#sorry if this is a little brisk or rude I don’t mean to be it’s just something I care a lot about :) I don’t think any rpers follow me

[writella]

Working It Out

Synopsis: The group has been on the road for months— they’re starving, distraught, and frankly, getting sick and tired of each other. After an argument about how to proceed, Rick decides they should split up to take a break from one another. You and Daryl go off into the woods, but what was supposed to be a silent search for food turns into a loud breaking point.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader, afab!reader, before Alexandria era, smut 18+, this takes place in the woods, tiny bit of oral fixation, handjob, fingering, tiny bit of pussy slapping, penetration, getting caught, possibly inexperienced (I wrote it as unconfirmed) or just horny, hasn’t had sex in who knows how long Daryl, reader talks about killing and dying, Daryl and the reader fight, but of course I added a little bit sweetness because how could I not?

A/N: This was not one of the two Daryl fics I’ve been talking about but the idea came to me and I decided to finish this one— hope you like it. ♡

The trees turn into flashing streaks of green and brown with spots of blue from the sky as you try to catch up to Daryl. He was only walking, but his pace had become relentless, it’s almost as if he was running. His brisk strides became larger and faster, not helping your weak and worn down body. Everything feels just a little dizzy and your stomach growls, even Daryl could hear it.

“I would’ve been able to fix that,” he growls back, “if you didn’t make so much fuckin’ noise.” He speaks from the side of his mouth, “That’s the first rabbit we’ve seen in weeks.”

“It wouldn’t have fed all of us anyway.”

“Nothin’s feeding us now.”

“I’m the one who found it!” You snap, “I’m sorry I tripped on a gun. I wasn’t the idiot who decided to leave it there so I could fall and we could all go hungry again for another day.”

“It’s cause you don’t pay attention.” He was talking about your tracking skills: “How long we been at this? Use the trees. Move slow. Walk light.” He speaks under his breath, spitting to the ground, “Bet even a walker knows that.”

Your voice is agitated and angry, “Why are you being so mean today?”

“Why are you acting like such a damn brat?”

“Maybe because we’re homeless!”

You shout louder than you should have, you hear rustlings now, it makes you both raise your weapons.

“Shut up,” Daryl says hushed and slowly. It’s rude, but you know he means it because of possible danger.

After deciding it was probably just another animal you lost out on, you continue, your voice somber, “Or maybe it’s because you don’t talk to me… You never talk to me.”

Your emotions wave from anger and sadness and back again as you sneer, “And I know it’s because you’re just unapologetically yourself, right? And we all just have to take it,” you scoff. “Stoic Daryl, never talks about his feelings so I always have to guess all the time.” You’re shaking your head now, you almost cry out, “You’re not easy to deal with… And I try so hard.”

Daryl’s face remains untouched by your words, but you know better, it’s the way his eyes don’t meet yours, but you still don’t feel like he understands. “You’re like talking to stone… or maybe a walker.” Your words become sharp and biting as you continue to use his reference against him, “Maybe then I can just shoot you in the head and you’d never hear my mouth again. Or maybe walkers really are that much smarter than me and I can just shoot myself, save us both the misery.” Your voice becomes bitter, “Bet you’d like that better.”

He grits his teeth now, his eyes dart venomously, but still they never met your own.

You could tell the last part had to do something to him more than before, his head shakes more hair in front of his face as he looks down, his features grim.

You started to feel bad, knowing that you probably went too hard. It wasn’t a joke to talk about dying, and most certainly not in this world.

You didn’t like when you were the reason to cause Daryl distress, but it also upset you how much of a pull he had on you— your emotions easily shifting with his.

Just as caring as he was, he could also pretend to be equally as unconcerned. It was so easy, yet so hard to love him.

It felt like the beginning of spring when he was warm; like gaining something new and special over and over; like when you said something sweet or silly enough to earn a smile. It felt like every time he used to say “you commin’,'' when getting on his bike at the prison, knowing that you wanted to, knowing that your eyes would linger as he rode to the gate, always waiting until the last second to ask if you could unless he asked first.

But when he was cold, it hurt; like winter in December, like losing something as fast as you got it. You were left guessing at what he was feeling even more than before and never understanding how much space or how much attention to give him to help. You knew it was hard for him to speak, you understood it personally, but it made it harder for you to be there for him when he never at least explained that.

Turning his back on you, Daryl walked forward, leaving you as he went deeper into the woods, and as much as you felt bad for becoming so spiteful, you weren’t done: you walked faster too, turning him around, you pushed his shoulders, you pleaded contentiously, “Say something!” Your grasp on the sides of his arms are firm now, you shake him once, “God, just say something,” one of your hands pounds on your chest, shouting, “just tell me what’s really going on or what happened for once in your life!”

No response. Of course not. Your arms drop defeatedly. His eyes are indignant as yours implore hopelessly.

Your voice starts to crack, “No one’s going to know how you feel or how to be around you if you don’t- just- talk.” Your last word is a final push to him on his shoulders.

Daryl twists your wrists away until they’re down by your sides, and you yank your hands from him.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice becomes more guttural the louder he gets, “That you’re fuckin’ annoying? Always gettin’ on my shit? On the back of my bike? Always right behind me?” His movements are erratic, “You ain’t easy either. You’re always everywhere when you don’t gotta be.”

Your eyes are crestfallen now, but the anger remains.

“Just leave me the fuck alone,” Daryl barks. Pointing a hard finger in your chest as he finishes, “For once in your life!”

“You’ve never told me to not come-”

“I never asked for it neither,”

“-or at least meant it when you said it—you never say no— you even ask me- I- I thought it was okay,”

“Cause you just keep on!” His voice turns low and desolate after, “But I never asked for it. I ain’t never asked for you.”

Your eyes linger on his face for a moment, your glare becoming a sad gaze as you watch the strands of hair that cover it become more sweaty and frizzy from the heat, hiding him more.

“I didn’t ask for you either. You just came one day and… I’m sorry-“ a heat begins to rise in your throat, “I’m sorry that I came back with you. You didn’t have to take me to the prison,” your voice starts to choke up, “I’m sorry that afterwards I- I didn’t want to be away from you.”

Tears began to well in your eyes, but you turn away before the first ones roll, you start walking ahead.

He doesn’t stop you. After a moment he just follows a few feet behind, making it evident he’s still there by allowing his feet to crunch on the leaves.

Even though you’re leading he still doesn’t say no, doesn’t actually let you leave him alone. The fact makes you frustrated, your hands ball up and you can feel your nails digging into your palms. You try to breathe in deeply to stop your weeping, but the more you try the more angry you get. The feelings start to erupt again and every inhale becomes a sniffle as more tears fall.

Daryl stops walking again. More distance is placed in between you two until he says your name.

You end your trek without turning around, “What,” your voice is cross as you wait for a response, but Daryl is already there behind you.

As you face him you try to hold everything in. Barely breathing as you try to stop your crying, but you can’t help but allow another big tear fall as you look at his eyes, so blue and downcast; they look like rain. You forget that they are that color. He’s always squinting.

His thumb wipes the tear that falls on your face and now more starts their way down from your eyelids. When another tear melts as his fingers fall further down your cheek with it, they reach the tip of your lips. He stays there for a moment, the rest of his hand holding your chin.

You look up at him, your eyes so doleful and wide. Daryl’s thumb rubs into your skin only slightly, never moving too far in except to the corners of your lips until you move your head for him. His thumb is sliding against the bottom of your lip now.

You want this to be a pure moment where you kiss him, or truly, where he finally kisses you, and it’s sweet, and tender, and he tells you that he loves you and that he sees how deeply you care for him.

Of course you would simply love for that to be how your first intimate moment with him would go.

But you haven’t eaten, and even as teary eyed as you are, you are furious, he’s so frustrating. You need more. This is not that moment.

As your heart races and your final tears begin to spill and dry, the tip of his thumb continues to brush against your open mouth and you can’t help that your tongue feels compelled to taste it.

Your chin raises as you take his finger in your mouth, letting it slide inside all the way and then you start licking and sucking, feeling the pad of his thumb move from the top of your mouth to your taste buds. It tastes like dirt, you won’t lie, but it’s his.

Daryl says nothing, he only looks on attentively, entranced. He never even suspected you would do something like this. He switches to his pointer finger and uses his thumb to tilt your head up further as you suck on his longer finger. It’s thick, but it’s filthy, you both need a shower, but you don’t care.

You hum lightly on his finger until you release it from your mouth, letting it slide out.

You lick the drool of your lips and he licks his fingers. It’s messy and dirty and you can hear the smacking sounds as he pops the two in his mouth, his eyes looking directly into yours now as he does it. It was only your spit and he wanted to taste it.

You plead, “Daryl please, will you just kiss me-”

And he finally does it. His big hands wrap around your neck and jaw, tilting your face so far upwards as he places his lips to yours with his open mouth. His kisses are immediately chaotic but deep, his wet lips feeling against yours as his tongue works its way inside your mouth.

Your hands wrap around the back sides of his shoulders and you move farther into him. Nothing matters now. You are finally getting to feel him on your lips. This is the man who you have loved since you’ve met him and he’s finally showing you he wants you.

You don’t even care that your group or a walker or a guy with a gun could show up at any point, the thought is terrifying still, but his hands are on your hips now and you’re dying to see if he’ll go lower, you’d probably let him do anything.

You feel his thumbs playing along your lower hip, flicking the start of your jeans as he continues to kiss you, his tongue sliding against yours.

You start to do the same to him, wondering if that will help. Looking up as your fingers linger over the button of his pants, you ask softly, “Is this okay?” He nods and you start to unbutton them, finding it hard to contain your excitement.

“But you don’t gotta-”

“I want to.” You interject. You’re a little embarrassed by how fast you say it, but you still go straight to unzipping his stare, making his jeans hang a bit lower on his hips.

You look up at him, as your hand slowly travels downward. Your hesitancy fades, you’re so desperate to finally touch him, to have this moment. You start palming him through his underwear. His hum is so sultry with its rasp you feel it in your cunt as it pulses. You almost moan when you hear his voice turn into a grunt as you continue and then into a whimper as you dip under the band and start to stroke him. You never thought Daryl would make a sound like that.

He feels so big, so nice and thick in your hand as you continue to pump him. Your thumb plays with the tip of his pre-cum, moving it up his long shaft. You wonder how he would feel inside— if he can even fit inside. The thought makes you pant as you continue to stroke him, continuing to look up at his face, watching his eyes close. You can’t believe you’re finally touching his cock and that you’re the one making him feel good, that he likes your hand around him.

His head rolls back only slightly and he allows you to keep going for a few more moments, and then it seems he’s finally ready. His movements are quick as he pushes you to the ground, kicking off his shoes and then taking off your own.

He takes off your shirt and your pants without thinking, and then he takes off his vest and starts to unbutton his own shirt. His moments slow when he reaches the bottom.

You see the tattoo on his chest peaking through, you know the ones that are on his back, you know what else is there as well. You’ve seen it once, he’s shown you. It was one of your first vulnerable moments together. He did it to make you feel less alone. You two always did that for each other.

“You don’t have to take it off,” you whispered him.

He kisses your lips slowly but shortly and takes it off anyway.

You remind yourself to be gentle if you put your hands on his back later, he looks slightly nervous, but then as he looks at you on the ground, eyes trailing over your body that is only in your underwear, his eyes grow darker as he asks:

“Can I do what I want?”

This makes everything stop. Your mouth is half open, your eyes are lustful, you nod slowly and it makes his dick twitch with how seductive it looks. You didn’t even mean for it to look that way, he’s just so fucking handsome and he just asked for permission to make you his, you can help but gaze at him in a trance. Of course you’d let him have it.

He starts rubbing your through your underwear, watching as your wetness seeps through instantly on the cloth when he touches you lower. He takes them off along with his pants and he leans himself against the nearest tree and pushes your back to his chest, moving one leg over his thigh. He spreads your legs wide and looks over your shoulder.

His hand trails over your pussy. His fingers are tentative as he starts slowly from the top until his finger finally slides over your hole at the bottom and then he pushes in a bit as he feels for the wetness.

Instantly you’re a mess and your wetness starts seeping out, making it easier for him to slide his fingers up and down.

It seems he can’t find where he wants to touch and his wet fingers go everywhere from your hole to the lips to your clit and back down.

“Higher,” you sigh, “please.”

He goes up a little bit starting to rub.

“Higher,” you whine, “mmm… mm- there!” He’s rubbing your clit now, pinching it. “Yes,”

After a little while, his hand travels lower again, now taking two of his fingers and pushing them inside your hole until he can’t anymore. He pushes them in and out of you harshly 5 times until he stops. Circling his fingers inside of you and using his other hand to push your legs further apart, exposing your cunt to the outside air, “If someone comes,” he says in your ear, “they’re going to see you coming first.”

His words turn both of you on even more, making you whine as you feel his hardened dick rub against the side of your ass.

He starts to pump his fingers in you more steadily. Your eyes trail your surroundings, wishing you had picked a more bushier part, you truly were exposed, but then his fingers start to curl as they dig inside you, finding a spongy sweet spot you didn’t even know you had, one Daryl didn’t even try to find, and it makes your eyes shut, your head resting itself back on one of his shoulders as your whine again.

Your hands come to the other side of his neck and chest and you hold on as he goes faster. Daryl allows your hand to make his head go forward so he can look at his fingers thrusting into yours, enjoying the sound of your sopping cunt. His voice is gruff as he groans at the sight, taking his fingers out of you to slap your pussy, twice, watching the wetness bounce, hearing you whimper before putting his fingers back in again.

You hear him make low unintelligible sounds in your ear as he continues to watch. He goes slower, intently looking at how his fingers disappear in you. He takes them out again, “Daryl-” you say sadly.

“Lay down.”

Your elbows are propped up now. He lines himself up with your entrance. His cock looks so fat as he stretches your tiny hole, making it bigger as he pushes in slowly.

The feeling of him going in inch by inch makes you gasp slowly, then it turns into a moan as he bottoms out. Your head falls back on the floor and your eyes close.

He stays there for a moment. Not doing anything, just looking at you, reeling in the sensation of your tight pussy around him.

Your eyes almost open as the wait becomes unbearable, “Are you going to- ah!”

He snaps into you, moving slightly out and back in, it’s a pounding motion. Your body shakes as he continues, going faster and faster. His hands go to the sides of your head as he grunts, looking at how your tits bounce as he continues to thrust.

He sees your head shake, your eyes scrunch, it’s all becoming too much. You’re wincing like it hurts.

He touches your face now, his movements becoming softer and your eyes relax as you look up at him. He comes down to you and kisses you deeply again, just like he did at the start. You allow his lips and tongue to take over completely and you just melt into him as he rocks his hips against yours, you feel so full.

“Would you kiss me like this when we find a new home?” You ask, letting go of his lips.

Daryl meets your eyes, if he could look into yours any deeper, he does. His tone is so low but his words are so sincere, “I’ll kiss you like this anywhere.”

You reach up to take his face in your hands, kissing him lightly, it’s something like clouds. “Would you kiss me like this too?”

He nods, “I’ll kiss you like that.” Looking down he adds, “any way you want.”

Daryl grinds into you again, rolling his hips. The pace slowly gets fast, but it feels more intimate this time. His forehead falls in yours and your back arches and you try to meet his movements.

Daryl started to pant, his sounds gruff until your cunt squeezed so tightly, quaking around one of his thrusts that it made him whimper and he says your name. His noises because inexpressible and your own follows afterwards, ultimately saying, “oh- Daryl- please-”

You’re almost there, you see the outlines of stars, the shine of them almost being filled in, you see the insides of your eyelids getting closer to reaching that glow of bright lights as your body is on the cusp of your climax until-

“Oh-” he laughs to himself quietly, putting his hands low on his hips as he turns only slightly. “Sorry,” Rick says. His smirk is so faint, his jaw even clenches to erase it, but you saw. Immediately when he spoke, your head shot in his direction.

Daryl quickly finds your shirt, putting it over your head and grabs your pants, helping you put them over your feet until you take over so he can put on his own shirt.

Through hooded eyes, Rick had to have seen Daryl’s dick swing as he got up, retrieving his pants and putting them back on as Daryl stared at him.

You look up at Daryl as you get up yourself. His eyes give no details of his surprise to Rick as he finishes buttoning up his shirt. Rick’s eyes are averted, you don’t know what he’s thinking about what he just saw except that he definitely saw it. Never more did you wish to have Daryl’s talent of impassivity, especially in such an exposing scene.

“Well,” Rick starts when you two are finally dressed, “Yeah, so Michonne, Carl, and Judith and I stayed on the roads, we kept walking until we found a car someone left near a tree. They were idiots for driving it in here, big branch fell on it, we got it off but it has a dent. Right when we got it to run we heard voices. Guessing it was their car. They were running from another group and then they started running faster to get us. Some of them took care of each other… we took care of the rest,” he pauses. “Anyway we drove back to rendezvous and found Carol. Carol’s looking for Glenn, Maggie, Rosita, Tara. Michonne and Carl are looking for the rest of the guys, and I- was looking for you two.”

“Hm,” Daryl’s voice is indifferent as he starts walking, “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go,” Rick agrees, his voice has a hint of the humor he’s trying to suppress as he chuckles once.

The two men walk together and you walk a few paces behind, still absolutely wordless.

After a few minutes, Daryl slows his pace, creating distance from him and Rick.

He looks back at you now, “You good?” He asks only loud enough for you to hear as he comes a bit closer, he takes your hand lightly, though he still walks in front of you. You simply nod, but your face is still flushed. “Okay,” he says softly before letting go.

“Are you?”

He shrugs, it’s so small, just as small as the closed mouth smile that faintly curls on his face. His answer makes you laugh a little. You liked that he was honest. You start walking with him now.

Rick is still up ahead, putting his hands in his pockets, facing neither of you as he finally speaks again, “It was a pretty heated moment we all had back there,” your eyes widen as he continues, “Before. When we separated, I mean. It was dumb. It’s good we took a break, but the fighting, that was stupid. We find a way together or not at all.” His words are firm, but there is a heavy doubt in his voice when he adds, “But we can’t keep going like this, we need to figure something out,” he sighs, shaking his head, “And for everyone to get over their damn attitudes. At least for the night. It’s getting late and we need to find shelter.”

Rick turns his head slightly to look at Daryl through the corner of his eyes, making sure there is enough space from him and you as he turns forward, unashamedly grinning to himself now, “Glad you two found a way of working it out though.”

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x afab!reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #twd fanfiction #twd smut #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you

[pewpewkachuuboo]

Another little drabble- this time radioapple. Again the only warning is language. I think I do better leaning into angst or comedy, not in the middle, so I’ll have to work on that lmao

——

Lucifer couldn’t remember the last time he felt this kind of happiness. The warmth made his limbs buzz as he smiled wistfully, watching from the top of the main staircase as Charlie spoke her piece to the current residents of her hotel. He was so damn proud of her. His baby girl, all grown up and changing the once inevitable outcome for these wayward sinners.

His eyes drooped thoughtfully, letting his sharp chin rest on the backs of his clasped hands as he leaned against the railing. She was so much like her mother - strong and passionate - and he was thankful that Charlie hadn’t taken after him as much. Depressed and hopeless? He could never forgive himself if Charlie had grown up to be anything like him.

“She has your charm, your highness.”

Something about the static of the radio demon’s voice was always so unsettling. Lucifer lifted his head, lips curled into a snarl at the interruption of his inner musings, “Charm? Hardly - she owes that to Lilith.”

Alastor tutted, turning his head to look at Lucifer with that Cheshire smile plastered on his face as always, “Nonsense, good sir. She rouses the attention of the hotel patrons with the same hopelessly dreamy look that you had on your face as you watched her perform.”

Lucifer waved his hand dismissively, standing up straight as he began to move past Alastor towards the hall that led to their bedrooms, “Nah - I have no dreams. Not anymore.”

Alastor made an amused sound before turning on his foot to follow the small king of hell, “Dear sir, do you not dream to make Charlie’s dreams come true?”

The blonde made a quick glance over his shoulder at the red man, “No - Charlie doesn’t need me to do that for her.” Alastor was creepy, he decided. Tall, thin, and unexpectable - he reminded Lucifer of the boogeyman stories that he would occasionally hear when he visited the surface world.

Alastor moved to walk in tandem with Lucifer - though one step for him was the equivalent of three for the shorter man, “I don’t mean to be rude, your highness, but you’re not here to simply watch and not contribute to dear Charlie’s cause.”

Lucifer stopped, tapping his fingers impatiently on his arm after crossing them, “Did you need something? I don’t remember becoming your buddy.”

Alastor stopped and turned to face Lucifer, his own fingers drumming against the cool metal of his microphone staff, “Need? Heavens no, sir.” His permanent grin seemed to widen, “If we are not “buddies” then what would you call us, hmm?”

Lucifer mused at the comment, considering his options, “Well, what would you call two father figures who can’t stand each others company?” It pained him to admit it out loud, but he knew that Alastor looked over and protected his daughter and he wasn’t going to discount that just because he couldn’t stand the radio demon.

“Ah, I do love a riddle.” He tapped his lips thoughtfully with a thin finger, “It almost sounds like a poorly written romance novel.”

Lucifer laughed until he fully comprehended the words just spoken, “Sorry, what?” He stuttered a bit, already red cheeks darkening, “Could you repeat that?”

The static in Alastor’s laugh made his fingers tingle, “Our favorite spider keeps leaving his sinful novels laying around - the enemies to lovers seems to be painfully common. I jest, of course, I would sooner join up with the Vees than I would become your lover.” He wiped his monocle off on his dress shirt before looking at Lucifer, eyes narrowing, “Disappointed, sir?”

“N-no, I just- and you-“ the shorter man choked on his words, unable to form a coherent string of words until Alastor laughed again and he managed a, “Fuck off” before resuming his walk to his room - more brisk this time than previously.

Alastor’s grin widened as he watched Lucifer walk down the hall, his laugh echoing off the walls as he took pleasure in the confused torture in the king’s walk, “See you at dinner, your majesty.”

#hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin alastor #radioapple #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #lucifer morningstar #drabble

[cha0s-c0n3r]

This prompt came from @chaomother‘s wintery prompt list. I absolutely love her blog and highly recommend you check it out. 

Hanging out with Sonic and his friends was one of the best things ever. Every time you hung out with them so far you did something fun and everyone was so nice... well almost everyone. Shadow the hedgehog was not known for his warm and sunny disposition and it showed. Interacting with him often led to being scoffed at or told off and he often took an abrasive tone when talking to others.

On this chilly winter day, you had your coat zipped up tight and your hood was pulled over your head to protect your ears from the frigid wind. A scarf is pulled over your mouth to protect the bottom of your face and the frown pulling at your lips. “Why did I wait to do my shopping. It wasn’t as cold yesterday.” You grumbled marching down the street. 

Your brisk pace comes to a halt though when you spot black and red quills turning down the street ahead of you. “What is Shadow doing out right now?” The curiosity gets the better of you and you follow Shadow down the street. He surprisingly doesn’t notice you but he seems very focused on something in his hands, he is too far away for you to be able to see what exactly it is but it seems to be a container. Keeping a sizeable distance so as to not alert him you continue to follow him for a few minutes until he comes to a stop outside of a building. Inching closer you finally realize the building he’s come to a stop in front of is the soup kitchen and the large container in his hands must be soup.

He enters while you stay outside and think about what he just did because the image in your head of him was just shattered and the thought of “Maybe I misjudged him.” popped into your head. He might be abrasive but maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought. So in an effort to correct your mistake, you waited for him to exit to have a chat with him. 

As he exits you run up to him and call out his name. He turns around surprised “What the hell are you doing here?” His posture turns from relaxed to defensive he seems surprised to see you. You clasp your hands behind your back and try to seem casual.

“Well I was going shopping but I saw you and want to ask you if you want to grab lunch together.” He seems to relax a little and gets a thoughtful look on his face. The longer he takes to respond starts to make you nervous.

He meets your gaze and states “There’s a café down the street follow me.” He starts to walk away and you walk beside him down the street.

The café you stop in front of could be described as small but the décor is better described as cozy. You and Shadow enter the building and warmth envelopes the both of you. He goes up to the counter and orders a black coffee as you peruse the menu. You decide on a hot chocolate and a sandwich. You both make your way over to a booth and sit down.

The air is awkward between you both as you sit there. “I told you what I was doing in town, what were you doing?” The point-blank question seems to catch him off guard and he avoids your gaze for a moment. He sighs as his shoulders slump a bit.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” His face is unreadable as he says this. 

You look away sheepishly. “I think I misjudged you our entire relationship and I’m sorry.” You meet his gaze and continue. “I don’t mean to sound rude but you come off as rude most of the time. Why do you do such nice things and not show anyone? It doesn’t make any sense.” You search his face and while his face gives away nothing a pained look seems to enter his eyes.

“How much do you know about my past?” His tone is casual but searching. It’s obvious he’s fishing for information, and you’re happy to give it.

“I know you tried to destroy the earth and then saved it. I know you got amnesia, everyone says you changed after that.” At that last part, you look down at your drink not wanting to meet his eyes.

He then starts to explain. He tells you about the ark, about how he was treated more like a weapon than a person, that he was only treated humanely by one person and how that one person was killed in front of him and how he feels like it was all his fault. The horror of it makes your eyes widen and the tragedy of it makes your throat tighten. “I promised Maria that I would give people a chance to be happy. Giving people a hot meal is the bare minimum.” As he says this, tears start to fall from your eyes. He looks a little surprised by this. “[Name] what’s wrong?”

Wiping your tears you look up and with a voice filled with conviction say. “It’s not your fault, none of what happened was your fault. You didn’t ask for such horrible things to be done to you and after all that you still do the right thing, you still help people and I judged you so harshly for something so stupid, I’m so stupid.” Your voice rises in volume as you go and at the end, you can probably be heard by the whole café but you can’t control the emotion in your voice.

Shadow’s shocked face would have made you laugh if your heart wasn’t so broken. After a moment he smiles a little. “You don’t have to feel bad I feel that we are both at fault for this misunderstanding. I propose we start over.” He extends his hand as if extending the olive branch. Feeling better you give a small smile and take his hand.

“I agree. So how about we finish up here and hang out a bit I want to get to know you a bit better.” You both shake on it and Shadow seems more at ease than you’ve ever seen him around you.

“Of course and I look forward to getting to know you better as well.”

#sonic x reader #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog

[fellpyrean]

Advent Statement 1 - Bus Ride

For archiving’s sake, gonna copy over some works from my ao3. Some of these are still posted there, but others have since been removed. This was a challenge of sorts I put myself up to! Writing (originally) 12 statements in TMA universe, each ideally about a different fear. I started Nov 20th or so and managed to make it to about Dec 20th and ~40k words total before my job kicked me in the shins enough to convince me it was a terrible time to do something like this, but I did manage to successfully write 11 out of the 12 in that month. 

Here’s our starting line: Bus Ride. cws: Canon Typical Body Horror, Canon Typical Violence

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I don’t drive. 

That’s not to say I wouldn’t like to; I mean, once I get past the paralyzing anxiety of being in control of an incredibly expensive piece of machinery where mistakes could actually kill someone instead of being an extremely unlikely what-if - along with looming financial ruin - I imagine it would be quite nice to drive. The independence mostly sounds appealing. But aside from the anxiety, there’s just no way my finances could afford a car - not the payments, the gas, the insurance or dozens of other costs that seem to come with them. 

So I don’t drive. I live in a city with a bus system instead. 

Buses aren’t bad, really. They’re late more often than not, but usually only by a couple minutes, so they get the job done. They’re usually clean and everyone largely keeps to themselves, except for a couple times when someone wanted to chat with me and I wasn’t exactly sure how rude I was being by ignoring them. I mean, if someone has their phone out and headphones on - that’s a pretty clear message, isn’t it? I’m sure he was a nice young man, but I don’t think I’d give any random stranger on the bus a friendly fist bump when I left, so, sorry.  

But mostly, my morning bus rides were perfectly dull with only occasionally the background noise of some enthusiastic old women in the front chatting about some mutual acquaintance before I turned up the headphones and stared out at the familiar city scenery for the 15 minutes or so it takes to get to work. 

I first saw him, however, one particularly early morning. 

The bus I ride in the morning comes from downtown. It was winter, or close enough to it, so I wasn’t surprised when I stepped on the bus to see a heavily coated shape huddled in the back row, head down and hidden beneath a dirty, tattered hood and a tangle of scarves. Nothing matched, but that wasn't a surprise. I could see layers of coats around him, each a different style and color, and each layer inwards seemingly dirtier than the last. That was a little odd; I mean, I would think you'd want the dirtiest coats on the outside, but apparently not him. It had the weird effect of reminding me of layers of river sediment, or thick bands of sandstone; each layer with its own band of color laid beside the next, before I went back to my own business. 

That was the first bus running that day and the sun hadn’t quite gotten around to rising yet. Fog still clung between the trees and the grass had gone crunchy, which meant it was brisk to say the least, so I certainly didn’t blame the man for wanting to warm up on the bus. It was free to ride and he was just existing back there - asleep from the way his head lolled as the bus began moving once more - so that was all I really bothered with. I just sat another row up from where I normally would have. 

Nothing against him personally; it could have been anyone back there and I would have moved up a row. And honestly? I’ve smelled worse from customers at my work, so really, when I got off the bus some stops later, I didn’t spare a thought for the man-shaped bundle in the back. Just abstractly hoped he’d manage to stay warm as I hit the cold air and walked fast around the building to the employee door, and that was that. 

It was colder next time I saw him. 

The clouds lay in a thick, grey blanket above as they do every winter, the fog laced through the trees like smoke, diffusing any light into a dim haze. There wasn’t any snow, but it was very wet. Soggy - when you step on the dirt and it squishes like… upsettingly wet mashed potatoes around your shoes, and just cold enough at night to make the roads and sidewalks slick and treacherous. Shiny in a way that could be wet, or could be a twisted ankle or a busted skull waiting to happen. 

The only light at the bus stop that cold, dismal morning came from the weak orange glow of the lamp across the street, so it was with my coat buttoned tight and my phone held out, flashlight on that I waited at my stop in the dark and, not wanting to delay for a second, held it tight in my left hand as I scuttled up into the bus upon its arrival.

Inside was warm and dim with only half the lights on, and my phone’s still-on flashlight was a blaze of light as I glanced left into the back of the bus - and paused. Lit in bright white, I saw that vaguely familiar heavily-bundled shape, bits of it glinting oddly - and his face. A bit of it, at least. 

It was mostly just his eyes. Narrow and muddy and dull, squinted against my phone’s light blaring quite rudely in his direction before I stuffed it - light still on - into my pocket, nodding apologetically towards him before I dropped into a seat some rows up from him. 

Something about that glance bothered me. 

I could smell the scents of old booze and cigarette smoke drifting from him as I scooted up against the misty window but, well. You’d smell at least one of those every day on the bus from somebody, depending when you rode. I switched off my phone’s flashlight and busied myself messing with my playlist, head down and one headphone in as I tried to stop my brain from buzzing uneasily around that split-second glimpse of his face. And maybe more than that. Beyond the face, to the general… shape of him under all those mismatched coats and scarves.

It could probably be blamed on the lighting - bright white and deep shadow, with bits of orange spilling in from the street - but part of me insisted he was… shaped wrong. That’s the best way I could put it. No single glaring thing about him that made a chill linger on my back, but just a general, oddly powerful certainty that the shape beneath was not right. 

Like a mannequin incorrectly assembled, with parts from a few different models all slapdashed onto one. Like whoever put it together decided it wouldn’t matter if all the parts were wrong once they were… covered up.  

I did not like that thought. Especially when my head helpfully and cheerfully reminded me that this man was sitting only three rows behind me, it was dark, and we were the only two people on the bus, aside from the driver behind their little plexiglass door up front. 

I shook off those worries and turned up my music. Although, I admit, I did leave one ear open.

Even so, I told myself there was nothing wrong with him. It was just early and I was being, honestly, a bit of an ass. 

Sometimes, I scolded myself, people might look a little weird. It didn't mean he was some kind of… what, monstrous amalgamation? How stupid can you get? The guy obviously already had a hard enough life without me getting worked up and creeped out for no reason. He probably got more than enough of that without me adding to it with ridiculous overactive imaginings. 

So I sat in the half-dark and stared out the window, determinedly watching the streets go by as the sun faintly lit the grey-padded sky. 

The bus was perfectly quiet, interspersed with the pleasantly computerized voice that announced each stop as we passed. It turned towards my work, I pulled the signal, the bus pulled up to my stop and I stood. I stepped down the two little stairs to the exit door and just so happened to glance back towards the dark corner the man had deposited himself in. 

He was not there. 

I jerked my head up further, and choked down the unease that rose like a wave in my chest. 

He had moved. 

I had not heard him. My music had not been so loud that I wouldn’t have heard him shuffle about that close, and he couldn't have been that quiet with all those zippers and keychains hanging off his layers, but there. 

In the row just behind where I had sat, now sat him. 

Head down, hands hidden in old, too thick gloves, his cocooned body slouched towards the window in that way that was… deeply wrong. People shouldn’t bend like that. Like something discarded. 

He’d been not a foot behind me, leaning against the very same window, and I had had no idea. I’d heard nothing.  

And as his head shifted, slowly, jerkily - he looked at me. His eyes were dull. Glassy. But unmistakably pleased. 

I did not linger. 

That’s… hah, that’s a very generous way for me to describe it. 

I ran. 

I heard the bus doors close behind me and I did not look back. I did not look back until I pushed through the employee doors and into the soothing buzz of god awful fluorescent lights of my work. It’s a terrible sound, and I won’t pretend to like them; but in that moment, they seemed the blessed antithesis to anything… weird. 

Which was exactly what it was. 

Even if he was a perfectly normal man, it was weird. I mean. No one normal does that to someone, right? Like, that’s an asshole thing to do. Just. Fucking with someone like that, and for what - because I accidentally shone my flashlight in his face? 

I might have been a bit of an asshole, but at least I didn't go creeping up behind people to freak them out on purpose.

I worried all day that he’d be on the bus when I headed home, but the back row was full of teenagers instead. In fact, for weeks… Every day, I checked the back row. Every day, it was empty. 

I had no idea what I’d do if he was back there. 

He’d been a creep, but he’d not physically done anything to me. Nothing that warranted missing my bus if he was sitting back there one morning. I decided if I did open the doors and look into the back and he was there, then I’d just sit right up front. Right there in the ‘save for old ladies’ seating, right behind the bright little bubble of the driver seat and I would ignore the creep in the back and hope an old lady convention didn’t need seating. 

It really was the perfect plan. I would even pretend that I was not bothered at all by him being there, and I would be very impressively stoic and not at all an anxious, semi-terrified mess. 

It finally decided to snow. 

It’s a rare thing here, when it actually gets around to snowing and not just being generally soggy, and it was another early, early shift. The sun had yet to rise. The snow lay undisturbed on the street, a shimmering blanket of white I picked my way through as I headed towards the dark little nook of the bus stop up ahead. The orange light on the snow glittered faintly, the light itself half covered in caked on frost, and the cold air was fresh and crisp on my tongue even through the loose wrapping of my scarf. 

It was slick and slow going, but I rather liked the snowy walk. The stillness of everything, the rhythmic crunch of my boots through the crisp shell on the snow, in comparison to the hectic mad dash of my work day ahead was very calming. 

I reached the bus stop and pulled out my phone and tapped on the flashlight, holding it at an angle so the bus driver would see me in the dark and had just put in a headphone when… I heard it. 

A slow, deliberate… crunch. 

It was a familiar noise. 

A boot, crunching slowly, steadily into hard-crusted snow. 

And another. 

Coming closer. 

Accompanied by a soft, metallic jingle. Of too many zippers, too many baubles and keyrings, and a dreadfully slow rustling-shift of fabric. 

It was him. 

I knew even before I whipped my head up and saw his shape in the dark. And oh. How wrong it was. 

Sitting, he had looked too alike to a doll thrown haphazardly aside. Standing, he… he looked like a puppet, cut of all its strings and standing anyway. Head lolling, arms hanging limp and swaying beneath his layers of coats. 

They were mismatched. One too long for the other, his shoulders angled like they’d been shattered and glued back into place by someone who had no idea how they should have sat to begin with - and had gone ahead and done the rest of him too, since they were there and already had the glue out. 

He stood there, swaying softly, the light dancing, catching on all those zippered coats. I hadn’t realized just how many zippers there were before. I’d known there were a lot, but not until orange light really danced across each and every shockingly clean one of them did I realize... There must have been dozens upon dozens. The coats, I realized, were all… zippered together. Still layered, still banded, but from what I could see, each one was a patchwork, joined to the rest on all edges by a glinting border of toothy metal. I just hadn’t noticed in the dark, since a general layer of dust and grime made the outer layer look relatively uniform. But now I could see - the arms belonged to different coats. Half the chest, too. And going down… it was longer than any coat I’d ever seen. 

He was not a short man, but the hems dragged across the snow like the remnants of a long abandoned fabric scrap collection, and even there… I saw more zippers, glinting, stitching it all together amidst the dark, spattered stains. 

The only point of unity was one, long, singular zipper down the front. It traveled in a ripping, jagged trail from his shoulder down past his waist and it seemed like… like it knew when I noticed it. 

I know how that sounds. I know how all of this sounds. It sounds like I ran into a homeless drunk man and freaked out, doesn’t it? But… he wasn’t. 

He was not drunk and he was not a man. 

I watched, frozen, as that long zipper began to come undone. He did not reach for it. His hands stayed limp at his sides, his dull eyes gleaming matte in what scant light hit them, a dead smile frozen on his cheeks. As the zipper opened, each little tine shone like a wet tooth, and as I watched, he began to… u-unfold. The layers of coats bloomed. They split like a maw, jingling and cracking like snapping hangers, layer after layer after layer opening into a horrid, gaping approximation of a mouth with a human head perched on top - still grinning that god awful, plastic smile as I stood there, dumbstruck and frozen. Zippers lined the edges, lined the insides, all so, so much sharper than they should be and shifting. There was no trace of a human form beneath it at all. 

Just that mouth. A gaping, hungry pit. 

Enormous and open and stinking of old alcohol and tobacco and then it… it reached for me. Those dirty scarves laying about beneath its head coiled and lurched towards me, their tufted ends hideously morphed into matted hands reaching, grasping, until my terror finally crested. I jolted backwards, and the stinking fabric only grabbed hold of my own scarf, pulling it so hard I nearly tumbled forwards into that slavering, glistening maw. My boots slid and slipped in the snow as those boneless, stinking appendages tangled into my scarf, reeling me in and I knew. I knew that if it really got its… its hands on me, they would stuff me into that mouth and fold back up around me, and it would be me crunching up inside those coats like old plastic. That my blood would become just another faded, splattered stain amongst the awful tapestry. 

I’ll just say adrenaline is a hell of a thing. 

It had pulled my scarf near tight enough to choke me, but I somehow got it off. It didn’t stagger, but I did. 

My phone fell into the snow, flashlight a garish beacon as the thing stilled, holding up my scarf like it didn’t understand why it was empty -  

And then the bus arrived. 

It doesn’t make sense. 

I hadn’t heard it at all. I hadn’t heard the jangling snow chains on the tires, or even seen its headlights coming towards us, lighting up me and the thing playing at being a man, until it was already there. It was already there and the doors swung open, and the thing in front of me was just - folded back up. I hadn’t seen that happen either. It was just standing there, swaying like a scarecrow in the wind. 

Jingling ever-so-softly.  

I couldn’t see its eyes beneath the hood anymore, but I could feel them. 

It was not happy. 

I didn’t wait around. I grabbed my phone out of the snow and booked it up into the bus. I sat right behind the driver seat and huddled up against the wall, staring expectantly at the door as I tried to figure out what I could say. 

Don’t let that thing on, it’s not a person? Don’t let it on, it just attacked me? Tried to eat me? 

But the bus driver didn’t say a word. I don’t think they could see what I had. They had not seen it all… unfurled. 

The only proof it had even happened was the line of my own dragged footsteps in the snow, drawn towards a man who just stood there, swaying vaguely in the dark. And wearing my scarf. 

Bright, crisp, clean and red. 

The bus driver tutted quietly, glancing one last time towards the thing that I could still feel watching me, and finally, finally closed the doors. And drove. 

Leaving behind that thing in the dark. 

I didn’t ride the bus back home that night. I got a friend to give me a ride and I did not see it at the bus stop as we drove by in the early evening gloom. I… Luckily, I had a three day weekend lined up already, and I… Well I meant to get things done, but instead I talked myself into coming here. To you. 

But I have to go back tomorrow. My boss was already upset enough with me for the wreck I was that day, and I can’t… I can’t call out. I don’t have the leave for it, and I need the money. 

But I also… I know that, if I go, it’ll be there waiting for me. 

I guess I just want to say… if you see someone else wearing this coat. Someone all lopsided and wrong and wrapped up to try and hide that… well. It was nice to talk to you, at least.  

Thank you for the cocoa. 

#crowswritings #tma #tma advent project

[pre-hiatus]

we need a ship rp on Omegle beginners hand guide

#it’s like improv. yes and my friend. yes and #Mac signs his texts with M and Dennis with DR #I don’t make the rules but if someone does MM or D I can just tell that they’re newish! which isn’t bad it’s just showing your hand a bit I #think #if you wanna start on equal footing I suggest using M and DR. that’s what the standard has been for a few years at least as far as I know #ALSO YES AND #yes and! if my prompt hinges on something being true don’t say it’s not #ex if Mac is approaching Dennis about sleeping with someone else don’t have Dennis say but I DIDNT sleep with that person #it completely nerfs the prompt! #if you think the thing that the prompt hinges on is ooc then it’s not the prompt for you! #just dc it’s okay! don’t nerf the prompt! #this is all being said with love and care and is a matter of opinion #personal #sorry if this is a little brisk or rude I don’t mean to be it’s just something I care a lot about :) I don’t think any rpers follow me #really except Veronica Patrick and ree #anyway send me your rp pet peeves

[emeraldiis]

Falling for a God

A/N: Forgot to properly post/format this fic, so here ya go ya filthy animals (ok but i wrote it so I’m filthier)

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”You have a huge crush on Loki, there's lots of sexual tension, y'all fuck. That's the plot.

“Nat,” you whine. “I feel like you’re not even listening.” You prance to the front of her, spinning around to walk backwards.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Wow, are you sure you aren’t pyschic?” She keeps up her brisk pace, and you nearly trip over yourself trying to keep up.

“That’s so rude!” You exclaim, but can’t hold back a giggle. Despite her cold demeanor, you know that Nat is just messing with you. Shooting a quick glance backwards, you decide that your path is clear, and return your gaze to your friend. “You’ll tell me if I’m about to run into something, right?”

With a wry grin, Natasha gives you a thumbs up. You beam at her. “Anyway,”  you continue. “I started watching this new TV show last night, and it is so, totally awesome. There’s this guy, and he has these badass powers, and he’s fighting this girl, and she has-”

Thump.

A small oof escapes from your mouth as your back collides with something solid. You pitch forward in surprise, and yelp as you try to stabilize yourself before you fall. Large, warm hands grab your waist, tightening around you to keep you from toppling over. You sigh in relief as your frantic heart slows to a normal rhythm. “Wow, thanks,” you say, and spin around to reveal the identity of your saviour.

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat. “Careful, pet,” Loki murmurs softly, a sly grin spreading across his lips. His hands slide off of your waist, making contact with the sliver of skin between your shorts and your top on the way. An involuntary shiver creeps up your spine, and you bite your lip.

The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the ever-perceptive trickster, and his eyes flash with surprise. “Are my hands really that cold?” Loki teases. “Perhaps you could help me warm them up.” His tone is playful, but there’s something deeper underneath his banter that makes you think he’s actually flirting.

You can tell that your cheeks are red, and you choose not to respond to Loki’s question in fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself. A stammered apology tumbles from your lips, and you look back towards Natasha with a look of betrayal. She grins and shrugs. “I forgot to warn you. Oops.” Your mouth drops open. That scheming little devil. She knows about your crush on Loki, and she still allows you to make a fool out of yourself?

Your interactions with Loki were sparse, to say the least. Aside from a few casual conversations in a group, you had barely even talked to him. Still, he captivated you from the very first day he arrived at the compound. He was exactly your type; tall, dark, and brooding. Aside from Thor, most everyone gave Loki a wide berth, hesitant to forget the battle for New York. You, however, didn’t see a villain. You saw pain behind those blue eyes, and could empathize with Loki’s behavior. You knew all too well that it hurt to live in someone’s shadow, and sometimes acting out was a cry for help. Granted, Loki’s outbursts were far more drastic than yours had ever been, but it was more or less the same on a base level. And, the fact that he constantly had a witty remark on the tip of his tongue never ceased to entertain you. The man liked to hear himself talk, and damn, so did you.

It takes you a second to realize that you’ve been staring. You clear your throat awkwardly and look to the floor, eager to hide your discomfort. “Um, thank you for catching me,” you manage. When you look back up, Loki is wearing an odd expression. His pretty eyes are narrowed, searching your face. The scrutiny only embarasses you further. “Well, see you around!” WIth that, you dart around Loki and scurry off. Natasha follows you, snickering softly.

When you reach the common area, you plop yourself down on the couch and groan, throwing an arm over your face. Natasha sits down beside you. “Smooth,” she says, drawing out the word obnoxiously.

You remove your arm from over your eyes and give Natasha a withering look. “So not funny.”

Nat positively cackles at that. “Oh, come on,” she says. “He’d be an idiot to not at least have a thing for you, I mean, you’re smoking! ” She looks you up and down. “Nice rack, too.”

A giggle bursts from your lips. “Nat. Oh, my god. Stop objectifying me.”

Shaking her head, Natasha replies, “Me, objectify? I would never.”

That earns her an eye roll from you. “Sure. Anyway, can we please change the subject? I’m sick of talking about my embarrassing Loki crush.”

“What does ��crush’ mean?”

You freeze. Now that was a distinct voice. “Thor,” you choke out. “When did you get here?”

Thor walks up behind the couch and swings himself over the back, making the poor piece of furniture creak in protest. He settles next to you, effectively sandwiching you between him and Natasha. “Just long enough to hear you discussing my brother. Now, will you please enlighten me on this strange Midgardian term?”

Before you can shut him down, Nat pipes up from the other end of the sofa. “It means she likes him. Romantically. Sexually. ”

The temptation to throw yourself onto the floor wailing is high. Instead, you opt to beg for your life. Still embarrassing, but slightly more productive than throwing a tantrum. “Nat!” You screech. You turn to Thor with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t say anything to him.”

Thor furrows his eyebrows. “What an odd expression. You’d think that the word “crush’ would be associated with something negative.” He places a big hand on your thigh. “If what Lady Natahsa says is true, then why would you not tell my brother? He is quite vain, you know. I’m sure he would be delighted to know that a beautiful woman is attracted to him!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. These Asgardians will be the death of you. “It’s not that simple, Thor. What if he rejects me? I’d never be able to show my face around him again!”

There’s a pause, and then Thor asks you in a much gentler tone, “It seems as though you care for Loki a great deal more than you are letting on. Are you really afraid of embarrassment, or is it the heartbreak you fear?”

You’re glad that your hands are covering your face, because the way the color drains out of it at Thor’s question would have given you away. “No,” you mumble through your fingers. But he’s right, you do care for Loki more than you’d ever admit. His image ran through your head at night when you were trying to sleep, and his voice was what came to mind when your fingers were between your legs and you were pretending they were-

You rub at your eyes, then look up at Thor in desperation. “Please, if you really care about me as a friend, you’ll keep this secret.” You shoot a look at Natasha. “You, too. I may not be able to take Thor in a fight, but I could kick your ass.” You know you sound like a pathetic teenager, but you’re past the point of caring. You were perfectly happy admiring Loki from afar, and didn’t want to get your hopes up just to be met with shame.

Natasha scoffs. “As if.” Before she can continue. Thor holds up his hand.

“Lady Natasha, I believe we should stay out of this. I have done a great deal of meddling in my brother’s life, and I’ve learned that even the best intentions can cause disaster when Loki is involved.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say gratefully, relief evident in your voice. With a tired sigh, you hoist yourself up from the couch and turn to face your friends. “Well, I think I’ve had enough excitement for today. I’m going to hibernate, see you next spring.”

Natasha giggles and blows you a kiss goodbye while Thor scrunches up his face in confusion at your joke. Oh, well. Maybe he’d understand Midgardian humor one day.

*

Thunder rages outside your window while you toss and turn. You roll over to glance at your clock, and scowl when it flashes “3AM.” Giving up on the prospect of sleep, you opt for creeping to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your bare feet pad down the carpet, and you shiver slightly at the cold air of the hall. Goosebumps rise on your bare legs and you start to regret your decision not to put on pants.

To get to the kitchen, you have to walk through the common area, and for a moment you linger just outside the entryway. There’s a soft glow coming from the corner of the room, and you mentally groan, hoping it’s one of the female inhabitants of the compound. You weren’t too excited at the idea of walking past one of the guys in just a sleep shirt and underwear. Still, your mission for food is not one you’re willing to give up on. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the hallway and into the room. And nearly pass out.

Across the room, perched in one of the loveseats, is Loki. He’s sitting with his legs curled underneath him, thumbing through a book. You consider darting back into the safety of the hall, but you’re too late. Loki has already noticed you, and is now staring far too intently for your liking. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you tug on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it further down your legs. “Sorry to disturb you,” you whisper, afraid to break the deafening silence. Loki raises an eyebrow at you, then turns back to his book. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed when his gaze leaves you.

Not wanting to linger in the entryway any longer, you make your way across the room, keeping your eyes down. As you pass Loki, a loud clap of thunder booms outside, and already being on edge, you yelp. Startled from the deafening sound in an otherwise quiet room, you stagger, falling backwards onto the loveseat. Right next to Loki. The sofa is small, and in your splayed out position, you’re almost half on top of the god.

Loki flinches away, and you immediately begin to apologize. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I guess I just lost my footing. Did I hurt you?” As you talk, you push yourself off of Loki and cower into the other side of the loveseat. Some more rational part of your brain urges you to get up, give him some more space, but you don’t listen. As embarrassed as you are, you’re not quite ready to give up this closeness to the object of your affection.

With a huff, Loki straightens himself and gives you a cool look. “You did not hurt me, mortal. I was simply surprised.” Then, having composed himself, he smirks and sets his book on the end table beside him. “I suppose it is only natural to have weak knees in the presence of a god.”

The comment lightens the mood, and you find yourself relaxing next to him. “You’re right, Thor’s thunder does make me a tad unsteady.”

At that, Loki stiffens, obviously having not expected you to return his teasing. For a brief moment, you feel proud. Then, something changes in his expression, and he scoots closer to you. His hand finds your bare thigh, and the contact sends butterflies through your stomach. Loki senses your restlessness and gives you a predatory grin. “Is that so? Are you telling me that this,” he squeezes your thigh, and you gasp. “Doesn’t make you feel...faint?” His voice is low, and he almost purrs the last few words.

You fight hard to keep your breathing even, not wanting to give away just how flustered you are. The heavy weight of his hand feels heavenly, and you can feel your panties grow damp. God, you hope he can’t smell it.

This predatory tone is so much different than the playful teasing that you usually receive from Loki. You’ve never seen his blue eyes so dark, and the unfamiliarity of it all tightens your stomach.

Taking your silence as a challenge, Loki presses himself even closer to you. His fingers creep up your leg, closer to your underwear. “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”

Fuck. A full body shiver skates across your skin, and despite your best efforts, a small moan breaks free from your throat. Loki’s hand feels like a brand on your thigh, sending waves of heat up your body. The warmth pools between your legs, and you can’t help but shift a bit. Knowing that your panties are the only barrier between your soaking heat and the sofa, you arch your hips ever so slightly to keep from soiling the cushion.

Of course, your small movements don’t go unnoticed. Loki’s eyes are hooded as they rake across your bare legs, and you can hear his breathing get a bit heavier. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. “Oh, pet, look at you. Barely even touched, and already-”

He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall, headed in your direction. Loki curses softly and reluctantly draws his hand away, then moves as far away as the small sofa allows. Your skin aches at the loss of contact.

The interrupting stranger’s footsteps approach the entrance to the common room, then carry on past. You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, thankful that you wouldn’t have to explain anything. Something tells you that, while there’s nothing going on now, sitting with Loki in the middle of the night might raise a few eyebrows.

You and Loki are alone again, but the moment has passed. Whatever spell that had overcome the two of you is gone, and all that’s left is a quiet room and a dim light. “I apologize, I believe I have overstepped,” Loki says, and for the first time, he sounds...unsure. His voice has lost that arrogant confidence that it normally carries, and he sounds like a child that has just been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You bite your lip and risk a glance at Loki. He’s still pressed against the opposite arm of the loveseat, and is avoiding your eyes. Without the atmosphere of desire from before, now you just feel...awkward. Sighing softly, you rise to your feet and make your way to the hallway. You pause briefly in the entryway, and breathe out a “goodnight, Loki.” You don’t wait for a response, instead turning and trudging back towards your room.

As you flop back down in bed, you replay the night’s events over in your mind. It almost feels like a dream, and you’re having trouble believing that Loki, the God of Mischief, had actually come on to you. It didn’t seem plausible. You’re just a plain mortal, nothing special, no powers. Sure, your combat skills could rival Natasha’s, but besides that, you can’t find anything about yourself that would attract a god.

Eventually, you decide that maybe Loki was just horny, and you were in the right place at the right time. You did walk out without pants on, after all. No matter the reasoning, you know not to expect a repeat occurrence, given how regretful he had seemed afterwards. Tears brim in your eyes as the reality of the situation hits you; Loki regrets touching you. It seems that your crush was one-sided, and even though you weren’t surprised, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

*

Things are tense around the compound. You creep around corners, terrified of accidentally finding yourself in the same room as Loki. And it seems that Loki is taking the same precautions, because you haven’t even seen a glimpse of him since that night. The ache in your heart from his rejection still keeps you up at night, and you still find yourself pining over him like a lovesick idiot.

Ever the observer, Natasha catches on quickly. “Are you really still embarrassed about bumping into Loki?” She asks after cornering you in the kitchen. “You’re not acting like yourself, and it is beyond obvious something is bothering you.”

You groan at her around a mouthful of a granola bar. “Are you really still thinking about it?” You counter.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s hard to pretend it didn’t happen when you’re playing this stupid cat and mouse game. I see you check every room for him, I can’t believe you even care that much. He barely even touched you!”

A piece of your snack shoots down your throat with your gasp. You double over, wheezing and coughing. Natasha slaps a hand on your back, sighing. When you finally catch your breath, you glare at Nat. “Yeah, maybe that’s the issue.”

You immediately regret your words as a fire lights itself in Natasha’s eyes. “Want me to help?”

“Nat, hold on. No thanks-”

“Shush, trust me!” To your dismay, Natasha is already on her way out of the kitchen when she finishes hushing you. You whimper out a half-baked protest, but your friend is long gone by the time the words leave your mouth. Fuck, you’re so screwed.

LIfe  was very quickly becoming a stressful game of hide and seek. You’d resorted to spending most of the day in your room, hoping to avoid Loki, and more importantly, Natasha. You’re not sure what she has planned, but it can’t be anything good. As weeks pass by with no incident, however, you begin to drop your guard. Maybe she’s taking pity on you.

It’s around noon when you get the text. It’s an all caps message from Nat, pleading with you to at least hear her out before saying no.

That’s a terrifying text. I’m listening.

Nat: I may have bragged my way into a drinking contest with Thor, and I need a teammate to make it fair.

You want to try and outdrink Thor????

Nat: I want US to outdrink him. I convinced him that it’d be more balanced if it was 2 to 1.

You owe me.

Nat: :)

It was a terrible idea, but maybe a nice night of getting hammered is just what you need to break you out of your funk. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting excited. You hadn’t really relaxed in ages, this would be a good thing.

As the hours pass, you start to get nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten properly drunk, and you seriously doubt you’ll be able to keep up with even Natasha. Still, a promise is a promise, and you have far too much pride to chicken out now.

The clock reaches nine o’clock, and you sigh. Showtime. Before leaving your suite, you set several glasses of water and a bottle of Advil on your nightstand. If you’re going to fuck over your future self, you might as well try to ease her pain. You take a deep breath and spare a glance over at the mirror against your bedroom wall. You had opted for something comfy, but cute; an emerald green dress that stopped just above your mid-thigh, and fell off of one shoulder effortlessly.

Okay, so maybe you had wanted to get a tiny bit dressed up. You’re sure Nat will tease you for it, but sometimes a girl just wants to feel pretty.

A bit breathless from those pre-competition nerves--yes, a drinking contest was that serious--you make your way to the kitchen. As you round the corner, you stop dead in your tracks. Sitting at the bar Tony had insisted on installing, is Nat and Thor, of course. But next to them, perched delicately on one of the stools, is Loki. He wears a look of disdain, as if this entire competition is beneath him. You hope he can’t tell how badly you want to be beneath him.

Natasha gives you a wicked grin as Thor waves you over, his smile far more innocent-looking than Nat’s, though you’re sure he had a part in this. Cursing your terrible friends under your breath, and yourself for falling for it, you trudge over. Naturally, the only stool left is the one on the end, directly next to Loki. You gingerly hoist yourself up and slide onto the seat.

You stubbornly keep your eyes on the counter, not daring to even glance up at Loki. It’s obvious from the way he’s angling himself away from you and towards his brother that he’s regretting that night, and doesn’t want to be near you. You don’t blame him, humans must seem like animals compared to gods. The reality is that you were a mistake to him, and you just needed to accept that and move past.

Breaking the awkward silence, Thor produces a jug of what looks like beer from god knows where. He grins and gestures to it grandly. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Hold up! I thought this was two against one? Loki being here makes it unfair.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah, I may have bent the truth to get you to come out. It’s teams of two, but we have a handicap. Our drinks and shots count as twice the actual amount, and they’ll be drinking Asgardian mead. So,” She smirks. “No more complaints, let’s do this shit.”

You swallow nervously at the mention of shots. You could hold your liquor fairly well, but you and shots had...history. Nat knew how touchy you got when you were drunk, and how much of an oversharer you tended to be. Though you have to admit that her plan is almost flawless, you’re still unimpressed with her shenanigans. She’s pretty much set you up to embarrass yourself.

You twiddle your thumbs in your seat as Natasha grabs a bottle of Svedka from behind the bar and begins to pour the beginning drinks. Following her lead, Thor pops open his jug and splits it between two large glasses, then passes one to Loki, who sighs in apparent boredom. He shoots you an unreadable look, then grabs one of the shot glasses that Natasha filled and slides it your way.

With a mumbled “thanks,’ you gingerly take the glass, and look at Nat and Thor. Thor raises his glass. “May the better warriors win!” He announces, then tips back his glass. You roll your eyes at the word choice, but bring the shot glass to your lips and throw your head back. The liquor goes down rough, but you manage to keep your poker face and grit your teeth against any retches.

“The lady can drink!” Thor bellows, wiping at his face.

You shrug, wanting the spotlight off of you. “Um, I went to college?”

Before Thor can question you, Natasha cuts in. “Hello? I took it just as well, where’s my applause?”

“Natasha, you are not a lady,” Loki deadpans. Nat glares and pours herself another shot in response, throwing back the second one just as easily as she had the first. She then points at you. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. Despite everything, Loki was still Loki, and he still had your heart. It seems that the tension between you and Loki dissolves after you laugh at his quip, and he relaxes his stiff posture.

You sigh in relief and reach for the bottle to refill your own glass. This time, it goes down easier. That is, until the burns travels past your stomach, right down to between your legs. You squirm in place at the unexpected burst of arousal. Still, you should have been ready for it. Alcohol has always gotten you a little worked up. It was your mistake to believe you could fight it.

Despite the setback, you keep up with your teammate as the night goes on. Shot after shot, broken up by the easy conversation that emerges as the liquor continues to flow.

You’re not sure when the competition was forgotten, but you soon find yourself splayed on the couch next to Loki, laughing hysterically at some story he’s just finished telling about Thor in his youth. You look over at him, hazily trying to center your double vision to properly admire the god. His cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, and he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

Loki glances over, catching you staring, but you’re far too intoxicated to be embarrassed. Instead, you hold your gaze, waiting for a reaction. Loki smirks, then eyes his brother with annoyance.

“Brother,” he says, voice a lazy drawl. “I believe we’ve won this contest, wouldn’t you say?”

Thor cocks his head, then widens his eyes in understanding. “Oh, certainly! In fact, I think it would be necessary for me to walk you back to your quarters, Natasha.”

Natasha begins to protest, but it dies on her lips as her gaze flickers between you and Loki. “What a gentleman,” she purrs, only swaying slightly when she rises from her seat. “Lead the way.” Taking his outstretched hand, Natasha stumbles down the hall with Thor, giggling excitedly.

Now that it’s just the two of you, you expect things to get awkward, but find that you’re still just as comfortable. “Well, I guess I have to bow to the drinking champ,” you slur, sitting up to give a half hearted bow.

Loki throws his head back and laughs. “You,” he manages between snorts, “are far more fun to be around than most others on this planet.”

You scoff and wave your hand dismissively. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I bowed to you.” Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift back over to Loki. In your drunken haze, he just looks so...comfy. Before you realize what you’re doing, you slide over to lean up against him. Loki’s surprisingly warm, and you sigh contentedly, letting your mind wander back to how his hand felt running up your thigh.

The arousal from earlier that you had forgotten about rears its head, turning your sigh into a shaky exhale that is not at all subtle. The air feels thick, just like it had on that one stormy night, and you press yourself closer to Loki, unable to resist how good his body feels against yours.

Loki freezes for a moment, then seems to force himself to relax into you. His arm snakes around you until he’s holding you comfortably against his side. For one brief moment, you start to wonder if this is a good idea, given how things had ended in the past, but the intoxicated part of your brain tells the sober part to go fuck herself, and then you’re speaking without thinking. “Do you want to walk me to bed?”

Oh, shit. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. A wave of sobering panic hits you, and you untangle yourself from Loki and shoot up from the couch. Before you can flee, however, a pale hand grabs hold of your arm, stopping you in place.

Loki gets up, then moves his grip from your wrist to your hand. “I think that is a lovely idea. Allow me?” With the hand that isn’t holding yours, he gestures toward the hall. Well, that was unexpected. You try not to giggle in child-like excitement, and instead nod hurriedly.

Your heart speeds up at the feel of his hand in yours, and you start off down the hall, letting Loki pull you towards your suite. Caught up in trying to navigate the titling floor, you don’t notice that you’re being led the wrong way until the two of you come to a stop at a door that definitely does not belong to you. You look up at Loki in confusion. “This isn’t my room.”

“I know,” Loki growls, then opens the door and whirls you both inside. When you’ve recovered from the swift movement, you manage to pull away from Loki’s grip.

“What-what’s going on?” You say, attempting to sound stern. Loki stalks towards you. Instinctively, you back up, until you’re pressed against the wall with Loki boxing you in.

Loki presses his hands to the wall on either side of your head and sneers at you. “What’s going on?” He mocks. “I’ve craved your body under mine since long before our little nighttime meeting, and I have run out of patience for games.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, grazing you with his teeth. Just like before, his playfulness has given way to a domineering aura, but you’re not complaining one bit.

You barely suppress a full body shiver. “But,” you protest weakly. “I, I thought you regretted it. I mean, you never said anything about it, so I figured...oh…” you trail off into a soft moan as Loki roughly licks up the side of your neck, growling.

“And when would I have gotten the chance?” Loki pulls away from his assault on your skin to look you in the eyes. “You have been avoiding me for nearly a month.” Those blue eyes are staring daggers at you, and you realize that there’s hurt behind all that frustration.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s right, but the eye contact from his smoldering stare is making you forget how to speak. Fumbling with your words, you cast your gaze downwards. “Yeah, I guess I have. But with what you said after we were interrupted....I thought you were uncomfortable with what happened.”

A dark chuckle spills from Loki’s lips. “The only discomfort you have caused me is the nights I have spent spilling over my own hand because I could not have you. ”

You gasp softly as Loki’s words send a wave of heat through your overheated body. Loki takes that as encouragement, and presses himself closer until his lips are grazing yours. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he mumbles, eyes hooded.

Your response is to surge forward, hands flying to the back of his head as you roughly pull him in to kiss you. You both groan at the contact. The kiss is anything but gentle; your fingers are tangled in Loki’s hair, tugging harshly, and you can feel his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. It was far better than you could have imagined, and the dizzying pleasure of it all has you feeling drunker and more sober at the same time.

Before long, the room spins as Loki lifts you and hoists your legs around his waist. He kisses you breathless as he walks slowly down the hall towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. There’s a giddy part inside of you that squeals with excitement at being carried like that, but it’s quickly overshadowed by lust as you and Loki reach his bedroom. He tosses you onto his king sized bed like a doll, then kneels on the floor and yanks your ankles until your bottom is almost hanging off the bed.

Loki slides your dress up and nuzzles the inside of your thigh. “I could smell your arousal the entire night,” he says, nearly purring. “May I taste?”

You sit up on your elbows and stare down at him, face flushed with mild embarrassment at his face so close to your soaked panties. Dumbly, you nod, words failing you. Loki growls his appreciation and hikes up your dress, taking a brief moment to admire the soft fabric. “You look absolutely ravishing in green, I’ve wanted to tear this off of you since the moment I laid eyes on it.” And then he’s sliding your panties down your legs and plunging his tongue into your heat.

A ragged gasp tears its way from your throat and you throw your head back. You feel the grin form on Loki’s lips against your skin, and a fresh gush of arousal flows down your thighs. Loki eats pussy like it’s an art form he’s been perfecting for ages. His lips tug at your pussy, worshipping every fold like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You open your mouth to make some joke about his silvertongue, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as Loki drags his teeth lightly across your clit.

It isn’t long before the pleasure reaches its peak.You fight hard to keep your legs from clamping around Loki’s head, but you can’t help it when you crest over the edge of orgasm. Your muscles lock up, your back arches, and you scream. White hot euphoria explodes from your core, spreading through your body like venom. Loki’s tongue works you through it, slowing to wide, long strokes as you begin to come down.

You’ve barely recovered when Loki rises from his knees and crawls up your body, coming to a stop when his face is inches from yours. His eyes are hooded, and his glistening lips are parted to allow frantic, heated pants to escape. “Pet,” he hisses, leaning down to nuzzle into your shoulder. “You taste sweeter than the fruits of Asgard.” He bites at your collarbone, making you shudder in your post-orgasmic haze.

Still out of it, you sluggishly fumble at Loki’s belt. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” you mumble and lick your lips. Loki bats your hand away, shushing you.

“Darling, there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to feel you.” He grabs your shoulders and drags you up to the pillows, so that you’re lying comfortably on your back with him hovering above you.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of ‘later.’ So this wasn’t just a one-night stand? You don’t have time to process that, however, as Loki barely gives you a moment to breathe. He sits back on his knees, straddling your waist, and with a wave of his hand, you’re both stark naked. Your hands twitch, wanting to cover yourself. Being naked in front of an attractive man has always intimidated you, but the fact that Loki was a god made it worse. As if sensing your sudden shyness, Loki leans in to kiss at lick at your breasts, and brings his hands up to pin your wrists to the bed. You sigh in pleasure, insecurity fading with every hot swipe of his tongue, not even wanting to struggle against his hold.

Loki lowers himself to grind against you. His hard cock slides against your dripping folds as his narrow hips press into yours. Both of you shiver, and you arch your hips to bring him closer. Loki growls against your skin and sits up. He lets go of your wrists, roughly grabs your waist and angles it to meet his. “Ready, pet? I can’t wait, I need to have you.” he breathes, eyes locked on yours.

Like a deer in the headlights, you’re frozen, anticipation coiling tightly under your skin. Slowly, you nod. Loki wastes no time. He smirks, then slides himself into you, the stretch burning in the loveliest way. Your heated groan mingles with his, and when Loki’s hips come to rest against yours, he falls against your chest, panting. You appreciate the time he gives you to adjust; Loki’s cock is thick, and longer than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can feel it throbbing desperately within you. Now that he’s released your hands, you bring them up to thread through his soft, black hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, nearly purring.

“Tell me when, love,” Loki grits out, fighting to keep his voice steady. The shakiness in his usually smooth tone is arousing to no end, and you can feel yourself clench around him in approval. Loki’s hips twitch at the fluttering of your walls, and though you’re more than ready, you decide to torture him a bit longer.

You bring your legs up to wrap around Loki’s  waist, pulling him closer. He shivers, but keeps his composure, remaining almost statue still. His concern for your comfort makes your heart swell, but you want to see him lose control. “You’re so big,” you whimper out, the alcohol in your system quelling the embarrassment you’d usually feel when talking dirty. You press your face into Loki’s neck, grazing your teeth along the pale skin there.

With a deep growl of barely kept composure, Loki rises up to rest on his elbows, desperate eyes searching yours. It seems that being the God of Lies gave Loki the ability to see through your cruel game, and his expression turns dark, though the neediness is still blatant. You shift nervously as he stares you down, already regretting your mischievousness. “Feeling playful, are we?” Loki asks.

Your mouth goes dry at being caught and your core tightens around him again, earning you a flutter of his eyelids. “I…” you trail off, eyes drifting to Loki’s parted lips. Watching you gaze, Loki grins at you.

“Oh, pet. I think you may be confused. You are mine to toy with, not the other way around.” With that, Loki leans down to crush his lips into yours. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you whine around it. While his tongue’s distracting you, Loki takes his chance to begin pounding into you at a ruthless pace, and you break away from the kiss to throw your head back and shriek out a moan.

You feel utterly wrecked, stomach clenching and nerves alight with pleasure as Loki continues his assault on your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut, so his teeth nipping at your jaw come as a surprise, sending a whole new shockwave of sensation down your neck.

“You feel so fucking good, pet,” Loki moans, his voice quickly losing its characteristic steadyness. He sighs out something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and brings one of his hands down to toy with your clit. Your legs tighten around him involuntarily. “A-ah, fuck,” Loki grits out, increasing his pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and the unhuman speed at which Loki’s pounding into you leaves you no time to catch your breath. Moans and whines erupt from your mouth in a constant stream, and Loki keeps his mouth hovering above yours to drink them in. “I wanna cum,” you whimper as Loki’s assault on your senses continues.

“Then cum, pet,” Loki groans, hips stuttering. “ Cum for your god.”

You keen, writhing and chasing your high. As you climb up to your orgasm, you are met with a startling realization that Loki has already ruined you for anyone else. No human man could match the fire that he’s set upon your nerves, the blinding pleasure that mounts with every thrust and kiss. With that settling into your mind, you finally reach your second peak of the night.

Your eyes try to flutter shut, tears brimming at the corners as you wail Loki’s name again and again. Through the haze of your climax, you notice Loki’s muscles begin to tense as he nears his orgasm as well, and you force your eyes to stay open in order to watch him come apart.

Watching Loki cum is almost like a second climax. He speeds up impossibly, mouth hanging open and eyes barely able to stay focused on you. “You’re mine,” he growls out. Choked moans fall from his lips as he nears the edge, and you rake your nails down his back to encourage him.

“Cum in me, please, I need it, make me yours” you ramble breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck, I-I’m so close,” Loki manages, voice breaking. You continue to coo pleas and encouragements at him, and the way his eyes roll back at your wrecked voice gives you an intoxicating rush of pride. Finally, with a whimpering moan, Loki stills, cock pulsing within you and hips twitching as he pumps you full of his cum.

Loki slumps against you, still moving in aborted little thrusts, as if he can’t quite stop fucking you just yet. The weight of him on top of you is heavy, but not unwelcome, and you take the time to bask in the euphoria of having just slept with the god you’d pined after for so long.

“That was…” you start, words failing you.

“Divine,” Loki finishes for you. He slides his cock out of your pussy, and with it comes a gush of warm cum that you’re sure will stain the sheets. He rolls off of you, then guides you onto your side so that he can pull you up against him.

You weren’t expecting Loki to be the ‘cuddling after sex,’ type, so having him spoon you was surprising, to say the least. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you find yourself wanting to fall asleep like that; comfortable in his bed and safe in his strong arms.

Still, there’s a nagging question that won’t let you fully relax. Not wanting to expect too much, you brace yourself for the worst and open your mouth to speak. “Loki...what does this mean for us?”

Loki tenses behind you, and your heart breaks at the assumed rejection as he begins to pull away. “Are you...are you not mine? I thought this was-I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. Forgive me.”

This time, your heart breaks for a different reason. Loki sounds so hurt, so unsure of everything, and you can hear a scared little boy behind that velvet voice. “No!” You nearly shout, turning around to pull him back to you. “I want to be yours, I promise,” you say as you tug Loki back into your arms, running a soothing hand down his back. “I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted.”

The relief in Loki is visible as he relaxes into you. “Love, I am yours as much as you are mine, do not doubt that.”

The pet name brings a smile to your lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply happily. Heart full, you roll back over so that Loki can snuggle into you again, and finally let your drowsiness overtake you. You catch a faint, ‘I love you,’ just before you drift off to sleep, and though it could just be your mind playing tricks on you, you know that you love him, too.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #smut #fanfiction #the loki show

[dollslayer]

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

#sweetlysad1kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #tony stark & reader #steve rogers angst #angst #implied cheating #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel x reader

[txvbios]

[R18+] (Sanji x Pudding!Reader) Never Forget Me

Word Count: ~3.6k Key Word/s: Angst, seemingly unrequited love, heartbreak, first times, open ending Rating: R18+ (NSFW) Warning/s: No protection, cumming inside, loss of virginity Playlist: House of Memories by P!ATD, Est-ce que tu m’aimes? by GIMS, AM I DREAMING by Lil Nas X (ft. Miley Cyrus)

Summary: You are Charlotte Pudding, and there is time enough to ask for a favour bigger than a kiss. Vinsmoke Sanji—your prince, your kind and gentle man—obliges.

currently in sanji brainrot hell. vinsmoke sanji i will carry on your family lineage i am no longer asking i am demanding. ily my lil french gordon ramsey♡

on another note, please don’t engage if the content doesn’t tickle you. as the title says, the reader is charlotte pudding—that is their identity. this is effectively a second-person narrative.

that said, if it does tickle you, please enjoy!!

Story:

You take brisk, halting steps towards him, your heels clicking on the pavement.

‘I want to apologise,’ you think to yourself.

‘I want to apologise!’ as you clench your hands into fists.

‘I really have to apologise!’

Sitting on the steps of a nondescript backdoor entrance, cigarette between his lips and a smile creasing his eyes into half-crescents, Vinsmoke Sanji looks almost holy, too bright for you to reach out to. The closer you get to his blinding light and his warm, outstretched hand, the more your resolve only falters. 

You’ve always been proud, much too proud even when you know the situation warrants for humility. You’ve had to be proud even when you felt anything but, having had to force yourself into this neat little box in order to please everyone around you. You’ve played this identity game with yourself for so long that you no longer know where the façade ends, and where you begin.

“Shut up!” you say aloud, glaring at him with all three of your eyes—

—and you turn away.

‘Wrong, that’s wrong! I did it again!’

His laughter echoes down the alley, that rich smoke-soaked baritone that casts your skin alight. 

“You’re right!” he exclaims, not at all minding your rudeness. Your vanity. Your true, ugly self. “We’re enemies, after all. To you, our marriage was just a trap, and the whole thing was staged by the Big Mom Pirates, but...”

And trails off, as you finally find the courage to peel your hands from your wretched face.

“...I’m glad that you played as my fiancée, Pudding-chan!”

You pause, eyes wide, still facing away from him. You can feel the tears start to well up involuntarily, clouding your vision the way a thick sheet of sugar glass might obscure the world from beyond a windowpane.

This man is the worst.

He must hear your pained sobs, because he stands and gently walks towards you. “Oh! I mean... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you!”

‘No, don’t you dare come out!’

‘Stop it, tears!’

You scold yourself unrelentingly, even as he continues to placate you. It should be you apologising, you reason. You at his feet, relaying all your errors. He’s done nothing but treat you with all the propriety in the world, all the chivalry of a knight and all the gentleness of a prince, and you’ve thrown that back all in his face and made a fool of him in front of the whole world.

And still, in spite of everything...

Perhaps it was a moment of weakness. Perhaps it was a long-repressed yearning. Perhaps it was a fantasy come true. But in that split-second, at the altar before all the invited guests, it was your older sister’s words that rang through your mind as you returned his awed gaze.

“I wanna choose who I’m gonna marry myself!”

‘I found him, Lola-neesan,’ you’d thought, trembling at the adoration you were faced with. ‘I found the man I want to marry.’

But you know, most of all, that it isn’t meant to be. Big Mom’s most prized doll, wedded to the chef of a crew whose captain has smeared her very name? A foolish, idealistic thought, and one that you cannot afford to entertain. Your life has never been yours; from your first breath to your last, your actions will be dictated by those around you. It is only that, at some point, you will be handed over to a different jailer.

What would it be like, to live a free life at his side?

“...Pudding-chan?”

You almost can’t bear to look at him. Sanji frets over you like you’re made of the finest porcelain, like he’d let you get away with murder, and—goodness, it hurts. He deserves someone better. Maybe that orange-headed woman he carried in his arms at that disaster of a wedding, she seems nice enough. Yes, they’d look good together…

And it’s not like he’d want you. Not anymore. Why would he, after you’ve spurned him so? But you can’t help it—you want him so much, too much, and just the thought of him leaving makes you feel ill. But you must let him go, you’ve no other choice, and in any case, the wedding was a sham. He’s not really yours to keep, nor yours to love; he belongs to the sea, to freedom, to his friends…

Not to a vile girl like you.

“H-Hey, Sanji—san…” you call out, unbidden, before you can bite your tongue.

You shouldn’t—it’s too much to ask, but just this once… Maybe, if he forgot… If only for a moment, if you could only pretend…

“I have a favour to ask!”

When you turn to look at him, tears flowing freely down your cheeks, your chest pulsates at his expectant gaze. Soft, kind, and so, so patient. He will take your heart to his grave.

“Just one, for the last time… I want to ask you a favour…”

And before he can insert a reply, you all but dive into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and standing on the tips of your toes as you look into the sterling blues of his eyes, pleading, begging.

Without wasting another moment, you lean up.

The kiss itself is not very much like a kiss at all. It’s your first, and perhaps will be your most treasured, but the angle at which you crash your lips onto his is not quite right, and he’s not ducked down far enough to meet you halfway, so you must crane your neck to reach his height. Still, it’s perfect, everything you could’ve ever asked for, and you can’t bear to let go so you don’t—you hold onto him tighter.

Perhaps getting over his surprise, Sanji pulls you up by your hips, lowering and tilting his head so that your lips slot into place. He takes all your shuddering breaths and hiccupping sobs and returns them with a passion that seeps into your very bones, sets your skin on fire, and leaves you awash with a pure, aching want.

Finally, in the span between a millisecond and an eternity, he pulls away. Fear blossoms in your throat like burgeoning fireworks, rising and rising just before they pop.

‘What a selfish girl you are,’ you berate yourself.

‘You complete, utter fool.’

“P-Pudding-chan, you…”

But you cut him off before he can get another word in.

“Sanji-san, please,” you beg. Pitiful, and weak, and roiling with desire. “Just once… before you go…”

You purse your lips, shaking.

“Hold me. Please.”

Vinsmoke Sanji’s breath dies in his throat. You see it in the line of his slightly-gaping jaw, his rapid blinking. “Wh—are you sure? I… So suddenly—”

“I know we don’t have a lot of time,” you continue to insist, because you are so very selfish. Mama has always told you so. Dolls are not self-servient. Dolls do what they’re told. “But I want this. Please, Sanji-san. Just this once.”

He looks as if he might turn you down, but he must see something urgent in your countenance that makes him change his mind. Sanji tucks a stray strand of peanut-brown hair back behind your ear, and gently caresses the space beside your third eye. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked fond.

“Alright, Pudding-chan. If a lady so insists, then who am I to deny them?”

You smile up at him, watery. You say nothing of the pang of jealousy that runs through your veins for all the women he must have taken to bed already.

He looks around the alley for any stray onlookers, before looking back to you. “T-Then, do you know of any place where we might…?”

And the rest of the sentence is left unsaid, but you know what he’s getting at. You can feel Sanji’s eyes roaming your willowy frame, his gaze tinged with worry and something more ambiguous. But he’s holding back the flush of his cheeks and the sight warms your heart a little; even now, he remains a gentleman.

“Here is fine,” you assure him. You sound surer than you feel. “Any other place could be dangerous.”

“But to bed you in such a public place, where anybody might see, and where we wouldn’t be able to take our time…”

“Is more than alright with me. Why, a-are you too much of a coward to do it like this?”

That last part seems to tickle him. “Not at all, Pudding-chan. I just don’t wanna give you less than what you deserve.”

Without another word, Sanji crowds you gently up against the biscuit wall, tiny smile still on his lips. He pins your limp wrists on the spaces beside your head, and from this distance, you can feel the way his breath quickens. Maybe yours does, too. You’re waiting for it when he kisses you again, better timed than the first; you let out a quiet whimper when you feel his tongue prying your lips open.

Keeping your wrists up with one arm, he deftly snakes his free hand around your waist. The tight hold has your hips positioning flush against his own—you can feel his hardness from beneath his pants, prominent despite the layers between the both of you, and you keen at the thought of him inside you.

You’ve never done this before, this is all so very new. But Sanji definitely has experience; the skill with which he unbuttons your chef’s coat and coaxes your breast to spill out from underneath your loose blouse is proof enough. He gives you one pointed look, as if in askance, and when you nod, he wastes no time in leaning down and taking your nipple into his mouth.

You struggle to keep your voice down. You want to rest a hand on the back of his head to urge his mouth closer than is humanely feasible—you want to pry open his cloak, too. Sanji’s mouth is devious as he licks and sucks and toys with your nipple with his tongue, sometimes even biting it softly.

“S-Sanji-san,” you sigh out, lower stomach feeling hot, your cheeks pink with want. You struggle to free your wrists from his hold. “Let me… Please, I want…”

He seems to know exactly what you’re asking for, because he takes his arm away and uses it to hike up your skirt and cup your ass. Using your new-found freedom, you pull at his cloak and fling it to some ambiguous space, afterwards cupping his chin so you can give him another kiss. The mewls that come out of your mouth are ungodly, perhaps unimaginable to your past self, but they spew forth unbidden and liberally in short, hot breaths that sound almost like his name.

“Such a good girl for me, Pudding-chan…” he groans into your lips. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he draws his hands to your waist and— perhaps in a moment of impulse—pulls you free from the rest of your blouse. The rip of the fabric satisfies some cloying heat inside you, and you purr.

“I wanted to take my time. You deserve much, much more than this,” Sanji continues, seemingly oblivious to your delirious panting. One of his hands trail down to your hip, to the jut of your thigh, and then to the hem of your panties, tugging at it idly. “M-May I?”

“You may,” is the breath that answers him. Instantaneous.

He helps you bend to take them off, bunching your skirt up for you as you do anything and everything to avoid his eyes. But you can’t escape the gasp that leaves him as you clamber out of your underwear, making known the trail of slick that connects the lace to your untouched heat. A growl bubbles from the centre of his chest—the sound surprises you to the point of keening, smitten as you are by how animalistic the sight of you has made him.

“So wet for me, darling,” he murmurs. You moan at his touch on you.

“Mm—ah, S-Sanji-san…” Only for you… Just for you…

You almost let out an incoherent shriek at the foreign finger inserted into you.

Sanji sighs into your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. From here, you can smell the faint aftertaste of tobacco on him, and you cling desperately to the futile hopes that it’ll stick to your clothes, too.

“You take my fingers so easily…” he marvels, still so, so gentle with you. “Does it hurt anywhere, Pudding-chan?”

“No,” you answer. Never, with you.

He stretches you out just like that, his fingers slicked up with your wetness, driving in and out of your heat. The symphonies you two make are scandalous, obscene, but you can’t bring yourself to care; his fingers are so big, so warm inside of you, curling up and knowing exactly where to hit—like he’s done this a million times before, and the action has become pure instinct.

One finger becomes two, and two becomes three. By the fourth, you are a panting mess, flushed to your abdomen, your chest rising and falling desperately and your skin damp with sweat. Sanji himself has rose tinging his cheeks, his grip firm on you as he pulls one of your hands gently towards his hardness. He kisses your head as he does so, right over your third eye.

The action isn’t lost on you.

“Take it in gently. Relax for me, princess,” he says against your ear. It’s as if he’s speaking to your very soul. “If it hurts, we stop, okay?”

“O-Okay.” You’ll just swallow down the pain, in that case.

You line him up to your entrance, and you feel it then—the throbbing want of his cock, twitching against you. Oh, does it make your mouth water. You want this inside you, always and forever, you want him tethered to you and filling your hollow soul up with his vitality, you want his everything, and you want more. You’d milk him dry if you could. More than you already have.

The head of his cock breaches your hole, and you know it by the dull sting. But Sanji has prepped you well, so that your entire being accepts him with everything that it can muster, and when he bottoms out inside you, filling you up to the hilt—well. It feels an awful lot like home.

“S-Sanji-san,” you gasp out, clawing at his back.

“That’s it, that’s it… You’re doing so well, Pudding-chan, so good for me.” Sanji presses soft kisses to the side of your jaw, all the way down to your neck, your collar, your sensitive breasts. He sucks marks into your skin, colouring them a vibrant red-purple, and it suits you, you think idly, it suits you so well.

He stays, unmoving, inside you for a moment, to get you adjusted to his girth. A considerate gentleman, as always.

“So big,” you whisper in awe. You can hardly believe that you fit him inside you.

“And you, my sweet,” he whispers back to you, like a secret. “So tight.”

“Ng—a-ah!”

You can’t speak anymore. He thrusts into you with all the vigour he has, skin slapping against skin. His pace isn’t so rough, but it messes you up all the same; everything about Vinsmoke Sanji tends to do that. There are hands on your hips, rubbing circles into the small of your back, his teeth biting into your shoulder and branding you with wet kiss after wet kiss. It’s all you can do to be pliant for him, to let him take, to melt into his arms and whimper out his name with all the love you have.

Because he’ll know it, surely. This traitorous love of yours that sucks him in deeper, and deeper.

“Sanji-san, Sanji, Sanjisanjisanjisanji—!”

The blonde chef muffles your scream with a kiss, groaning into your mouth at the way you tighten unconsciously around him, still sensitive from your orgasm. In that moment, you see stars, and you forget everything—your mother, your siblings, your place. All that you know is right here before you, in the shape of a kind man who has indulged your every whim, and who sees within you the sort of beauty that you still don’t believe you have.

“I-I’m gonna pull out now, Pudding-ch-chan,” Sanji warns, but he’s still slamming into you as if it’s the only way he’ll find the air to breathe. “You have to let me go, or I’ll cum insi—”

“Inside,” you breathe out in wonder, in selfishness. “Inside, yes, please? Please, Sanji-kun, inside me, please cum inside me, please?”

“Shit,” he curses, his pace growing erratic. You can feel him pulsing inside you, moulding your walls to his shape. You know that, after this, you will belong wholly to him, and only to him, regardless of who will use you thereafter. “You sure about this, my sweet?”

“Absolutely sure,” you say. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

And with one final, searing kiss, Sanji pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed and his lips upturned into a slight smile. “Then it will be… Hah, a-as the lady desires.”

You were already full of him before, but you are even fuller now. Sanji cums inside you with a low moan, his grip on your waist near-close to bruising, and just the satisfaction alone has you keening into another orgasm. You mewl into his mouth, eyes watery and sight blurred, and he holds you like that for a lifetime and a moment, as you pick up all the broken pieces and try to slot them back into place.

“You were perfect, Pudding-chan,” he offers. The words are mouthed into the crown of your head. “Did I… was that… good?”

“It was… acceptable.” It was everything.

You take a few more moments to recollect yourself, before pulling away and tidying your clothes. There is a mess everywhere you look; your blouse is ripped, your underwear wet with your slick, your coat crumpled, and your hair—which had been done up in long pigtails—has gotten completely loose, so that it cascades freely down your shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to tie it back up again. You can hardly register the tears that are forming in your eyes—this time, not out of pleasure, but out of something else entirely.

“…Pudding-chan?”

This, too, is your selfishness.

“Thank you,” you tell him, letting a smile grace your lips.

“Wh—”

“And goodbye.”

Without warning, you reach over to pull the memory fragments from the side of Sanji’s head. The scenes of your lovemaking, each and every one of his tender caresses, all rest inside the strips of film that you ruthlessly take from him.

‘This is for the better. This is for the better…’

By the end of it, it’s as if you went back in time, faced with his same earnest expression from before.

You can’t bear to see that, not anymore. Not again. So you turn away, unable to spare him another glance. You clutch the roll of film firmly to your chest, the aching sin of what you’ve just done rising from your core all the way up to your throat. It threatens to come out in wracking sobs, all of which you hold back until you’ve turned into another inconspicuous alleyway, sinking down to the floor.

Mindlessly, you open the roll of film. There, after the scene of you leaning up to kiss him, is a thought represented by a black scene and white letters.

‘Pudding-chan, you… you took my first… kiss…?’

And then, after you’d pleaded him to hold you…

‘Really? Me? But I’ve never done this before…’

‘Ah, that can’t be helped! If it’s Pudding-chan, I’ll do anything!’

You gasp, horrified. So he wasn’t experienced in that regard? He was… and you…

You vile, despicable girl.

The strips of film fall from your grasp, and you have to gather your knees to your chest for support because there’s nothing left to hold, no more broad shoulders to cling onto, no more warm chest to cry into. He’s gone, you’ve taken two very precious things from him, and you can’t give them back.

“Sanji-san, Sanji-san,” you say through your sobs, your shaking. Of all the women in the world he could’ve had it with, it was with you. You, when he was probably saving it for someone he loves…

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” And you rock yourself back and forth, trembling in your own embrace.

 …But despite all that, you are selfish after all.

Not even the guilt that imprisons you is enough to make you regret what you took.

--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--

Just a few seconds ago, Pudding had pulled Sanji aside, and asked him a favour. But without even telling him what the favour could be, she’d said her goodbyes, and ran off into the night.

 “Wh—”

Sanji tries to ignore the bitter weight in his throat. Sighing, he rummages his pockets for his cigarettes and his lighter.

“Huh? What’s this?”

Wedged between the items he was looking for is a single white hair tie. He feels the elastic, stretches it out and toys with it, frowning.

‘Odd. Didn’t I pull this from her hair earli—’

A mere quarter of a moment. Hair coming loose from the clumsy way he carded through her hair. Red-hot heat between his loins. Hands clinging to his back, three teary eyes pleading into his very soul.

And then, nothing.

Vinsmoke Sanji holds onto the hair tie like it’s the only lifeline he has left.

#one piece #op #op fanfic #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #sanji x pudding #sanji x pudding!reader #charlotte pudding #pudding #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #vinsmoke sanji x charlotte pudding #vinsmoke sanji x pudding!reader #sanji vinsmoke x pudding!reader #angst #op angst #romance #loss of virginity #first time #first kiss #smut #one piece smut #op smut

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 10:

“Hey, Bakugou.” You greet easily, waving at him. “Can you believe it?”

“Jesus- what the hell are you on about now?”

“Nothing. Just, this marks the third time I’ve seen you without injury. Good on you buddy, setting a personal record and everything.”

He huffs, pushing off the wall. Bakugou is without his costume, clad in just normal sweats. The sight makes you feel a little bad- it was obviously his day off, but there he was working. Sacrificing his time for you.

“Fuck you.” He grumbles, without any bite. “Seriously. Fuck you.”

“C’mon, grumpy, don’t get so huffy.” You say playfully. “I was mostly joking, but I did mean it. I think I like you a whole lot better when there’s no blood involved.”

He starts to smile, just for a second, before he quickly evens his expression. It’s like he’s trying to hide the fact that it was there at all, quickly spinning around and starting off at a brisk pace. 

“Woah, slow down, no need to run, speedy. I’ll take it back if you’re so allergic to me being nice.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond, but he does slow down. Just minutely. Hardly even at all if you really think about it, but hey, at least you’re not basically running after him anymore.

“What’s got you so cheery, hah?” He asks after a beat, making an intentional point not to make eye contact. “It’s late- you’re not tired again?”

His tone catches you off-guard, something accusatory underneath that has you scrunching your nose. You’re not exactly sure what he’s getting at, but you can read his prickly tone for what it is- Bakugou is making fun of you. 

“No. I’m actually not tired, thank you very much.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“You know, that sentence from anyone else would offend me- but from you?” You scoff, squinting your eyes at him. “Well, I’m sure it was meant as an insult, not an insinutation; so I’ll refrain from calling you a pig. For now.”

“Call me anything and see where it gets ya, leech.”

“What’re you gonna do? Fight me?”

“Please, it wouldn’t be a fight.” He snorts, kicking at a rock in the road. It flies down the alley, all the way past the streetlamp’s glow. “See? I’d slaughter you.” 

“Yes! Probably!" You say in faux exasperation. "But it’s because you have way more practice at slaughtering people! I don’t know why you’re bragging about that- that’s totally not something normal people brag about!”

You throw your hands up, gesturing wildly, and Bakugou just sort of watches you. Doesn’t really react other than to evade one of your errant hands. You just barely miss him, the tips of your fingers clipping the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“What- nothing? You’ve got nothing to say about that? Course you don’t- because you’re proud of slaughtering people. Is that it? Huh?”

“I’m proud of winning.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Close enough.” He shrugs. “'Sides, it’s not my fault I wasn’t listenin’. Ya said so many damn words to me.”

“That’s so rude! You-“

Seeing his smile, you cut yourself off half-way. It should hardly even count as a smile, really, it’s much more of a smirk- something entirely self-indulgent and dripping with arrogance. You’re not sure if you wanna punch him in the mouth or giggle.

“You jerk. You’re messing with me!” On impulse, you knock your shoulders into his. Bakugou doesn’t flinch- nor does he budge whatsoever. “You’re just being mean on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Course.”

“Why? Just, I don’t know, be nice?”

“Fuck that. No thanks.”

“You incredibly rude- you know that?”

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying.” He retorts, knocking his shoulders into yours. Bakugou smirks when you stumble. “See- I’d murder you in a fight.”

“No one was debating that!”

He just bites his lip, throwing his head back. It’s like Bakugou is trying to hide his smile; exposing the strong column of his throat to you, pale skin gone 10 shades of gold under the streetlamp.

It steals the breath from your lungs- how devastatingly beautiful he can be. You have to tear your eyes away.

“Hey, Bakugou, it’s your day off right?”

He eyes you a little strangely. “Yes? Why?”

“Geez- Don’t be so suspicious.” You laugh. “I only asked because I was curious.”

“The hell you have to be curious about?”

“Just what you’d be doing right now otherwise- you know, if you weren’t stuck walking me-“

“‘m not stuck. Wouldn’t do this if I didn’t need to.”

“Yeah, but still.” You take a breath. “What I mean, is that, I’m sorry if this is burdening you. I know this probably isn’t what you wanted to do on your day off.”

He eyes you, sniffing for a moment while he juts his chin out. “Eh- it’s fine. Walking this far outta my way is good excercise anywa-“

“This far? Oh my god- are you serious? Where do you live?”

“Far enough.”

“Bakugou.” You say sternly, staring him down. You’re well aware he’s not a man who’s easily scolded into revealing the truth, but damn if you weren’t going die trying. “Seriously- how far?”

“Fuck’s it matter to you for?”

“Because it just does! Now, c’mon really, I’m gonna feel like, super bad if you say you’ve gotta take a train her-“

“No train, so quit bitching.” He scans the street for a moment, before turning back to look at you. “Not that far. Half an hour, maybe, if I was running.”

“If you were running? What about walkin-“

“Not walking so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does!”

“It fuckin’ doesn’t-“

Then he’s standing ram-rod straight, slapping an open palm over your stomach and pushing you back. You’re flying back into the shadows, back slamming against the brick wall. Gasping, air knocked clean out of your lungs, it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open and watch him leave.

Bakugou hardly even looks back before he’s soaring past the end of the alley, explosions igniting under his palms. There’s no one, all is quiet, silent and tense and then- bam.

A mottled mass of muscles and pulsating flesh barrels through the building beside Bakugou. Debris rains down onto the street, down onto the exact spot you were standing moments ago. The flying detrius knocks Bakugou off course, and the blonde hardly dodges before the creature is slinging fists his way.

“Shouldn’t’a been makin’ such a scene!” Bakugou is all smirks and haughty confidence, seamlessly twisting and dodging the creature’s strikes. “Gave yourself away- I’ve got you now!”

Even breathless and winded, you can’t help but stare. Bakugou truly is something else- a terrifying bullet in the air, bordering on frenetic as he dodges. He’s so fast you’re worried he’ll catch fire. There’s a reckless sort of smile on his face, stretching his lips back around canines you’re sure are sharper than before. He’s throws his left palm out, explosion recoil throwing him just past the creature’s next attack. It’s enough of an opening for Bakugou to surge in, flashbang fingertips making contact with the beast’s abdomen.

“Really, that’s all?” He challenges, grinning like mad when the beast flies back from the impact. “No strategy at all? That’s not gonna fuckin’ work!”

And then he looks back at you, just for a singular moment, while the beast is bent over from his previous blow. The sight nearly knocks the air out of your lungs all over again.

Bakugou is terrifying. Manic and bloodthirsty and feverish almost, chest heaving with every labored breath. There’s something wild in his eyes, coloring his features in blood that hasn’t even been spilled yet. It’s intimidating and scary and overwhelming, but he’s dazzling too. A crazed smile, so blinding and brilliant, that it leaves an after-image long after he’s blasted away again.

Something snaps in you then, and you’re diving behind the nearest dumpster. It’s a little gross and cramped, but you hear plaster cracking around you, and suddenly it’s not so bad anymore. Your eyes are wide, watching the battle- and even when hidden it still feels too close.

Your heart is trapped in your throat, a battering ram even as you try to catch your breath. Everything is loud, and chaotic, and you’ve never been this close to a real battle before. It scares you. You clasp your hands around your ears, trying to block out the gargling and explosions. It’s not enough, your breath still picking up as explosion impact rattles the asphalt beneath your feet.

“You’re done!” You hear him shout, and suddenly the air goes white and hot, and bright.

You screw your eyes shut, and bite back a scream as an explosion rattles every surrounding window. The sound swallows everything, and the light show is even worse. Even through your eyelids it’s blazing. Bright enough to have you diving to the ground and tucking your head between your knees.

Then it’s quiet. Complete silence other than the ringing in your ears. You hear impact, a warbled groan, and then the sound of his voice.

“You fucker.” He roars. “I’m fuckin’ busy, you weak bitch, can’t ya fuckin’ see that?”

Another thud. Another groan.

“All this shit for some cash? Just get a job, you fuckin’ loser. Like the goddamn rest of us.”

You peak your head over the dumpster, and see Bakugou standing tall over the collapsed body. You’re not entirely sure how the villian’s quirk operates, but the mass of flesh is deflating by the second, leaving behind a skinny mess of bones and sinew.

“A front, hah? Pathetic.” Bakugou sneers, grinding his teeth before he snaps. “On your fuckin’ feet weakling- ‘m taking you in.”

Bakugou hauls the skinny man to his feet, trapping rail-thin arms tight to the man’s back. It’s only then that you choose to emerge, staggering slighty on your shaking legs. It’s like you’ve got tremors- your body practically bowled over by the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“H-help- I didn’t-“ The skinny man starts, before Bakugou is sending a knee into the base of his spine.

“Don’t speak to her, you shit-stain.” Bakugou curls his lip. “Shut the hell up.”

You’re not really sure what to do then- caught between wanting to high-tail it in the complete opposite direction, and surging towards Bakugou. Because, if you weren’t certain before, you definitely were now; Bakugou knew what he was doing. And if worst ever came to worst, he’d stay true to all his threats. Nobody was getting to you while he was around.

“Follow. C’mon.” Bakugou nods towards the end of the street. “Police station. You know where it is. Let’s get the hell to it already.”

You just start walking- almost on autopilot. There’s a weird fuzz settling in your brain, the adrenaline seeping and leaving nothing but exhaustion behind. It’s disorienting because you weren’t even part of the fight- Bakugou had shoved you back long before you could have ever been in any real danger.

You’re not sure how he knew- how he could have possibly predicted the villain coming through the wall, but even still, you’re gratetful. Because you’re not hurt, only frazzled where you would’ve been massacred without him there.

Bakugou waits for you to pass him by, and only once you’re a good few steps ahead, does he start shoving his prisoner forward. The walk is tense and silent, the only noise being the occasional pained groan from the skinny man. There’s an undeniable air of intimidation coming from Bakugou, rolling off his skin and permeating every spare inch of air. It only adds more stress to an already harrowing situation.

The police station lies just where you remembered it, but you’ve never been this close before. You’d only seen it down the end of the street as you passed by- only through the fuzzy haze of exhaustion after your shift ended. Now there’s nothing hazy about it- just a stark white building and big glass doors. Big glass doors that Bakugou is surging through, prisoner in tow, and ordering you to stay behind.

When he’s through the door, it’s like your heart finally starts to catch up. You can feel it’s thud slow against you ribs, no longer jumping at every slight sound. You eyelids feel heavy, further weighed down by the headache you feel coming on. You lean against the wall of the station, bending slightly at the waist as you ground the heels of your palm against your temple.

“All good?” You hear his voice some time later, Bakugou’s footsteps heavy as he approaches. “You get hurt?”

“No- ‘m fine.” You chew your cheek, straightening as you look up at him. “I think.”

He studies you for a moment, red eyes flitting across your face. Bakugou grimaces. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah. Was scared.”

“It’s fine now.” He huffs, frustration lacing his features. Bakugou clenches his hand, releases, and repeats twice over before he speaks again. “Got ‘em already, so you can chill the hell out now. Alright?”

“Yeah- yeah sure.”

You try to agree, but your voice doesn’t sound right when it leaves your throat. It’s a little too hoarse, empty of almost all inflection. You’re not particularly pleased with it and Bakugou is even less so.

“You need a few minutes or something?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like even asking the question pains him. “Need to call somebody?”

Bakugou looks incredibly uncomfortable- eyes shifting around wildly and refusing to settle. All of his battlefield-confidence, even that self-assured smirk seems to have disappeared entirely. He huffs a pained breath and leans back against the wall next to you. His shoulders are just barely touching yours, voice pinched and tense when he speaks.

“I know it’s loud- but it’s over now. Now you just go home, and you sleep. Nothing is gonna happen to you.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Bakugou tilts his head skyward. He grinds his teeth, once, twice, and smooths out his grimace. “And I’ll fuckin’ be there so don’t go spiraling about it, alright? You’re safe now.”

You nod, rolling your lips together for a moment. He’s not meeting your eyes, not even attempting to, but you can’t help but stare. Can’t help but track all the lines of his face; the way his nose slopes, and the set of his eyebrows. He doesn’t look like before. Not crazed, or manic, or brutal. He’s just Bakugou. Maybe a little grumpy, but mostly just uncomfortable- exactly the way you’ve come to know him.

Something in you settles at bit at that.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's go." You kick off the wall, putting one foot in front of the other. "I'm more than ready to be home."

Bakugou just watches you, and you can see him reach a hand out before immediately dropping it. His lip curls up in disgust- and that just confuses you. You wonder where the Bakugou from a few minutes ago went; the one who seemed so entirely sure of himself.

"Faster." He says, overtaking you in one long stride. "Stallin' around at night is never a good idea."

You suppose he's right, but you never would've believed him before.

Prior to tonight, you had never been a part of a villain attack. You hadn't even seen a villain on anything other than TV re-runs. Your neighborhood was quiet, the streets never holding any danger, even at night. Now, though, every shadow seems suspicious, every sound a precursor for something far worse. Your well aware you just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time that night, but that didn't make the reality any easier to handle. If Bakugou hadn't been there, if he hadn't show up dead on your balcony months ago, then you would've been gravely injured by all that falling debris.

The thought makes you feel weak all over again. Has your fingers curling in your gloves- itchy and uncomfortable and helpless.

You're quiet as you walk, caught up in a million spiraling thoughts. Bakugou doesn't seem keen on conversation either, keeping a few paces ahead and scanning for other danger. Occasionally he'll turn back, check to make sure you're following, and all you can really offer is a nod and a shaky sort of smile. It doesn't satisfy him at all- you can see that every time he sets his jaw.

"Oi- Leech." He snaps in front of your eyes, waving his hand back and forth. "It's- stop lookin' like that already. All freaked the fuck out. You look ridiculous."

His haughty tone as your blood warming, fingers clenching at your sides as you walk. You're not sure what reaction he's after, but all you can really think to do is get angry.

"I am freaked out! You were there! You saw that guy! He was huge!" You snap, squinting your eyes and waving your hands around. "If you weren't- I- what am I supposed to do when that shit happens? Huh? I can't fight, and even if I could I wouldn't, so what am I supposed to-"

"Nothing." He interrupts. "You do nothing, and you hide. Like you did."

"Yes, because you pushed me! If you hadn't I would've been crushed by all that- and how on Earth did you even know he was coming?"

"Vibrations. In the ground." He squints at you, a little confused. "Did you not-"

"No!"

"Damn," He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "You really couldn't feel that? Jesus, you really are clueless. No wonder you were so freaked out."

In that moment, you're a little sure you could strangle him. All his skill you'd seen earlier suddenly didn't matter at all, and you were sure you could take him down with nothing but rage alone.

He- vibrations? You didn't feel anything! You felt nothing and even if you had, you would've assumed it was an earthquake. No one except for him and his battle-addled brain would've ever assumed it was a villain of all things!

"Calm down," He seems to be fighting a smile, lip twitching up. "You look fuckin' ridiculous right now. 'm not scared of you, leech."

"You should be! I'm about to strangle you right now-"

"For what?"

"For- for- I don't know! You just make me so angry with your 'Oh, you didn't feel that?' bullshit!" You tilt your voice lower, coating it in gravel to mimic him. "Of course I didn't feel anything! I'm not like you- I don't have freaky super-human instincts and explosions and I can't just go fight somebody!"

True to his word, your outburst doesn't seem to scare him. If anything if seems to pull the smile from him more, lips pulling back into a grin even he has no chance of hiding.

"There she is." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, falling back a little to walk right beside you. "Thought you'd gone into shock or somethin'."

"So you- on purpose?"

"Said that shit about vibrations? Yeah." His smile turns wolfish, all sharp canines and pink gums. "There were no fuckin' vibrations, idiot. I heard the plaster cracking."

In that moment you're the surest you've ever been- you were going to murder Bakugou Katsuki.

"You dick!"

Your hands are out before you can stop them, shoving forcefully at his side. He just looks at you, rolling his eyes, and then decides to let you tip him sideways off the curb. It's the worst kind of victory- a pity one that he let you have.

"Chill out, already." He laughs. "Only said shit so you'd stop bein' all miserable. You should be fuckin' thankin' me."

"I'm not thanking you!"

He steps forward, one long stride eclipsing you entirely. Then he spins, facing you with another crooked grin, and you're digging your heels into the cement to avoid crashing directly into his chest.

"I said-" He starts, hands in his pockets and leaning forward until he's practically towering over you. "You should be thanking me."

His voice is low, sly and challenging as he grins. He looks positively predatory- but attractive too. The worst kind that leaves your heart stuttering in your chest for almost no discernable reason.

"G-get away from me." You fluster, taking a step back. "I'm not thanking you."

He shrugs, falling back to a safe distance. You don't miss it though- the way his grin goes just a little wider, entirely satisfied. He won, and he knows it.

"Suit yourself, then leech." He says, voice light. "If ya wanna mouth off so much, then 'm not fuckin' saving you next time."

He says the words, but you're almost entirely sure he doesn't mean them. Not with the way he is now- beaming and pleased under the moonlight. You wonder if he always gets like this; so happy just after a victory. It's the kind of sight that almost makes the entire ordeal worth it. Almost.

You walk through the doors of your apartment, shuddering a long sigh of relief. The walls feel safe, security and peace etched into familiar walls. Even with Bakugou stomping behind you, the serenity isn't disturbed all that much. He's still in his rare good mood apparently, and he doesn't even grumble whatsoever.

Truth be told, you're still a little shaken, but the interior of your apartment puts you at ease. Even if you don't feel nearly as infallible as before, home is a good feeling- it always is.

"You know- you know that you just got unlucky, right?" Bakugou seems to struggle for a moment, kicking the door shut behind him. "It's- that's- shit like that doesn't usually happen here."

You're not sure where his sentiment is headed, and he must see it on your face. He flares his nostrils, sighing something long-suffering and dramatic.

"I'm sayin'- that wasn't part of anything else. It was just the one idiot, so it's not any more dangerous here than it used to be. 'm sayin' don't waste your time worryin' about that shit."

Something in you warms a bit- just a fraction. You're not sure how he knew, how he always seems to know just what you're thinking, but at this moment you don't care to find out. There are some comforts better left experienced instead of studied- and you figure this might be one of them.

You smile, something soft and fond. "I take it back- I will thank you. So thank you. I'm sure I'd be a lot worse off if you weren't around."

You watch him fluster, watch him itch in his skin and shift his weight around. Eventually he settles on turning his back, moving towards your fridge as he speaks.

"Probably. You froze up completely- woulda been piss poor job performance to let you get killed." He's swinging the fridge door open, and the white light just makes it more apparent- his cheeks are pink. "Got ice packs in here somewhere?"

"I-Ice packs?"

"Yeah. Knuckles are gonna bruise up if I don't ice 'em."

You look a little closer then, at his fingers curled around the handle of your fridge. His knuckles are a little swollen, bruised up and red where the skin had split. It doesn't look too bad, much less serious than any other injury he'd come to you with, but that doesn't change the itching in your own fingers. You want to help him- now more than ever it seems.

"Shit- sorry." You breathe out, nearing a little to get a closer look. "I was so freaked I didn't even think about asking- are you okay? You're okay, right? Nothing else, no bones or blood or-"

"Calm down. 'm fine."

You look at him again, squinting for eyes for a moment. He just rolls his own, extending his arms out and flipping them. He was telling the truth- there's only one other scratch on him, and even that was already scabbed over. The only issue were his knuckles- and that sets you at ease.

"You want me to wrap them for you?" You ask, looking up at him. "Oh wait- actually, you'd probably want to do that yourself, huh? Since you're not on the brink of death this time and actual-"

"You do it."

"Huh?"

"I said- you do it." He won't meet your eyes, turning back to your fridge and opening it up once more. He makes himself right at home, grabbing one of the water bottles off the shelf without asking. "Did it all the other times, so you do it. Don't think you're gonna get away with cuttin' corners on me."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, that I know you find it annoying when I'm all fussy so I just-"

"Shut up already. You continuing to run your mouth is the only thing that's annoying me right now."

You're about to retort, something offended and assuredly juvenile, but you decide against it. That night had been filled with far too much conflict for your liking, and you weren't about to incite more of it. If he wanted you to wrap his knuckles, then you'd wrap his knuckles. You figured it's the least you could do for him.

Turning your back on him, you start for the bathroom, and the first aid kit inside. A part of you considers just permanently moving the kit into the kitchen, but that sort of seems like you're just inviting more misfortune. You keep hoping that one day you'll stop having to patch Bakugou up at all, but from the looks of it, that isn't likely. Not even a little bit considering his obvious bloodlust.

"You wanna-" You start, walking back into the kitchen. You're shocked into stillness by the sight of him searching through your cupboards. "Um, what exactly are you doing?"

"Hungry."

"Okay, caveman, I just- you're not seriously trying to cook right now are you?" You near him, hands hovering in the air. You're sure he wouldn't appreciate it, but a large part of you just wants to grab at his shoulders and shove him away from everything. "Stop that- lemme get you fixed up first. Then I can call for something. I'm not gonna let you exert yourself any more than you already have."

Bakugou seems a little perturbed by that, whipping his head around until you can see wild red eyes. You almost sigh; what you wouldn't give for him to just chill out for once.

"I'm not saying you can't cook. You probably could, I don't know." You near a little more, dropping the first aid kit onto the countertop. "I'm saying, you've already done enough today, and you deserve to take it easy. So let me help you by wrapping your hands up. That's all."

Bakugou's in the midst of another internal struggle, before he visibly forgoes it. His shoulder's drop and the tension leaks until he's settling into one of your dining chairs. He sets his hands out on the table, clearing his throat at you until you kick into motion.

At this point, cleaning up his hands is practically a daily chore. You've gone through the motions more than enough times to be adjusted, but even still, his hands still freak you out a little. You'd never seen anyone who radiated so much heat- even just being next to him was like sitting in front of an open flame.

Your fingers are gentle, skidding over his hands with feather-light touches. He seems to slump in his chair, eventually just laying his head on the outstretched arm you weren't actively working on. He watches you closely the entire time though, red eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"Do it again." He says. "Too loose. Do it again."

You're half-way through wrapping his right hand, only a small amount of bandage left. Not only would you have to do the bandage over entirely, but you'd have to unwrap it completely first.

"You always say that," You mutter, exasperation coloring your voice. "What makes it so much better the second time around, huh? I do it the exact same."

"It's just better. Takes longer."

You're not really sure what he means by that, and Bakugou doesn't look all that thrilled that he said the words at all. He jumps in his chair, cheeks gone pink as he digs his face into the skin of his arm. He's hiding.

It strikes you as even but odd, but you shrug off the strangeness all the same. You're getting far too used to his particular brand of bizarre.

"All better now?" You goad, patting the bandage after you've finished re-wrapping. "Everything feel nice and perfect for Prince Bakugou?"

He lifts his head. "You're not funny."

"You always say that too. But it's okay, I know one day you'll finally come around and appreciate me."

He just laughs under his breath, but he smiles too. Grins something tiny and small that he hides in his shoulder.

You start finishing up his other hand, and Bakugou doesn't say anything otherwise. He just sits, resting his head on his arm, and watching you intently. He's all calm and even breathing, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. You'd thought him adrenaline-crazed earlier, but it seemed he was coming off of that high rapidly. You could feel the exhaustion too- almost lulled by your movements just as much as he was.

You start gathering away all of your materials, and he doesn't even move. Just sits in perfect stillness at your table.

"I- I didn't accidentally touch you right? That's not why you're like that?" You ask, smothering a yawn. "Super exhausted, I mean."

He shakes his head. "Nah. Normal tired. Didn't fuck up this time, leech."

You don't have it in you to respond, hardly even rolling your eyes at his remark. His jabs don't hold much bite anymore- you begin to wonder if he's actually getting nicer or if you're just growing a ridiculous tolerance.

You brush off the thought, pushing away from your table and rising from the chair. "You still hungry?"

"Yeah. Wanna sleep first though so don't worry about it."

"Okay; well, I'm definitely going to so-"

"I said don't." He supplies evenly, finally sitting up in his seat. "It's fine. 'm not fuckin' starvin' or anything."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

His insistence sells you, but you're not sure if it's because you actually believe him or because you just want to. Either way, you figure it doesn't matter much in the end, not to the way your limbs are quickly bowing to exhaustion. You feel the fatigue settling in, and you'd like to blame that for your next actions.

"C'mon then, sleep time, I guess." You say.

Then you cross the kitchen, passing behind him, dropping your hand on his shoulder. You hardly let it sit, just running your thumb over his shirt once, twice, and then continuing on your way.

He takes several seconds to finally follow you into the living room. Enough to have you looking back in confusion, unable to understand why he looked so very stunted where he still sat.

"Jesus, you're annoying." He finally grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

His steps are loud as he crosses the room, stopping just a few inches in front of you. He grabs at your arm, raising your wrist himself and plucking the glove off in one fluid grab. It if wasn't so sudden an action- so ridiculous and fast and borderline violent, you might have even been flustered.

As it was though, he just grabbed your wrist before you could really register it.

Familiar warmth floods your veins. The same burning, slow heat that makes it;s way through each vein and artery. You think maybe your knuckles ache a little bit too, but it's too hard to tell through your quickly increasing sleep fog.

Bakugou lets you go pretty quick, falling back on your couch in almost the same moment.

"Better?" You ask, mirth warming your words. "Had to do it yourself because I was taking too long?"

"No, 'cause you pissed me off."

"Doing what?"

"You know what you're fuckin' doing."

Then he's grabbing the blanket, settling it over himself gracelessly while he flops over. He's face-first into the cushions now, effectively ending the conversation in much the way he typically does- by refusing to engage entirely.

You just roll your eyes a litItle fondly, still not even beginning to understand.

/-/

ooooo boy i am so sorry y'all for this late uPDATe,,, pls i usually update my fics way faster than this but sometimes life rlly just do be happenin lmaoooooo

n e wayz, ty for reading and supporting my work!! y'all are the absolute best i could ever ask for!!!

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou bnha #bakugou mha #bakugou x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x self insert #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #bnha fic #mha fic #bakugou imagine

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 15 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 15

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, Salvatore Moreau

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect you inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter 15

You awoke with the urgent need to pee.  The room was pitch black, the fire in the hearth burning out hours ago.  You couldn’t see anything.  You were incredibly sleepy and could have very easily fallen back asleep, but the need to use the facilities outweighed your slumber.

Heisenberg spooned you, his arms wrapped tight around your body, holding you close. You smiled at the feel of his breath on the top of your head.  He was sleeping soundly and you knew he needed his sleep.  The feel of his naked body against yours was so comforting and you didn’t want to bother him, but you really had to go.

Trying hard not to wake him, you slowly started to pry his arms from around your body.  Heisenberg moaned and pulled you closer to him.  “Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling his nose in your hair.

“I have to pee,” you said.  His soft moan of disapproval made your heart clench.  He begrudgingly let you go and you sat up, moving your feet to the floor.  “Come back soon,” he whispered, rolling onto his back.  He slung one arm across his eyes as the other lay on his stomach.

You stood to your feet and blindly walked naked towards the door.  You knew there wasn’t any furniture between the bed and the door, but you wanted to make sure you didn’t run into anything.  The door was closed and you could hear the faint noises of the factory on the other side.  You held your hands out in front of you and made your way towards the noise.

You sucked in a pained gasp when your toe hit the edge of the kitchen area.  “Ow, fuck!!” you cried out, “fuck fuck fuck fuck!!”  You hopped on your uninjured foot as you grabbed your stubbed toe, whining and cursing.

“What was that?  What happened?” Heisenberg asked from the bed.

“I stubbed my fucking toe!” you whimpered, squeezing your toes in one hand with your other hand pressed to the counter top.  He was quiet for a moment before laughing.  “Shut up,” you grumbled at him.  You felt along the wall and found the door knob, opening it wide.

The lights from the hallway were a welcomed sight as you went into the bathroom.  You closed the door, locked it, and relieved yourself.  Flushing the toilet, you walked to the sink and washed your hands, looking at your reflection in the mirror.  Your hair was a mess.  You looked down at your hips and thighs and noticed a peppering of bruises and bite marks.  Your muscles were starting to feel sore and achy.  It made you smile.

In between naps and cuddles, you and Heisenberg had done nothing but stay in bed and fucked for the last several hours.  He was insatiable.  His hands and mouth had touched and explored every inch of your body.  You two had made each other cum over and over again.  Finally, after reaching a point of exhaustion, he pulled you to him and the both of you passed out.

You turned off the bathroom light and went back to the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.  With the little amount of light spilling in, you were able to find your way back to the bed.

You slid under the covers and into Heisenberg’s waiting arms.  “How’s your toe?” he asked, pulling you close and kissing your forehead.  You rested your head on his chest, placing your hand on his stomach.  “It’s fine,” you murmured.

“Sorry I laughed,” he said with a slight chuckle in his voice.  You growled softly and cuddled deeper into his arms.

*

When the two of you awoke in the morning, Heisenberg made breakfast...eggs and bacon again.  You poured yourself a mug of coffee from the small pot Heisenberg had on the back of the stove.  It wasn’t as good as the coffee you were used to from back home, but you cut him some slack...after all, you doubted the Duke had various flavors of coffee available to buy from his carriage.

Heisenberg found another chair in a room down the hall and pulled it into his quarters so that you and he could sit next to each other while eating.  After years of him living alone, he only needed one chair in his room.  But you were with him now and he wanted to make accommodations for you.

Heisenberg brought two plates to the table, setting one in front of you and the other for him.

“I thought you didn’t eat breakfast,” you asked as you picked up your fork.

“Usually I don’t,” he responded, “but as of late, I’ve worked up quite an appetite…”

You snorted and clamped your hand over your mouth to keep food from flying everywhere.  Heisenberg laughed as he chomped on a strip of bacon.

The two of you ate in silence, Heisenberg stealing glances at you from time to time.  He watched as you pulled one leg up to the chair and let the other hang over it.  He studied your eating habits as you went from a forkful of eggs to a strip of bacon and ending with a mouthful of coffee.  It had been a long time since he had someone share his living quarters…

He quickly shook those thoughts away.  It had been years since he last thought of them and he didn’t want to be reminded.

“So,” you said, pulling Heisenberg out of his thoughts, “I wanted to do something today…”

“Really?” he questioned, arching his brow, “and what might that be?”

You rolled your eyes.  “Knock it off, pervert,” you muttered, “I want to see Salvatore.”

“No fucking way,” Heisenberg said bluntly, lifting his mug of coffee to his mouth.

“I want to give him something,” you said, turning your body to face him, “the bracelet I got from the Duke...I want to give it to Salvatore.  To show him that everything is okay and that I’m not mad at him…”

Heisenberg shook his head, placing the mug down.  “Everything is not okay.  You could have died, Y/N.  If I wasn’t in the area and hadn’t heard your screams…”

“This isn’t up to you,” you said defiantly, “I want to go see him and I’ll go with or without you.”

Heisenberg laughed loudly, tossing his head back.  “Are you getting tough with me, pussycat?  You think I would let you go there alone after all I’ve told you about this place?  You know, I could go back to chaining you to my bed and locking the door…”

You met his amused eyes with a serious look.  “Please, Karl,” you implored, “we don’t have to stay long.  Come with me, let me give him the bracelet, and then we can leave…”  You put your hand on his arm, squeezing it slowly.  “I’ll make it up to you…”

He looked from your hand on his arm and up to your mischievous eyes.  “Anything, dollface?”

Your heart skipped a beat momentarily at his words.  Oh fuck, you thought, what depraved possibilities could be spinning in his head right now?  What have I gotten myself into?  But you swallowed your tongue and simply nodded.

“Fine,” he said, “we’ll go in an hour…”

*

The ramshackled building that Moreau lived in hovered yards ahead as you and Heisenberg walked closer.  The sun peeked out occasionally through thick clouds.  There was a brisk chill in the air as you shoved your hands in the pockets of the oversized coat you found in the plane wreckage.  You had spot cleaned it in Heisenberg’s tub the day before, scrubbing the slobber and blood that the lycans had gotten on it your first day in the village.

Heisenberg huffed under his breath as you reached the wooden door, slinging his large hammer around and propping it up against the wall.  “Smells like rotten fish,” he mumbled, “which means my brother is home…”

You shot him a glare.  “Do you think you could not be so rude to him?  He is your brother.”

“Not by blood,” Heisenberg shot back.  You shook your head as you pushed the door open.

“Salvatore?” you called out, “it’s Y/N and Heisenberg!  Are you here?!”

It was quiet for a moment.  You could hear the soft sloshing of the water in the reservoir.  A clock ticked by somewhere.  Birds flapped their wings and flew up towards the ceiling and in and out of small openings in the roof.

“Salvatore?” you called out again.

“MOREAU!” Heisenberg yelled loudly, making you jump out of your skin, “where the fuck are you???”

“Jesus,” you breathed, your hand at your chest, “you scared me to death!”  He simply shrugged as you heard shuffling from down a hallway.

“K-Karl?” Moreau called out, “...what are yo-you doing here?”  He turned the corner and saw the two of you standing there.  “Oh!  Y/N!  Oh ho, how are you??  I thought you were m-m-mad at me…”

You smiled and came forward, reaching both of your hands to him.  “No, Salvatore, I’m not mad!  It was just a crazy ordeal that got out of hand and I wanted to let you know...”

Moreau looked down at your outstretched hands and hesitantly lifted his.  He was very slow at placing his hands in yours for fear that you didn’t want him to touch you.  He was used to people over the years being afraid of him, calling him a freak, and picking on him.  It still felt recent, but it had been close to thirty years ago, when local children would see him walking through the village and pelt him with pebbles and rocks.  They would call him names, plug up their noses, and jeer at how much he stunk.  Unless he was beckoned by Mother Miranda, he stayed in the reservoir from then on out.  He would get his revenge a time or two when some of the bullies would jump in the water for a swim.  He would quietly slip under the surface of the water, turn into his huge, monstrous self, and rip them to shreds.  It was one of the few times he recalled ever being truly happy and justified.

You smiled at him and gave his hands a soft squeeze.  They were slimy and felt unusual, but you didn’t say anything; you would wash your hands later.  “I got something for you...just to let you know there aren’t any hard feelings…”  You released his hands and went for your jeans pocket, pulling out the carnelian bracelet.  “I got it from the Duke.  It’s a carnelian crystal.  It represents joy, friendship, and togetherness.  It made me think of you.”

Moreau looked down at the bracelet you extended towards him.  His eyes took in the red crystal.  His mouth opened and his jaw trembled.  “This...is fo-for me?  A present for me?” he asked.  You smiled and nodded.  A low sound that could only be described as the beginnings of weeping formed in his mouth.  You let it hang from your fingertips as Moreau closed his hand around it.  “Thank you,” he said happily, “oh, thank you, Y/N!  This is the best gi-gift I have ever gotten!”  He looked joyful and happy before his body began to jerk.  With a sudden loud gag, he turned away quickly and vomited green fluids on the floor.

“Ugh!” Heisenberg muttered under his breath.  You turned and shot him a warning glare.

“It’s okay, Salvatore,” you assured, turning back to him.

Moreau wiped his mouth with his other hand, looking at you.  “Sorry,” he apologized, “it happens sometimes…”

Heisenberg clapped his hands together once as if everything had corrected itself and they were all good to go.  “Well, brother,” he announced, “it’s always nice to see you.  Don’t be a stranger, don’t forget to write, you know...all that jazz…”

“Thank you, Heisenberg, for coming to visit,” Moreau said, “and thank you for bringing me the fish and cheeses last week.  They we-were very good…”

You slowly looked up at Heisenberg with an amused look, as if to say “oh, what a nice thing for you to do for your brother…”  He looked at you for a split second before turning away and mumbling “you’re welcome.”  You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips.  Heisenberg could try all he might, but there was goodness inside of him...he didn’t show it a lot, but it was there.

With a short grunt, he looked down at the floor to his left and found a scrap of metal that looked to have fallen from the ceiling.  He reached down and picked it up quickly, showing it to his brother.  “Yeah, well...I’m taking this!” Heisenberg announced, turning around and stomping out of the reservoir building.

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.  Turning back to Moreau, you bid him goodbye and promised that you would come see him again soon.

You jogged out of the building as Heisenberg grabbed his hammer and slung it over his shoulder, the metal scrap dragging behind him in the snow.

“How old are you again?” you quipped, walking with him up the path back towards the factory.

“Shut up…” he grumbled.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #daddy heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #house heisenberg #succession fanfic #succession heisenberg fanfic

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Summer of Whump #28: Display

So I know this is early, but I am posting the posts with tagged people because my phone is a brat when it comes to tagging and the queue.

Based on this prompt by @amethystpath-writes

“You know, as much as you like to show me off to your little villainous buddies, I don’t feel persuaded enough that you don’t want them all to think you picked me off the streets. I mean, come on. I haven’t seen a hairbrush in days- I’m starting to get dreadlocks. Is that what you want? You want your trophy to have dreadlocks? I mean, I think they’re great on some people, but I’m not crazy about the idea of them on my own head, and I’m not sure that’s what you want either. Ow! It is not nice to throw objects at people!”

“Just shut up, and brush your hair.”

“You know what, I don’t even want to brush it anymore, not if you’re going to be rude about it...butthead.”

"Me?!" Supervillain yelled as he grabbed the clattered hairbrush with way too much effort than what was necessary. Villain raised her eyebrows and regarded Supervillain's attitude with a humorous expression.

"Dang you needed loads of momentum to pick up a two ounce hairbrush," Villain laughed and leaned back comfortably on the chair she was tied to. "I guess big muscle-man isn't has strong as he proclaims himself to be. But hey, don't let me bust your bubble."

Supervillain hurtled the hairbrush again. This time smacking it so hard against the wall that it broke into two pieces. Villain lurched forward in mock excitement.

"And- whoa! Did anyone see that? Supervillain wins another round, of, uh, hairbrush-ball." She smiles, white and flashy.

"Shut up!" Supervillain growled and picked the hairbrush up, carefully this time so that Villain wouldn't comment. But, of course, being her, she did.

"My oh my," she sang. "Scared you're gonna break it again, muscles?" She laughed, "Pathetic."

"You're pathetic," Supervillain stalked over waving the brush in Villain's face. She scrunched her nose and leaned back.

"I really don't want-" Villain was cut off by a smacking sound and a sting in her cheek. "What the heck!" She yelled, half-standing up in the chair. All while glaring daggers at Supervillain and his weapon.

"You don't hit," her angry tone was quickly replaced, however, with her usual carefree voice as she mocked, "Butthead."

Supervillain lunged forward, grabbing Villain's hair.

"Owowowowow," she said so quickly that it sounded animated. "Those dreadlocks hurt, ya know."

"Ya, I know," Supervillain mimicked Villain and let her go.

"Tha-"

"Shut up."

"I was just gonna say thank you, but your ungrateful bratty selt can't even allow poor, innocent me to be appreciative. No wonder your girlfriend left you. I mean, I would too if my boyfriend was an incapable mutt that threw his fat self around. Oh sorry, muscles, I didn't mean to hurt your little feelings, but it is the truth and sooner or later, you would've found out and spiraled into a rage of murderous desperation to prove your chubby self. I am so happy that I helped you down that road my guy, so why don't you just let me go and we live our lives like normal citizens. Excpet for you, of course, because you are just too dumb for anything."

Supervillain was staring at her with his mouth slightly open, too dumbfounded to speak.

Villain chewed like a cow chewing its cud as she looked childish up at Supervillain, slightly raising one eyebrow as she egged him on to say something. To retort, or snap, or hit her again, but the supervillain just stood there.

"Need something? Because I'm sure I can help you with your moral dilemma of whether you should be dumb or stupid for the day," She cocked her head as if she was deep in thought, but the twinkle in her eyes suggested otherwise.

"You know what you ungrateful piece of-"

"Shh!" Villain interrupted. "No swearing darling."

"Ugh!" Supervillain started smacking the hairbrush harmlessly in the air, making a whipping sound.

"I don't think you are gonna get far by waving that in the air like a toddler."

Supervillain smacked the bristles into Villain's hair and pulled.

"Ow! You are gonna need some detangler for that."

Supervillain didn't answer.

"Or some water, water will work," Villain continued and shrugged.

"You are practically asking for a full shower. No. Now brush up."

"Can't when my dear wrist are tied up," Villain gave Supervillain a pouty face.

Supervillain's brow crinkled as he uncuffed Villain. She rubbed her tender wrists gently.

"Now's a perfect time to be appreciative."

"You are so right. Thank you," Villain smiled, wide and white.

"You have ten seconds." Apparently, that was Supervillain's way of saying "you're welcome".

"I cannot work with that," Villain pointed out and she went to work on the knots, gingerly brushing them out. Sometimes she would get frustrated and uselessly whip at them with a disgusted snarl on her face.

"Eight... nine... okay let's go," Supervillain grabbed Villain's bicep and yanked her off the chair.

"Watch i- oh do you like my muscles," Villain took her free arm and pushed it infront of Supervillain's face, flexing.

Supervillain looked at the well-formed muscle and tried not to lie. Villain was fit, very fit indeed, but Supervillain wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

"No," he said and continued pulling his captive. Villain blew the hair out of her face. "Rude," she pouted. "Where are we going?"

"In public," came the brisk reply.

"Public? Oh, wait- nonononono," Villain, who was formerly just hanging around limply, suddenly tensed and shoved her heels into the ground.

"Move!"

"I am not gonna go into public without showering. I smell disgusting after not showering for days. You probably don't realize because you smell the same- a mixture of rotten bananas and sour milk, but those guys out there will," Villain extended a palm facing upwards with a shrug like she just handed Supervillain something. "It's for your own good, dearie."

"Ugh fine," Supervillain spun Villain around and smacked the hairbrush into her hands. He pointed to the hallway, "Second door to your right. If you try to escape, I swear- oh I swear on my life- I will burn down all the hairbush manufacturers in the world, so that you are stuck with dealing with those dreaded dreadlocks."

"Pun intended?"

"GO VILLAIN!"

#summer of whump #prompt 28 #display #villain whumpee #ish? #i'd say #supervillain whumpee #captivity whump #hairbrush #writing

[winchesterwords]

“Not Heaven, But Hell” John Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: The reader is a hunter who used to casually date John Winchester. They left when things went wrong between them, or so he thought. When the two of them are reunited during a routine hunt, old emotions are sparked and a secret is revealed.

Word Count: 3194

Warning: Mention of Abuse, character death

Song I Wrote To: “Dopamine” by Barns Courtney

Note: I was just needing some John Winchester angst in my life.

----------

As the hour of midnight approached in the forests of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a hunter relished in the silence. 

You had been traveling alone for months, picking up jobs wherever you could. Whether it was a vampire, skinwalker, or just the run of the mill haunting, you managed to take care of it quickly. When rumor had sprouted of a Ghoul nest in the area, you had taken the hunt from another hunter as the job had come over the wire. You were closer and in need of a distraction.

After investigating for a day and a half, you had discovered that it was a false trail and that if any ghouls had been in the city, they were long gone now. However, you still headed into the thick woods for one last look, and being among trees and nature at night had always brought you peace of mind which was very much needed at that moment. 

The leaves beneath your feet were soft from the morning rain and your breath was visible as you exhaled. However, even with the brisk weather, you didn’t feel the cold. You didn’t feel much of anything as you walked. 

When you reached the old abandoned shack near the edge of the North Woods, you slowed your pace, pulling your gun from your waistband. Knocking the barrel against the side of the old building, you attempted to draw anything outside and towards the bullet that was expertly loaded in the chamber of your pistol. It was silent for just a moment before you heard footsteps. With a sigh, you raised your gun and stepped around the side of the shack. You immediately came face to face with another barrel as you stared down at the gun with wide eyes. 

“Jesus,” a man swore and it took you less than a second to recognize the voice. When your heart finally calmed down and you looked up at the face of the person in front of you, your gun fell to your side. 

“John?” you asked, completely taken aback. 

“(Y/N),” he said. He wore his usual expression of concern mixed with caution, but his eyes always remained very warm. John Winchester looked the same from when you last saw him, but there was something about the way his shoulders were tensed that told you something was wrong. The band of his wedding ring glinted in the moonlight, reflecting off the shiny weapon in his right hand. 

“John, the gun,” you said, staring at the piece that was still aimed between your eyes.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” John said as he holstered his weapon, earning a relieved sigh from you. “What are you doing here?” he asked as you pushed past him. 

“Same reason you’re here,” you said, examining the eves of the shack. “I’m working. Though it looks like you have it handled so I will leave you to it.” You turned to leave, hoping to find more peace and quiet before the day was over. The last thing you wanted was John Winchester around. 

The two of you had casually dated years before and after it ended horribly, you had essentially disappeared from his life and never looked back. Now, seeing him in those woods, felt like a dagger to your chest. One you desperately wanted to yank out.

Deciding that silence was better than trying to explain, you turned your back on him and began walking away. John, however, was not going to let that happen. Not yet anyway.  

“Wait,” John said as he caught up to you, stepping in front of your path. 

“Move,” you ordered, but he just sighed, already dreading the conversation. 

“Come on, (Y/N), there’s two of us and if this nest is full then we should be able to take them.”

“What nest, John? All I see is a decrepit building with a whole lot of nothing. I told the hunter that gave me this case that there was probably nothing to it. Looks like I was right.”

“Or maybe you weren’t and there could still be evidence of a nest,” John said, trying to persuade you. “Come on,” he tried again. Looking between him and the shed, you finally relented and with a sigh nodded for him to go ahead. “Right, always makin’ me go in first,” John jested. 

“You’re idea, big man,” you shot back, and even with his back turned, you knew he was rolling his eyes. It was odd the way the two of you just slipped back into the routine of jabbing at one another. You didn’t like the way it made you feel, that knife only twisting further. 

You and John took either side of the main door in the end, both pulling your weapons. John counted to three before reeling back and kicking in the door, splintering the hinges. Immediately, you were met with darkness and when John clicked on his flashlight, you crossed your arms in annoyance. 

“Told you,” you said, gesturing to the empty room around you. “Not even a shred of ‘ghoul-ness’.” 

“That’s not a real word,” John said and you gave him a rude gesture to which he just frowned. 

“So, you’re still an ass. That’s nice to know,” you said.

“And you are still as charming as ever,” John retorted, finally turning to face you in the dark of the shack. “The years have certainly not changed you, honey.”

“Don’t call me ‘honey’,” you shot and he raised his hands in surrender. After staring at each other for a moment, you gave up and left the shack and John behind. He silently followed after you in the woods and you didn’t have the energy to scream at him. 

“Main road is the other way, (Y/N),” John called out, his boots somehow not making a sound as he walked along the debris-littered forest floor. 

“I’m aware, Winchester,” you called back. “Not goin’ to the main road.” 

“Then where are you going?” 

“Do you care?” 

“Maybe,” he said. “I’m allowed to wonder.” 

“Then you can just keep on being the curious cat you are,” you said with a roll of your eyes as you crested a small hill. John jogged to catch up and stood beside you as you looked out at the city below, all lit up in the dark of night. “John, go home.”

“I’m in no rush,” he said. 

“Maybe I am,” you whispered.

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” you said as you began to descend. “Just go, John.” He ran to keep up with you and when you turned to snap at him again, you heard a low howl echo through the air. You froze as the sound entered your bones. 

“What?” John asked, noticing your change in demeanor. In the distance, you heard the unmistakable sound of an animal running, many animals. You didn’t even need to look at your watch to know that it was after midnight. All the negative emotions you had been feeling towards John vanished at that moment and all you could think about was that you didn’t want to be alone anymore.

And so, you just whispered one word to him, “Run.”

-------

You and John ran through the woods. 

He didn’t even hesitate or ask questions when you had told him to run. There wasn’t time and he clearly understood that from your tone of voice. He kept up with you as you sprinted, not daring to look back. When you spotted an old annex building down another hill, you picked up your speed. 

Slamming into the door, you fumbled with the lock. John arrived shortly after, pushing you to the side and aiming his weapon. With a single shot, he blasted the lock from the door and wrenched it open, pushing you inside. He followed and then slammed the door shut. “Help me with this,” he ordered gesturing to a metal cabinet. 

The two of you dragged it in front of the door, but you knew it wouldn’t hold. Nothing was going to stop them from getting in. “This is all your fault,” you rasped, trying to catch your breath.

“How?” he asked, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“If you had just listened to me,” you said, though you didn’t mean it, “then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“I don’t even know what this goddamn mess is,” John shot back. “Whatever it is, we can wait them out.”

“Whatever,” you said, as you began to pace. 

“You’re still a bitch too, huh?” 

“Seriously?” you asked, not in the mood for his attitude. In fact, all you wanted was for him to hold you and not talk, but you were too proud to admit that, especially to a man like John Winchester. 

“Sorry, but it’s true and you know it,” John spat back. 

“I’m not the one that ruined us,” you said, hating the words that came from your mouth. 

“Aren’t you? You never cared about what happened to you on hunts. Hell, you were so damn reckless more times than not, always running into situations halfcocked and full of anger.”

“I never cared? And you did?” 

“Are you kidding me? I always offered to go with you!” 

“And I told you to stay the hell home with your boys. Or did you suddenly forget about Sam and Dean?” you asked and you knew it was low, but you couldn’t stop yourself. John’s face turned dark at your words. He stepped closer to you, his eyes almost deadly in the dark of the room.

“Don’t,” he said in a low voice, “Do not bring my boys into this, (Y/N).”

“Tell me where they are right now, because I know damn well that they aren’t with you,” you said, gesturing around you with wide arms. John was silent for a moment before taking a step back. 

“Sammy is at school and Dean is on a hunt of his own, they aren’t kids anymore.” 

“All grown up, huh? Good for them.” 

It was shortly after that when John stopped talking altogether. He wanted nothing to do with you at that moment and all you wanted was for a little human contact. Yet, you couldn’t stop trying to push him away. John was right, he was always right, you had been the one to ruin the two of you, but it was for a good reason.

At least that was what you kept telling yourself. 

As you sat behind those walls, the howls got louder and you couldn’t help the shivers that ran down your spine. You had been expecting this, you were ready, but you never expected to not be alone when it happened. 

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly said, getting John’s attention who saw across from you. “Your boys are off-limits. Always have been. I didn’t mean to bring them up.” John just nodded, accepting your apology. At least that was still the same, the ability to read him like an open book. He was quiet for a bit longer before he finally looked at you. 

“Bobby told me that you were attacked,” he said, trying to offer some sympathy. 

“I’m fine now,” you told him. 

“You were in a hospital for a month,” he pointed out, moving closer to you, clear worry on his face. 

“I survived. I always do.” 

“You should have had back up,” he said. 

“My back up was my other gun,” you said in defense. John ran a hand down his face in exasperation. 

“Dammit, (Y/N), when are you going to realize that you pushed me away. I haven’t felt the way I feel about you since Mary. Do you not understand that? Have you ever?” You shook your head, not wanting to hear any of it. You knew how he felt about you, he had made it abundantly clear multiple times. 

He had even offered you a chance to stay with him for more than a weekend here and there. John had wanted you to meet Dean and be with him officially. A part of you wanted that more than anything, but then you would think back to your current situation and it would all disappear, the hope and the wanting of the future. 

That wasn’t in the cards for you. Not now, not ever.

“John,” you whispered, “I am not someone you want to be around.” Speaking those words had felt like there were hands around your neck and you were choking them out. 

“Why not?” he asked, trying so hard to see the world from your perspective, to know what you were thinking. 

“I have demons in my past,” you admitted. 

“Honey, we all do,” he said and your heart dropped at his use of the pet name that had become very familiar to you. 

“No, you don’t understand,” you whispered. “I mean I have actual demons.” John’s brow furrowed, confused and so you continued. “You once asked me why I always seemed on edge. Well, baby, I’m reachin’ my ten years.” 

“What are you talking about?” John asked, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I made a deal,” you said. “In order to get away from my abusive ex-husband, I made a deal with a crossroads demon. Ten years of peace and then...then I’m going downstairs. Midnight tonight is when the clock ran out.” John was already shaking his head before you finished. He moved forward, taking your face in his hands. You could feel the rough callouses that littered his palms from all times he handled a blade. 

“No,” he whispered. “I will not let that happen.”

“It’s hellhounds, John. That’s what’s coming for me. You won’t be able to see them, but I can,” you said as the tears dripped down your cheeks. His fingers caught them as he looked at you as if his world was falling to pieces right then. “It’s time and I am being so damn selfish because I don’t wanna be alone right now.

“(Y/N)…”

“They won’t hurt you, I promise,” you explained, trying to get him to look you in the eyes. 

“No,” he said again, still trying to deny the inevitable. 

“Yes, John, I’ve already accepted it,” you said, leaning your forehead against him. 

“Is this why you pushed me away?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry, but I had to. You already lost one love, I couldn’t be the reason you lost another.

“Dammit,” he said, clutching you tighter to him. 

“Please don’t be mad. I never intended to become so fond of you. I never expected to fall in love with you because I do, I love you so much and I never stopped.” 

“I love you too,” John managed to get out. 

“I need you to promise me something because I don’t think I have much time left,” you said, choking on the riding sob in your throat. 

“Anything,” he promised. 

“The next time you see Sam, tell him you love him. For me, please.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No, I need you to listen to me,” you said, leaning back to look him in the eyes so he would understand. “I know that the two of you never get along and I also know he struggled growing up on the road. I need you to tell him that his father still cares about him. He needs to hear that whether he knows it or not. None of us hear it enough. 

“Stop,” he begged, but his voice was barely above a whisper. You kept going. 

“I know that Mary was your forever John,” you said, smiling through the tears, “but you were always mine.” John hastily rubbed at his face, not wanting you to see what he thought was his weakness, but you thought he had never looked more beautiful than in that moment kneeled before you. 

“We were never supposed to die,” he said, reminding you of a laughter-filled conversation one evening in the backseat of his truck. 

“John,” you whispered and he looked into your eyes as if he was trying to memorize every ounce of them. “Don’t forget to love again.”

“No,” he said. “You’re it. Nobody else, I’m done.” John surged forward and kissed you with every bit of love he had in his body, holding you tight to his chest. You couldn’t hide the sobs now as you kissed the man you loved. 

You pulled away just as something bagged against the door, rattling the walls. John held onto you tighter, afraid you were going to be snatched away at any second. “You’ll be okay,” you told him as you detangled yourself from his arms. 

“No, no,” he whispered as you stood us and made your way to the door. 

“Our legacy lives on, Winchester,” you said, pushing the cabinet from the door and bracing your hands on the buckling wood. “Don’t let it completely end with me or your boys. The world needs Winchesters and I was just so lucky to know one of them.” 

“Please…” he begged, but you were shaking your head. 

“Don’t say anything else. Just remember what I told you and tell Sam, Dean too. They need to hear from their dad more than anything. You may not see it, but I do. The three of you need each other. One day, you’re going to change the world.” 

“I’ll tell them,” John promised. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“I’m not,” you said, shaking your head. “I got to have one epic love in my life and not many people can say that.” Reaching behind you, you unlatched the door and threw it open. “Until we meet again, John. Thank you, for loving me.” 

John cried out the next moment as you fell to your knees and long red lines appeared down your neck as the hellhounds descended. Yet, as you were being pulled away from him, you smiled, and then, in a rush of cold air, you were dragged away and you were gone. 

--------

John didn’t know how long he sat there as he stared at the space you had disappeared through. 

He didn’t know if he’d be able to find your body or even if he wanted to. He would be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought about you in the years after you left him alone in that motel room. John never stopped loving you and the fact that when he had found you again, you were taken from him was as cruel as it got. 

However, this time he couldn’t fix it. There was no singular demon to hunt and kill. You had made a deal and you had chosen to take the consequences when the bill came due. 

Leaning back against a stack of crates, John felt for his phone in his jacket. His thumbs fumbled on the keypad for a moment before pressing the number one on his speed dial.

It didn’t take long for his eldest to answer. Dean answered groggily from the other line and all John could think about then was you and your final words to him. 

So, after taking a deep breath, he finally spoke to his son, “Hey boy, have you heard from your brother lately?” 

#SPN imagine #john winchester x you #john winchester imagine #john winchester x reader #reader insert #supernatural fic #angst #spn fic #john winchester #JDM #Supernatural fan fiction

[svu-ncis-criminalminds]

Auction

The Rafael Barba x Reader fic that no one asked for but I had a wonderful time writing. (will be proof reading better tomorrow :) )

“Barba” He turned his head to watch as one of coworkers caught up with him. 

“Yes?” He answered drily, he was late. 

“Are you going to the benefit dinner on Saturday?” Barba frowned. That was this Saturday? The man patted his shoulder and Barba attempted not to look too displeased. “Come on man, bring a date! Buy a new one, it's for charity.” He grinned and Rafael wasn’t a fan of the glint in the man's eyes. 

“Not sure any of the women in my life are willing to be auctioned off. Even for charity. Sorry Wilkins.” The man just continued to grin. 

“What about that one cutie always hanging around? Y/N? Bring her, I’m sure she’d fetch a pretty penny.” Rafael narrowed his eyes at that but chose to bite his tongue. 

“I’m sure she’s busy. Excuse me, I have to get this to the station.” Without listening for a response Barba was off towards SVU to drop off some paperwork for a case just going to court. On his brisk walk over he got thinking to himself. He really /should/ show his face at the auction for the Association to Benefit Children considering he hadn’t been to a benefit in ages. But he needed a date, the point of this benefit, as barbaric as it was, is for the gentleman to attempt to bid each other out for their dates. The money all went to a good cause but it wasn’t an idea Rafael was particularly fond of. But he should go. And he should try and bring a date. 

----

“Hey Mr. Barba,” You bounced up to the man once he stepped foot off the elevator, “Are those my Phillips files?” You grabbed for them and Barba shifted his coffee to one hand to allow you to snatch them from him. 

“Always so patient.” He snarked and you grinned, already moving back to your desk as you shifted through the papers. Rafael paused at your desk watching you momentarily. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, tossing the files down onto your desk and turning to the man with a slightly crooked smile. He cleared his throat. 

“Saturday, there is an auction benefit for the Association to Benefit Children and I’m supposed to bring a date, would you like to go?” He tried to seem more nonchalant than he felt, crossing his arms over his chest. You smiled and shifted from foot to foot and Rafael had to admit Wilkins was right, men would be falling over each other to out bid him for you. 

“Sure, I doubt I’ll be able to buy anything. Far too fancy for me.” You laughed and he smiled wincing slightly. 

“Actually.” He sighed, “It’s the dates that get auctioned.” You made a little o with your mouth and nodded before laughing again.

“You want me to be your date so you can sell me for charity?” You asked, smiling. He nodded. “But I get to get all dressed up right?” You asked and he nodded again. 

“Of course, black tie event.” You nodded your head and shrugged your shoulders. 

“Alright.” 

“Really?” 

“Sure, but you better be bidding for me, I don’t wanna get stuck with some uptight lawyer.” you paused, grinning, “No offense.” Barba smirked.

“None taken. Though I think I'll have to battle Wilkins for you-” You groaned. 

“The creep from your office with the beard? Gross. You better win, or I’ll be mad.” He nodded at you and crossed a finger over his heart.

“Promise, though 5 grand is my limit for the evening so anything above that and you’re on your own.” He was only partially joking. 

----------

The uber pulled up to your apartment and Barba got out, doing the gentlemanly thing and going to the other side to open the door for you. You burst out of your apartment buildings front door and Rafael was stopped in his tracks. You looked beautiful with hair and makeup done and wearing a floor length golden dress that was currently hidden under a long dark green coat. 

“It’s freezing,” You practically ran towards him and Barba shook himself getting his attention back on the car door. You stopped next to him, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as you tossed yourself into the car. “Thank you.” Barba shut the door and came back to his side getting in and turning to you, his hands felt clammy despite the weather. 

“You look lovely,” He assured you, and you smiled, reaching over to brush some snow from his shoulder. 

“So do you! I’m excited for tonight, I haven’t been out in ages.”

“I wouldn’t call this out. More like pulling teeth.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Try and have some fun, Mr. Barba, loosen up. We look nice, we’re gonna drink nice alcohol, and eat nice food. You’re gonna purchase me!” You grinned and he couldn’t help but smile slightly, your joy was contagious. Everything about you was. 

“I will try. There will be plenty of richer men there, and I’m sure you’ll be top of everyone's list.” You blushed slightly and shrugged. 

“Nah,” You brushed the comment off before turning back to talking about how you were looking forward to the evening. Rafael wanted to press the topic, to make sure you understood he was serious and that you’d most likely be bought from under him. But he didn’t want you to change your mind so he kept his mouth shut. 

-------

Thirty or so minutes later and you were inside the party, drinks in hang as you stood with some of Barba’s coworkers and their dates they brought. Wilinks tried and failed several times to start a conversation with you, and while you were polite you were doing your best to make it clear you weren’t very interested. 

Every time you got too close to Rafael, or heaven forbid, touched him he felt his skin prickle. He couldn’t help it, you looked absolutely stunning. Rafael excused you both to go get another drink before the auction began, he was gonna need it and he was sure you would too. 

“So, you’re gonna buy me right?” You teased, sitting together at Rafael’s table, facing each other as you spoke. Barba smiled and shrugged, taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“I’m gonna try, but I mean it my cut off has to be 5,000 tonight and you’re worth at least a million.” He hoped he wasn’t laying it on too thick, or passing some sort of boundary but you threw your head back and laughed. 

“Why don’t they auction the men?” 

“No one wants to buy an earpiece in a suit.” You grinned and someone got onto the stage calling everyone back to their seats. Rafael put an arm around the back of your chair and settled in to watch the show. It was good natured at least. Husbands buying their wives before tossing them over their shoulder, old ladies being scooped up by young lawyers looking for brownie points. You were smiling and clapping along and laughing and that made Rafael feel content enough to participate, smiling along with you. Finally they called your name and you got up, patting Barba on the arm as you went. 

“Let’s start the bidding at $500.” Rafael raised his hand. 

“A grand,” Wilkins raised his own from two tables over and so did a couple of other men, some Barba recognized and some he didn’t. “Two grand,” Barba called again. The price went up and up and you stood there looking sheepish on stage in front of everyone. Wilkins dropped out when you hit 4,000 but a partner from some white collar crimes business kept one upping Barba and he was starting to get fed up. 

“43 hundred.” The man was calm as he raised his hand, Barba’s brows were drawn angrily over his eyes, you thought he looked cute and it made you smile down at him. Barba caught you eye and smiled back slightly, mouthing ‘I told you so,’

“$5,000.” Rafael tossed in all his chips, metaphorically of course. 

“52 hundred.” The man out bid him again.

“$5,500.” Barba called again. Plan be damned.

“8 thousand.” The man nailed Rafael into his coffin. Barba floundered and looked apologetically at you, and you smiled sweetly in return. You were too good natured for him. 

“We’ve got a winner!” The MC announced and Barba had to watch you climb gracefully from the stage. Instead of walking towards him, you walked towards the other man who stood up to greet you, kissing you cheek and pulling your chair out. Barba wasn’t to toss him out the front door. But he wouldn’t. He turned back sullenly to the auction. His money would unfortunately have to go elsewhere. 

----

“Y/N,” The man was handsome, that was for sure, older than you but still young to have the salt and pepper hair he donned. Being a lawyer made you go grey, at least that’s what Sonny told you.  “I’m Oliver White.” You smiled politely, laughed at his jokes when he made them, danced when he asked. It wasn’t unpleasant, and he seemed like a nice enough man but you couldn’t help but to continue to steal glances of Barba with his new date across the room. 

Barba didn’t bother with small talk. He was sulking. And the girl who had won wasn’t up for dancing, not that Barba partially wanted to dance with her. He rather alternate between staring at his whiskey and gazing at you. 

After several dances you finally sat back at your table with Oliver, glancing over at Rafael again who met your eye this time. You smiled and offered a small wave which he returned. 

“Is he your boyfriend?” Oliver asked and you turned your head shaking it and a small laugh.

“No. We’re work friends. I just feel bad, he was supposed to win my auction so he wasn’t stuck bored all night.” You admitted and Oliver nodded. 

“I assumed the way he was trying to outbid everyone he had to be your boyfriend.” You blushed slightly.

“He’s not.” Oliver smiled nodding his own head.

“Alright good. So I can ask for your number then?” You tried not to glance over at Barba again, that was rude, you had to remind yourself. You smiled. 

“Sure, but I’m not totally in the market right now..” Oliver nodded his head and raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“I can wait.” With that he dropped it and you were thankful so you took another glance over. Rafael was already watching you. You looked down first then away again. God what had you gotten yourself into. Towards the end of the night to MC announced there was only a few more dances. By this point in the night most couples had reunited so you smiled at Olivier and slowly gathered your bag.

“Do you mind,” You nodded towards Rafael, “I promised him at least one dance,” You lied. Really you were done keeping up formalities. You wanted to go back to where you were comfortable. Oliver smiled and nodded his head towards the dejected looking man. 

“Only if you give him a chance.” You laughed. 

“He doesn’t- It’s not like that.” Oliver smirked and shook his head. 

“Whatever you say,” He shrugged and you frowned, gathering the rest of your stuff. 

“It was nice to meet you.” You said goodnight and made your way over to Barba, plopping down beside him with a smile. 

“Hey,”

“Hey,” He answered surprised, looking behind you back to where you’d just been sitting, “Everything alright?” You nodded your head. 

“You looked like you could need some fun.” The girl beside him snorted and gathered her own things before rushing out a goodnight and storming off. You both watched her go and Rafael turned back to you smiling slightly.

“I’m a bad date.” He admitted and you laughed. You dropped your purse onto the table and stood up again holding out a hand. “What?” He asked, confused. 

“Come on, let's dance. I didn’t see you out there once tonight. Why do you think I came?” You joked and Barba took your hand, letting you pull him up. Once on the dance floor, Rafael spun you around before pulling you a polite distance towards him, one hand taking yours the other resting on your hip. You held his hand back and placed your free one on his shoulder. Together you swayed to the music. Rafael was a good dancer, just like you had expected him to be. He moved effortlessly and moved you with him. You slipped closer to him until you were swaying together- no room left for jesus. Rafael spun you again at the end of the last song and you grinned, letting out a giggle. 

----

“Ready to go?” Barba asked you, helping you to put your coat on before handing you your purse. You smiled and thanked him, grabbing his arm to take some of the weight of your feet.

“My feet are killing me,” You admitted. 

“I’ll carry you,” He joked and you tossed your head back into his shoulder laughing. All the champagne you had made you feel lighter then you were, it was nice. You got outside and shivered pulling the coat tighter around you. Rafael withdrew his arm from yours and wrapped it around you, helping you walk and hopefully keeping you arm. The lyft he ordered was already outside waiting for you. 

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Barba smiled once you were huddled into the warm backseat and on your way towards your apartment. “Sorry you had to spend it with a stranger. At least he was good looking.” Rafael tried not to spit out the words, “Did you get along well.” You shrugged and leaned on Barba slightly. 

“Meh. It was fine, not unpleasant. Nothing really there though besides a decent face.” Barba put his arm around you nervously but you just relaxed further into him. He bruised some hair over your shoulder and sighed. “How was your date. She was pretty.”

“Pretty dull.” He replied and you rolled your eyes. You sat in silence for the rest of the drive, Barba’s arm around you shoulder playing with your hair. The lyft pulled up to your apartment and you untangled yourself from him. 

“Goodnight.” 

“Y/N. Wait.” Rafael caught your hand. He cleared his throat, “Do you want to go on a date sometime, a time where I don’t have to watch another man flirt with you for most of it?” He asked and you laughed. You paused for a moment before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Call me,” You murmured into his ear, “I’d love that.”

#law and order #law and order svu #Law and Order: Special Victims Unit #law and order special victims unit #svu x reader #svu x y/n #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x yn

[cutegirlmayra]

Paparazzi - Sonamy

Prompt:

It should have been a normal day, by all accounts.

Amy was waiting for Sonic in the Chao Garden, happily humming a tune and playing with the Chao by taking one of their pudgy, teardrop arms and spinning it up and around as though as they were both dancing.

The Chao loved it, seeming to roleplay a ball of sorts and the dashing prince trying to dance with Cinderella, as many other Chao seemed to vie over playing the parts next, tumbling over her shoulders and pawing at her hands to get her to lift them up and twirl them in pairs as well.

She giggled at their enthusiasm, “The duke, and the duchess!” She took another pair of arms and twirled them as well, these two being flying types, they gently fluttered their wings and closed their eyes, playing the roles well and then bowing to each other after she let them go and they did a figure-8 together.

“The prime minister and-” she stopped when she felt a brisk wind, and excitedly got up and turned around, “And my Sonic!”

He stood a little uneasy, but smiled as though feigning something. He was reluctant to have her hug him but didn’t protest her abrupt embrace, looking as though he really didn’t want to spoil her mood.

“Playing with the Chao again, huh?” He commented, smiling sheepishly down to one and bending his eyes as it came right up and tugged on his socks, wanting some affection too. He wiggled a finger to lightly tickle it’s head and then swirled the slight tip of his head around his finger from above before pulling up and seeing Amy’s excited expression again.

“They sure do they love pretend.” very motherly, she put her hands behind her back and looked to them, seeing them all cheering for Sonic and Amy to play as well. “I guess before our date, we could humor them, yeah?” She blinked her eyelashes towards him flirtatiously, but he again acted as though something was wrong but trying to hide it.

The two flying Chao took back to the skies and also grabbed Sonic and Amy’s fingers, lifting them up to lightly host Sonic and Amy to the top of their toes.

Amy giggled into her hand and then softly twirled, showing Sonic the game.

He sighed, but kinda awkwardly seemed to enjoy the silliness as he turned too, making the Chao cheer.

“The king and queen!” Amy sounded off, and the Chao gave an applause.

After letting go of their fingers, the two flying Chao took to each other and twirled as one, inspiring other Chao to partner up and try a silly “waltz” impersonation as well.

“So cute!” Amy cheered, her hands pressing together at their endearing whimsy. “I remember when I was that young... always dreaming of my true love~” she seemed to be referencing Sonic and he ducked his head and scratched his nose, looking away.

“I really don’t want to say this...” He admitted, but tried to toughen himself up, patting his cheeks to get himself to ‘man up’ and tell her. “But Amy, there’s something you gotta-”

“Look!” Amy pointed to a blue speed Chao, dancing with hops and jumps to a rhythm it made up, dancing with another Chao. “It acts just like you!”

“What?” Sonic was momentarily distracted, “I dance nothing like that!”

“Oh, you’re just jealous that he has better footing then you do.” Amy joked, moving up to his chest and placing her shoulders to it, “Well, if you’re so inclined, why not prove me wrong? We can go dancing for our date today!” she thought herself so sly and raced ahead towards the fountain, looking in it’s reflection to ‘spruce’ herself up before believing she was going to be swept off on another fantastic outing with her hero.

Sonic gulped, pulled at his quills, and turned away from the sight. “Aw man, get it together! You have to tell her! It’s the only way she’ll understand!” he softly gave himself his reasons through the prep-talk, but looking back at her, he felt his heart sink at how happy she was right now... and how upset she’ll be if he told her.

“Stay strong...” he repeated to himself, and walked back up to Amy. “Amy, it’s kind of important I tell you what I heard and saw the other day.” he began, lifting a foot to the fountain as it caught Amy’s attention, her head tilting and turning to look at it. She was fixing her quills, but slowly looked up to Sonic, pausing as she noticed how he hid his mouth with his hand as though in strange thought, and spoke as though trying to upfront but indirect.

She raised an eyebrow, “Right now?” She smiled then, turning playful, “Why not tell me on our date!” she lightly hopped to his side and took his arm, pulling him back towards her as he swayed with the action.

“W-wah-o!” He caught himself and looked back into her eyes again. Sighing, he placed a saddened hand to her own on his arm. “We can’t... Go on dates anymore... not like this.” His voice definitely seemed to be conflicted, and Amy’s eyes blinked to a low-riding dispute as though she couldn’t understand.

“Is it Eggman?” Amy asked, about to give her reasons why that didn’t matter but he shook his head and held up his hand from on top of her own.

“N-no, it’s not that. I...” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from her and down towards the ground. Instinctively though, he held the arm she was grasping like a gentlemen, crooking it for her to have a better grip of. “I saw some photos... someone took of us on our last date. It’s kinda... all over the city now.”

“Ah!” Amy’s enthusiasm skyrocketed again, her mouth opening wide into a grin. “That’s wonderful!”

“W-what!?” Sonic was amazed at her response, turning back to her a little dumbfounded.

“Hehe, what are they calling us? The cutest new couple to emerge this year!? Ohh! Did they call us the Fashion Couple of the week? Oh-oh! Maybe we’re on Celebrity’s hottest new pairs!”

Her hands flopped around like a teenage girl and Sonic just shook his head, moving since her hands weren’t spazzing while on his arm anymore and put his hands to his hips. On his face, a clear expressive groan, but no sound to follow it.

He looked a little annoyed she didn’t understand, and looked away, grumbling, “Scandal... actually.”

“...What!?” Amy had to process that a moment before flinging her hands back behind her and having her mouth drop open this time, bewildered but also shocked at the news. “How could they say that!? You won’t even let me hold your hands across the table without worrying I’ll see you blush.”

Sonic’s whole body spiked up, “I do not!” he defended, but as Amy ‘aww’d his cute reaction, he coughed into his hand and played it off. “W-we-well, regardless, seeing as I’m kinda a hotshot and you’re my friend, it’s something I’m not comfortable with and-”

“Friend?” Amy gave him a funny look and he started sweating, shaking as he saw Amy’s fiery aura rising.

He made small whimpers as though wanting to say something, unable to change from his position of ‘coughing into hand’ when Amy’s hand flexed out as though threatening to summon a hammer.

“Friend..?” she continued.

After a few more attempts to speak, Sonic finally broke out of his intimidated fear and held his ground, putting his closed-hands up to his sides to show his determination at saying what he had too. “E-either way, Amy! We can’t be seen by the public eye anymore! That means... I can’t take you on a date today.” He straightened out, more of the usual, typical hedgehog boy she was used too.

He closed his eyes and relaxed his body, his head down as though ashamed he had to break the news to her.

“Once they caught wind of it, they started saying some things that I don’t agree with it. Especially about us. I won’t bother relating all the things I heard people talking about, it’s all fake news anyway, but I worry it could hurt who we are and what we stand for... I don’t want to see you misrepresented by people who don’t understand your feelings, Amy.”

It was kind. It was considerate...

But Amy wasn’t having it.

“OOOoooOOOh!” she let out her infamous whine and summoned her hammer, turning away from Sonic and bashing it around furiously in the air. “Who do they think they are!” she shook her fist up and bent her head down, “Spreading lies about my Sonic and I, will they!? Making my man feel the need to hide his appreciation for the well-deserving woman that I am!? Aughh!!!” She took a few, powerful steps and smashed a small but decently sized rock on the ground, causing the other Chao to freak out and fly away. “I won’t forgive them! I’ll make them pay! They’ll rue the day they came between me and my Sonic!”

At her declarations, Sonic just pulled back away from the scene a bit and looked the other way. “Stop it, Amy... you’re embarrassing me and frightening the Chao...” He didn’t know how else to respond to her, but was used to her flip-floppy emotions by now. “Anyway, I’m really sorry about all this. I know you were looking forward to today, too.”

From behind Amy, her rage seemed to rise and then fall all at once, and she turned back to Sonic, her eyes showing her ranged emotions.

“Why should we let them win? You promised me a date today and who are they to say you can’t keep it!?” She puffed up her cheeks, flushing red as her anger was quickly turning her to glossy eyes... but she wouldn’t dare cry in front of Sonic.

Instead, still frustrated and fuming, she kicked the now pebbles of the remaining rock she crushed. “It’s not fair! And I won’t stand for it!” she defiantly placed a foot down as her eyebrows shook. “Whoever disrespects my man’s honest intentions disrespects me!” she was really getting riled up, and Sonic poked his head into her frame to try and wave his hands out in front of him, looking a little already defeated as he knew he couldn’t calm her down now anyway.

“Amy, Amy... it’s not that big of a deal.”

“We’ll go somewhere else then! Somewhere no cameras or rude people will follow!” she stood proudly with a fist to her hip and her pointer finger wagging in the air their new plan, but Sonic felt he was getting roped into her antics again.

He shrugged, shaking his head. “What are ya gonna do?” he seemed to realize he wasn’t going to change her mind.

“Here’s the plan!” Amy swung back to him, shaking him up and pulling him down to her level as she gave him a held wink and whispered her idea. “We’re gonna go on the run! Just you and me! We’ll make sure no one sees your adorable girlfriend getting you all flustered.” she poked and wiggled her finger into his cheek and snickered at her go-hard-go-lucky scheme, but Sonic just felt his face being pushed and squished and tried to lean out of it, unable to as he struggled by rocking back but she would pull him with her arm over his shoulders back to her side again, continuing to brew her plan further.

“B-but where do you think we can go that they won’t follow, Amy?” Sonic was still uncomfortable with the idea, but knowing nothing could stop Amy once she put her mind to it, decided the sooner he got through this date the better.

“You leave that to me!” Amy encouraged, then let him go and lightly pushed him forward, having him try and catch his balance again as he stumbled forward and looked back at her. “You’ve been all over this world and back, only now you’re telling me you can’t even think of one spot that the paparazzi can’t get us?” She looked at him skeptically, “With all their lies and tabloids trying to fancy-up our innocent romance... I can’t believe you’re not trying harder to save our marriage!” she seemed to be idolizing something and half-daydreaming, but then turning to scold Sonic as he looked at her confused.

“W-what?”

“I mean our relationship! That’s what I said.” she folded her arms, blushing and pouting to the side as Sonic scratched his head.

“Hmm...” Sighing with a bit of a grunt at her obvious fib, he just let her carry on and took her up in his arms. “Sorry to make this awkward, Amy...” He seemed sincere enough, and Amy just happily held her arms around his shoulders, like how they normally would go running together.

“Don’t you worry, Sonic The Hedgehog! Little articles like that won’t stop me from marrying you!”

Sonic cranked his head slooooowwwllly her way.

“I-I mean, um, dating you! Haha!” She nervously corrected, but he lowered his eyes to her, showing he wasn’t amused by her imaginations. “... Okay, okay! Hang out dates...” she grumbled the ‘politically correct’ terminology and Sonic smiled at her acceptance of it.

“Hang on!” satisficed that she at least understood him enough to agree to keep prying eyes out of their conduct together, he took off towards where Amy had previously designed to take them.

But while racing around, popular news-drones chased them everywhere. They tried for a picnic retreat but the drones flew up with camera flashes. Sonic dived to save Amy as she gasped and then sped off with a serious look of annoyance to find another location.

They tried the deserts, basking in the sun on beach chairs, but the drones flew speedily by and took a shot, photoshoping it and printing out a picture of them sharing a chair and acting like a spoiled hero with his woman laying beside him and an arm wrapped around him.

The two were shocked out of their chairs.

“I-I-I didn’t know they could do that!” Amy gasped, realizing they could completely fabricate their relationship. “This... this is not good...” her fingers flinched against the sides of her cheeks as her eyes shrunk at the covers of magazines spreading falsehoods about her being some... some...! 

“I’m not a trophy wife!” she bashed the drones and 10 more flew over to take pictures of her violent act. “Ah!” she cowered from the bright lights and kept swinging.

“Amy!!!” Darting from his own paparazzi drones, he dove in and grabbed her, protecting her by jumping out of the encircling camera drones and taking off.

Amy clung to him, looking back and seeing, just like printers, the drones having photoshopped Amy’s violence on Sonic, the header reading something along the lines of how she was forcing the greatest hero into submission, and how you can dominate your famous man into being your one and only.

“Ah! That’s awful!” Amy felt her chest tighten, “I would never do something like that...”

Looking back at her face, seeing how scared she was to lose face and be framed for something she wasn’t, Sonic’s righteous indignation also flared up. He scowled, wanting to say something but keeping it silently to himself.

The two tried to lose them in the bushes, but as the drones looked around, dived in and starting taking pictures of them trying to get away, showing instead that the two were ‘rendezvousing’ in the brush of nature’s finest temptations... each other.

“That is so blown out of proportion!” Amy smashed another drone and pulled out the original photo from inside it’s round body, “We look terrified!” the originally showed them pushing back to avoid the drones in the bush.

Sonic just grumbled, seeing another robot about to take a picture and jumped up to spin dash it, “Come on..!” he extended his hand, and suddenly... Amy’s imagination got away with her.

As she took his hand, him pulling her towards him, she imagined him and her running away to elope, and her jealous suitors pursuing them in raging envy.

“Oh, Sonic~” she blushed and swooned, closing her eyes as she fanaticized and had her hands up to her cheeks, the two photos flying off in the wind behind his incredible speeds. “I’ve always wanted to run away with you~”

They hid in the snow, as the drones flew by and fought the winds, one scanned a pile of two snow heaps. Deciding nothing there was interesting, took off.

Their heads popped out of the snow, Sonic having some snot dripping frozen from his nose and went to sneeze as Amy’s bundled two hands shook in fury.

“Ahhh, come on..!” Amy tiredly drained out an exhausted cry, “At first this was refreshingly new, d-d-due to them not shooting at us like Eggman’s robots of course!” she looked to make sure Sonic wasn’t accusing her of over idolizing a situation again. “Ehem, but now it’s just tiresome! Why can’t we just explode them all..?”

Sonic folded his arms, showing a disapproval. “They’ll photograph that we’re destroying the right to say as they please... or something like that.” he had a sweat drop of uncertainty fall from the side of his face. “You know how these people get, that’s why I wanted nothing to do with them.”

She realized his plea and sighed, “I give up then.” she kicked the ground and sat down beside him, getting out of the snow and leaning up against his shoulder. “Sonic... we can’t just give up... right?”

He remained silent.

“What about our relati- I mean... our friendship.” she made the fish-lips as though upset she had to call it that. “They’re insanely persistent! But... I wasn’t wrong for wanting to spend more time with you... personally having you here with him is already a dream come true! Ah... But... I can understand if you’re growing sick of me.”

She was all dreamy and suddenly, realizing he didn’t like that, went to trying to be a bit more modest.

“I get it now. I’m something that could be an embarrassment upon your image and virtues... without me, you wouldn’t have to worry about this with Tails or Knuckles... I don’t like hiding the truth, but if that’s how you feel you can still hang out with me then... then...” She lowered her head, her eyes covered in dark shadows as her shoulders bounced slightly, clearly not liking what she was saying or accepting, and having her fingers dig slightly in shakes into the snow, showing her resentment at these things.

Then... all at once... Sonic’s hand gently and without delay, reached out to place itself upon Amy’s trembling and gripping for anything solid in her life hands... quieting some fears and reassuring her, being comforting.

She looked at his hand, startled, then up with sparkling admiration into his own.

He was so calm, smiling to her.

“Forget about being tagged for property damages.” Sonic joked, getting up and stretching out, “Hmm uh, hmm uh,... If we’re gonna get these guys... hu ho, hu ho, then we better start with luring them to us first.” As he did his exercises, he then took a deep breath out and offered her his hand, winking to her. “Let’s make it a clean hit, so they can’t crop and cut anything this time.”

Her heart grew so large with love for him, she just jumped up and embraced him, littering his face with her tears. “Oh, Sonic! Sonnnnic!”

He just chuckled sheepishly at her.

Later, the drones were still looking as Amy cried out, “Oh, Sonic, I’m soooo cold!” The drones quickly turned in the direction of their voices.

Sonic and Amy were hiding behind some trees, as Amy cupped her hands around her mouth to let the sound carry, “Hold me in your arms and never let me go~”

The drones paused a second, as though not believing it.

“They’re not buying it.” Sonic whispered, before raising his voice up. “I got something better in mind!” and then swooped a leg under Amy.

“H-hey!” she cried out, as he made her trip and fall down. “Offph! Sonic! What’s the big idea!?”

With that, the drones looked flustered, sparking and fritzing out in the air as they had anime blush marks over their camera lenses. They flew over to the trees, their apertures tensing and unclosing as though to show interest when a human’s eye dilates, looking to Amy in the snow as Sonic came out of hiding and rammed one of them with his fist, crushing their face and sending them flying.

“I’ll give you a show.” Sonic smirked, turning to the others. “Now, who’s up next?”

“Batter up!” Amy got up from laying belly-first in the snow, and wacked one that was distracted by Sonic, shaking in fear as it went to attempt a picture, and was bashed away by Amy’s hammer.

“You want hot and spicy?” She turned to the next drone, “Take a quick peek at this!” She whipped up her hammer as though a boxer spinning around his arm and laid a huge grand-slam with her hammer’s hilt into the drone like a saber.

It toppled in the air a few times before finally falling down. “Ah!” Amy noticed the insignia was Eggman’s, and realized who the freelancer was that was taking pics of them. ‘Oh no!’ she looked back to Sonic, still spin-dashing some of them in multi-hits. ‘If he finds out this was Eggman trying to ruin his happiness... he’ll think he can’t ever be with me again!’ she looked uneasily towards the trashed robot. ‘It does make sense though... I can’t let Sonic know about this... Not yet, at least.’ she took her hammer out of it and bashed the logo further into the snow.

‘No wonder those creeps were saying bad things about Sonic and I’s relationship! O-or friendly hang out sessions!’ she grew furious, racing around and beating up some more. ‘Eggman is the only one who could keep up with me and Sonic’s whereabouts! He’s been sitting back and making millions on exploiting our love! I-I mean- ohhhh..!’ she stood side by side with Sonic. “Let’s let them have it!”

He could tell she was riled up, but actually liked it.

“On your count, Amy!” he joined the fun. In unison, Amy swung her hammer and Sonic jumped back to reel his fist back.

“Counter strike!” Amy saw the drone rise up to dodge Amy, but she lifted her hammer up to match the direction of where it dodged, and Sonic held nothing back to slam his fist into her hammer’s other side to launch her swing with even more force--blasting back the force of air with it--to completely obliterate the drone where only a few minor pieces were actually sprayed like darts out into the trees trunks.

Another drones turbines kick up and blast the snow away as it retreats.

Sonic charges after it, following it by scaling up a tree as Amy looks around at the bear ground.

The robots’ had Eggman faces being exposed everywhere.

Amy’s eyes shook, “Oh no... oh no, oh no, oh no!” she quickly fell to her knees and tried to pile more snow over them, spreading them out but the heat of their explosions caused the light bundles of snow she was trying to put over them to melt in a few seconds. “Stop, stop, stop!” she felt her emotions getting the better of her and hammered the drones down into the ground, but the one she was working on wouldn’t budge. Yes, it dented it’s metal in, but the ground was too solid for it to pierce below and hide itself by Amy burying it.

When Sonic flung down, Amy knew it was already too late... he was too fast to expect herself to hide anything... and wondered what horrible fate lay in store... now that he knew.

She wouldn’t look up at him.

She knew he must have seen them. There was no way to hide them.

He stood there for a long time... ‘Oh! I knew this was hopeless! Now Sonic will never go on another date with me!’

She felt the tears, but held them back. ‘No... I can’t let him see this affect me... I’ve worked too hard to let Eggman, the press,... anyone stop me from being with him!’

As she lamented, silently trying to hide her crying, Sonic walked through the bare, frozen, and solid ground.

He bent down and showed her a thumbs up, just under her vision.

“H-huh?” She looked up with tears that frosted to look like she was crying crystals, as they glittered like stars, and watched as he closed his eyes and gave her the brightest smile she had seen on him to date.

“Nice teamwork,.. Amy!” It was a light acknowledgement, but when he said her name, it was so wonderfully pleasing to her ears, so soft and full of charming reciprocation.

He needn’t say those famous words... as long as he always said her name with such flare and devotion.

It filled her with such profound hope, that it inspired her to reach out to him.

A little startled by her reaction, he couldn’t resist hugging her back, and she held him as he picked her up and carried her to warmer climates.

END.

(Based this one off of Sonic X!Sonamy a bit, can you tell? ;)b )

#sonamy #cutegirlmayra #sonicxamy #sonic x #sonamy prompt #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prompt #amy rose #sonic and amy

[ffakc]

Puppy Love - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

@negans-attagirl @iluvneganandjamie @happysgal

It was a partly cloudy, brisk spring day. It was just warm enough to go without a jacket here in upstate New York. Jeff and I had planned the perfect day date on his property. We have been together about seven months now and life couldn’t be more perfect. I had just finished up packing our Mediterranean inspired spread. I snapped a quick photo and sent it to my Jeffrey.

“Italian subs, Greek pasta salad, roasted red pepper hummus with pita bread, baklava, and tiramisu. Anything else? I’ll see you soon!”

“Stomach’s growling already. I’ll be out back, just let yourself in. Xxx.”

I shoved some toiletries and comfortable clothes in my overnight bag. I snapped the picnic basket shut and headed to my car. Any time I thought about my Jeffrey, my whole body buzzed with excitement. I felt like pinching myself, Jeff was my dream come true. He was everything I ever wanted and needed.

I pulled up to Jeff’s farmhouse. His front door was unlocked like he said it would be. Honey’s “woo-woo-woo!” adorable howl-bark echoed through the house.

“Hi, Honey! Where’s Daddy?” I ask her and ruffle her scraggly ears, her teddy bear like eyes closing in bliss. She scampered to the back door and I follow her to the massive pastures. Jeff was tossing hay over the fence to the donkeys.

“Paxton, buddy! Leave some for the rest of them! Good lord, you pig!” Jeff laughs and turns to me. “Hey, baby!” I set the picnic basket down and fling my arms around his neck with a kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” I rest my forehead against his.

“I’ve missed you more, doll. I’ve also missed your cooking, sweet girl,” Jeff smiles. He looked so damn good in his farming clothes, redefining the phrase “ruggedly handsome” with his cuffed flannel and salt and pepper scruff. His top buttons were undone, exposing his masculine chest hair and the few necklaces he wore daily. Bandit came bounding over and jumped between us.

“Hey, boy!” I laugh.

“Someone doesn’t like me getting all the attention!” Jeff exclaims. “I can’t get a hug from my girlfriend? Rude!” he teases the fluffy monster. “Do you see that huge tree over yonder?”

“It’s beautiful,” I reply, clutching the basket so the dogs don’t get a snack.

“That’s the spot,” Jeff takes me by the hand and we make our way across the property. The alpacas stared at us intensely.

“Are they going to spit on me?” I joke.

“I told them to stay on their best behavior because we had a guest coming!” Jeff gestured to the checkered blanket he had laid out and ice bucket with a bottle of sparkling wine and two glasses. He opens up the basket and cracks open the hummus, dipping his finger in and licking it.

“At least grab some bread, you animal,” I playfully punch his shoulder, ripping off a piece of pita and dunking it in the rust orange colored deliciousness.

“Sorry, Mom,” Jeff jokes. “Wow! Is that homemade?” I nod. “Delicious, absolutely delicious. Ooh, I like the little bite to it!” I take the sandwiches out of the wax paper. “Ah, ah, ah! Go on! Get!” Jeff scolds and shoos the dogs away. “You’d think I never feed them or something!”

“I don’t mean to brag, but I made the pesto mayo on these sandwiches too,” I say, sipping my wine. I take a bite of the chilled, tangy pasta salad.

Jeff sinks his teeth into the sub. “Baby, that’s so fucking good,” he rolls his eyes back in pleasure with a mouthful of food. I kiss his cheek sweetly. “God, you sure know how to treat your Daddy right. I don’t deserve you, you know that? You’re too damn good for me, sweetheart.”

“Oh hush,” I kiss my boyfriend. He closes his eyes and deepens the kiss, running his fingers through my hair. Jeff’s eyes shoot open at the sound of Bandit barking loudly.

“Hey guys!” Jeff calls out to the puppies. “Those aren’t dogs, they’ll kick the shit out of you!” they weave in and out of the alpacas’ legs. We eat our meal and laugh as they pant wildly and chase each other all over. I pack everything neatly back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds begin forming in the distance.

“I admire their energy!” I remark, rubbing Jeff’s knee and finishing off my drink.

“I know, right? My ‘get up and go’ got up and went years ago! I swear, the moment I hit forty, my body sounds like Rice Krispies when I get out of bed,” Jeff chuckles and kisses my forehead.

“What are you, eighty?” I tease.

“Hey, you’ll get there someday, youngin! You agreed to date an old fogey! Shit, I feel a few raindrops, maybe we should head inside. But first,” Jeff rises to his feet and suddenly pulls out a pocket knife.

“What are you doing?” I stare at him, puzzled.

“You’ll see,” Jeff says. He carves into the tree. “Ah, there we go.” There was a heart with our initials in it. Three magic words escaped his lips, “I love you.”

“Jeffrey,” I sigh as thunder rolls above my head. That was the first time either of us had said that and it felt so... right. I stand up and wrap my arms around Jeff’s neck, his cowboy boots making him tower over me. He places his cowboy hat on my head with a grin. “I love you too.” The rain suddenly began pouring down.

“I’ve always wanted to do this. Kiss me in the rain, pretty girl,” Jeff pulls me against him as our clothes get soaked. My heart flutters in my chest. I never wanted to let him go. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Jeffrey made my life feel like a cheesy romantic movie and I loved every single minute of it. A crack of thunder scares the dogs away and Jeff sets me down.

“I think that’s our cue to go inside,” I chuckle. Jeff grabs the picnic basket and extends his hand.

“Run!” he shouts as if we were in an action movie and laughs. He takes me by the hand and we trample through the mud to the farmhouse. The dogs shake and run around the living room. I hang Jeff’s hat on a hook by the door and he drops the picnic basket on the counter. He takes me into his arms and kisses me deeply.

“I love you, I love you. God damn it, I fucking love you,” Jeff whispers against my lips. I run my fingers through his sopping wet hair. “I used to think ‘love at first sight’ was a myth before I met you. If I don’t get to put a ring on that finger of yours, I don’t even want to get married, baby girl.”

“I can’t wait for that day. I love you too,” I sigh longingly, looking into Jeff hazel eyes. I press my lips to his and push him against the kitchen counter, a groan escaping his lips as I rub myself against the crotch of his pants.

“Mmm, going to make me make a mess in these jeans like a teenager,” he chuckles, “God, I want you so bad,” he begins removing his belt.

“Take me, Jeff,” I whimper. Jeff pulls my skinny jeans down aggressively and bends me over the counter. Thunder rolls outside as the cold granite against my stomach gives me chills.

“Look at these lacy black panties,” Jeff growls, “Someone knew Daddy would be fucking her good.” His words instantly make me even more aroused. Jeff’s slender fingers slide over my outer lips, slowly brushing over my clit, “So wet and I’ve hardly touched you. That’s my good girl.” I whine as Jeff slides in with a gasp. He grabs my hair with one hand as his thrusts start gentle and rhythmic. “Oh god, baby doll. You feel so good.”

“Right there, Daddy,” I moan. My older man knows just the right spots to hit.

“That’s it, baby. Take all of me,” Jeff groans as he goes deeper. He pulls my hair and rasps in my ear, “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” I can barely speak, my legs are shaking.

“I can’t fuckin’ hear you, sugar,” he nibbles my neck as sexy smacking sounds fill my ears. “Whose pussy is this?” Jeff moans a little louder.

“Yours, Jeff!” I exclaim. “My body belongs to you, Jeffrey! Oh god, fuck me!” I gasp.

“I love when you beg for me,” Jeff remarks. “I’m so close already, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” I reply. He flips me over as the lights flicker with a loud crash of thunder.

“Look at me,” Jeff cups my cheek and kisses me. “Oh Princess, you’re beautiful,” he gasps. “I’m going to- oh sweet Jesus, baby doll!” a deep growl resonates in his chest as he finishes deep inside me. I whimper as my nether regions throb, leaking with Jeffrey’s hot, sticky juices. “You’re mine,” he smirks.

“And you’re mine,” I pant, scratching his gray beard as he rests his forehead against mine. I scan over Jeff’s gorgeous face, everything about this man was absolutely beautiful. He peels me off the counter and his lips crash into mine.

“Forever and always, my gal,” Jeff sighs lovingly.

#denny duquette #fanfic #fanfiction #greys anatomy #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #the walking dead #older man younger woman #john winchester #supernatural