment and ride to their class together.

“Do you think this man will make us cry on cue or what,” Candace joked, flipping on her turn signal to take the exit off the expressway.

“It’s called the Degree of Emotion, I’m sure we’re crying in this class,” Yahya chuckled, scrolling through his email for job postings. Right now, he was living off of unemployment and his savings, he would need a job sooner rather than later.

“I can’t cry on cue. It takes a bit of coaching to get me there. Hopefully this class can give me some pointers,” Candace revealed.

Dr. Ben Mayer, renowned acting coach to many in the industry and professor at Julliard, was standing in the middle of the stage when the students arrived. As they walked into the class, he recited an excerpt from the Odyssey. His heavy voice carried throughout the theatre, capturing everyone’s attention before they reached their seats. Yahya grabbed Candace’s hand, helping her down the dark theatre stairs and to the front row.

“Welcome to the Degree of Emotion. I’m Dr. Ben Mayer, your instructor for today. Please use the first two rows. Don’t be shy, I don’t bite,” the instructor ordered, pointing to the empty seats in front of the stage. “Today, I’ll be working with you on how to convey emotion with your voice, body language and expressions. Many that come into this field think showing emotion is only about crying or showing sadness onscreen or onstage. Emotion is more than that though. Anyone can be trained to cry on cue but what about that makes you feel like the character you’re portraying. Are you stepping into your character’s shoes or simply putting on a hat? Stepping into the shoes is more powerful and more fulfilling than putting on a hat. You walk in shoes and feel them out. So, I’m going to teach you how to do that.”

For the second half of the class, the group split up into groups of two and practiced different scripts. Dr. Mayer watched each group and offered criticism and advice. Candace was in Yahya’s group and they were supposed to be performing a piece about a couple who hit a rough patch. She felt good about this particular script because of her recent breakup but to her surprise, her performance fell flat for Dr. Mayer. He told her she was wearing a hat instead of stepping into Charlotte’s shoes and she had a lot to work on when it came to emotional acting.

That criticism stuck with Candace and ate at her for the remainder of the class. The second half of the course was in three weeks, where they would perform their scenes in front of their peers.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Yahya proposed as they walked to a near-by coffee shop.

“I can handle criticism. It’s being told I don’t convey emotion that bugs me. No instructor has ever said that and here I am trying to get into Yale not conveying enough fuckin’ emotion,” Candace spat between her teeth. Being a perfectionist ended up being her downfall in many things. She believed in being perfect at her crafts, which is how she ended up in extra acting classes outside of her regular theatre courses. “Are my emotions not believable, Yah?”

“That’s coming from one instructor. We all have different ways of approaching this acting thing. But if you want to work on it, I’m here for a couple of more days. We can practice. No biggie.”

“I don’t know why I’m this bothered about this shit. But I’m going to give his ass emotion next time,” she promised, tossing her curls behind her ear.

-------

Trinity was out studying with some friends, leaving the apartment free for acting practice and a late brunch. Yahya was on fruit duty, while Candace made waffles and turkey bacon.

“What do you think is holding you back,” Yahya questioned, glancing over at his acting partner who was concentrating on whisking the lumps out of her pancake mix.

“Fear of failure. I think too much when it comes to certain scenes and end up closing myself off,” she replied after a few long seconds of silence. “That’s my only explanation. After all that stuff with Maxwell, it got worse, I guess.”

“I did this class in San Fran and the instructor had us doing meditation before we got to the acting. Maybe you can try that when you have those hard scenes. It helped me because I get too into my own head at times, too,” he offered, wiping his hands on a towel. “For now.... I need you to relax.”

Once Candace felt Yahya’s strong hands on her shoulders, she could have melted into a puddle in the middle of the kitchen floor. He massaged the tense muscles and rested his chin on top of her head. She hummed in relief, leaning back into his big body.

“Instead of thinking about how you can hide Dr. Mayer’s body, think about how you can prove him wrong. Put all that anger into Charlotte because she needs you in order to come alive.”

“Okay,” Candace sighed.

“Let’s try meditation first,” he suggested, leading Candace to the living room. “Try to get you nice and relaxed before we start.”

They meditated for ten minutes before returning to the kitchen to clear up counter space.

“Ready?” Yahya nodded towards his scene partner and earned a nervous nod in response.

Charlotte and Tyreik - TAKE ONE

“You’ve changed, Ty. Changed in ways you may not realize but I see it. Hell, I feel it too. When we supposedly make love and you aren’t present...you fill me up but you feel empty,” Candace spoke, shifting her weight from hip to hip. Playing Charlotte made her nervous for some reason. Maybe it was her own fear of opening up to another man after having her heart stomped to pieces by Maxwell. Like Charlotte, she no longer wanted to be a doormat to anyone, especially the opposite sex.

“You sure you even know how to feel anymore,” Yahya replied, pretending to cut invisible vegetables on the cutting board.

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t stand here and tell me you feel a thing, Char. I’ve been trying to talk to you about our relationship for months. But you’re always busy or too tired. So yeah....I’ve changed.”

The conversation was similar to one she had with Maxwell, except the roles were reversed. Like Yahya suggested, she dug deeper to find that spark that would turn on the switch.

“Because you talk at me. Yelling isn’t talking and it won’t get my attention,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “And the only reason you’re even talking is because you feel guilty.”

Yahya slammed his hands against the the cold, marble countertop, causing Candace to flinch. “Are we still stuck on that shit? I apologized, you accepted, it’s done. Stop bringing up old shit to hide your own insecurities.”

“We.... then why are we pretending this is what we both want? If we’re this unhappy, why are we doing this,” she mumbled, her eyes falling down to her feet.

“I don’t know. Maybe because we’re both afraid to let go of what’s familiar to us. I’m your first love and you’re my first long time relationship. Hard to let go of something you worked hard to keep going all these years.”

Dig deep, Candace. Thinking back to how she felt about Maxwell and his unborn child, Candace’s eyes began to water. “I want this to work, Ty. I really do,” she sniffed. Yahya’s eyes met hers and he tried to stay in character but he couldn’t hide how proud he was the moment he saw his advice working for Candace.

“I do too. But you have to let go of shit if you claim you forgive me,” Yahya moved in closer, letting Candace know they were close to the kissing scene.

“I’ll try,” she offered, her big, brown orbs searching his looking for a hint of Yahya. He rarely broke character, but there was an extra gleam in his eyes. This was the first time they had done anything outside of hugging. Yahya was respecting Candace’s space and allowing her to heal after her recent breakup.

Her heart beat violently against her chest when Yahya’s cologne flooded her senses. His lips became Candace’s main focus as he closed the space between them and placed his mouth on hers. The kiss was brazen, making Candace’s knees weak. Yahya placed his hands on the counter, caging in Candace’s small frame. His 6′3 frame towered over her, forcing him to duck his head down to deepen the kiss when her tongue slid past his. Since that night at the club, he had been waiting to kiss Candace’s lips. Just as he thought, they were as soft as pillows and the urge to take things to the next level invaded his thoughts.

Heat rose to Candace’s cheeks before spreading down to her belly, meeting the butterflies that were already dancing. Their scripts were long forgotten and they were well past the point of blaming their actions on their characters. Candace’s fingers toyed with the hem of Yahya’s shirt. They were both breathless when they pulled a part and Candace didn’t give Yahya time to catch his thoughts before her lips were back on his, fighting for dominance. Yahya’s shirt ended up on the kitchen floor, exposing his sculpted but slender mid-section. It was dangerous, yet neither one of them stopped it. The sexual tension had been strong from the moment they met and given the current circumstances, it was boiling over. From the slight touches and long gazes, hormones were bound to get them in this predicament. Yahya’s lips left hers and traveled to her neck, where they stayed, creating love bites.

“Do you want me to stop,” he questioned, his baritone causing a vibration between their bodies. The thumping between her ears and thumping between her legs had Candace’s mind swimming in circles.

Sorry for the wait and short chapter. We will get A LOT more Yahya and Candace in the next one though!

taglist: @blackburnbook @emjayewrites @just-peachee @chaneajoyyy

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfics #yahya abdul mateen x black oc #black oc #black writers #ororo writes

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