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lvnatiq · 3 years

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Random Relationship Headcanons | Felix Escellun x gn!reader

a/n: Hey ! On todays menu I am serving you modern au relationship headcanons. I know for a fact that I can’t write headcanons AT ALL yet here we are, out of spite I will keep trying until I can manage to write good shit. I’m going through a chaotic time in my life so please be patient with me 😭

I’m currently working on tattoo artist! reader x Felix headcanons and college!enemies to lovers one-shot. Knowing that Felix’s fav trope is enemies to lovers, I will post it hopefully before his new chapter drops. I used most of the hcs that were sent to me but if you couldn’t see yours, then it will probably be used on the other works.

No beta we die like men.

warnings: curse words, nsfw under the cut, random sage moments, felix being a ‘the neighborhood’ song basically.

You persuade him to start an Instagram account, and because of his family's popularity, he quickly gains followers. His account is practically empty because he would rather spend his time stalking your account on Instagram. You noticed the emptiness and wanted to take him out and take some photos for his account, which turned out amazingly. He is a little camera shy, so be patient with him.

You like to watch him apply his eyeliner but he finds it so stressing to do under your gaze. He used to be able to do it easily, but it has now become one of his most difficult tasks. You wanted to ask for his assistance in applying eyeliner to you in the hopes of making it simpler for him; he agreed but quickly regretted it when he realized how near your faces would be. You with your eyes closed, waiting for him to drag the line as he was only thinking about how bad he wanted to kiss you.

Felix has a Polaroid of you and stella in his wallet I said what I said.

When it comes to himself, he can be a pessimist, but when it comes to you, he is the most loving and positive boyfriend you could ever ask for. You have a dream ? He is ready to help you achieve it. Do you want to change in your life ? Go for it, He’s more excited than you are.

He can be quite insecure at times when it comes to your relationship because he feels like you deserve the world but the world is too big for his tiny hands. Will his cuddles be enough ? God he hopes so.

He almost cried when you told him you loved him for the first time. He's also baffled as to how you might feel the same way about him.

Drunk Felix is really clingy and honest. Whatever he can’t say sober drunk felix can and definitely will.

“May the stars let my death be between your glorious thighs amen-“ “Felix-”

Felix is weird but it add to his charm. It’s not unusual for you to wake up in the middle of the night and find the pillow besides yours empty. In the dead of night, you will find Felix munching on some weird ass food combinations.

He also has a habit of doing things that are extremely adorable without even noticing it. Like walking around the house in his oversized shirts, his hand clutching at the cuffs whilst the other one sheepishly rubs his eye.

“Can I lay on your lap ? I promise I won’t fall asleep. I just need to rest for a little.” His voice is so soft and hushed. “Of course, come here.” He throws himself onto you as he comes hopping on his tip toes.

He falls asleep on his desk too often, so you have to carry him back to his room, where he snuggles against you while you lead him there. Once he's in his room, he insists that you stay with him, so you wait until he falls asleep as you play with his hair, and he wakes up thinking it was all a dream.

I firmly believe that Felix’s love language is acts of service. Like making you coffee and bringing you random snacks as you work or wrapping you up in fluffy blankets whenever he catches you slacking on the couch.

He's been romanticizing anything and everything since he met you. When he sees beautiful flowers, he wants to bring them to you, but he also believes that their beauty stems from the fact that they are alive, so he argues and stresses a lot when deciding what to do in simple situations like these.

His edginess belongs to his impulsiveness and his style only at any other situation he's a complete softboy.

And I'm certain he knows a variety of card tricks. He enjoys showing off, and he enjoys it even more when you become fascinated and beg him to share the trick.

If you're a morning person, you'll probably spend your mornings alone in solitude, finishing work before the day begins, but if you're a night owl, you and Felix will go out for night walks and Felix would go out for night walks, sharing headphones to play some music, enjoy each others presence and develop a habit of watching the sunrise together.

Felix makes you playlists at the most random times and with the most random names. Until one day he sent you a playlist at around 4 a.m called “you”, filled with his favorite music. He usually sees music as a safe space for himself and now that you are his safe place too it’s only appropriate for him to do so. This only further proves how he spends his time thinking about you.

I feel like Felix would have what most would call "attachment issues" but it’s mainly because of his protective tendencies. This is not to say that he’s this "overly jealous toxic" character; rather, he has never had anyone to truly call his own in his entire life so he would do anything to protect it.

Felix is also big on astrology, so if you want the perfect birth chart, he'll give it to you. Also he owns a lovely deck of tarot cards, and if you ask him for a love reading, he can't manage to keep his words and feelings to himself so he modifies your reading according to him and his desires. Let the boy abuse his powers for the sake of love.

His style could be described as dark academia, his wardrobe mainly consists of dark colors, lots and lots of blazers and a lot of oversized shirts. He also loves jewelry so he owns a lot of rings and chains. Just so you know, if you're wearing any of his rings, his heart is doing cartwheels.

Is it obvious that he loves it when you place your hand in his and play with his rings with your fingertips.

Spoil him. Buy him that baby blue hoodie with cat ears.

“Ah, you look adorable.” “Isn’t it a bit too b-big ?” “You could say that. Do you mind ?” “No, I like it that way.” “I would know.” You smirk followed by felix’s gasp. “If you so desperately wanted a cat boy you know you have me right ?” Nudging your shoulder, Sage leapt into the conversation. “What is he talking about ?” Felix grumbled, only to notice two fuzzy triangular fabrics on top of his head as he brushed his fingertips over it.

He’s obsessed with your hands, kissing your knuckles, drawing circles in your palm. At a certain point it became an involuntary gesture he does it quite often without realizing.

He’s also canonically extremely blushy but he would never admit it. You’re convinced he uses some sort of make up because it is not possible for the pink dusting his cheeks to look this good.

He insists that you’re cold even in the warmest weathers because he wants to see you in his coat.

Sage forces Felix to take his thirst trap Tiktoks.

He really appreciates it when you add to his herbal tea collection without him noticing and he considers it a sign of affection because he takes his tea very seriously.

He loses it when you call him baby he gets flustered and frustrated but it’s all because it rolls off of your tongue so nicely that he can’t get enough of it.

Felix owns a broad collection of scented lip balms some of them are tinted. You didn’t hear this from me.

He never once took anything the Sage says seriously until he saw how well you two got along. He never thought that he would be standing there taking relationship and flirting advice from the frat boy.

Felix is a complete asshole when he wants to. He’s very verbal about it too. Consistent sarcastic remarks and eye rolls. I mean it runs in his blood, look at Escell.

You love it when he suddenly whips out the confident Felix, it’s not a daily occurrence you know.

When Felix is concentrated, he’s lost and there’s almost no way you or anything else can distract him. So it’s time to grab some colorful hair clips and ties to fuck around with his hair.

Felix is not the best at verbally expressing his gratitude towards you. He doesn’t know what he would do if you weren’t there for him at the lowest points of his life where normally he would close himself and bare the weight of his family problems and personal life issues that he can’t seem to get out of. Now he has you, someone who’s willing to listen to him and offer him a warm embrace when he needs the most.

While you to play games together, when he wins he wears that iconic shit eating grin of his with pride looking at you through the corner of his eye. “Shit, what do you want me to say to that felix ? Perhaps I should call you master now that you won ‘one’ fucking round.” He is praying that the screen light is covering the fact that he is a blushy mess after hearing you say that.

NSFW

I cannot stress this enough but he is extremely vocal in bed. Whining, trying to restrict himself from making too much noise but failing miserably.

Muffled pants, choked sobs and lots of pleasure infused tears.

He loves getting praised during sex but what he loves more is to get praised after it’s all over. Like you telling him how great he was, how well he behaved, how good he made you feel. He experiences sub drops a lot so please assure him that he did well :(

He’s into power-play but not in a submissive or dominant kind of relationship, it’s more of a psychological thing where the fact that he can see how good he makes you feel gives him a rush of confidence and adrenaline.

I believe that this motherfucker is a masochist, pain makes him more excited than getting an update on his favorite author who went on a year long hiatus and that is saying a lot.

Bite him. Scratch him. It is so stimulating for him he can reach his high just from those actions.

Fuck do anything to his ears bite, lick, pull, blow on it. He is extremely sensitive so anything you do will basically drive him out of his mind. It will most definitely lead to him trembling beneath your fingertips.

You must think that you are the only one who is such a tease but you’re wrong. Felix teases you quite often mostly to direct your attention towards him or to keep your attention on him. He’s quite greedy when it comes to you and your hands on his body. Unbuttoning unnecessary amount of buttons on his shirt to show a little skin that he knows you’ll notice. Playing with his necklace placing the chain between his lips dragging it towards the inside of his bottom lip teasing the metallic charm with the tip of his tongue. He definitely ain’t oblivious he knows exactly what he’s doing and he makes sure that you know exactly what he’s doing.

When he’s in the mood he will tug the hem of your top meanwhile his eyes are glued to the floor or graze the temples of his glasses between his lips, his teeth lightly nibbling the pointy edge. He loves to play dumb too. When you question him, he acts like he doesn’t intend anything and that you need to get your head out of the gutter.

At the end of the session Felix looks divine. Drool leaking down from his bottom lip to his jaw line towards his neck, his bangs sticking on his sweat coated forehead, his chest rising up and down quickly. His eyes rolled at the back of his head, his hands still clutching tightly to the sheets. Faint whimpers and deep breaths filling the air.

Leading up to the after care, his shy self returns. He buries his face to your chest hiding his blushy cheeks beneath the palms of his hands.

He likes to experiment a lot and you are his favorite subject.

It shouldn’t be surprising to find random kink definitions or role-play ideas on the search history of your laptop. After all Felix just asked for it to write an email, that’s all there is to it. That’s until you offer to try them out.

He doesn’t act upon his jealousy, what he does instead is that leaving marks on you especially around your neck and your chest where he knows it will show. Don’t cover them up if you don’t wanna deal with him.

“People just don’t appreciate art anymore.” “Felix these are, hickeys.” “Oh so now you are judging my art medium ?” “Since when proving Sage that I got railed by you is a form of art ?”

I didn’t see anyone point this out but whenever he is in the sub space he tends to be more on the bratty side. He starts of shy but his confidence builds up as the tension rises. Meaning that you should be ready to get your patience tested.

When you two are in separate places your suggestive words and tone leads up to phone sex, which Felix secretly fantasized about a lot. What made everything even more dirty was the fact that you didn’t know that he was laying on your bed surrounded by your scent and humping your pillow. Once you come back home you are greeted with a fresh pair of sheets on your bed. Apparently Felix decided to do you a favor and clean your room as well as the the whole house. He’s crossing fingers that you don’t notice because he knows that he’ll never hear the end of it.

Felix knows a lot about sex but his knowledge is based upon fiction rather than experience. So, naturally, he is more interested about learning specifically how your body responds to certain actions, what you enjoy and what you’re interested in so teach him. He’s a good student and oh well he’s a quick learner.

Pull his hair pull his hair put his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair.

When he settles between your legs as he ties his hair, he places the hairband between his lips and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. It’s his definition of torture.

Even though he doesn’t give off that vibe, he is very freaky if you would’ve known what his AO3 tags consisted of you would agree.

Tag list is open

#felix escellun #felix #fictif felix #last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #nyx hydra #felix escellun x reader #felix x reader #mc #felix fictif

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

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Friday Nights and Take-Out (1)

Would I be someone you’d hypothetically hook up with?

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre/Tags: strangers to friends to lovers, popstar/idol!jk, fluff, angst, future smut; this is a dialogue-heavy series so read if you’re into that! Also Jk is a sweet friend

Warnings: foul language, these characters talk alot bc I talk alot, heavy drinking, eventual smut

Word count: 4,300

Series summary: You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the cafe, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

series masterlist

A/N: My recent dive into fanfics compelled me to unearth this thing I wrote 5 years ago for a certain curly-haired brit (luvu harry) but I never finished it so it never saw the light of day but now it will bc i love jungkook so much and idk what this is but let’s see!

There’s a light and unsure knock at the door. As you open it to see who’s visiting you this Friday night, you immediately wish you stayed at least a half hour later at your family-run café so you didn't have to be having this conversation right now.

But you are having it right now. At your apartment. With your ex-boyfriend who finally decided to give you an explanation as to why he broke up with you five months ago.

The next thing you know, he’s saying he’s decided to move back to Australia after graduation, he’s saying sorry for the nth time, you’re watching him walk out the door, you’re heading to your room for your blanket, you’re going back to your couch, and then you’re crying as it dawns on you exactly what just happened.

The break up had caught you off-guard because things were going so well. Your dejected and grieving self wasn’t enough to scare him away and his shy, non-expressive self didn’t sow any doubts on your relationship. You two barely fought, too, too alike in disposition for any disagreements or grudges to fester and hurt you. Things just worked.

But like many good things, this one ended too. It’s like he just woke up one day and decided it wasn’t going to work out anymore, for what reason, you never knew until now. It hurt you, of course - it was still a memorable 2-year run - but true to form, you were able to dust yourself off quickly and get back on your feet shortly after.

You tried to reach out though; you were good friends before anything anyway, but he avoided you like the plague and you thought you’d not only lost a boyfriend but a friend too. Tonight felt like the closure you didn’t know you needed. He’s gone, for good. And then after graduation, he will be gone for good, for good.

You stay lying on your couch until you get a text from Jungkook, your new famous friend and current favorite person.

JK: Ran into Jieun at work, says drinks on her at The Third tonight. You up for it?

Nope, you say to yourself.

You: I don't wanna go out tonight.

You immediately reply. On a normal night you’d think about it, or even pretend you’re considering it, but not tonight.

It isn’t one of those nights when you’re sad and you want to be around people and get wasted so you can convince yourself you will be okay. It’s one of those nights when you’re sad and you know you will be okay the next day but right now you’re not and you’ll deal with it until the morning comes. You’ll just have to wait because it is only 7:30 in the evening.

You try to think of a series you’ll binge-watch, but then your phone rings and it’s Jungkook’s meme face, the one he took last week and saved as his contact photo, lighting up the screen.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks, as you groggily pick up and say “hi.” You think he probably thought something was up when you didn't have a follow up message after you turned him down for something.

“Yup,” you manage to respond after an ugly sniffle. “Except I’ve been ugly crying for the past 10 minutes,” you continue.

“What happened?”

He seems to have stepped out of wherever he was because you hear the mumbles in the background soften quite a bit and you figure you probably disturbed his dinner.

“Jinyoung came over and said the shit I needed to hear five months ago,” you start. “He copped out cause he got scared, Jungkook. Not of getting hurt, okay, which I always said was a bullshit reason for anything but he got scared of me and my dreams. I mean, come on, how much of a fucking coward can you get?” you blurt, sniffles in between phrases, fingers pressing the bridge of your nose to try and keep yourself from crying even more.

“But I don't know, I’m pissed but he looked so sad and sorry and now he’s moving back to Australia and I just…” you try to continue, frustration rising up again. You’re a mess of emotions right now, that’s for sure.

“Ah, boys,” Jungkook breathes out, knowing this conversation is too important for it to be had just over the phone. “I could come over with food if you like. I know you probably don't need me but you need the food so…” he trails.

You smile to yourself. “As long as I’m not disturbing your Friday night plans.”

“You aren’t. I’ve had enough of the hyungs, if I’m being completely honest,” he replies, voice a little louder.

You hear a mix of scolding and laughter in the background, knowing for sure that the rest of the guys are giving Jungkook shit for bailing out on them for you. Again.

“Sounds good,” you say. “Thanks.”

You hear a knock on the door under the fleece blanket you have over your fetus-laid body on the couch.

“It’s open!” You shout, as you tuck the soft white material under your chin and move to your side for a more comfortable position. You look at the built, chocolate-eyed, knife-for-a-jawline pop star walk into your place with what looks like take-out Japanese food.

“What happened to locking doors?” He asks with a concerned and almost terrified tone, brows scrunching under his stray locks, the rest of his hair hiding underneath his black bucket hat.

“I didn't wanna escort Jinyoung to the door because it felt poetic to watch him leave from a distance…” You dramatically say.

“And you were too lazy to walk 10 steps to lock the door, but were energized enough to find your blanket from your mess of a closet in the far corner of your room?” He continues, blinking continuously at you.

“Exactly,” you say, as you point to him as if giving him props for reading your mind.

He rolls his eyes but grins as he does, revealing his dimple that you believe is the first line of offense of his charm. You may not be one of those people who get hysterical when they see him — although you did end up embarrassing yourself when you bumped into him at the café a few months ago when you’d met — but you know charisma when you see it, and you can’t deny that it basically oozes out of him even when he’s not trying.

He sits on the couch, in the area where your feet lie, and he starts unwrapping the food and lays them out on your coffee table. You sit up ready to pounce on the sushi rolls in front of you when he stands up and gets two glasses of water. “Anything else you need from the kitchen?” He asks.

You respond with a no and watch him open the cupboards, and you can’t help but be touched at the effort. Here is a guy whom you’ve only known for a few short months, blowing off his Friday night plans to be with you because your ex-boyfriend decided to show up… and because you needed food and Jungkook knew you wouldn't make your own when you’re upset. You’ll probably just end up with a bowl of ice cream topped with cookie dough and chocolate chips or something.

“Thanks for being here even if I don't really need you to be,” you say after chowing down a salmon roll, legs crossed underneath you as you both sit on the floor and eat from the coffee table.

“You’re overstating that, Y/N,” he laughs, looking at you, as you’re about to have a mouthful of the tuna roll this time. “I’m 200% sure that you would’ve stayed underneath the covers and probably just ate ice cream or gummy worms until morning if I hadn’t come.”

“Fine,” you start, putting the food down, straightening yourself. “Thank you for my happy food and for being here on a Friday night, watching me carbo load on rolls and tempura rice in my jammies under my blanket. It really means a lot.” You flash him a smile.

He laughs at this. “May I remind you that this is nothing compared to last week? Keeping me hostage here wasn’t the most fun. Except for your comfortable couch that I had the pleasure of sleeping in,” he grins, tapping the empty space on the sofa next to him.

Right, last week. How could you forget?

Your days-late New Year celebration ended with you being a goner at the bar, Jungkook being the only one available and strong enough to take you home, what with your friends' adventures and misadventures that night.

By the time you were home, you were completely passed out. Long story short, he had stayed - which you didn’t know he did - you walked out of your room half naked, heard a sound and someone approaching, screamed and grabbed a knife, ready to attack your supposed intruder, who only turned out to be him.

So yes, skipping out on drinks tonight didn't come close to him having to take care of you the week before and almost being stabbed by someone he was only trying to help.

“Please don't remind me,” you say, feeling your cheeks turn red.

“It’s a funny story to tell,” he chuckles and proceeds to get a mouthful of his own tempura rice bowl. You look at him surprised - didn’t he just have dinner at the dorm? You shrug it off, almost forgetting this is Jungkook you’re talking about and his bottomless pit of a stomach.

“I could’ve killed you!”

He laughs. “But you didn’t.”

“And I didn't have an ex-boyfriend knocking on my door to apologize for being a dick,” you say, sounding serious all of a sudden.

You know that even if you don’t really intend on having Jungkook here, it still means a great deal to you that you have someone you can talk to. You didn’t want to disturb your friends who were busy with their own work and social lives and having him here is really more than you could ask for, especially considering what he does for a living.

“What did he say?” He asks, eyes soft. You’d only mentioned the breakup in passing a few times before because really, what more can you say? Sometimes relationships just run their course; it happens. At least that’s what you thought it all was.

You sigh, readying yourself. “He said that he just started to think about that talk we had about the things we wanted, and he pointed out the fact that I wanted to do so many things and it just scared him—my goals and the fact that I could reach them scared him,” you share, dragging the words and almost shouting at the stupidity of it.

“I know I always say we shouldn't invalidate anyone’s fears but that’s being selfish and just ridiculous.” You put the chopsticks down, as if to prepare yourself for the flurry of emotions you were about to release.

“This guy stood by my side when I got injured and when Grandma died and I was a literal mess. But I got myself together and I got better for myself and for him and then suddenly me wanting more out of life, more for myself, suddenly scared him?” You pause for a bit, catching your breath.

“It’s like, when he realized what I - what we - could become once real life happens, he bolted out the door, out of this country, back to everything he knew before me, before us.”

You’re emotional again, air catching in your throat as you feel the tears pool around your eyes once more. By this time, Jungkook had paused eating his meal to focus all his attention on you.

You continue on about that 15-minute conversation you had - if you could even call it that, given that it was all Jinyoung talking, with you staring at the man you once considered you could have a future with.

Once you’d calmed down, you and Jungkook exchange thoughts about relationships, back and forth with nuggets of wisdom that you don’t really expect from someone you thought didn't have the time of day to maintain a relationship.

He’d be constantly linked with models and fellow pop stars, which he’d noted weren’t anything serious or factual for that matter, at least those that weren’t part of some PR stunt, yet here he is right now, agreeing with what you’re saying and adding a different perspective to things.

He is a hopeless romantic after all, that much he’d admitted during one wine-filled night after crying over Titanic while you were both on the phone (“they literally knew each other for just 3 days, Jungkook, they couldn’t possibly be in love,” you’d shouted. “Ah, 1900s romance,” was all he said. “So beautiful, isn’t it?” Another gulp of wine and then he’d fallen asleep.)

You two find yourselves grabbing the pitcher of Sangria from your fridge and settle on other topics, like what could be acceptable reasons for breaking up with someone, to the ideas of fate and destiny - which you constantly bicker about because you don’t believe in it while he does, oh so passionately - to the afterlife.

“Relationships are so draining,” you say, tipping your head back on the couch, a groan escaping you. “Even after it’s over, it still takes so much out of you.”

“I can only imagine,” he laughs bitterly.

“Words of advice from Friday Night Me - don’t get into one. It’s tiring to pick up the pieces once it’s over.”

“Friday Night You?”

“Yeah, the one who’s upset. Monday Night Me will probably say something different.”

This amuses him, but he nods in agreement nonetheless. “Relationships tend to get messy and I’ve already got enough crazy to deal with,” he continues. “That much I’ve seen watching the hyungs get into these things from the sidelines. I’m sure it’s great and all and I can’t wait to be in one too, don’t get me wrong.” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“I mean hello, Jack and Rose?” You roll your eyes. “Allie and Noah?”

You laugh. Seriously, this guy needs to watch more romantic films.

“But I don’t know, too much going on with me right now, I guess,” he continues, shoulders slumped, eyes suddenly finding your fur rug interesting.

You dwell on this thought a little longer than you had wanted.

You get what he’s saying, though. It’s draining enough for a commoner like you, what more for a worldwide superstar like him? You try to decipher if it’s sadness in his voice, maybe frustration? Resignation? Acceptance?

“But I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N.” He says, subject of the conversation now back to you, causing you to break out of your reverie. “I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better,” he says, hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Hey, no need to be sorry! I’ll be fully functional again by tomorrow. I just didn’t realize there was more to the breakup so I was just thrown off a little bit.” You flash him a smile. “But I’m good, really. And the food was enough,” you add. “And your presence, of course.” A smile again. You realize you seem to do that a lot when he’s around.

But you do feel better. You hadn’t thought much about Jinyoung since the breakup until tonight, seeing all the other things going on in your life. But seeing and listening to him made you feel all sorts of emotions that you really just wanted to let out.

You’d kept a lot of these thoughts to yourself the last few months because you didn’t feel like there was more to say after that first goodbye, and it was nice to have Jungkook there to just listen, which is what you said you wanted him to do (“what kind of friend do you want me to be tonight?” He’d asked. “The listening one,” you’d replied.) But you’ve said what you needed to say, felt all that you needed to feel, and now you’re shutting close, under lock and key this time, that chapter of your life once and for all.

After a fairly long silence, when he was sure you’d already expressed all your frustrations, he let out a breath.

“Well, this was a much better option than drinking your sadness away at some club, yeah?” he asks, moving his body to his left side with his back on the armrest so he’s now facing you who’s also back on the couch now, sushi rolls and tempura rice all gone, sangria but a sip left.

“Well, that wasn't an option in the first place, Jeon,” you call out. “I’m not really one who would take advantage of my misery and use it to justify a night of drinking and awkward hook-ups,” you anticipate, recalling the countless times your friends had encouraged you to go out and find someone good enough for a one night stand these past months.

“Ah, so you’re not a fan of hook-ups, no?” He smirks, looking intently at you, clearly curious about your thoughts on the idea. It’s amusing how quickly you could change topics but it was a good try to move on from the somber conversation you just had.

“I don't really wanna have sex with someone I’ll only be sharing fluids with,” you say, blankly. This intrigues him because now, he’s moving closer to you like a kid waiting for his next adventure story.

You laugh at his movement. He tips his head, signaling you to continue.

“It’s just not my thing, that’s all,” you start, trying to find a way to explain yourself.

“I want someone to talk and laugh with when it gets sloppy,” you say, “and someone to make me breakfast when I oversleep. A guy for pure pleasure probably wouldn’t be that person for me. He’d probably just focus on getting both of us off and then up and leave,” you shrug.

This amuses him, even if he chuckles and says “I knew it probably had something to do with food,” and being the Jungkook you’ve come to know these past months, he asks you something that catches you off-guard but at the same time doesn't really surprise you.

“Would I be someone you’d hypothetically hook up with?” He smirks again, excited for your answer.

“No, you’re too good-looking for that,” you say almost instantly and you curse yourself in your head.

“So you mean hypothetically if you were to hook up with someone, he’d have to be unattractive?” He asks, seemingly confused.

“Uh, if it would just be for pure pleasure, yeah… I mean I wouldn’t mind but of course he’d have to be like, hot or something,” like that was common sense. “I’d probably be too drunk to focus on his face and it’d probably be too dark for it to matter anyway,” you shrug. You’re hoping this makes sense to him because your friends never did quite get it.

You just really don’t do hook ups, especially drunk ones, not that you put sex on a pedestal, but you just have a thing for the before and after of it - the gentle fore play, the removing (and not ripping) of clothes, the cuddle and the aftercare that stretches to breakfast or lunch, and the lazy morning sex. Call you hopeless romantic or something, at least this is your version of it, but those were the things you like about sex, the full package.

“Hmm, I feel honored to be too attractive to hypothetically hook up with Y/N Y/L/N,” he says, feeling proud of himself, smiling like a kid who just got a blue ribbon for something superficial. God, the duality and contradictions of this guy, you think.

“Let’s just say… you have a face and a touch I’d hypothetically want to get used to, so I wouldn't settle for just one night with you, and then it wouldn't be a hook-up!” You say trying to sound nonchalant, thinking about the tinylittle crush your friends claim you’ve developed on the guy in front you but really, anyone with a pair of eyes would agree that the man is beautiful (you’d always deflected though - “have you seen King Namjoon? Now that is the man, you’d say).

You settle for honesty though, and it’s true. You just don’t delve on the full package thing, because you know Jungkook is exactly the kind of guy to do all that, but you stop your mind from going there, much so with him sitting in front of you.

“Ah,” he says, pleased with himself. “So you could get used to this, huh?” He teases, lunging on you, his knees just barely resting on your thighs. He’s planting his hands on your face and squishing every surface he possibly could, laughing as he’s doing so while you shout out every cuss word you know and trying your best to hit him with your hands even if he’s just going to block your hits anyway.

You kick him on the thigh when he finishes his rampage but it is you who squeals of pain because you used your right foot, the one you re-injured after playing a tune-up game of volleyball the other day.

Naturally he grabs your foot and starts massaging it, as if he’d always been doing that since you’ve met, which he hasn't. And you haven’t even known each other that long.

“You’re annoying,” is the only thing you could mutter after finally catching your breath. You can’t lie though, his massage is pretty good. You lay your head on your stretched out right leg and can’t help but close your eyes.

He sees the satisfaction on your face and not long after, he quips, “I bet this is also something you could get used to after a good night of fucking, yeah?” he starts laughing.

Since last week’s incident, you’d noticed Jungkook being more comfortable and definitely a little cheekier, flirty, even. Perhaps seeing you in your underwear could do that to a person, you think.

You feel your cheeks heat up, and all you could do is hit his arm continuously so that he had started to flex after a few slaps. You literally were just talking about hook ups, why did you feel so scandalized? (You’re in denial; you know exactly why.)

“Good? That confident with your abilities, I see.” You tease, as both of you have now settled down and kept your body parts to yourselves.

A grin starts creeping from the side of his lips and you immediately regret making such a comment. “Nevermind!” You shout, holding out your hand to cover his mouth before he could say anything again.

“I’m teasing. I wouldn't know, actually. It’s not like I do it often to know, anyway.”

At this you’re pleasantly surprised, not that you expect him to be the kind of pop star who casually and constantly hooks up with women just because he can, but still you know the parties he attends and all the beautiful women in his circle who no doubt wouldn’t mind making a move, or probably already do on a regular basis.

Maybe you’re just startled that he would be open about this particular facet of his life to someone he hasn't known long. But then again, you two have been open to each other about many things since you’ve met, but that’s still something you’re only starting to get used to.

“It doesn't matter,” you say, flashing him the same sincere and thoughtful smile that you put on when he started fixing up your dinner for you earlier. He returns your smile, eyes soft, as if grateful for you not asking any more.

“Well, I mean you’re good at a lot of things anyway so if you suck at that, you could always just sing or dance or impersonate someone and that would overshadow whatever it is you suck at,” you say, winking at him.

He hits you with a pillow.

“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel better,” he says, “but thank you for complimenting my impersonating skills because I think that’s being undermined by the media.”

You both laugh at the humor.

“Tonight made me feel better, though. Thanks for being here,” you say as you finish your glass of wine.

It’s been hours since he arrived, sleepiness no doubt creeping on the both of you, especially on him who’d spent his day practicing and filming. It’s moments like this that make you happy you met him, that you didn’t freak out or think much when he asked for your number those months ago.

It’s also moments like this that you remind yourself of what you’d lose if you nurture that tinylittle seed of affection that’s growing in your heart, one unwittingly planted there a week ago.

He looks at you softly again, as if there’s more he wants to say but instead he replaces his bunny smile with a gentle one, wrinkles forming at the outer corner of his eyes, cheeks just slightly pushing up to reveal the bags underneath those orbs of his. They glisten under the lighting in your living room.

He lets the silence linger a little longer.

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

You let yourself bask in this thought, in his presence, just for tonight. Saturday You will get over this.

As you lay on your bed that night, you decide it isn’t just your past with your ex that you’ll bury under lock and key. It’s also this.

>> part 1 drabble

series masterlist

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #bts jungkook #idol jungkook

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destieltropecollection · 3 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 6: Firsts

24 fics under the cut

Sometimes Things Just Work Out | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,027 Main Tags/Warnings: arranged marriage, angel Cas, royalty AU, mistaken identities Summary: Castiel is not looking forward to being forced to marry this Prince Dean person. The angel had never met him, never even laid eyes on him. For all he knew, the marriage would be miserable. Now, this human who's trying to hide in Castiel's room? It made Castiel wish that he wasn't going to be part of an arranged marriage, because he was really starting to like this green eyed stranger.

Through the Night | @smokerdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,147 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel Out of the Empty, Soft Epilogue, First Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sharing a Bed Summary: The motel is the same as thousands of others Dean has stayed in over the course of his life, but it's different, it's better, because he is here with Cas.

The Report Card | @fpwoper

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,211 Main Tags/Warnings: First Time, Crack Fic, Blow Jobs Summary: The morning after Dean and Cas first fool around, Dean finds a honest to god report card.

Dragon's Den | @fpwoper

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,280 Main Tags/Warnings: First Date, Dragon!Cas Summary: Dean and Cas's first meeting is in a coffee shop they randomly chose. It's just... a little dragon heavy.

Taking one for Team Free Will | @fellshish

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,560 Main Tags/Warnings: First kiss, pov dean winchester Summary: There’s a spell that requires an angel’s kiss to work. Dean takes one for the team.

Cannibal Queen | @one-more-offbeat-anthem

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,683 Main Tags/Warnings: creature!Castiel and creature!Dean, first time, porn with plot, virgin Castiel, mild gore Summary: What's a zombie to do when he finds out his (pretty hot) roommate and best friend is a vampire? In the case of Dean Winchester, the plan is to convince said vampire that they should team up and heist slaughterhouses. But when a run goes wrong, there are some unexpected consequences...

A Sign of Affection | @clarrisani

Rating: General Word Count: 2,159 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, Fluff Summary: Castiel learns that different kisses mean different things.

9x06 coda : I'm sorry | @allofmystudentsrunaway

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,288 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Masturbation, Angst with a Happy Ending, AngstEmotional Hurt/Comfort, fanfic gap Summary: fan fic gap first time.

The blonde-haired witch and the little push | @chaoticdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,830 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Witches, Oblivious Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed Summary: It’s not the first time Dean’s ever had to listen to someone referring to Castiel as “his boyfriend”, but it sure as hell is the first time he has to sit through a diner listening to a witch referring to Cas as his husband without even batting an eyelash, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Which would be fine if it didn’t cause actual shivers to run down his spine. (or the one where a friendly witch gives Dean the little push he needs)

Every Part of You | @the-communist-unicorn

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,097 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Panty Kink, Married Dean/Cas, Explicit Sex (but non-penetrative so there's no top or bottom), References to Homophobia Summary: Cas discovered his husband's secret completely by accident, but now that he knew, he wasn't just going to let Dean shove it back in that shoe box like it was something to be ashamed of. Every part of Dean was perfect and beautiful, and Cas might have just discovered a kinky side of himself too.

Whiskey and Wifi | @celipuff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,401 Main Tags/Warnings: Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean, Dom Sub Undertones, Neighbors, Castiel Has A Panty Kink Summary: Cas may have lost a WiFi connection, but when he makes his way over to his neighbors house, he ends up gaining something much better.

At Last! | @chaoticdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,617 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Best Friends, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Airports, First Kiss, 5+1 Things Summary: Five times Dean kept his mouth shut, and one time he didn’t.

OUR FIRST TIME | @cooloddball

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,920 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff and Smut Summary: Dean & Cas' first time together

Ghost Town Saints | @nothing-but-dreams

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,010 Main Tags/Warnings: College, House Party, Beer Pong, Marijuana, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Trans!Castiel, Supportive Dean, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: College is out for summer vacation, and that means Cas is back home with his family. Ever since he came out as trans, things have been tense, to say the least. After yet another argument with his parents, Cas needs to clear his head. Luckily, his best friend Dean is just a text away. Dean suggests the two of them escape reality for a bit and hit up a party being held at Ghost Town. As they drink and get high, they realize their feelings for each other run deeper than friendship.

It Started With Arousal | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,260 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, angel Cas, alpha Cas, omega Dean, soul bonds, virgin Cas, porn with plot Summary: It was when Castiel violently slammed the demon into the wall mid-fight that he felt it. The bond he had with Dean ever since he pulled the omega out of Hell had been getting stronger lately, but this was the first time that Castiel truly experienced an emotion that wasn't his own. He had expected something like this to happen eventually, but there was no way he ever would have expected such a feeling at a time like this. Dean was… aroused? He spared a quick glance at the hunter, meeting green eyes but seeing nothing that might cause said arousal. When three more demons kicked through the door to enter the room and the fight, Castiel promptly forgot the confusing emotion. For the time being, at least.

Kiss Me | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,285 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Humor, Friends to Lovers Summary: Dean’s spur-of-the-moment ideas aren’t always the best, as lots of people are able to attest. And his last one really took the cake. Because now he’s unable to forget the taste of Castiel’s lips and he’s got no freaking clue how to deal with this.

Kiss at the Drive-in | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,380 Main Tags/Warnings: fluff and smut, getting together, drive-in cinema, semi-public sex, car sex, non-penetrative sex, handjobs, shy!Dean, dirty dancing, implied Bottom!Dean Summary: When Dirty Dancing airs in a Drive-in Cinema near the Bunker, Dean really wants to go with Castiel. Of course only because Castiel’s education about movies is still bad. Not like it’s a date. Sadly.

Swayze Always Gets A Pass | @kingdumbass

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,766 Main Tags/Warnings: Bunker Fic, First Kiss, Drunk Dean and Cas Summary: After Dean and Cas get into an argument over a case, Dean tries to apologize by asking Cas to Netflix and chill. Featuring: Cas the movie critic, his drunk friend, Dean, and Dean's tired brother, Sam.

Y Tu Dean Tambien | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6,909 Main Tags/Warnings: High School AU, Geek Dean, Closeted Bi Dean, Pan/Possibly Demi Cas, Referenced Homo/Biphobia, Low/No Angst, Implied/Referenced Consensual Underage Non-Penetrative Sex, Nothing Explicit, Happy Ending Summary: Dean Winchester has a crush. A great, big, secret, gay crush. Okay, more like a great, big, secret, bisexual crush, if we’re being technical. Either way though, the relevant word here is secret, because Dean lives in Kansas, which isn’t exactly known for its thriving LGBT community. In fact, he’s pretty sure most of his neighbors don’t actually know what LGBT stands for and he’d be willing to bet that if asked, at least a solid 10% would think it’s a sandwich. So yeah, nobody knows that Dean’s spent the past six months crushing on Cas Novak, the sexy junior in his Spanish II class, and it’s damn well going to stay that way. “Hola, Señor Winchester,” murmurs a gravelly voice in Dean’s ear, straight out his dirtiest fantasies and close enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck, as Dean suppresses a shiver. The smirk on the mouth housing that goddamn sinful voice tells him that while he may have resisted the full-body shudder, his red cheeks did not go unnoticed by the boy sliding fluidly into the desk directly behind him. “Hey, Cas.” Nobody knows about Dean’s crush except for Cas, that is. Cas definitely knows.

Game of Survival | @sorajinsei

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8,317 Main Tags/Warnings: Suspense, Alternate UniverseThriller,Alternate Universe - Purge, Demonic Possession, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies Summary: Who's in the shadows? Who's ready to play? Are we the hunters? Or are we the prey? There's no surrender and there's no escape.

Talk Therapy | shara (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,309 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, First Time Bottoming, Rimming, Communication Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, ALL the issues Summary: "Alright fine, you can put a finger in me," Dean says one night while watching Cas go down on him. Cas pops his mouth off Dean’s dick and stares at him. "I never said I wanted to put a finger in you," he says slowly, and then stops and tilts his head. "Do you want me to put a finger in you?" ~~~~ Dean comes to terms with this thing with Cas, and with himself.

Bind Me To You | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18,184 Main Tags/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Public Blow Jobs, Mild Kink, Condoms, Mutual Pining, Switching, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Light Bondage, One Night Stands, Strangers to Lovers, Teasing, Happy Ending, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation Summary: Dean and Cas meet in a one night stand, but lust, chance and eventually more bind them together.

Tempered Desires | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 20,013 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Pandemic, Baker Dean, Dean has ADHD, Recreational Drug Use, Meet Cute, First Date Summary: Dating, sex, and finding love were the farthest things on the minds of both Dean and Castiel. There were more important things to worry about - namely the pandemic that swept across the globe and changed everything. Navigating this new environment was hard enough without adding romance. But fate never intervenes when you expect. From first meetings to first dates, we'll see how Dean and Castiel's relationship blossoms despite the circumstances.

Put That On A T-Shirt | @celipuff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 21,524 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean’s First Time With A Man, Blowjobs, Top!Dean/Bottom!Cas, Semi Public Sex Summary: Getting blindfolded and blown by a random dude his girlfriend knew didn’t exactly sound like an ideal Sunday for Dean, until it actually happened.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 6 #firsts #destiel #supernatural #fanfic #saving blogs; queuing things; the tumblr business

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dickspeightjrs · 3 years

Text

Better Than Regretting (au / 2.5k words / secret relationship / arranged marriage)

ao3 link

“You marrying a woman? Now that’s something I’d like to see,” Dean laughed from where he was stretched out on Castiel’s bed.

Castiel stopped his pacing across the room to glare at Dean. “This isn’t funny, Dean. My family are trying to arrange a marriage that I want no part of.”

Dean’s expression didn’t change and Castiel rolled his eyes. He wished his boyfriend would take things seriously sometimes.

There was no logical reason why Dean and Castiel would even know each other, let alone develop a relationship. And yet, here they were.

Castiel and his family came from old money. The wealthy life was all he ever knew. Though he would never call himself spoiled, Castiel knew he was privileged in more ways than one.

Dean, however, was orphaned at sixteen and was now helping to raise his younger brother, Sam, and send him to college in the fall.

They’d kept their relationship a secret from Castiel’s family from the beginning. Old money meant old traditions and Castiel knew his family wouldn’t approve of his sexuality or his choice of partner.

It worked for them for two years. Until now.

Upon him turning twenty-five, Castiel’s parents decided it was time for him to get married and they’d lined up a nice girl, Daphne, from a family that they knew from the country club. It just so happened that Castiel’s father also wanted to go into business with Daphne’s father. A coincidence that was not lost on Castiel.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean implored, “this is crazy. There’s no way you’re gonna marry this girl. I don’t care how much money her family has.”

Castiel was quiet, a million thoughts racing through his head. He was carefully avoiding Dean’s gaze.

“Wait,” Dean sat up straight on the bed. “You’re not thinking about actually going through with this?”

Castiel looked at Dean’s confused expression and quickly looked away again. “We could still see each other. It wouldn’t be any different to what we’re used to,” he murmured.

Dean stood up to come face to face with Castiel. He forced Castiel to make eye contact and looked into Castiel’s eyes with a pleading gaze.

“Cas, I love you,” Dean whispered. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I do. And I know you love me. You can’t do this.” He reached out a hand to hold Castiel’s.

“But my family.”

“Fuck your family, man.” Dean hissed. “They don’t care about you. If they did, they wouldn’t be doing this.”

“You know I can’t tell them about me, about us.” Castiel begged.

“For fuck’s sake, Cas. I’m not saying you gotta out yourself or tell them about us. I know how dangerous that could be for you.” Dean sighed. “Just stick up for yourself and tell them you want to live your own goddamn life!”

“It’s not that simple! I don’t see why we can’t just carry on as normal. You know I’ll never feel for her what I feel for you.”

“I know that. But to everyone else, everyone you know, she’ll be yours. And I don’t want to be the reason someone cheats on their wife.” Dean shook his head sadly. “That’s what my dad did to my mom, and you know how that ended. That poor girl you’re gonna marry doesn’t deserve that.”

“What are you saying, Dean?” Castiel asked, heart beating hard against his chest.

Dean sighed wearily. “I’m saying either tell your family to go fuck themselves, and come be with me and Sam. Or you stay with them and we end this.”

Castiel didn’t know what to do. He truly loved Dean more than anything. He wouldn’t take back one second of his time with him.

But he didn’t feel strong enough to leave his family. Castiel couldn’t imagine his father’s reaction if he said he wasn’t going to marry Daphne.

Castiel knew something like this would happen. His relationship with Dean was always too good to be true. They were too different. And those differences would always find a way to tear them apart.

Looking into Dean’s eyes as he made the realisation of Castiel’s decision was the most heart-breaking thing Castiel had ever witnessed.

Dean nodded to himself. He tried to avoid Castiel’s gaze but Castiel could see the tears forming in his boyfriend’s eyes.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Dean cleared his throat and looked back to Castiel. He took a deep, steadying breath and walked towards Castiel.

Castiel held his breath and stayed still.

Dean lifted a shaky hand to Castiel’s cheek and wiped away a tear Castiel didn’t realise was there. He looked lovingly into Castiel’s eyes before pulling him in for a soft kiss.

It was the most gut-wrenching kiss of Castiel’s life. It was a goodbye.

When Dean pulled away, he looked one last time into Castiel’s eyes, gave him a sad smile and moved away.

Castiel watched as Dean collected his jacket and keys. He watched as Dean walked out of his bedroom and didn’t look back.

Castiel remained frozen on the spot, tears now flowing freely down his face. He only moved when he could hear the deep rumble of Dean’s car starting up outside and fading into the distance.

Then he was left in silence.

* * *

Castiel felt sweat drip down his back under his shirt and suit jacket.

He hadn’t wanted to get married in the height of summer, but time had clearly been of the essence. The deal Castiel’s father made with Daphne’s family would only be complete once the wedding was over so Castiel’s father was eager to rush through the marriage. The wedding was set for a Saturday in late July – only two months after the initial engagement.

Which also meant two months since Castiel last saw and spoke to Dean.

He sighed a little in relief when the doors to the church opened, letting in a waft of air that, though wasn’t necessarily cool, was cooler than the oppressive heat of the church. Standing at the altar waiting for the ceremony to start was starting to feel like a lifetime in the sweltering heat. The doors were left wide open, along with the windows, to get an airflow through the building.

People were starting to arrive and take their seats. Castiel couldn’t say he even knew most of them. They all seemed to be associates of his father. Castiel didn’t have many friends and the only friends he did have he made through Dean. He hadn’t seen them for months either. Though, he didn’t blame them for staying with Dean.

He felt a wave of sickness go through him at the thought of Dean. He truly did miss him.

The feeling of a soft hand on his shoulder made him turn. It was his brother, Gabriel, the only person in the church who knew what Castiel was going through.

Soon into the beginning of their relationship, Dean and Castiel had been caught in Castiel’s bed by Gabriel.

Castiel had thought they were alone in the house. His parents had just left for a vacation and Gabriel was meant to be visiting friends. It turned out that those friends cancelled, and Gabriel came back to the house to hang out with his brother.

Castiel had panicked for a minute before Gabriel just laughed and held out a hand to Dean who had shaken it awkwardly, painfully aware of his near nakedness. After a little teasing and promising not to tell anyone, Gabriel had eventually left them alone.

Gabriel gave Castiel a reassuring smile and patted his shoulder. “Hang in there, bro.”

Castiel smiled nervously in response. He couldn’t muster the energy for anything else lest he break down and cry right in front of everyone.

He didn’t want to do this at all. He regretted what happened with Dean ever since it happened. But he knew he had to be loyal to his family. And Dean would never take him back now anyway. Castiel had thrown away any chance of that.

The priest walked up to Castiel. “The bride is here. We’re ready to begin.”

Castiel simply nodded and got into position. They’d rehearsed the wedding countless times so everything ran smoothly. Castiel had felt it a little unnecessary but he wasn’t going to argue with his father.

The music began and Castiel looked at the entrance to see Daphne walk down the aisle. She truly did look beautiful in her dress. Castiel felt another wave of nausea hit him at the thought of dragging her innocently into this mess.

The ceremony soon began. It was quiet around the church as the priest went through his sermon.

Castiel muted the words. Again, he hadn’t been involved much in the content of the ceremony. It all felt fake. Like if God was really looking down on them now, he’d curse Castiel for making a mockery of marriage.

Sweat once again dripped down Castiel’s back. He was sure he might just pass out from the sheer exhaustion of the heat and the thoughts rushing through his head. He hadn’t been right ever since Dean left.

Zoning out from the sermon completely, Castiel let himself drift to some of his favourite memories with Dean.

The sticky heat on his skin reminded him of last summer with Dean. He’d managed to convince his parents to go to their summer home without him. He’d had three whole months of summer without his parents and spent all that time with Dean.

Castiel remembered the warm smell of Dean’s skin against his own one night after they’d had sex. Dean was laughing at something Castiel had said that Castiel didn’t even intend to be funny. But Castiel never minded. Dean’s laugh was beautiful.

Dean had whispered against Castiel’s ear, as he placed delicate kisses along Castiel’s skin, that spending the summer with Castiel had been more than he could ever dreamed.

Castiel hadn’t understood at the time. He loved spending the summer with Dean too, but all they’d really done was hang out with his brother a little and take long drives in Dean’s Impala.

But now, he got it. It had been the simple things that Dean had treasured most. Castiel would give anything to be back in that car with Dean at his side, singing along to whatever rock album he’d put into the tape deck that day. They’d pull over, after a while, to a deserted area and trade lazy kisses until the sun started to fade in the sky. Then Dean would drive them back, this time with only the sound of the engine to accompany them.

Castiel was sure he could still hear the sweet rumble of the engine.

He blinked back to reality when he realised the priest had stopped talking and was looking past Castiel and frowning.

Castiel knew then that he wasn’t imagining the sound. The Impala could be heard roaring in the distance. And it was getting closer.

Frowning a little in confusion and barely daring to hope, Castiel turned and faced the same way as the priest. Daphne and many of guests also shifted to see what could be causing so much noise.

The frown left Castiel’s face when the shiny bonnet of a sleek black car pulled up onto to curb directly outside the church doors.

Castiel was frozen in place and held his breath as he saw Dean get out of the car and walk around to lean against the side door. He made eye contact with Castiel but otherwise made no move to enter the church.

Castiel could feel eyes start to turn back to him. No one knew of him and Dean but Castiel’s demeanour must have clued them in that Dean was there for him.

In his peripheral vision, Castiel noticed Sam in the backseat of the car. Boxes were piled up next to him.

Then it clicked.

Sam was going to Stanford for college. Dean was taking him and probably not coming back. This was Castiel’s last chance. Dean was giving him one last chance.

Castiel finally unglued his gaze from Dean and turned to Daphne next to him. She just gave him a small reassuring smile. Perhaps Castiel hadn’t given her enough credit when he’d thought she was just a naïve girl.

He turned to look at his brother stood behind him. Gabriel just grinned wildly, slyly, like he may have had something to do with this.

The priest cleared his throat and it spurred Castiel into action.

Regaining eye contact with Dean, he stepped down hesitantly from the platform.

The movement was tracked by Dean whose face went from one of determined nonchalance to one with a slight flicker of hope. It was a change that onlookers might not have noticed. But Castiel did. He knew Dean better than anyone.

It was the smallness of hope in Dean’s eye that made Castiel know he had all the information he’d ever need.

Without a second’s more hesitation, Castiel broke into a run, not looking back. He only kept his eyes on Dean as he saw the man’s face turn into an ever-widening grin.

The intense heat of the Kansas sun hit Castiel as he flew out of the church doors, but it was nothing compared to the sheer strength of the arms that immediately came up to wrap around Castiel’s body.

Castiel put his face into the crook of Dean’s neck, taking in his scent and reassuring himself that this was really happening.

Dean squeezed him again and breathed in Castiel’s scent too.

They were only broken apart by the sound of the window being lowered in the car and Sam’s voice coming out.

“Um, guys? I hate to break up the reunion, but Cas’ dad is coming, and he doesn’t look happy,” he warned.

With wide eyes, both men snapped out of their trance and turned to see Castiel’s father storming his way down the aisle, his face redder than Castiel had ever seen it. Gabriel was making a feeble attempt to calm their father down but the grin on his face betrayed his attempted determination.

Dean and Castiel quickly scrambled to get into the car.

Just as Castiel’s father reached the car and was about to open the passenger door, Dean turned the ignition and they peeled off down the street towards the highway.

Once they were clear of the church, Dean chuckled. “So Cas, how does California sound to you?”

Castiel looked at Dean and knew he was trying to hide his nerves. He reached over to grasp Dean’s hand. Castiel had let go of Dean once before. He was never going to do it again.

“It sounds perfect.”

Dean smiled and brought Castiel’s hand to his lips, not taking his eyes off the road in front of them. “Good.”

Castiel smiled too. But, despite the sure feeling that he’d finally done the right thing, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving Daphne like that. She may not have been that happy with the arrangement either, but he felt bad for leaving her without a word. He thought that, perhaps when they arrived in California, he’d write her a letter explaining everything and hope she’d forgive him.

As if sensing Castiel’s thoughts, Dean gave Castiel’s hand a little squeeze and shot him a cheeky grin.

“Not having second thoughts already?” Dean teased.

“Never,” Castiel shook his head. “I’m glad you crashed the wedding.”

A/N: Based loosely on the song ‘Crashed the Wedding’ by Busted

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gyll-yee-haw · 4 years

Note

Hi babes 🥺 , So this my first time asking if u could, (If u want to) write a little Hc or whatever u want of Daddy Dom Jake trying to ask reader for cuddles or kisses because he needs some luvin but doesn’t know how to ask 🥺 I love your writing u are one of my favorites💞 and I hope ur having a good day :))

Hi, babesss! It's an honor to write something for you, you've been here for so long making my posts better with your reactions pics 😭❤

So... it got quite long. Like 2.5k words... but you deserve it. Hope you like it!

Warnings: some kind of friends with benefits/sugar daddy energy, daddy kink, commitment issues, mentions of toys, spitting, slaping, Jake being a sad boy :(

---

Let's say that you and Jake had a connection that was just too strong to ignore

But none of you were looking for something complicated at that moment of your lives

You could still have fun, though

Go on dates, laugh, dance, spend some money

And, of course.. if you wanted someone to fuck you hard, he was just the kind

So you started some kind of relationship that couldn't even be called friends with benefits, cause you weren't exactly friends

He would call you and tell you to be ready at 8pm and you better be

Then he would take you out

Some fancy restaurant or a night club

He would tell you what to wear cause he wanted to show you off

And you had him just that easy too

A pic in your new lingerie or nothing at all and he was already at your door step

I'm taking about fucking on club bathrooms

Touching in public

Motels

Cars

Or maybe at home, if you weren't in the mood to go out

But it wasn't some relaxing evening at home, like, watching a movie, ordering pizza and smiley make out sessions after a bottle of wine

It was all about him having you on a leash, literally

Down on all fours for him

Heavy degradation

"Beg for my cock, that's all I wanna hear from you, slut."

And he wasn't afraid to spent money on you. Every single night you went to his house there was something new for you. I'm obviously not talking about flowers or diamonds. I'm talking about lingerie for him to tear off. Toys. All kinds of toys… from vibrators to all sizes of plugs

He was so rough to you that he wouldn't even call you "babygirl", your name was slut. Babygirl is too sweet, he doesn't do that…

And if you dared calling him anything but "daddy", you were in trouble. Not even Jake. Only daddy. Didn't matter if you were in the bedroom or in front of other people. He would make you call him daddy in front of the waiter at a restaurant, for example

His life was definitely nothing but pleasure and power since you came along. Felt like a dream

But he was so miserable

He was miserable when he woke up alone

When he ate alone

When he listened to love songs on the radio

He was alone all the time. Even when he was surrounded by his family and friends

But he noticed it was different when you were around

When he saw your face, he felt some kind of warmth… not like warmth from the fire and the lust

Warmth as in... comfort. Like he forgot how much his life sucked when you weren't with him

And the minute you left, it was like you took all the light with you, all he could do was crawl into the darkness and wait until you came back

And while you didn't, he would think about you 24/7

Buy you new stuff and plan what he would do to you

Sometimes he wanted to call you and ask you to come over, but he wasn't horny at all and he would be absolutely incapable of getting hard, cause he was so fucking sad

Imagine how humiliating that would be, though? So he didn't call

He wouldn't admit he liked your presence. He acted like all he liked was your pussy and thats it

Something deep inside him was changing

He thought it was the sadness that was turning him soft

But it was obviously you

And you noticed there was something wrong on the day you were on his bed, had your ass up for him, and he flipped you over

It was weird. You had tried so many different positions, but he ALWAYS fucked you from behind

The closer to eye contact you got was when you sucked him off

Now there you were. Missionary position. Of course, his hand squeezing your throat at his movements were rough, but still… it was some new kind of intimacy. Your bodies were closer than ever and he kissed your lips 80% of the time

You thought about that night for so long. It was so good. So intense… and he couldn't get it off his mind either. The way he saw your eyes rolling back and you moaned loudly, because that was probably the best way to hit that special spot inside you... and he was facing you the whole time… he watched how desperate you were and how hard you were coming, clenching around him, legs shaking and he wanted to say something like "Shhh baby it's okay, I got you…"

Thank God he was able to hold himself back, huh?

Yeah, he kinda did. But that night changed everything

Maybe the next thing he bought you wasn't an anal plug, but a pretty dress

Like not an scandalous dress to show you off, but something he genuinely thought you would like, he wanted to see you smile

And he took you to the movies when you wore it for the first time

He kept his hands to himself during all movie, while you eagerly waited for something risky to happen in the dark

And then you walked out of the cinema

His hand holding yours

Walking around the city talking about the movie plot and not about your tits

You knew absolutely everything about each other's body, but definitely nothing about each other's soul

And that nice evening changed that. He told you a few things about himself, but nothing too personal. He was still extremely close. He liked to hear you talk, though. He listened very carefully. Asked questions. Laughed and felt a huge admiration during your stories

It had a real first date energy

Then he drove you home and didn't come inside

Both of you were confused. You spent the whole night trying to figure his new game out. And he just crawled deeper into his own darkness. If he wasn't sure that he was in love with you yet, after that date, he knew he was completely fucked

He planned on disappearing for a while. Only until he forgot about his feelings. Maybe see someone else

But the mere thought of being inside someone who wasn't you disgusted him

He managed to stay away for 2 weeks. No texts, no calls. You thought you had lost him. You tried to find a reason why he wasn't attracted to you anymore... He didn't have sex with you the last time cause he was only trying to say goodbye. But he was never that good with words

And at this very moment there was probably another woman in his bed

You were so angry that you didn't dare to call him

It was like you forgot how many times he spit on your face and overestimated you until you cried (not that those weren't great times too). All you remember was that one time he fucked you on a way that felt like he actually cared about you. Like he would make love to you one day. But that was only another one of his tricks to humiliate you. And it hurts more than when he used to spank you

You were convinced that you had enough. That if you saw him on the street one day, you wouldn't even look at his face

But the minute his name finally appeared on your phone again, you picked up eagerly

His voice was sweet. He called you by your actual name

He asked if he could pick you up

Not like he used to do: "You better be there"

He said "please"

And you were scared. You missed the times you knew exactly where this would end. When you would use each other's body, get dressed and leave. But now? You had no idea what he had in mind. Or what YOU had in mind when you said yes… but you said yes

And at the exact time he said he would be there, he was there

You got into the car and smiled at him

He looked like a complete mess. There was something wrong with him… for a moment you felt guilty for hating him when he stopped calling

Maybe he just had problems and wasn't in the mood for sex

Judging by the look on his face, he clearly wasn't. So what were you doing there? Another movie night?

Apparently not. He drove you to his house

He held your hand as you walked in and guided you to his bedroom

He stood in front of the bed and looked at you for a moment

"You're so beautiful, have I ever told you that?" He sighed, caressing your cheek with his fingers

"Yeah, you called me pretty little fucktoy once or twice." You shrugged

You made that joke to relieve the tension. He wasn't the kind of guy who would caress your cheek on a normal day. But your joke seemed to make him feel worse

"I'm sorry." He whispered, looking at any corner of that room, anywhere but your eyes

"Don't be." You assured him. "We agreed on this. That's us. It's fun, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess." He chuckled. "We're pretty fucked up, aren't we?"

"That's why we get along." You agreed

He clearly had something stuck on his throat, but he wouldn't say it, so you tried to change the subject

"So what's tonight's plan?" You asked

He looked like he was about to suggest something outrageous. But, honestly? After all you had already done in that exact place where you stood at that moment… you couldn't imagine what would be so shocking

"Would you mind spending the night?" He asked nervously

"Well, your own rules say we aren't supposed to sleep on the same bed, but..." You watched him curiously. "If you want me to, I'll stay."

He nodded and thanked you with his eyes

It was an unusual request, but it still wasn't what he was trying to ask

"What should I do now, daddy? Do you have something for me? For me to put on for you?" You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck

His arms were crossed on his chest, and they hesitated for a moment

He was supposed to place his hands on your waist or on your ass and throw you on the bed

But instead, his arms wrapped around you on a hug. Yes, a hug. You were confused, but you enjoyed every second of it. He was so soft, so comforting. Even though he was pretty lost. He pulled you as close as possible and hugged you so tightly that you felt like he was gonna break you

"Okay, stop, hey…" You pushed him away and took at step back

His body felt cold without you. His heart broke. The look on his eyes could hurt the most heartless person in the world

"Listen." You told him. "I'm not gonna let you play with me like this. I know you must be going through a really hard time right now, and I'd love to help, but… I can't do this. Cause when everything goes back to normal, I won't be able to stand this, Jake. You're too fucking important to me, don't do this, please… don't give me hope."

"Do you have hope?" He asked. "That I can be good to you?"

"You are good to me, Jake." You replied. "In our own fucked up way."

"Yeah, but that's exactly what's wrong with me right now." He admitted. "I fell in love with you. I want things to change, but I'm just as scared as you are."

You didn't know what to say

Love? Was that why you were angry at him? Did you fall in love too?

"What are we gonna do now?" You asked. You were terrified he would tell you that you couldn't keep seeing each other. You just learned that two weeks away from him are too hard, you couldn't imagine your whole life without him

"I don't know." He sighed. He was exhausted, looked like he haven't slept these days. "I don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow, or after that, I just know that I need you here tonight. And I don't wanna fuck you, I just want you close. Just need your love."

He felt physically lighter after getting that off his chest

You smiled at him and sat on his bed, taking your shoes off

You crawled to the center of the bed and patted the spot next to you

It was a relief. Finally. That's all he needed

He joined you and you both just lay down there, staring at the ceiling for a while

Like you were two teenagers who had a crush on each other and were sharing a bed for the first time

Like he never absolutely wrecked you in there

You rested your head on his chest and his arms automatically wrapped around you

As time passed, you (specially him) started to get more comfortable

Before you knew, you were there, kissing each other's noses, cheeks, chins, lips… smiling and saying the sweetest things

You didn't know that side of him, maybe not even he did

Then you fell asleep in each other's arms

When you woke up, he was looking at you with a new sparkle in his eyes

He definitely wasn't that same broken man you saw the night before

"Be my girlfriend?" He asked after you had barely opened your eyes

"Good morning." You laughed

"Oh no, I already wasted too much time." He laughed too

"So what's the new deal? What comes with that title?" You asked

"More night like this. Some like the old ones too." He smirked. "You're gonna be officially introduced to my family and will have to go through a lot of boring and awkward meetings... oh, we can also hold hands in the park? Sounds romantic, I don't know. Fuck deals. Let's just figure this out together, okay?"

"Sounds wonderful." You smiled and kissed his lips. "Call your mom, ask her what's for dinner."

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x y/n #jake gyllenhaal imagine

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prettyspence · 4 years

Text

Hanging in the Inbetween

Summary: Moving to DC proves to be the right move when you meet Emily Prentiss, finally come out to your brother, and feel like you have a happy future with somebody you could actually love.

Tags: 18+, smut, reader-insert, coming out, internalised homophobia, getting together, smut/kink tags under the cut

Pairing: Emily x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Read on AO3

Smut/Kink Tags: top!emily prentiss (but the lines kinda blur), light dom/sub, fingering, sex toys, dirty talk, kink negotiation, first time

You moved to DC for a few reasons, the first of which was that you wanted to get the fuck out of Virginia.

The move to Richmond from Manassas hadn’t even helped much: you were working in your dream field and had some distance from your family, sure, but Virginia’s still the South. And after you came to a very poignant realisation about yourself earlier in the year, you wanted to get as far away from the bigotry that defined your lived experience there as possible.

The second reason was that you missed Aaron. Your brother had moved away when you were only little, but you’d always been close and he was the only family member left that you felt you could genuinely trust with your secret, even if the idea of telling him that you liked women still left you frozen with fear.

So when he invited you to brunch with his colleagues at the FBI you agreed in a heartbeat, it seemed like a great way to meet new people in your new city and spend time with your incredibly busy older brother simultaneously.

If you had any doubts about your sexuality, Emily Prentiss would have eradicated them. As soon as she’d walked into the cafe, her enigmatic presence had captivated you and you were hooked, addicted, obsessed. She smiled warmly at you but all you could do was stare dumbly at her as you shook her hand, eventually managing a weak smile in return. It was as if she was glowing, the others dimming in comparison as you took in her breath-taking beauty. Every time she spoke your breath caught, aching to bask in her voice for the rest of your days.

It felt so dramatic, childish almost. You’d never understood that ‘take your breath away’, ‘at first sight’ kind of love, but you knew it as soon as you met Emily.

But Emily was this gorgeous, confident woman. You knew she was a lesbian, she didn’t hide that from anyone and frequently made jokes about it, and while you shared her identity, the way you approached it couldn’t have been more different. Sure, if anyone looked hard enough, they would catch the adoring looks you sent Emily at every get-together, the way you blushed at any interaction with her. Hell, even she probably knew.

But it could never happen. After years of conservative indoctrination and being surrounded by people convinced of your ‘sin’, you were still on your journey to accepting yourself, still sometimes sick to your stomach every time you remember that you weren’t ‘normal’, that your parents wouldn’t see you as their daughter as soon as you told them. So you hide under layers of facade, wear a mask of confidence over your crippling insecurity and internalised homophobia, pretend that everything’s fine when it feels like you’re crumbling under the surface.

You thought you’d crumble further when Aaron inevitably discovered the truth about you, but really it’s the moment where your foundation starts to rebuild itself. It happens completely accidentally one evening, you don’t mean to come out at all. You’ve been so careful at using gender neutral language for so long. You always talked about a future ‘partner’, said ‘they’ when talking about prospective relationships, the kind of words that don’t attract questions or attention. But you slip up.

“Have you thought about getting back out there, Y/N?” Aaron asks one evening, when you’re both sitting on his couch having a much needed catch-up. “I know it’s been hard after you and Samuel broke up, but maybe you should think about putting yourself back in the scene.”

“God, Aaron, you are not talking about my love life, please,” you groan, swatting his arm lightly. He’s not usually interested in what’s going on in your romantic relationships as long as you seem happy, but it’s been pretty obvious how low you’ve been recently. It’s sort of sweet that he’s talking about something he feels so awkward about to try and make his sister smile.

“I’m serious,” he smiles fondly. “I want to see you happy again, like you were with Tom, remember?”

You were not happy with Tom. You’re not sure you’ve ever been happy in a relationship (for the obvious reason that none of them were women) but you’re pretty damn good at pretending, so you can hardly blame him.

“Ahh, I don’t know, Aaron,” you grimace. You can’t think about anyone but Emily right now, God you’ve tried to move on but everyone seems to pale in comparison at the moment. “When I finally get a girlfriend I want it to be real, you know. An accidental meeting, nothing manufactured…”

You trail off as you see his eyes widen and face contort in surprise. Immediately, your stomach sinks and eyes brim with tears as you realise how badly you’ve fucked up. Jumping up from the sofa, you run to the bathroom and lock yourself in, barely able to contain the sobs as you feel your world implode around you. Fuck, you’re out. Aaron knows.

You sink down to the floor and fold yourself as tightly as possible, trying to hold yourself completely as you feel your walls crashing down, anxiety taking over. It’s only minutes after you’ve barricaded yourself in the bathroom that you hear the knocks at the door.

“Y/N,” Aaron says softly. “It’s okay, I’m not angry, I was just surprised. Why don’t you come out and we can talk about this? I’m not mad, I promise.”

It feels like it must be some sort of trap. Surely Aaron isn’t really okay with it? Choosing to trust your brother despite your scepticism, you peel yourself out of your protective position and splash some cool water on your face in an attempt to calm yourself down a little before unlocking the door.

You must look utterly miserable because Aaron’s face immediately softens and he envelopes in a warm, protective hug, the kind that used to reassure you in your childhood and still has the same effect today.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” he asks as he guides you to the sofa, voice gentle.

You take a deep breath before you explain everything, finally unloading the emotional turmoil that’s been whirling around inside you for months, connecting with another person properly since you realised yourself. You weren’t lying anymore; Aaron knew the truth.

Aaron basically forces you to stay over that night, tucking you in the way he used to do before he left for college, left for Washington to be a big bad FBI agent. You don’t fight him. It’s nice to be taken care of again, to feel really close to your brother for the first time in a long time.

Instead of crumbling, your foundation is firmer. You genuinely feel like you can do this, like you have a happy future ahead of you again.

⭐️

It’s a Tuesday evening and you’re running across town, butterflies swimming in your tummy. An excited smile is playing over your face on the metro, in the taxi, while you run down the road towards Aaron’s apartment. You keep checking your phone to confirm this is really happening, but the text message isn’t leaving; it isn’t a delusional mirage borne from isolation and desperation.

Hi Y/N, how would you feel about grabbing coffee with me later this week? ;) Feel like we haven’t had a chance to properly get to know one another! Let me know - Emily

You pound on the door as soon as you get there, knowing Jack is at a sleepover with his friend tonight, squealing as soon as Aaron opens the door. He smiles amusedly as he lets you in, practically bouncing with excitement as you thrust your phone in his face. “Is this what I think it is?” you ask eagerly as he reaches a hand to steady your shaking ones so he can read the message.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he says. “It could be. I’ve seen the way Emily looks at you, this looks like an invitation on a date to me, especially with the winky emoticon, but equally, she might just be asking you as a friend.” He smiles sympathetically as he says that, hating to temper your excitement. He’s never seen you this happy over a prospective partner and he doesn’t know how he missed how unhappy you were with men.

You giggle at Aaron speculating over the message as you would’ve done with your girlfriends back home. “She doesn’t know I’m gay,” you reason. “But I’m pretty obvious so she probably guessed. Maybe she really does want to go on a date with me!”

“Well, why haven’t you messaged back?” he asks.

“I wanted to tell you first,” you say, a little shyly. It was just nice to share in your truth with somebody. You couldn’t help feeling so eager about it.

He smiles fondly down at you. “Why don’t you make your message back a little more flirty?” he suggests as he makes his way to the kitchen to get you both a drink.

“Ooh, okay,” you muse. Subsequently, the next half an hour is spent agonising over the appropriate response, giggling and squabbling together in the way you used to before life got in the way.

Emily, I’d love to! It would be a great pleasure to spend some more time with your gorgeous self ;) How does Thursday at Cooper’s work? Maybe late morning?- Y/N

As long as we don’t get a case, I’m there :) - Emily

(If Aaron does his utmost to ensure there isn’t a case, well that’s nobody’s business but his own.)

⭐️

After agonising all morning over the perfect outfit, you hurry across the city to get to your favourite cafe in time to meet Emily. You arrive first, ordering yourself a coffee and a pastry and finding a cosy seat in the bay window, your favourite spot. Thankfully, it’s not overly busy and Emily spots you as soon as she walks in not long after you’ve sat down, grinning widely as she approaches.

“Y/N, I’m so glad we could finally do this,” she says earnestly as she gives you a hug.

“I know,” you smile shyly, returning her hug and revelling in having her so close, feeling the warmth of her body against yours, catching the gentle notes of her perfume.

“I’ll just go order a mocha and I’ll be right back,” she smiles, heading over to the counter.

You sit back and just watch her, how graceful and powerful she looks as she moves, how assertive and confident she is. Her gorgeous raven hair frames her face so perfectly and her body looks so strong under her smart, professional but stylish outfit. She smiles beautifully as she comes back over, holding a pastry in her other hand.

“Ah, another pastry addict,” you say, still a little shy and flustered.

“Oh, don’t you know it,” Emily chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Nothing better than a buttery pastry mid-morning, right?”

“Mm, I’ve got a huge sweet-tooth,” you confess. “I’ll do pretty much anything for a sweet treat.”

She laughs loudly at that, looking at you with so much warmth you think she might light you on fire. “I don’t blame you,” she agrees. “The team knows that if I’m grumpy, all I need is something sugary and I’m back on track.”

“You’re so lucky to have such a wonderful team,” you tell her, smiling back at her. “I’m so jealous of you and Aaron, surrounded by all these amazing people.”

“Oh, I know it,” she says. “Found family is important, and I rely on them a lot. I never thought getting into the FBI would change my life this much.”

“Oh, really? What led you to the academy?” you ask, gazing at her adoringly, not bothering to hide it. If you’ve misread the situation, so be it. You’re fed up of hiding, you’re going to take this risk, dive head first into it.

You chat amicably over coffee and pastry for over an hour, and when she frowns and tells you she has to get back to work, you can’t help the raging disappointment inside you. You’ve never felt this connected to somebody, ever. Maybe it’s just that Emily is the first woman you’ve allowed yourself to crush on properly, but it feels like more than that. It feels real, reciprocated even. You can’t help the burning excitement in your chest as you think about what it might be like to be close to her, to call her your girlfriend, to kiss her, to come home to her.

She gives you another hug before you part ways and the smouldering imprint of her body against yours keeps you warm the whole journey home.

⭐️

It’s nearing 7pm when you hear the knock at the door. You uncurl yourself from your cosy position on the sofa and put down your hot chocolate, leaving the movie you’re watching playing quietly in the background as you get up to answer it.

“Emily?” You’re a little bewildered to be honest. Wrapping your cardigan a little tighter around yourself, you send her a puzzled look, but you’re curious, too. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to tell you something,” she says, face serious. “I’m done screwing around; we’re not children, so let’s talk about this like adults.”

Right on cue, butterflies start swimming in your tummy, partly nerves, partly warm fuzzy hope. “Okay,” you say, still a little confused, but you guide her to the sofa and gesture for her to speak.

“I like you,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’ve liked you since I met you and you intrigue me. I want to know more about you. I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, inside and out, and I’d love to take you out for dinner, on a proper date.”

You’re stunned for a moment, not entirely sure you’re actually awake. “Yes,” you say as soon as you reboot, reaching out to grab her hands gently. “Yes, please, that sounds amazing. I like you, too, I’ve liked you since I first met you.”

Her face lights up at your admission as you share a heated look before leaning in for a gentle kiss. You scoot a little closer to her and place your hands tentatively on her waist, only feeling emboldened when she leans a hand up to place on your neck, the other finding your hip. As you melt into her touch you feel her melt into yours, a mutual melding; a coming together.

It doesn’t stay chaste and gentle for long, however, quickly finding a rhythm that properly conveys the intense passion and amour filling the room, Emily eventually leaning forward and pushing you back slightly on the couch so she can lean more of her weight on you. This must be heaven. No kiss has ever felt like this, not even with your long-term boyfriends, no-one has ever made you feel the sparks that are flashing in your tummy right now.

“Hey, is this too fast?” she asks as she pulls back a bit, breathing heavily as she reaches a hand up to brush some of your hair away from your face. “Do you want to slow down?”

“No, no,” you deny, desperate to continue. “I don’t want to stop, I just… I haven’t been with a woman before.”

Your confession is shy, tentative; you don’t want to scare her off, but she simply smiles softly down at you, continuing to gently caress your hair. “Don’t worry about that,” she says. “We’ll see where this takes us and if you want to stop or slow down just tell me, alright?”

“Yeah,” you agree before leaning back in to continue the kiss, pushing your hand up under her shirt slightly and feeling her toned abs, the soft curve of her waist. It only serves to make you wetter, the feel of a woman under your palms more euphoric than you ever could have anticipated.

She moans as you explore her midriff, pushing your shirt up to do the same, and if you thought feeling a woman was amazing, being felt by one feels incredible, shivering under her touch as she runs her fingers up and down your waist, pushing your shirt up even more to caress the sides of your breasts.

“Off.” You obey and sit up a little bit to shrug off your cardigan and t-shirt as she does the same, both left only in your bras and pants, pressed skin-to-skin on the sofa. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Y/N,” she moans, kissing you deeper as she tangles her fingers in your hair, tugging a little at the strands.

“Emily,” you whine as her other hand comes to your breast, teasing you with a finger slowly before running her thumb over your nipple through your lacy bra, squeezing gently. You’re already a dripping mess for her, this is already the best sex you’ve ever had, and you’ve barely started.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she suggests, pulling back a little to sit up before taking your hand and letting you lead the way. “Take your bra off and lie down on the bed.” Her voice is soft but there’s an authority to it that calms you slightly. You may not know exactly what you’re doing but Emily does and she’s going to take care of you.

“I have a few toys,” you confess shyly as you follow her orders, watching her with blown pupils all the while. “They’re washed and clean, and there are condoms and latex gloves, too.”

“Oh?” Emily asks, quirking an eyebrow slightly.

“They’re in the bottom drawer,” you say, blushing wildly as you share your sex toy collection with the woman you’ve been crushing pretty hard on for a while now.

She immediately lights up and rummages through, a playful smirk colouring her face as she pulls out a few options. You take in the fairly sizable dildo -- a favourite of yours -- the finger vibrator you’d bought only last month and a butt plug you’d had for years with hungry eyes, excited for what she has in mind.

“Before we really get going, let’s talk,” Emily smiles gently, leaning over to kiss you softly before pulling back. “What are you into, up for, wanting to try?”

“I’m not really sure,” you say, blushing awkwardly. This kind of discussion is fairly foreign for you. “I’ve never enjoyed sex before because it was always with a man.”

Emily pulls a face to make you laugh before nodding in agreement. “Okay, well how about I tell you a few of the things I like and you can tell me if you’re comfortable with them? And if you do try it and you’re not into it we’ll just stop, yeah?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Great. I like to be on top mostly, I’m quite a dominant person but I can tone that up or down to whatever you like, too,” she starts. “I’m very into dirty talk -- a little mild verbal degradation etcetera -- I love clitoral stimulation and don’t get much from internal simulation so maybe you could use this finger vibrator on me while I tell you what to do? And I could use this dildo on you if you’d like, the butt plug, too?”

“With my boyfriends the only time they could make me cum is if they got really into dirty talk, calling me names and stuff” you confess, “so that works for me, especially if you alternate with praise. And I’m happy for you to top and be more dominant, that sounds… good. All of what you said, I want, except I think the butt plug is a bit adventurous for today?” Your face must be fire engine red but Emily is looking at you fondly so you clearly haven’t turned her off with your inexperience or bashfulness.

She grins at you before leaning in to kiss you again. “Perfect. If I say or do anything you don’t like, tell me immediately. I won’t be offended, okay? I’ll do the same.” You nod in agreement, blush calming down as she settles her body over yours, a comforting, reassuring weight in an unfamiliar scenario.

She quickly gets the lube and condoms out and once she’s ready, Emily trails latex covered fingers down your waist, tickling slightly and revelling in the shiver she elicits, before slipping beneath the waistband and pressing gently, teasingly against your clit. She presses another kiss to your lips, deepening it against your moans as she moves down to push a finger inside.

“Emily,” you cry, panting as the initial pressure against your walls makes you see stars, warm wetness helping to ease her fingers inside. She slowly works you open as she alternates between kissing you, sucking on your neck and whispering dirty, encouraging platitudes in your ear.

“Do you think you’re ready to take my cock, princess?” she asks, tone dripping and sultry as she whispers directly into your ear, licking a stripe over the shell as you moan loudly. She holds the condom-covered dildo directly in your line of sight as she presses her own heat against your thigh, rutting slightly to ease her own immediate arousal.

“Yes, Emily, please” you beg, pushing your thigh up so she can use it properly, getting an appreciative moan in response.

“Good girl,” she praises, kissing you again as she lines up the dildo, easing it into you gently, pausing when your aroused moans betray a hint of pain. “God, you took that so well. You are a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you? Built to take my cock.”

“Yeah,” you whine, writhing as you feel the fullness of the dildo inside you, moaning again as Emily starts to fuck in and out. She starts out slowly before speeding it up, fucking you hard with your own dildo as she murmurs absolute filth into your ear. “Stop, stop.”

She stills her hand immediately, but you quickly ease her mind. “I’m close, don’t want to come yet.”

At that, she beams down at you. “Good girl. I think it’s my turn to get off, don’t you?”

Technically, she’s been grinding down on your leg the whole time she’s been fucking you, but you get what she means and reach for the finger vibrator, dildo still wedged firmly inside you, while she rolls onto her back. You fit the vibe onto your first finger and turn it on, thankful you recently changed the battery recently as you slide on a latex covering over your finger. She smiles encouragingly as you maneuver her hips to the right angle before teasing her a little with your middle finger to ease her into it before pressing the vibe to her folds first, thoroughly enjoying the jerk her hips make at the pleasure, before working your way up to her clit.

She throws her head back and moans wantonly as you work her over, running your other hand up her side before making your way to her breasts, leaning down to suck and bite gently at them as she cups her hand against the back of your neck, keeping your mouth where she wants.

“Keep going,” she moans as she approaches her orgasm, rutting against your finger as you swallow her nipple into your mouth with renewed vigour, desperate to bring her off. She shouts your name as she cums, squirming around your finger as her hips writhe with pleasure, eyes screwed close. It’s a beautiful sight, seeing a woman cum, and it’s so much better than whatever you’ve seen in porn, because you did this. Emily’s orgasm is your work of art and you couldn’t be prouder to sign your name against it.

“Good girl,” she sighs as she comes down. “You did so well. Now, shall we finish you off, baby?”

You’re virtually there already, seeing Emily’s pleasure had been getting you closer and closer to your own orgasm. It only takes Emily rolling you onto your back, kissing you again and fucking you a few more times with the dildo that’s stayed inside you the whole time while fingering your clit just teasingly enough to get you over the edge, powerful orgasm crashing over you as Emily whispers praise against your ear. It takes you out for a minute, lost in the haze of pleasure and its aftermath, feeling so right in that moment that you never want to leave it, wrapped up in Emily’s arms while you hang in the inbetween of a dreamy daze and reality.

Eventually, you blink your eyes open, meeting Emily’s glassy ones and smile up at her, working the energy up to roll her over and kiss her again in earnest, knowing exactly what she likes by now.

“What was that for?” she asks after you break apart, chuckling a little at your eagerness.

“A thank you,” you murmur, smiling fondly down at her.

“The best thank you you could give me is a dinner date later this week,” Emily grins. “And I’ll thank you afterwards with another mind-blowing orgasm, how does that sound?”

You stare down at her for a moment, wondering how on earth you managed to win somebody so perfect, before shaking out of it and smiling softly again. “That sounds perfect.”

#emily prentiss x y/n #reader-insert #criminal minds reader-insert #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #emily prentiss #my writing

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jettingtothemoon · 4 years

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Shiggy pt 2

➳ pairing: shigaraki tomura x f!reader ➳ genre: fluff, smut ➳ warnings: swearing, smut, soft shiggy, rough sex, unprotected sex, pulling out, slight overstimulation, virgin shiggy, shigaraki being a parent to y/n for a solid chunk of this fic ➳ word count: 4900 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which y/n is unexpectedly hit with a quirk that turns her into a toddler for a short while and has no memory of shiggy. ➳ a/n: y/n turns back before the sex because like if she didn’t that would be seriously wrong. also reading part 1 isn’t necessary but is advised ^.^

After confessing for feelings for Shigaraki, the two of you started dating. Cuddles in his room became common for the two of you. Not to mention your late-night gaming sessions. Shiggy would sit on the floor with you in his lap, a controller in both of your hands as you played until the early hours of the morning.

Kurogiri always told the two of you not to stay up too late, especially as your quirk required a lot of energy to run on, but you didn't listen. You figured it would be fine as long as you ate enough food before going out on a mission. Eventually, however, the late nights caught up on you.

It was supposed to be an easy mission and, had you been at your full capacity, it would have been. It was just you and Dabi as your quirks were the best suited for the job. Unfortunately, you were not aware of your opponents' quirks. You were being careful and, after only a couple of minutes you had figured out most of their quirks. Well, all but one. It was that one quirk that would incapacitate you during the fight. You were caught off guard when you didn't have enough neon energy to use another bust to get away in time and, as soon as their hand landed on you, everything became rather... unusual.

Everyone suddenly seemed much, much taller than you. In fact, who even where these people? And what was all that noise? Such scary noises. It wasn't until a burst of blue flames shot overhead that your fear finally settled in and you fell onto your bottom as you began to squeal out. Tears ran down your face as you sniffled, not understanding what was happening. Before you could even begin to comprehend where you were, someone was scooping you up into their arms and running away. You didn't recognise the man but, for some reason, he seemed familiar.

He ran with you in his arms as he tried to keep you safe and, when you were finally away from the scary people, your tears began to clam down.

Shigaraki was sitting at the bar as usual while he waited for your return. He sat there, playing on his switch as he waited for you and Dabi to come back through the door safe and sound to update him on how the mission went. However, when the door did open and you finally came back, Shigaraki furrowed his brows.

"Who's the kid? Where's y/n?" He asked, bringing to scratch at his neck.

"We might have a slight problem." Dabi sighed as he walked over with the child, carrying her over to his boss.

Shigaraki's eyes widened when he finally recognised that small little face, "y-y/n?"

He reached out, taking you from Dabi's arms, as h3 tried to process what he was looking at. It was most certainly you but you were, well, small. A baby almost, probably about four or five. You clung to him, your tiny hands scrunching up his shirt as you nuzzled your head into the dark material.

This man, he seemed familiar too. Although you had no idea who he was or why you felt so safe in his arms. You couldn't remember any of these people but you knew they were not your family. You remembered your family, your mum and dad. They were not here, maybe they were at work? Maybe this was an uncle you hadn't met before?

"Shigaraki." Kurogiri spoke, drawing your boyfriend's attention away from your tiny form for a moment.

"What do we do?" Shigaraki asked, looking back down to you as you fell asleep in his arms while sucking your thumb in between your teeth.

Kurogiri began to reassure him, "This is most likely a temporary effect. Not many quirks are powerful enough to have a permanent effect like this so she should be back to normal in a few days."

"A few days," Shigaraki spoke a little too loudly and lowered his voice when you began to stir, "She could be like this for a few fucking days?"

"Calm down, we will be able to look after her until she turns back to normal."

Shigaraki lifted you up, holding you at arm's length from himself as he looked over your tiny sleeping face.

Then, his own face softened and he pulled you back to his chest, "Someone needs to watch her all the time. This place is dangerous enough as it is, let alone for a child."

"Aww, little Shiggy is getting soft." Toga giggled although it only earned her a threatening glare from Shigaraki.

Only you were allowed to call him that.

Toga held her hands up in surrender but continued to giggle when he stood up and carefully carried you into his room.

He put you down on his bed, gently tucking you in before brushing a strand of hair from your face. You were so tiny that it scared him. He didn't know what to do, he wasn't good with children, but he also knew that someone needed to keep an eye on you. Knowing that he would certainly not entrust your safety to Toga or Dabi, he decided that either he or Kurogiri would need to watch you and maker sure you weren't doing anything dangerous.

He sighed and left you in bed as he went over to his computer and loaded up a game. You were sleeping for now, after all, so it wasn't like you could get into too much trouble. He wasn't sure if you remembered who he was but he hoped to find out once you woke up later.

He had been playing for about an hour when it started. At first, you began to call out quietly for your mummy, which he sympathised with as, although he didn't know the ins and outs of what happened to your family, he knew they were no longer around. You were alone just like him but he wasn't alone anymore because you had become his family. He was going to pause the game and check on you but you soon quietened down again so he continued.

Ignorant of what was happening behind him, Shigaraki continued to immerse himself in the game, almost forgetting about your current situation completely. Well, until he heard a crash.

He threw his controller down and jumped up, running over to you and scooping you up off of the bed just before a piece of the ceiling fell on you.

"What the hell?" He questioned looking up at the purple scorches that had clearly been created with your quirk.

Before he could even begin to understand what had just happened, you were crying rather loudly. Your tiny little face was covered in tears and snot as you hugged him tightly and fisted at his shirt.

He still didn't know what to do or how to deal with this but he knew he needed to at least try and calm you down. So, he carried you over to the chair by his computer and sat down, holding you carefully as you sat in his lap and contained to cry.

"y/n? It's okay, I... I'm here." He thought about how a normal person would comfort a small child such as yourself and tried his best to sound calm in hopes of calming you with the tone of his voice.

You sniffled in his arms and pulled his top towards you, rubbing your runny nose with it before looking up at him with big, red eyes.

"I- I had a nightmare." You sniffled again and suddenly it began to make sense.

You had mentioned to him before about how you were a handful for your parents when your quirk first manifested because any little emotion could set it off. That must have been what had happened while you were sleeping.

"It's okay, y/n. It was just a bad dream. You're okay." He hugged you and ran his fingers through your hair again, being extra gentle as he was still not used to your fragile form.

"W- Who are you?" You sniffled again and his heart dropped, you didn't remember him.

"I- I'm Shigaraki."

You giggled to yourself and grinned up at him, "Uncle Shiggy."

It seemed even the child you liked to give people nicknames, or maybe it was a remnant of your missing memories.

He sighed and nodded his head, "Yeah... Uncle Shiggy."

Uncle Shiggy looked after you all night. He got you something to eat, that Kurogiri prepared just for you, and even stayed by your side as you ate. While you were eating, Shigaraki explained what had happened earlier to Kurogiri, who explained that all they could do was try to keep you calm so that you wouldn't accidentally hurt yourself or anyone else with your quirk.

When you finished eating, you demanded that Uncle Shiggy carry you to bed, which Toga found rather amusing, but he did so nonetheless.

"I want to sleep with Uncle Shiggy!" You exclaimed with your arms outstretched towards him, grabbing at the air hoping for him to come close.

Shigaraki sighed, knowing that the others had certainly heard you call out and were most likely sat giggling in the other room, but he still turned his games off and climbed into bed with you.

"Uncle Shiggy?" You asked as you snuggled up to him.

He only hummed.

"Why am I here? Where are mum and dad?"

You really did want to know why you were staying here instead of going home, not that you minded having a sleepover with Uncle Shiggy.

Shigaraki didn't know quite what to say, or do, in this situation and his silence started to worry you.

"Uncle Shiggy?"

"Your parents have some business they need to take care of so you're staying here with us for a while." He explained but, had you not been a toddler, you would not have been convinced with his words.

"I get to stay here with you?" You asked, growing more excited as you thought about having more fun with Uncle Shiggy.

He nodded and turned over to turn the light off, "Yes, now go to sleep."

"But what about my nose rubbies?" You pouted, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow, "Nose rubbies?"

"Yes, I need my nose rubbies before going to bed." You demanded.

"Um..."

After a moment, even the child version of yourself knew that Shigaraki had no idea what you were going on about.

"This is a nose rubbies." You huffed before pressing your nose softly to his and rubbing it side to side.

Shigaraki, who was still not used to the physical affection in your normal relationship, practically froze stiff when your nose pressed against his. Regardless, he didn't stop you and even found some comfort in your small, innocent gesture.

Without realising quite what came over him, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your nose and pulled you closer. He would have liked to have kissed you normally but, as you were currently a child, that would have been much too weird even for him.

"Nighty night." You yawned, wrapping a tiny arm around what you could of Shigaraki.

He just sighed but, smiled a little nonetheless, "Nighty night, little y/n."

When morning came, you had thankfully not had another nightmare and hadn't caused any harm or damage to the building or anyone in it. You woke up, lying against Shigaraki, who still had one arm wrapped around you.

Shigaraki was one who liked to sleep in, unfortunately, with an energetic child to look after that wasn't going to happen.

You climbed up onto him and he groaned when you dropped your weight onto his chest.

"Uncle Shiggy. Wake up, it's morning."

He groaned again, draping an arm up over his eyes before lifting it slightly to peel his eyes open and look at you.

"Shit."

He flipped his head back down onto the pillow, arm back over his eyes as he came to realise that what happened yesterday wasn't just a bad dream and that he really was stuck with a child version of his girlfriend for the foreseeable future.

"That's a naughty word." You complained, scalding Uncle Shiggy for his choice in words this morning.

He just sighed and lifted you off of him as he climbed out of bed before placing you back down. He stretched and looked at the clock before turning back to you with an almost angry expression.

"You woke me up at five to seven?"

In his tone alone you could tell that maybe you should have let him sleep a little longer but it was too late now, the damage was done. And so, you simply hung your head and mumbled, "Sorry."

He sighed again and sat back down at the end of the bed, "It's fine. Just... try not to do it tomorrow."

You grinned and nodded obediently, "Okay, I won't. I promise."

Although, when the next day came, you broke that promise.

"I thought I told you to let me fucking sleep?" He yelled.

However, his tone quickly changed when all it did was make you cry.

He immediately sat beside you and tired to hush your cries, gently wiping your tears away with his sleeve, "I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

You sniffled and looked at him with your big puffy eyes, "I'm sorry, Uncle Shiggy. I just had so much fun yesterday that I wanted to wake you up early to have more fun today."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest as he carded his fingers through your hair.

Although he didn't particularly find the day before to be any fun at all, you certainly had. After waking him up before seven, he made you breakfast, although he wasn't entirely sure how to do it or what you could eat. Then, once you had eaten, he pretty much just let you watch movies all day.

He sent Dabi out to get popcorn and sweets, which turned out to be a very bad idea because it just made you hyper. Not to mention, watching you watch crappy kids tv and movies all day drained the life out of him. You stood in front of the screen, singing along or calling out when the characters on the screen asked you something. You literally stood on the spot, bouncing up and down constantly until hours had passed and you were finally drained of your energy.

By that point, Shigaraki picked you up and tucked you into bed, hoping that this would have tired you out enough to get some more sleep the next day. He was wrong, however, and you had somehow managed to wake him up even earlier than before.

You were now onto day three. Three days of looking after a toddler. Three days of his life that Shigaraki was never going to get back and it didn't look like you would be turning back any time soon. He just missed you, the older you. He missed your kisses and cuddles. Holding such a tiny version of you in his arms just wasn't the same. You would fidget and try to take off his gloves even though he told you how bad it would be if you did so. He was starting to understand why so many parents seemed so exhausted all of the time. Only, he wasn't looking after his child. He was looking after you, his girlfriend, who should most certainly not be a toddler when you were really a fully grown adult.

"How much longer will she be like this?" Shigaraki asked, still holding you in his arms as he spoke to Kurogiri.

Of course, you were too preoccupied with the toy he had made Toga buy you to pay any attention to their conversation.

"It shouldn't be much longer. To be honest, I thought she would have already turned back by now."

Shigaraki looked down at you, "What if she never turns back?"

"She will. No quirk is that strong." Kurogiri reassured, although it didn't help ease Shigaraki's nerves.

When it was time for bed, Uncle Shiggy tucked you in like usual but was surprised when your little hand reached up to touch the dried skin around his eyes.

You tilted your little head to the side and asked so innocently, "Why is your skin like this?"

Shigaraki was taken aback by our question, not really expecting you to bring it up because you hadn't even bothered to ask when you were adult.

He frowned a little and began to scratch at his neck as he sat down on the bed beside you, "It's, um, some kind of skin condition? I think- I don't really know. Allergies or something?"

"Oh."

That was all you said, your only reply and, somehow, it was the best one you could have given. Your lack of interest in it made Shigaraki feel better somehow because it was like it lacked importance. As if it didn't really matter that his skin was dry and, as he had heard so many times before, gross. He had always hated it, especially when he was younger and actually cared what people thought of him. He just wanted to look normal, like all of the other kids. He was insecure about it, not that he really showed it all that much, and was especially insecure about it around you. Because you were the only one that mattered.

He smiled when you just grabbed his hand and turned onto your side, closing your eyes as you drifted off to sleep. He sat there and brushed your hair out of your face, leaving his other hand where it was being hugged by your two little ones while he waited for you to fall asleep.

It was only ever quiet when you were asleep and he had found that he even enjoyed watching you sleep so soundly. When you were definitely asleep, he slipped his hand out and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before walking around the bed and climbing in the other side.

The next morning, despite his scalding of you the two days before, he had expected to be woken up early. However, when you were finally shaking him awake, it was much later than those other days.

"Shiggy?" You questioned, not quite remembering how you had wound up in his bed.

You cuddled a lot but you hadn't slept in here yet, surely you would remember why you were in here in the first place. The last thing you do remember is fighting alongside Dabi.

"y/n?" Shigaraki exclaimed, sitting up so abruptly that it made you jump.

Before you could ask him what was going on or why he looked so surprised, he dived onto you and wrapped his arms tightly around you. You giggled and hugged him back despite still not understanding what was going on.

"We are never having kids." He grumbled upon releasing you, only confusing you further.

After that, he explained everything to you about what had happened and how many days had passed. Four days ago you had been turned into a toddler thanks to a de-ageing quirk but now you were thankfully back to normal.

Of course, Toga had giggled and told you all about how cute you were and how Shigaraki was so protective of you. She also told you that you had taken to calling him 'Uncle Shiggy' and that you demanded to sleep in his bed with him every night. Not to mention, you apparently liked to sit in his lap and cuddle him pretty much all of the time.

You just chuckled at it all as she told you and glanced over to Shiggy, who was frowning but blushing a little nonetheless, every time Toga brought up how he was with you in your tiny form. It made you smile as you thought about him looking after you when you were so small and confused, especially how much of a handful you must have been.

When Shigaraki had had enough of listening to everyone explaining it all to you, he took hold of your wrist and dragged you along to his room. You sat down on his bed, eagerly waiting for him to sit beside you so you could cuddle up next to him. He soon complied and nestled his head into your hair when you cuddled into his chest.

"When you were- well, little- you had a nightmare and your neon was purple. Does it change colour a lot?" Shiggy asked.

You nodded, "The colour changes based on my mood. It'll be red when I'm angry or fighting. It goes blue when I'm sad and yellow when I'm happy. Purple means I'm scared or in distress."

He hummed and seemed to think for a moment before flipping you down onto the bed so that he was on top of you, his face hovering just above yours.

"What colour is it now?" His breath fanned over your face, his lips barely brushing over yours.

You smiled, feeling your heart pound in your chest and allowed a flicker of light to flash through your eyes.

"Pink? What does it mean?" He tilted his head to the side, eyes still looking into your own as you reached out for his hand.

You pulled his hand over and placed it onto your chest, knowing he would be able to feel the rapid beats of your heart, "What do you think it means?"

His answer to that question was rather simple as his head dived down and he finally captured your lips with his own. His hand didn't move from where you had placed it until you pushed one of your own into his hair and used your other to move his.

When you moved his hand so that he was cupping your breast, he took the sign and didn't hesitate to squeeze it slightly. His groping only continued as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

When your lips parted, you pulled his bottom one between your teeth before letting it go and kissing him again.

"I love you." You grinned, grinding against him as your lips connected again.

His hands continued to roam your body until one slipped under your shirt. His fingers were almost gentle as they ran over your skin, still somewhat unsure of how to do this affection thing. Not to mention, you were his first kiss so he was certainly still a virgin.

Not that it made much of an impact.

Shigaraki was new to showing affection, new to kisses and cuddles and tender touches between lovers. And yet, he was an unexpectedly fast learner. He still seemed unsure but his confidence only grew as you continued to kiss him with such desperation, such need.

His touches grew rougher as he pulled reactions from you, figuring out what felt good and what didn't. He came to realise that you liked his rough hands, much like you liked the rough skin of his lips against your own. However, what seemed to set you off the most, was a combination of both roughness and gentleness. So, as one hand almost harshly pulled at your hair, the other tenderly squeezed at your breast while a gentle thumb rubbed over your nipple.

Both of your hands were in his hair, moving around to twirl and tug at his messy locks. Occasionally, your hands would slip back towards his face until his ear was between your fingers. His ears were sensitive, as you had unexpectedly discovered during one of your cuddle sessions.

As he kissed at your neck, tongue coming out to lick you here and there, your lips went to his ear. Your teeth pulled at his lobe, biting down just enough to leave the pale skin there a pretty shade of pink.

When his hand ventured lower, slipping into your underwear, your breath hitched.

"S-Shiggy-"

You were cut off with a groan as he slipped a finger inside of you, moving it about randomly as he got a feel of your insides before slipping in another. He spread them about inside you, trying to figure out what felt good as he listened to your breathing. A hitch; he'd hit a sweet spot. A moan; he was doing a good job. Nothing; you weren't feeling it at all.

"I- Is it okay? Does it... does it feel good?" He asked, his insecurities coming into the light once again.

You nodded, breathing out another moan as you tightened your grip on his hair.

"It feels really good but- but I want you." You had to stop halfway to catch your breath only to whine in dissatisfaction when he pulled his fingers out.

Although, your breath stopped altogether seconds later when he suddenly pushed into you. You could tell he was trying not to move right away but, from the small movements of his hips, you could tell he was struggling.

You buried your head into his neck, holding tightly onto the back of his shirt as you adjusted. He was somewhat larger than you had expected but not so much that it shocked you. He was around average and, in your opinion, the perfect size to slot comfortably in you.

"Y- You can move, Shiggy. You don't have to hold back."

With your confirmation, he began thrusting into you. He tried to keep a steady pace at first but grew rough quickly. Not that you minded. Actually, you liked seeing him losing control over you.

Every time his hips snapped into you, his little grunts and groans humming in your ear, you squeezed so tightly against his shirt that you swear your knuckles must have been white. It just felt so good. Not that it was the best sex in the world. He was clumsy and even a little sloppy if you were being honest but just the fact that it was him was enough. Just knowing that he was pouring all of his feelings, however new to him they may have been, into trying to please you was enough. You loved him so, so much. And, although it wasn't always so clear, he loved you too.

"Fuck, Shiggy. There, right there." You whimpered out as he hit that certain spot within you.

He hit it over and over, missing every couple of thrusts only to hit it head-on again the next time. He was trying so hard. He just wanted to try his best to make you feel good too.

Many people, civilians, heroes and even villains alike would call Shigaraki selfish. He didn't care for his league, he just cared about himself. His goal was to be the most powerful villain, to kill the great all might, to take over from his master.

To you, however, he was anything but selfish. He was a shimmer of hope in the darkness. He did care, he was just bad at showing it. He cared for you and the rest of the league in his own special way. Obviously, the way he felt about you was very different from his feelings towards them. However, they were the closest thing he had to a family now and he knew that. If someone were to harm any of you he would kill them without hesitation.

That was just how he was. Shigaraki cared, he always had.

"Shiggy. I'm going to-" Before you could even finish you released.

Toes curling, back-arching, nails digging into his shoulder blades. After that, it was all too much for you but he still wasn't quite there. His thrusts grew even harsher as he chased his own high, over-stimulating you in the process. When he finally saw the tears building in your eyes, he quickly pulled out and finished himself off in his hand. He came all over you, dirtying your shirt as he rubbed himself through his release.

When he was done, he reached up and wiped the tears from your eyes, apologising for hurting you but his eyes only widened when you took a hold of his hand and kissed his palm with gentle lips.

"It's okay Shiggy. It didn't hurt, it was just a little too much."

Your eyes met his and he seemed to melt completely. But, after feeling his own tiredness, he climbed off of you and got off of the bed. He grabbed a hoodie of his and passed it to you before he delved into a messy draw for some clean sheets.

You got up, putting his hoodie on and grabbing a box of tissues to clean yourself up. When you were finally free of all the sticky bodily fluids, you threw the tissue into the bin and grabbed a clean pair of pants, pulling them on before climbing back into the newly made bed.

You reached out like a child, hands grabbing out towards Shigaraki to get him to come to you.

He sighed, "Not this again."

With a soft chuckle, you pulled him into the bed. His head rested on your chest as you played with his hair, pulling the covers up over the both of you.

"Goodnight Shiggy. I love you." You smiled, yawning as you cuddled him.

He closed his eyes, head resting against your comfortable chest as he mumbled, "I love you too."

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #boku no hero academia shigaraki #shigaraki x you #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki smut #smut #fluff #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha #my hero academia #shigaraki tomura

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Emerald and Amber

Summary: This story concerns an amber-eyed young man from Xerxes, and an emerald-eyed young woman from the lands to the West that have not yet become the country of Amestris.

A little tale exploring a world in which Trisha was Hohenheim’s contemporary, and they met back in the halcyon days of Xerxes before he became immortal.

Written for the Wriye ‘What’s In A Name?’ title challenge. As soon as I saw the prompt ‘Emerald and Amber’ I knew it had to be Trisha and Hohenheim.

Rated: T

Content Warning: Mentions of slavery, including sex slavery.

Emerald and Amber

Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

This story has two endings.

One is emerald. One is amber.

Neither ending is entirely happy, but neither ending is entirely sad, either. They are both, however, endings: final finishing points, where the story comes to a natural close.

This story concerns an amber-eyed young man from Xerxes, and an emerald-eyed young woman from the lands to the West that have not yet become the country of Amestris.

When they meet, these two endings begin to weave themselves into their respective shapes.

This is the beginning of both these endings.

Van Hohenheim, newly named, newly freed, newly literate and, indeed, newly everything, is not quite sure what he ought to expect from his life going forward. He has spent the last few years working diligently alongside his master and Homunculus and has reaped the rewards of that, and whilst he’s always had dreams of having a family of his own, he’s never been entirely sure that’s on the cards for him. In his line of work he doesn’t really get out much to meet people, not when he has to spend so much time in the alchemy laboratory. It doesn’t really lend itself to dating.

Not that Hohenheim would really know what to do if he had the time to date, and if he had someone to date in the first place. Whilst he’s always dreamed of having a family, it’s always been a rather nebulous dream and he’s never given all that much thought to all the processes that go into the creation of a family in the first place, such as finding a wife and having children with her.

It’s precisely two days after he casually laments this to Homunculus that Hohenheim’s life changes irrevocably, because whilst he’s not at all sure what to expect from his life going forward, going into his room one evening to find a young woman with the green eyes and dark hair of the western lands beyond the desert is definitely not something he would ever have expected.

Eloquence is not one of the traits that Hohenheim prides himself on, so he feels justified when the first word out of his mouth on meeting this lady is “erm…”

She just looks at him. There’s tension in her entire frame, arms crossed over her chest protectively and shoulders hunched, but her eyes, as they hold his steadily, are bold and defiant. She’s wearing a loose silky gown that’s so sheer it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination and Hohenheim isn’t sure where to look, finally settling on the ceiling as the best place. She’s evidently had a bath but there are blisters on her feet from a long walk through the desert sands and Hohenheim knows she’s a prisoner from the Xerxian army’s latest land-grab foray into the west, spared the ransack of her village because she’s so pretty and she’ll do good harem service in Xerxes with her exotic colouring.

Hohenheim’s stomach churns at the thought of it. It was not so very long ago that he had just as little freedom, although at least his tasks were menial and domestic rather than sexual.

“Erm…” He clears his throat and tries again. “Erm, I think you have the wrong room.”

“Don’t I please you, sir?”

Her Xerxian is halting and Hohenheim wracks his brains for the bits of Western he’s picked up over the last couple of years. The frequency of the army’s excursions across the border have resulted in a lot more westerners arriving in Xerxes, and the tongue is not silent here. Hohenheim hears it often enough in the kitchens and sculleries, places that, as hard as the memories of his indentured time are, are sometimes more familiar than the small room in the palace where he now resides as his master’s most trusted assistant and the most trusted confidant of Homunculus.

“Erm, no. Yes. No. I mean, you’re very pretty but I really don’t think that you’re, erm, for me. And I’m not a sir. I’m just a, well, me.”

“You are Hohenheim?”

“Erm, yes.”

“Then I am for you.”

Hohenheim gives a strangled yelp of alarm as she pulls the shift off and turns tail, racing out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. For a few moments, he’s convinced that this is all a very strange dream and he’ll wake up in a minute. Maybe he’s hallucinating.

He counts to ten and goes back inside, but despite his hopes, the woman is still definitely there and still definitely naked.

“Right. Erm. Right.”

He grabs the blanket off his bed and wraps it around her shoulders.

“I’m just going to find out what’s happening.” He doesn’t tell her not to go anywhere, because he’s still not entirely convinced that she’s there in the first place.

The woman just draws the blanket around herself and sits down on the bed as Hohenheim rushes out of the door again. He leans back against it and takes several deep breaths. This is not at all how he expected to be spending his evening and he really needs an explanation from someone.

Unfortunately he knows that the person most likely to be able to give him an explanation is also not entirely a person, and he worries just what Homunculus’s explanation might be.

Slowly, Hohenheim makes his way back towards the laboratory and Homunculus in its flask.

“Back again so soon, Hohenheim?”

“I was hoping you could tell me why there’s a naked lady in my bedroom.”

“Oh, don’t you like her?”

“I… She’s lovely but why is she there?”

Homunculus shrugs as much as a ball of smoke in a flask can shrug. “You were lamenting your difficulties in finding female company,” it says, completely nonchalant. “Since I knew that there was a party returning with new blood for the harems, I persuaded our good friend the alchemist that you deserved one for the night.”

“I… That is not what I meant!”

“Don’t you want her? I’m sure we can find someone more to your tastes if you’d like.”

“No, that’s really not the issue here.” Hohenheim realises that it’s going to be impossible to get Homunculus to understand what the problem is, because as deeply and profoundly intelligent as it is, it is at times like this that it shows it is really not human and does not necessarily understand the vast complexities of the human condition in all its messiness.

“Well, what are you waiting for? You’ve only got her for the night. Any other man would be making the most of it.”

Hohenheim shakes his head in despair and leaves the laboratory again, wending his way back to his room.

The woman is still there, still sitting on the bed in his blanket, and she looks up as he comes in.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” he says. At least, that’s what he hopes he says. His Western isn’t very good. The woman just looks at him, confused.

“Don’t I please you, sir?”

Hohenheim really does not know enough Western to make his next speech at all intelligible to her, so he launches into it in Xerxian and hopes for the best.

“You’re lovely, and I’m sure you’re very, erm, pleasing, but I’m still not going to sleep with you. I was a slave once too, I know what it’s like, and I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do. You’re not mine, you shouldn’t be anyone’s, you should just be you, and I’m not going to sleep with you because it’s what’s expected of either you or me.”

He sinks down onto the bed beside and she looks at him with curiosity rather than the tense defiance she’s shown so far.

“Patrizia.”

“Sorry?”

“Patrizia.” She points to him. “Hohenheim.” She points to herself. “Patrizia. Trisha.”

Hohenheim smiles.

“Hello Trisha. Nice to meet you.”

She reaches out and pats his hand. “You are a good man.”

“I try not to be a bad one.”

They fall back into silence for a little while. Hohenheim is glad that they’ve now introduced themselves properly and he’s glad that Trisha seems to understand that nothing’s going to happen between them, but at the same time he still doesn’t quite know what to do with her, because whatever happens, her position is precarious.

She’s been brought back to Xerxes to be a harem girl, that much is obvious, but since after tonight she will ostensibly no longer be a virgin, she won’t be part of the royal or other noble harems - she’ll be considered sullied, and relegated to the more dangerous brothels in the more dubious parts of the city.

Hohenheim is not naive enough to think that anyone will believe him if he says he didn’t sleep with her. He’s a hot-blooded young man, after all, and everyone knows that there’s only one thing on a hot-blooded young man’s mind.

Hohenheim knows that the one thing is not supposed to be alchemy, but then again, he’s never really considered himself to be all that normal, so he’s just accepted that he’s not all that interested in sex and goes about his life not thinking too much about it.

All the same, he knows that from the moment Trisha was brought into this room, her fate was sealed, and he knows that he needs to do something about it. He can’t let her go through what’s in store for her. He has to do something. There must be something he can do.

A plan begins to form in his mind.

The good thing about her being considered ‘damaged goods’ after tonight is that no one will miss her if she disappears quietly and is not found in his room in the morning. He can spirit her away to somewhere safe, as long as he can find somewhere safe for her.

He crosses his fingers that this plan isn’t going to come to nothing, and he gets up again.

“Stay here.”

He’s not sure whether Trisha understands, but she’s showing no signs of moving, and Hohenheim leaves the room, racing through the palace as quickly and hopefully unobtrusively as possible until he reaches the kitchens. The smell brings back the odd fond memory from a childhood that now feels very far away.

He peers around the door into the bustle. Even this late in the evening, the kitchen is still working, preparing things for tomorrow.

“Pst. Cam.”

It takes him a few moments to get Cam’s attention, and she heaves a sigh, coming over to him at the door.

“You’re really not supposed to be here, you know,” she says. “What brings you down here this time?”

“I need help.”

“What’s new?”

Hohenheim tries not to be too put out at that remark. “It’s not help for me, it’s help for someone else. And potentially help for you. Have you got space for another person in here?”

Cam looks around the kitchen.

“Space? Potentially not. Work enough? Absolutely. What’s going on, Hohenheim?”

“I have a naked lady in my bedroom and I don’t know what to do with her.”

Cam raises an eyebrow. “I know you came into your education comparatively late, Hohenheim, but I distinctly remember giving you that particular talk.”

Hohenheim just glares at her. “I know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what to do if I don’t want to do that.”

“So you’re trying to rescue her instead?” Cam gives a soft sigh. “Oh, Hohenheim.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so… Never mind. I take it she’s Western and came in with the latest raid return?”

Hohenheim nods.

“Right.” Cam bustles back into the depths of the kitchen and returns a minute later with a bowl of fruit and some kitchen utensils. “I’ll come by later and help you get her away. In the meantime, you can make yourself useful and teach her enough Xerxian that she doesn’t get herself killed on her first day in the kitchen.”

Hohenheim rushes back to his room, keeping an eye out for anyone who might question the rather eclectic mix of items that he’s taking there. Trisha is still there. He hadn’t really expected her to go anywhere, but he’s still relieved to see her. She’s put the shift back on but the blanket is still wrapped around her shoulders as she looks out over the desert, the sunset making the sand in the distance glow amber for a moment before it vanishes completely and plunges Xerxes into darkness.

“Trisha?”

She turns and gives him an incredulous look at his utensils.

“It’s nothing weird, I promise.” Realising that’s probably not at all reassuring since she can’t understand enough of the language, Hohenheim just sighs and offers her a pear instead. She eats eagerly and ravenously, the juice dripping over her fingers, and for the next hour or so, they make good headway with learning the the Xerxian for various fruits and kitchen utensils. Hohenheim’s not sure if he’s learning more Western than Trisha is learning Xerxian, but as long as Cam keeps her on desserts in the kitchen, she should be fine.

By the time Cam arrives with a motherly smile and some rather more substantial clothing, Trisha seems to have fully understood what her new fate is, and as she leaves his room, she kisses Hohenheim’s cheek in gratitude.

For a long time after Cam spirits her away to the kitchen staff’s quarters, Hohenheim can only stare at the open door.

It’s the first time he’s ever been kissed.

This story has two endings. One is emerald, reflected in the eyes of the defiant young Western woman who stays unnoticed in the shadows of the palace kitchen, learning the language around her by osmosis, her dark hair tucked under a scarf, never drawing attention to her roots. One is amber, reflected in the eyes of the confused young Xerxian alchemist who keeps sneaking down to peer in at the kitchen door and check that she’s all right. Sometimes she sees him and gives a smile and a wave. Sometimes he’s shooed away before she notices him.

They’re both glad that the other is all right after that night that brought them together and began to set these two endings in motion, and so the endings continue to weave from the beginning of the story into the middle.

Hohenheim is surprised to receive a soft knock on his door late one night, and even more surprised to find Trisha grinning at him when he opens it.

“You sneak down to see me,” she says by way of explanation. “My turn to sneak.”

“Oh. Right. Ok.” He steps back, inviting her inside. “Come on in.”

She steps in daintily, looking around at the room where their first meeting took place, months ago now.

“How are you getting on?” Hohenheim asks.

“Good. Cam is nice. Everyone is nice. I feel happy in the kitchen.”

Trisha’s Xerxian is definitely coming on in leaps and bounds, Hohenheim can tell. He follows her over to the window and they stare out at the desert night together like they did on that first evening.

“I miss home.” Trisha sighs. “I miss green. Everything here is so white and yellow.”

“Yeah. I’d like to see green some day.”

“Maybe one day I’ll take you to my home.” She’s so frank and matter of fact. “Then you’ll see lots of green.”

“What’s it like, your home? Apart from green.”

“Sheep,” Trisha says definitively. “Lots of sheep. But some people too. Good people like you. I think they would like you.”

Hohenheim gives an awkward cough, fixing his gaze on the horizon and pointedly avoiding Trisha’s eye. He hears her giggle beside him, and after a few more moments he turns to find her watching him, amused.

“You’re funny,” she says.

“Oh. Thank you. I think.”

They continue looking out of the window over the city in silence for a while, but there’s nothing uncomfortable in it save for Hohenheim’s inherent awkwardness that he doesn’t think he’ll ever grow out of even though he’s now approaching thirty (he thinks - he’s never been entirely sure of his birth date). There’s still movement and chatter in the streets outside the palace; in a city as big as this one there’s always something happening no matter the time of the day or night. Braziers will always be burning, people will always be working.

Trisha watches it all with rapt attention, and Hohenheim finds himself watching her.

“Have you been outside?”

“Outside?” Her brow furrows.

“You know. Out there.” He waves his hand out of the window to indicate the city.

“Oh. I see. No.”

“Do you want to go outside? I could take you out now?”

There’s nothing stopping them - he’s a free man, and Trisha’s not really got any kind of civil status at all since she vanished into the kitchens, but Hohenheim still feels like he’s suggested something clandestine. Maybe it’s because it’s so late at night, maybe because everything about Trisha feels a little bit forbidden.

Any qualms he had about the suggestion melt away when Trisha’s face lights up at the suggestion.

“Yes, yes. Yes. Please.”

They leave his room and pad quietly through the palace until they’re out in the streets outside, wandering through the Xerxes of the everyday people. Hohenheim points out the sights to Trisha - well, he points out shop fronts and merchant stalls and names them for her, listening to her rich foreign accent curling around the words as she repeats them back.

Presently she shivers - night time in the desert is as cold as the day is hot, and she steps a little closer into his side as they continue to walk. Even though he feels ridiculous to do it, Hohenheim offers Trisha his arm, like they’re a proper courting couple stepping out together.

Trisha slips her arm through his readily, leaning into his side with an impish smile.

“We look like…” she says, but the final word is lost on him. He’s going to have to get her to teach him some more Western whilst she learns Xerxian.

“What was that?”

“We look like….” Trisha’s brow furrows as she tries to translate. “Honey cakes?”

“Oh. Sweethearts?”

Trisha shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Oh.” Hohenheim pauses. “Is that all right?”

Trisha doesn’t reply, but she stays with her arm linked with his, her presence very real by his side, all the way back to the palace. When he leaves her by the door to the kitchen staff quarters, she goes up on her toes and kisses his cheek again, like she did on that first night. Her bright green eyes are searching for a moment, and then, before he can move away, she pulls him back and presses her lips to his.

Hohenheim squeaks in surprise and she pulls away, startled.

“Oh. Sorry. I thought…”

“No, no. It’s ok. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Trisha is flustered and looking at him without comprehension, so Hohenheim decides that actions are going to have to speak louder than words, and he kisses her back.

“Honey cakes,” Trisha says softly as they pull away, and with that same impish little smile, she disappears around the door, leaving Hohenheim wondering what on earth just happened.

Perhaps the vague dream of having a family of his own won’t be as hard to achieve as he always thought it was.

They settle into a comfortable routine after that, a slow but happy courtship that’s easy in its simplicity. Neither of them have parents or guardians so there are no strict formalities to be observed. Well, Cam counts as guardian of both of them, in a way, but she’s hardly scary, just giving Hohenheim a good-natured ‘treat her well’ one day when he comes to the kitchen at the end of Trisha’s shift to take her out.

It takes a long time for them both to come around to the idea of it, but just over four years after Trisha first appeared in Hohenheim’s room and took her clothes off, she does so again, this time with love rather than defiance in her eyes. It’s not something magical that moves the earth, but it’s something beautiful nonetheless. There wasn’t a lot of point in waiting till they got married. They can’t get married; Trisha doesn’t officially exist.

Trisha rolls over onto his chest and strokes a finger over his chin.

“I like the beard,” she says. “I wasn’t sure when you started growing it out but I like it now. It looked terrible at the start.”

“Thank you. Your lack of faith in my ability to grow facial hair is wounding.”

Trisha just laughs and leans in close to kiss him. She lingers for a long time, their noses touching, and when she finally pulls away and looks down at him, there’s a pensiveness in her face.

“Trisha?”

“What happens when you’ve finished your job?” she asks.

She’s talking about the king’s quest for immortality. The pieces are falling into place now and it won’t be long before the ultimate transmutation takes place and Hohenheim will play his part in bringing that ambition to fruition. Trisha has never fully understood exactly what he does, has never had any interest in alchemy beyond the fact that he is interested in it and she is interested in the things that make him happy, so she just refers to it as his job.

Hohenheim shrugs. “I don’t know. I assume we’ll just keep researching what else alchemy can be used for. Homunculus has a wealth of knowledge still untapped after all.”

“Hmm.” Trisha doesn’t look convinced. “Do you think you’ll ever find the limit of that knowledge?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t trust that thing.”

“I know you don’t.” Truth be told, Hohenheim doesn’t really trust Homunculus either, but he can’t deny that it’s been the key to his current happiness, so he can’t really disparage it too much.

“Do you think you’ll have more time after it’s all done?” Trisha asks.

“Potentially. Why?”

“Just thinking.” Trisha dances her fingertips over his chest. “About the future. You know. You. Me. Perhaps more.”

“Yes. I want that.” Hohenheim has never given up on his dream of having a family, and now he has Trisha, it’s within his grasp. He thinks of what they’ve just done. Maybe it’s already in the works.

Trisha smiles.

“I love you, Van.”

“I love you too, Trisha.”

“Finish your work, and we can be together without anything hanging over us.”

It’s such an inviting prospect, and it’s in the back of Hohenheim’s mind for the next few weeks, until the Promised Day is almost upon them.

This story has two endings. One is emerald. One is amber.

Both endings begin in the same way, with two simple sentences.

“Trisha, I’m worried about what will happen on the Promised Day. I think you should leave Xerxes, just in case.”

Trisha answers “only if you come too,” and the world shifts emerald green.

Trisha answers “I’m not going without you” and the world shifts golden amber.

Trisha leaves. Hohenheim leaves with her. If going with her is the only way to get her to leave, then he’ll leave it all behind. As long as she’s safe in the wilderness across the border.

The Promised Day comes and the population of Xerxes opens the Gate of Truth.

Everything is emerald.

Everyone is dead.

They watch the portal open from just beyond the border, with the lush forests of the west welcoming them on the far horizon.

There’s only dumbfounded horror as Trisha and Hohenheim realise what they have just narrowly escaped. They’re the only survivors of Homunculus’s scheme. Hohenheim is the last of his people. Just like that. Just in a finger snap.

“Van?”

He’s still staring at the devastation as Trisha tugs his hand.

“Van, come away. There’s nothing to be done. All we can do is leave it behind.”

He should have been there. He shouldn’t have left. Why should he survive when everyone else is gone?

But Trisha’s alive. Trisha’s all right, and Trisha never fails to remind him that she’s glad he’s alive, too.

The thought gives him a glimmer of hope.

The west is so green. Hohenheim’s never seen this much green in all his life. He’s lost in it, just as Trisha had been lost in the sands as they made their way away from the city across towards the Xerxes border.

Trisha knows where she’s going though, and within a few days, they make it back to her village. Years have passed since she left it ransacked, but those who were spared have begun to rebuild.

Together he and Trisha can rebuild. Together, they can work towards justice for the Xerxes that they left.

It takes over four hundred years, but the legend of the last Xerxian still holds true. No matter how diluted the bloodline becomes, Van Hohenheim’s amber-gold eyes always appear at least once a generation.

In the end, when the second Promised Day comes, it comes down to a pair of brothers, born in the same village where Trisha and Hohenheim made their home all those years ago, both with those golden Xerxian eyes. It’s fitting that they’re the ones to bring everything to a close.

When it’s all over and all done, Edward and Alphonse Elric trudge up the hill towards the forest, where stone markers set in place centuries ago are entombed in greenery. There are no names, but the family who now call themselves by the name of Elric have always known who lies here.

“Hey Great-Grandma. Hey Great-Grandpa.” Ed gives a tired smile. “There’s way more greats than that by now, but you know what I mean. It’s all over.” He pats the ivy covered stones.

“You can rest now,” Al adds. “You couldn’t finish it in your lifetime, but you made sure we could finish it for you. Rest now.”

The green woods of Resembool have been haunted for years, they say. Only those with the golden-amber eyes of Xerxes can venture in without uneasiness. Perhaps if anyone else had been watching, they would have seen a young woman with a smile like the sun, and a young man in the traditional garb of a Xerxian alchemist walking away from the tombstones as the Elric brothers set their souls at ease.

Within a moment though, the forest is the emerald it was before, and the world is at peace.

Trisha stays. Hohenheim stays. If he can’t persuade her to leave, then he might as well go ahead with the plan. As long as she’s safe in the kitchen with Cam.

The Promised Day comes and the population of Xerxes opens the Gate of Truth.

Everything is amber.

Everyone is dead.

It’s the morning after the Promised Day, when the King of Xerxes would have become immortal. But the King of Xerxes is dead, like everyone else in the entire country of Xerxes. Everyone is dead.

The Dwarf in the Flask is no longer in the flask, and as Hohenheim flees from his new doppelgänger through the labyrinth of the palace, he only has one thought on his mind as the screaming of half a million souls echoes through his veins, sending him half-mad with the despair of it.

“Trisha!”

He knows it’s futile as he reaches the kitchens. He knows that everyone is dead, and yet there’s still that small part of him that can’t help but hope.

“Trisha!”

She’s lying in a pile of fallen fruit, as if she’s sleeping among the pears.

“Trisha!”

She’s dead and long since cold, but Hohenheim holds her close nonetheless, and his wail of anguish drowns out the souls for a long time.

Three days into his trek across the golden sands towards Xing, trying to pacify the souls and going slowly insane from their agony, Hohenheim hears one voice distinct among the rest.

Van?

“Trisha?”

I’m with you.

Then her voice is lost in the whirlwind of pain.

For the first time since he woke from the nightmare of the Promised Day, Hohenheim feels the faintest glimmer of hope. Maybe he can form an understanding with the souls, and maybe Trisha can help him with that. Maybe she doesn’t blame him for what happened.

Maybe together they can work towards justice for Xerxes.

It takes over four hundred years, but the legend of the Last Xerxian holds true, and when the second Promised Day comes, it comes down to one man with amber-gold eyes and over half a million souls all united in one goal. It’s fitting that they’re the ones to bring everything to a close.

Hohenheim doesn’t think that he would have been able to get here if it wasn’t for Trisha’s constant presence in the back of his mind, always pushing him forward whenever he was on the verge of giving it all up and trying to find some way to end his long, long life.

She’s still there, even as all the rest of the souls give themselves up for the cause, as he takes hit after hit, trying to keep the one now known as Father from turning Amestris into another Xerxes, because Hohenheim will have justice for those million dead. He will have justice for Trisha.

But the time has come for them to part now. The souls are all used up and Hohenheim’s strength is failing.

It’s time, Van. I’ve got to go if you’re going to make it to where you’re going. I’ll see you soon, though. Very soon.

He wants to beg her not to leave, but he knows that neither of them have a choice in the matter.

“I love you, Trisha.”

“I love you too, Van.”

And then she’s gone.

When it’s all over and all done, a lone figure trudges through the sand towards the ruins of the place that had once been the illustrious city of Xerxes. The Ishvalan refugees who have made their home there watch with curiosity as he moves through the decaying buildings towards the palace, paying them no mind.

The palace bears no resemblance to the glorious structure that it once was, but Hohenheim can still find his way around what’s left of it, finding his way to the room that had once been his, and had become his and Trisha’s.

“Hey Trisha.” It feels so lonely and quiet without her presence. “We made it home.”

The palace of Xerxes has been haunted for years, they say. Only those with the golden-amber eyes of Xerxes can venture in without uneasiness. Perhaps if anyone else had been watching, they would have seen a young woman with a smile like the sun, and a young man in the traditional garb of a Xerxian alchemist walking away from the city as the Ishvalans perform the last rites of their people and set their souls at ease.

Within a moment though, the sand dunes are as amber as they were before, and the world is at peace.

#FMA: Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Trisha Elric #Van Hohenheim #TrishaxHohenheim #AU #Canon Divergence #Fic: Emerald and Amber

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Fallen

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt: How about Katniss taking Peeta to the forest during the fall for the first time to see all of the fall colors. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T for suggestive language

Author’s note: Some of you may notice this is the second story for this prompt. During the selection process, @mega-aulover and I both fell in love with this prompt, and she very generously allowed me to write another version. Thank you for sharing with me! I was able to travel home a couple of weeks ago for the first time in the fall in a number of years. Although the trees had just started to turn, it was a lovely opportunity to remember what it’s like to live in the land of four seasons. This is my love letter to that.

__________

“Are you sure you want me to go with you?” Peeta asked for what must have been the hundredth time. I was getting really tired of reassuring him, but it was also adorable how insecure he was about the trip. “I mean, we only just started dating. Meeting your family so soon is a little bit… I don’t know. Quick?”

I shook my head and grinned at him. His blue eyes held a hint of panic. It only served to make him more endearing. Stepping close to him, I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled his face down to mine. Instead of answering, I pressed my lips to his, and our kiss devolved into a tangle of tongues and lips and limbs. Breathy moans and soft whimpers and catching breath and want.

I couldn’t remember how long it’d been since my body yearned for someone else, how many months had passed since I woke up with a smile on my face and the anticipation of greeting someone with a kiss over an early morning coffee. It felt like years, but that loneliness faded when I met Peeta Mellark. Sure, it had only been a few months since our first date, but we’d both fallen hard. Not surprisingly, he was more open about his feelings. I hemmed and hawed and tried to pretend my whole world hadn’t rotated right off its axis for another week before I admitted to myself how much I wanted to crawl inside him and live there. Not in a creepy way, of course.

I broke our kiss and relished in the touch of his forehead against mine. “You don’t have to come,” I whispered, hoping against hope that he’d see through my projected confidence. I wanted him there so badly. I needed him to see where I came from and understand my hang-ups and quirks.

Peeta tilted my head up so he could catch my gaze with his. He searched my eyes for several seconds before rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone. “No,” he answered softly. “No, I want to go with you.”

My head nestled in the crook of his neck, and I released a relieved sigh. “You sure?”

“You promised me leaves,” he murmured against my temple as his arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I told you I’d come, and then I tried to bail on you at the last minute. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you hanging?”

“The worst kind.”

“Oh, that bad, huh?” he chuckled, and I grinned at him.

“The kind that needs to be punished,” I whispered into his ear.

“Oh, yeah. That kind. Are you going to spank me?”

“Absolutely, and you better return the favor.”

God help me. He definitely did.

__________

“You know,” I hissed as I settled into the driver’s seat, “it was fairly stupid of us to give each other sore asses the night before a road trip.”

Peeta shifted gingerly, and I chuckled at the pink hue flushing his cheeks. He’d been a champ as I’d spanked his perfectly rounded cheeks until they were rosy and warm. His willingness to shift over control in bed to me wasn’t something I was used to in a partner, but he made it easy to enjoy when he squirmed and moaned and begged. Truth be told, I loved it, especially because he was equally eager to turn the tables and take charge.

“Maybe stupid,” he grunted as he wiggled until he found a comfortable position. “Maybe just really good sex.”

“Yeah,” I murmured as he wrapped his hand around my thigh. Shifting into reverse, I leaned over to kiss him before easing off the brake and backing out of my driveway. “It’ll have to hold us for a while. Privacy isn’t exactly how it works when I head home.”

His fingers tightened on my leg, and I grinned as his thumb stroked higher and higher. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” he said softly as he grazed his thumb against the seam in my jeans. “Thank you for asking me to come with you.”

“Well, I can’t believe you haven’t ever seen fall leaves in person. I mean…”

He watched as I steered the car onto the entrance ramp and headed north on the interstate. “When was that supposed to happen, sweetheart?” he asked. “I’ve lived in the south my entire life.”

“But don’t you take vacations?”

“Well, sure, but not in the fall. School and then work and just— I don’t know. We went to Orlando and the beach and stuff like that. Normal things.”

“Normal,” I scoffed. “Ah, to live in a world where going to Disneyworld is normal. That takes money, and we never really had a lot of that.”

“No, you had something better,” he answered, bitterness just creeping into his voice. “I would have traded every Mickey sighting for a relationship with my brothers like you have with Prim. And my parents are just—”

Peeta didn’t finish, Instead, he tilted his head against the car window and closed his eyes. I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. I couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up with things instead of relationships, so I didn’t try to pretend I did. All I could do was squeeze his hand as I steered into the left lane and pressed on the accelerator. The miles passed quickly as silence filled the car.

__________

“So, what is it you love about going home during the fall?” Peeta asked as I steered the car deftly around a sharp corner.

We’d long since left the interstate and were weaving along the state highway that would lead to the county paved road that turned into a country gravel road that led to the dirt road to my family’s homestead. I’d tried to explain to my boyfriend how remote the house I grew up in was, but he didn’t really seem to get it. He would soon enough.

“It’s the leaves,” I inhaled in an elongated breath and then released it in a blissful sigh. “I love them.”

Peeta hummed and glanced sideways at me. When he caught my eye, he rested his head against the back of the seat and treated me to a megawatt smile. “You love leaves?” he teased.

A goofy smile spread across my face, and I signaled to turn. “I really do. There’s no way to explain it, but I’m going to knock your socks off tomorrow morning.”

Peeta hummed and squeezed my thigh. “And here I thought we wouldn’t get any sexy times while we’re visiting your family.”

Laughing, I signaled and turned the car to the left into the driveway of my childhood home and shifted into park. “Finally. Home, sweet home.”

We’d been traveling all day—fifteen solid hours of driving with only a few gas and restroom breaks—and all I wanted to do was take a shower and climb into bed. When I looked at him, nervous and shy, I realized there was one more thing I needed to do before greeting my family.

Thankfully, he came willingly when I fisted his shirt and tugged him to me. Our lips rammed together, frantic and feral, before our tongues tangled and turned filthy. Heat flooded through me, molten and scorching, as involuntary whimpers and grunts tore from us both. The dark enveloped us, filling up the car and protecting us from curious glances from nosy family members. As his mouth met mine again, I calculated just how far we could go before I had to pull away and stop what was so good between us. I wasn’t always sure of social customs, but I knew riding Peeta like the purebred stallion he’d proven to be in the driveway wasn’t okay.

His hand cupped my breast and squeezed as he tilted his head to lick further into my mouth. The sticky wetness between my legs grew as my fingers tangled in his hair and tugged. The yelp he released caused my eyes to roll back in my head. I did it a second time, and his mouth fell open, yielding to my rough grip.

“Katniss,” he groaned, my name falling from his swollen lips.

I wanted him, then, more than I’d ever dreamed I could desire anyone, but we had to stop. It wasn’t a question of whether we wanted to or should, it was imperative. If we didn’t, I’d fall in love with him so much more than I already was, and I couldn’t risk that. Not yet. Not when it was all so new, and I feared another broken heart.

“Time to go in,” I announced in a hoarse whisper.

He closed his eyes, scrunching them in what was probably frustration, and gasped, “I need a minute.”

I couldn’t resist one last bit of torture and reached over to squeeze him firmly. He choked back a gasp as my palm pressed an intentional caress meant to remind him what his body craved. Hissing, he squirmed away, his back against the door, and his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t,” he begged, and I took pity on him.

“Butchering a deer. The feel of dough between your fingers when the yeast fails. Sourness in your stomach the morning after a drinking binge. Socks in the bottom of the laundry basket that have been balled up for weeks.”

He grimaced and shot me a half-smile. “That did it. Not hard at all anymore.”

We grabbed our bags and headed inside where Peeta charmed my family and chastely kissed me goodnight before settling into the guest room. I slipped into bed in my childhood room with a warm glow surrounding my heart. Despite my best intentions, I’d fallen for Peeta Mellark.

__________

“Are you ready?” I asked, a timid smile stretching my lips.

Peeta slipped his arm around my waist and hugged me to him. I knew he would love the autumn leaves, which I kept trying to convince myself was the real reason I’d asked him to come home with me, but really, I just wanted him near me.

“Take me to the woods. Take me forth into the wilds of the world. Just don’t leave me there alone.”

“Okay, overdramatic one,” I teased with an eye roll. “Grab that basket, and let’s do it.”

We walked out the door, and he released a soft gasp of approval. The ash tree in the front yard was in rare form with the outside leaves a purplish-red and fading to orange and then yellow closest to the trunk. Those had always been my favorite, and we took a moment to appreciate it before I tugged his hand and led him to the gate that allowed us access to the forest.

“This is beautiful,” he observed in hushed whispers, like the world around him was a magical land he was afraid to disturb with loud noises. “This is just— I don’t have words.”

“You don’t need words,” I murmured, disturbingly enamored with the sparkle in his eyes and the sheer wonderment on his face. “You don’t need words because you have your art.”

He turned to me then, his face alight with wonder. He was a miracle in that moment—adorable and bemused and so excited he wriggled like a puppy. It was no wonder my heart was already his, why I’d fallen for him after only a few months. He was as close to perfect as anyone I’d ever met, and I wasn’t nearly good enough for him. But I wanted to be. I wanted to be everything he’d ever needed and desired, if only he’d allow it.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented me sweetly, and I ducked my head to blush.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand and tugging him along behind me. “There’s a clearing I have in mind. I used to spend a lot of time there with Prim when I was growing up. The leaves there are gorgeous.”

I moved through the underbrush fairly quietly, but Peeta stumbled a few times, kicking up leaves and sticks and making so much noise the birds scolded us as we passed. He was a trooper, though, his presence steady and sure beside me as we passed through the trees that eventually opened up into a clearing with a brook that flowed from a light blue, spring-fed pool. The massive oak tree that had stood for decades had blown over when I was in high school, and it rested there, a fallen log perfect for spreading the blanket and relaxing onto its sturdy seat. It winked an invitation, and we accepted.

Clearly delighted, Peeta’s eyes sparkled when I reached into the basket we’d brought and produced a thermos of cider. Steam rose into the crisp air, and we sipped quietly until he asked me, “So, what kinds of trees are these?”

I took a sip and waved around me. “The yellow are shag-bark hickory and elm. I like the hickory better. The yellow’s a little brighter. The orange are mostly sugar maples. Completely gorgeous. The red trees are both maple and oak. The brown-ish red ones are pin oaks. My favorite, though, is the purple ash. There’s one in the yard. It’s the one that’s purple on the outside and yellow on the inside so it looks like the whole tree is hombre.”

“I had no idea,” he murmured. “No idea trees could look like this. I mean, I’ve seen pictures and movies, but that pales in comparison to an actual in-person tour. I wish I had my oils. I’d paint the hell out of this.”

“Will pictures work? That seems a lot more practical than hauling your stuff across state lines and into the woods,” I teased. I understood his desire, but both of us were more pragmatic than that.

“They’ll have to, won’t they?”

He softened his retort with a shoulder nudge and smile, and my heart flipped at the affection shining in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to see what you paint once we get back home. They’re going to be…” I searched for a word, but the only one that seemed to do his artwork justice was almost over the top if it wasn’t also true. “…transcendent. You transport me with your paintings.”

He kissed me then, cradled my cheeks in his palms and turned up my face to seek my lips with his. I could almost picture us in my mind—Peeta strong and protective with ashy blonde waves topping a stocky figure draped in denim and dark green flannel wrapped around a smaller figure in aqua and orange fleece and rugged boots. He twined my braid around his palm and nudged my mouth open to sweep inside.

I swallowed his groan and matched it with my own. The mid-morning light slanted through the trees and danced on the underbrush and our shoulders. He smelled like fresh air and cinnamon, and I wanted to subsist on only that forever.

Peeta finally broke the kiss, although he only pulled back enough to lean his forehead against mine. His thumb stroked my cheekbone, and he closed his eyes briefly before locking his gaze to mine. A cloud passed over the sun, and I shivered. It felt momentous, like something was about to happen. The grove had become a sacred space in that very moment.

“I love you,” he breathed against my cheek, and the sun burst from behind the cloud in approval. Sunlight washed over us, and I swallowed hard against the sudden lump in my throat. Stunned and speechless, my eyes widened and stomach rolled.

I wanted to respond, to say something—anything—that might make sense in what had become surreal and dreamlike. There was no way he’d actually announced what I thought I heard. He didn’t love me. I was convinced of that. We were dating, happy as a couple, but I was head over heels for him, and he couldn’t possibly feel the same. There was no way I was allowed to have that, that I could be so lucky and fortunate and blessed. I shivered and stepped back.

“W-what?”

My ears weren’t working properly. That was the only reasonable explanation. He considered me for a moment, his blue eyes darkened with apprehension, and his shoulders hunched slightly to protect himself. He held up his hands to indicate his willingness to let me question him and said it again.

“I love you, Katniss Everdeen.”

His words were soft but true, and I gaped at him. Red, orange, and yellow leaves fluttered above us in the wind, as if clapping in agreement, and I tasted his words on my own lips. They were sweet and tart at the same time.

“You love me?” I squeaked, completely unable to catch my breath. He gave me a soft smile and brushed stray hairs off my forehead where he dropped another kiss.

“I do,” he insisted, barely audible over the rustling leaves. “I know it’s quick, and you don’t have to say it back, but you should know. I love you, and I hope you’ll feel the same way about me in the future.”

I could hardly stand the hopefulness he displayed, could hardly bear to think about how selfless it was for him to offer me his heart when he had no idea mine had been his since the first time he’d made me laugh. Even before our first date, I knew he was something special and someone I wanted in my life forever, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

“But I do!” I sputtered, blurting out my confession with so little finesse I’m surprised he didn’t leave me standing in the clearing by myself.

“You do?” His eyebrow seemed to question my declaration, but I threw myself at him in a very un-Katniss-like way.

“I really do,” I admitted, tears closing my throat. “I love you, too.”

The wind picked up then, swirling the branches and leaves into another chorus of applause. The sun sparkled and winked, and the clouds skipped across the sky like old friends. Peeta looked around us as a smile broke across his face. He tipped his head back and yelled into the morning.

“She loves me!” he shouted, and I burst into laughter. Relief and exuberance drifted on the breeze, and I leapt at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and clinging to his broad shoulders.

We kissed and cuddled for warmth on the blanket for hours as the sun reached its zenith and dropped in the west. Declarations of our undying affection gave way to mundane topics followed by plans for the future. It was too soon for an engagement, but I wasn’t looking for that anyway. I only wanted to explore this feeling, being in love with someone who adored me every bit as much as I did him.

Eventually, we made our way back to my childhood home, away from the log that had fallen for us as surely as we fell for each other. As we stepped from the forest, the gorgeous autumn leaves were surely cheering.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #hutchhitched #submission #prompt

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lesbian-vmin · 4 years

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I don't know if I'm delusional. Between the songs Winter Bear, Sweet Nght, and Blue and Gray have the same impression. Tae is confiding or chatting with someone before his sleep. Am I wrong? If you don't mind. can you make an analysis about this.

Ah, I really try to avoid doing song analyses because I don’t want to make assumptions that could be a far stretch from the truth. I’m more than happy to analyze a song that’s confirmed for one reason or another, but I try to stay away from ones that haven’t been confirmed for any specific purpose.

Winter Bear and Sweet Night are both songs that I’ve thought of as Vmin songs already, in a theoretical mindset (since they’re not confirmed). As for Blue and Gray, this one goes on a different level for me.

Because I do want to talk about the songs (and this ask gives me an opportunity to do so), I’ll do you the service of providing you with a real answer, but not without a disclaimer. So. This all just in theory. I’m not concluding the songs to have these meanings for sure, and I’m not confirming them as Vmin songs (because that’s not my place, obviously). But nor am I trying to convince anyone that they are Vmin songs. For the purpose of this analysis (as this is a blog that focuses on vmin) I will be treating them as such. Disclaimer disclaimer. Etc. Thank you. (Sorry. I’m sure the average reader knows all of this, but some people take things too seriously, as if they think people can’t speculate and have to believe every word they say. As if human minds aren’t complex. As if science would have progressed to us knowing we revolve around the sun without people questioning face value but okay)

(BELOW THE CUT)

WINTER BEAR

So, it’s pretty obvious this song means a lot to Jimin. He’s always pretty supportive of Taehyung’s songs, but this song seemed to really mean a lot to him. I’m not sure why? What is so different about this song compared to Taehyung’s other songs? Maybe it’s just his favorite? Or maybe there’s a reason it’s his favorite. I’ve wanted to do an analysis on this for a while, but I try not to go on assumptions on this blog, and I also wouldn’t know where to begin. But one thing is clear. This song holds a special place in Jimin’s heart.

One theory that I’ve seen of this song is that it could be about Taehyung’s grandmother, as it was apparently released on the third anniversary of her death (I didn’t know which day exactly she passed). Anyhow, I don’t think Taehyung has talked publicly that that’s the meaning of the song (and people assumed 4 o’clock was about his grandmother as well, even after Namjoon confirmed it was about a friend).

I do, however, recall seeing a vlive where he said the song was inspired by a movie. And I’m thinking it was a romantic film. About a romantic love. (I will link it here if I find it again, but edit this if I’m wrong.)

Out of respect for his grandmother, and the possibility of the song having to do with her, I wanted to acknowledge that as one of the possible meanings. But, again, for the purpose of this ask, I’m focusing on the Vmin connection. (And the fact that I’m pretty sure Taehyung said it was inspired by a romantic film...but I might even have the song in which he said that about mixed up).

Anyway, I think the lines you are referring to is where he says “you sleep so happily. I wish you a good night”

Taehyung and Jimin seem like they often talk to each other when they have trouble sleeping. They even sleep together often (on camera, and because of Taehyung casually mentioning how he asked Jimin to sleep with him off camera -- and that one time Jimin said Taehyung came to his room after he had a nightmare, when he gifted Taehyung the dream catcher -- I’m going to say it’s probably safe to assume it’s normal for them to sleep together off camera, too).

SWEET NIGHT

When Sweet Night was released, I really got some pretty strong gay love vibes from the song. It could be because I, myself, am gay. But the song always sounded to me like it was two best friends who would sleep together (sharing the same bed, not in a sexual way) and one of them (Taehyung) wakes up one day feeling more. I always imagined that he woke up with the person he’s singing about next to him, but I could be wrong. Anyway, that’s the part that got me feeling it was a gay love song. Because, assuming it’s about Jimin, it’s pretty normal for them to sleep together. They’ve shared a room for a long time, and they often shared beds. It’s not so normal to sleep with your opposite sex best friend, waking up next to them. Unless you have a friends-with-benefits type thing. I guess. But even then, isn’t it a general rule that you don’t actually stay the night?

Another reason this song felt more gay than straight to me was the general confusing Taehyung is expressing. I’ve mentioned before that BTS is well aware of LGBT, but it doesn’t mean it was always like that. I think they became aware of a lot of things as they got older (like many of us do). Also, if both Taehyung and Jimin are gay, it probably took a while for them to admit it to each other.

Romantic movies set aside, I think it’s pretty rare for straight people to have such deep feelings for each other (or someone) and be totally unaware of it. Realistically. This is all going on my own experiences, but most of the straight couples in my life didn’t have to talk to each other for several months before they officially started dating. The gay couples? It was always really frustrating to watch them come to terms with their feelings for each other. Especially when one or both of them weren’t totally comfortable with who they were yet.

Romantic movies will sometimes tell you a different tale, but they’re movies. And when they do tell a different tale, it’s usually a girl liking a douchy guy instead of her sweet best friend, only to end up with her bestie in the end.

Anyway, let’s talk about the talking while going to sleep part. This to me sounds like the two friends are lying in bed together (or maybe sitting). The one singing (Taehyung) has a lot going through his mind, and his heart is pounding. It sounds like him talking to this person this night is actually a confession. He woke up one day feeling different toward this person he was sleeping next to, and on some other night, he gets all of it off of his chest. I’ve seen a lot of people say that this is the story of a love that never happened, but I don’t see it that way. I think it’s an inconclusive story about a confession being made. We don’t get to hear the resolve.

Assuming it is a Vmin song, I think the resolve is a good one. Because I just think that Jimin would be pretty uncomfortable if Taehyung was writing romantic songs about him and publishing them, knowing that Jimin doesn’t feel the same.

BLUE AND GRAY

For anyone who doesn’t know, this is included on the list because it was initially supposed to be on Taehyung’s mix tape. It’s just that BTS liked the song so much, and he’s not selfish, so it became a BTS song instead.

This one, he’s looking for an angel because he’s having trouble sleeping. He mentions sending his words up into the air, and he falls asleep at dawn.

This song talks about some deeper issues like anxiety and depression, and it’s a song that’s really personal to him. I think the members probably know a lot of the story behind the song, and they probably know a lot about Taehyung’s struggles that led to this song. I think that’s why they liked it so much and wanted it to be part of the album instead of his own song.

I don’t necessarily feel right making this song about a ship, because it’s clearly very personal and talks about some issues Taehyung has had to deal with. However, his members (and his family, and I’m sure other friends) are his support system. (As well as the fans, ofc). He’s called Jimin an angel before, and we know that they often text or call each other when they have trouble sleeping. I’m not going to say that this song is about Vmin, but if Taehyung honestly has a lot of anxiety and worries while trying to go to sleep, I’m glad that he has Jimin to support him. It’s nice to have that friend who is always there for you, especially at times like that when you really need them. Maybe Jimin is the angel in the song. I don’t know.

#answered #anonymous #vmin #vmin analysis #koala answers #vmin songs

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

Not The Right Time

The Story of How We Ended Up There:

Ivar+Reader (Modern! AU).

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

So this is my second idea for Ivar!

I am honestly a bit attached to this because it is the first one which came to my mind and with it being modern! Ivar I feel a bit more secure about the characterization, but still… let me know where I have to get better or work better!

I also wanted to explain that this is fictional and that some choices made by the reader are due to the plot and not what I actually and personally believe about such a complex argument as abortion.

Don’t feel judged in the slightest by this (and if you feel, please know I don’t mean it, and what I can do to avoid this mistake in the future).

Again this is a prologue to the bigger series, but it is mostly to know whether you like this idea or not!

So if you want more, please leave a comment or a reblog so that I’ll know what you think about it!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: It wasn’t the right time to have a child and it isn’t the right time for you to meet your child’s father after all those years, but maybe... time and Destiny are two huge bastards.

WORDS: 4,7 K

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, Unexpected Pregnancy, Pregnancy at a Young Age, Mention of Abortion (and Being Harsh About it), Heartbreak and General Angst, Abandonement Issues and Being A Single Mom, Mention of Infertility, Use of the Word Cripple.

You were sure that you were cursed.

Who could end up pregnant… the first time they had had sex?

And worst of all, when you were nothing more than sixteen years old.

You weren’t also the type who would risk such thing.

Although you were naïve you were well-aware of the need to use protection.

And then, in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten about everything.

Just for eight weeks after to cry on the toilet, at the discovery that you were pregnant.

You hadn’t noticed it at first: you hadn’t gotten your period for a month, but you hadn’t thought too much about that, it sometimes happened.

But then, a few weeks after you had started feeling bad, both not energetic enough to do the normal chores and also extremely nauseous, which had then resulted in you thinking that pregnancy might have been a cause of your unwellness.

You had thought for the entire time you had been waiting for the result of the pregnancy test, that it wasn’t possible, it would obviously turn out negative.

You had a successful life ahead of you, a child… wouldn’t ruin your life, but certainly it wouldn’t have ruined all your dreams.

You had been mortified to discover that you were indeed pregnant.

And then you had been indignant: there were people who constantly had unsafe sex, every time they had it and they would never ever end up with a baby on the way.

Then you had had sex once, and shit went down.

Back then you had been scared shitless of telling your parents and had hidden the pregnancy test: what would have they thought of you?

Still you had thought that you had to talk about it with somebody.

And more precisely, the father of the baby.

You and Ivar were the typical high school sweethearts: you had moved slowly from friends-to-lovers and were both late bloomers in the sex department.

Hence when Ivar had wanted to ‘try’, you had been over the moon at that news.

Lately he had grown distant from you, after you had had sex, and some part of you couldn’t help but think darkly that he wasn’t interested with you anymore ‘because he had finally gotten what he wanted’.

But you knew Ivar better than anyone: he might appear like the coldest ice king, but he was sweet and soft with you, shy and gentle, the perfect gentleman.

So, you had thought to at least inform him about ‘the child’, thinking that it was also partially his decision about the baby, although right now some part of you, the one who wanted desperately to continue on dreaming wanted to delete this ‘mistake’.

But some deeper part in you, thought about what a lovely life would have been to share a child with Ivar.

It might not have been perfect, but you felt like it would have been a nice image.

A nice image of your future.

But when you had asked Ivar to meet you at your favorite diner, the one you had chosen for your ‘first awkward date,’ he had also told you that he had something to say to you.

Had he realized that you might have been pregnant?

The entire situation there had seemed rather awkward, Ivar had this acute gaze in his eyes, not to talk about the harsh way his mouth had been closed closed in a thin line for the entire time.

He had arrived late, meanwhile you were halfway through the second of a milkshake you had been having, the pregnancy cravings playing an important role in your diet lately.

“Hey, sweetie!” you had welcomed him, your high-pitched tone, expressing your happiness to have him there, he always fixed your darkest moments “…how are you?”.

Unlike you, he didn’t seem in the mood for any sweetness.

He simply replied with a nod and ‘a fine’, waving the waitress over for a coffee, you stared at him for the entire time: you hadn’t seen him in quite for quite a few days, due to studying, and couldn’t help but set your gaze on him, welcoming any new traits of him and wanting to kiss them, passing a finger through…

“… I don’t have much time, so I’ll say this as quick as I can” and then he had caught you in his icy gaze “… I am not in love with you, anymore”.

An arrow shot through your heart would have hurt you less.

You had stammered some questions, but Ivar had been glacial in his words, definitely not asking for any reply.

“… I have discovered it from quite some time ago, I didn’t want to tell you till I was sure, but these last days… have been… I didn’t miss you” every word was a strike to your hear, and you hadn’t been able to properly protest “… I am sorry, I pulled this for so long, but I can’t…”.

Then and there you had gotten up, probably the best option possible, the only thing of that day that, looking back, you were proud of.

You had been crying on the sofa when your parents had found you, and there you had explained anything that had happened to you.

Child included.

They had been disappointed with you and your father hadn’t talked to you for the entire pregnancy but your mother had been the bigger support for you.

She hadn’t shouted, unlike your father, but just asked what you had wanted to.

‘Do you want to…?’ she hadn’t been able to talk about the option of abortion and you had understood her: she wouldn’t approve of it, but she would have helped through the entire process “… or do you want to keep it, babygirl?”.

“Shelley! Of course, she’ll fucking…! She is too young, she can’t fucking take care of a child!” had retorted your father, and you had covered your ears, shielding them from his hurting words.

It was as if for the first time your father wasn’t seeing his little girl anymore.

And you had chosen to try so desperately to go back to that image he had of you, choosing abortion, but when you had heard the child’s heartbeat, you hadn’t been able to carry on

You had gripped your mother’s hand and pleaded to her not to go through this, not to kill your baby.

Although you’d have to grow it alone, although the heartbreak was still pretty real and although it seemed the worst and you weren’t ready, you just couldn’t delete all this, so simply.

You had taken private lessons to hide your pregnancy, since you hadn’t wanted to reveal it to anyone, avoiding any outings unless you were sure you wouldn’t have been anywhere near people you knew.

The first week after the break-up, Ivar had continued on blowing up your phone with messages and calls, but you wouldn’t even look at his messages, ignoring him till you had convinced yourself to block his number and when he had tried to visit your home to talk, he had been lucky your father was out, and you had pleaded with your mother to fake of not being inside.

You had graduated from high school, one year prior, thanks to all the credits you had collected during the years and had a private diploma ceremony with your family and your pregnant belly.

You had grown to love your baby during the pregnancy: you would talk to them whenever you could, caressing your belly and chatting with them about your day, all the funny stuff you would do together and what the world outside looked like.

The entire birth part scared you like crazy, but you thought it would have been worth it.

And it had been as you had held your child in your arms, after hours of agonizing pain.

They had been forced to cut you open since the child was taking quite his time and you wouldn’t dilatate yourself, enough.

But when you had woken up your mother was lulling him in her arms.

He looked beautiful, having gained two beautiful blue eyes and a smile that made your heart clench.

Too bad that the doctor had taken it from you too early.

‘He seems to have problem moving’ he had mentioned, meanwhile he visited the baby ‘Is there any story of problematic diseases, troubling mostly bones or muscles?’.

‘The father has osteogenesis imperfecta’ had explained your mother, meanwhile you called out for your child ‘… but it isn’t…’.

‘No, sadly it is’ he had explained, meanwhile he gently handled the baby’s legs ‘… I can already feel a few broken bones… this is going to be much more difficult than you might think’.

Your mother had been scared about having to help you up, but you and Erik had just done fine, not without mistakes and problems, but you had managed to love your son and give him a proper life, even with his ‘problematic’.

All of this, without Ivar.

The Lothbrock had moved out on Erik’s first birthday, something which honestly helped you, since the thought of Ivar not meeting Erik stopped your ‘house arrests’ and pushed you out of the house, even more because you had to actually get a job.

Working as a waitress didn’t make enough income to help you with a child and the thought of moving away from your parents (although your mother insisted that you didn’t bother them, you felt that your father wasn’t of the same opinion) was terrifying, so you had taken up to giving some lessons to high schoolers and some more salutary jobs.

You ran all the time around, and had to definitely renounce to going to college, but each night, when you would come home, breathless and tired, to Erik, your sweet child, you knew it was worth it.

For five years it had been perfect.

And then everything changed.

Ivar knew he was already fucking late to the meeting with his brothers.

It hadn’t been properly his fault, although he would rather die than confess to his brother that he had been seeing a fertility clinic with Freydis, to try to start their own family.

The sole mention of a fertility clinic would have raised questions he didn’t want his brothers to ask.

Hhey already seemed to have a feud with Freydis that had been ruining his wedding’s preparations.

He already could hear Sigurd making fun of him for not being able to please properly a woman, which was partially true.

Through the years, his stupid prick hadn’t gotten up for any woman, even his beloved Freydis, the one woman that made him feel a god.

But it had happened once, probably more out of luck than anything.

His first love and the first girl whose heart he had broken.

And you had returned the favor: he reminded the days after he had acted onto his brothers’ wishes, when you wouldn’t answer the phone and pretended not to be at home.

It had been enough for him to feel like you didn’t want him anymore.

Maybe it was why his stupid prick wouldn’t work.

Some of the sex therapist Freydis had brought him to, had suggested that his ‘inability to raise to the occasion’ was due to some rejection his past, so it might have been actually true.

But he didn’t trust any of those doctors.

He simply did it for Freydis, because she still hoped.

He didn’t, anymore.

He walked in the diner, it was a small one, similar to the one of the city he had lived, before he moved in the big city, for work and for many more occasions, but he couldn’t help but regret the beauty of these small places.

They never aged and they always brought him comfort, timeless and always there for jim

He had had his first date in one of those.

(He had also broken up with his first love in one of those).

He still didn’t let himself drown in his thoughts, knowing that going back in time and turning it, was impossible.

(No matter how much, sometimes, he wished he could do so).

He immediately recognized his brothers’ table as the noisiest one, moving straight up to it, not minding the fact that half the eyes of the clients in the diner were on him.

It was one of the many side effects of being a cripple.

“You finally joined us!” exclaimed Hvitserk, talking through a full mouth of food.

“Unlike you lazy asses, I have things to do” he mumbled as Ubbe shifted to make him some space next to him “… can’t survive on father’s paychecks only”.

He sent a direct look to Sigurd, who was using his father’s paychecks to support his (failing) musical career.

“At least I don’t have to be reigned by my girlfriend” muttered darkly Sigurd and Ivar wasn’t able to stop himself from almost attacking him.

Thankfully Ubbe did it for him.

“No need to fight brothers” he stated, readjusting the glasses Ivar had knocked over “Don’t make a scene, we are older than children and we are here to have a nice night among brothers, are we not?”.

“I am here for the free food” muffled Hvitserk, offering a humor relief that made all the brother laugh lightly.

They talked more civilly and then a waitress moved in to ask their orders, but Ivar’s ears were suddenly attracted by another noise, a voice that had belonged in his memories.

Had he left them open?

And then he turned to where the voice came from.

And he saw you.

He remembered you as a sweet girl, what you had been hadn’t changed, except the way you carried yourself, showing a growth, a painful one that hadn’t changed what you believed in.

But it still left signs.

As the scars of a battle.

You had your hair up in a high ponytail, and you were wearing a waitress uniform, probably working there to fund your way to college.

Your eyes were tired, but your lips were crooked in a small smile as you took a small child’s ordination.

He thought he was hallucinating, when Hvitserk again spoke up:

“Is that (Y/N) (L/N)?!” this got all the brothers’ attention to shift to where Ivar was looking, although he wished nothing more than to shield you, because he had discovered you first.

“… oh shit, yeah it’s her” muttered Ubbe, following your silhouette as you turned your back to them to move to counter “… I thought she would be in college”.

“Some people don’t have their parents’ back up, she might be simply working to pay college” muttered Ivar, but nobody seemed to hear him.

“She hasn’t certainly aged a day!” commented Hvitserk, giving your ass a meaningful look “… ahh can you remember when we dared little Ivar, to…”.

Ivar shushed him with a dark look.

But when he was doing this, he didn’t realize that Sigurd was waving you over.

You approached the table smiling, since you and Sigurd had been an unlike friendship, and Ivar still remembered how his ‘most sensitive’ brother had been against the ‘dare’, but as he turned to face you, you seemed to realize who Sigurd was with.

And the soft smile fell from your face.

You seemed to have seen a ghost.

“Oh Gosh, (Y/N), it’s been a lot since we have seen each other!” commented Sigurd, meanwhile your waitress friend asked with her eyes whether you knew these people or not.

You simply nodded, forcing a smile on your face, telling her you would have taken their ordinations.

“Ah it’s been a lot of time, indeed!” you smirked lightly “… I always see you in TV!”.

“… sadly, never winning” muttered Hvitserk “… we weren’t expecting to see you working here!”.

“And I wasn’t expecting you to greet me without your mouth full of food, so we are both surprised by how Destiny has cheated us” you joked back, smirking lightly “… it’s nice to see you, guys, but I haven’t much time”.

Although you were trying to be gentle, it was obvious that their presence was making you nervous and uncomfortable.

Ivar wondered whether it was for what had happened with him.

He couldn’t help but notice the way you avoided any eye-contact with him.

They all quickly gave you their orders and you thanked them, but before you could go away, again Sigurd grabbed your wrist, making Ivar hiss lightly.

“You have been greatly missed, (Y/N)” the simple affirmation seemed to break something in you and you were able to simply bow your head, as you moved to quickly report the order to the counter, before disappearing in the kitchen.

A quick sign that you didn’t reciprocate Sigurd’s thought.

“Well that didn’t go well…” muttered Hvitserk, going back to his food.

“It was strange” muttered Ubbe “… it’s strange… I expected her to be in Europe, she was always so brilliant”.

“Ubbe, what she does is none of your business” muttered Sigurd, for once, his words matching Ivar’s thoughts.

“I just… I mean… she doesn’t seem as the person who is stuck at 21st to serve tables, she was always smarter than that” mumbled Ubbe, again but shushed, as an elder woman brought them their meals.

“You know our sweet (Y/N)?” she asked, probably having witnessed the exchange of words, and Sigurd explained they were old schoolmates “… such a sweetheart, and so strong…”.

“Anything bad happened?” asked curiously Ivar, knowing all too well when to ask and when to stay quiet, and that woman seemed like she wanted so desperately to talk.

“Nothing too bad” mumbled the old lady, pouring some coffee in their glasses “… just… she is so strong for bringing a child on her own”.

The news immediately surprised all the brothers.

Again, you were the smart and hardworking girl, the one that followed the rules and didn’t have any vices, so for you to have a child, so young, didn’t make sense.

You should have been attending the last year of college, hadn’t you already finished it.

The thought of knowing you were already a mom, completely shocked Ivar.

And, although he wouldn’t admit it, he felt jealous at the thought of another man having known you so carnally.

“… oh, we didn’t know” uttered Ubbe “We have lost the contacts, when we moved in another city, after high school ended”.

“If you want, I can tell her that you’d like to get acquainted again” mumbled softly the waitress, probably thinking she was doing something good, something that would have made you happy.

But from the simple thought of your forced smile, a few minutes before, you wouldn’t have been happy in the slightest of meeting them.

And Ivar couldn’t make it a fault to you.

“She is working, we wouldn’t want to bother her or get in trouble, we are going to try to maybe contact her through the socials, but it was good to see her” commented softly Sigurd, smirking gently at the elder waitress, who simply nodded before muttering something under her breath ‘about the usefulness of social’.

As she moved away a deep silence fell onto their tables.

“I didn’t… wow… she never told me” muttered extremely baffled Sigurd.

“Did you stay in contact with her after we moved?” replied harshly Ivar and as Sigurd shook his head “… well then you can’t blame her for having hidden this to you”.

They had obviously lost any right to you, after ‘the dare’.

He, himself, couldn’t blame you.

“…can’t believe it” muttered Ubbe, sipping slowly his coffee, meanwhile Hvitserk nodded.

“Accidents happen, don’t they?” muttered Sigurd. before he proceeded to move their attention away from the thought, although Ivar’s mind was stuck onto that news.

Had you searched the attention of another person, because he had rejected you?

No, you had always been stronger than you seemed.

You wouldn’t have simply searched somebody to feel some love.

You had had to have loved the father of your child.

And the sole thought of it burned his chest painfully.

You were on the last shift of the day, and although usually you were almost happy for the extra tips which would come, this time you would have given everything to change your shift or close early.

It had started as a nice day: Erik’s bones were strengthening themselves from the therapy he had been doing and he had been excited for the soccer training of that afternoon.

Your mother had been also extremely happy to accompany ‘her favorite grandson’: she had been rather blue after your father had left you, both.

Thankfully he had left your family but not the house and the little money your mother had on her own, which had funded your move from the small city to a bigger one.

Sometimes you wondered how much your pregnancy and Erik’s sickness had impacted on your father leaving, but you tried not to think about it.

He hadn’t been held at gun point, he had chosen to leave a faithful wife, a devoted daughter and a wonderful grandchild.

You, yourself, had walked at work happy, thinking about the fact that you had also managed to schedule a meeting with an art gallery.

Through the five years you had been working on improving your culture, although you hadn’t been able to attend college, you had attended some free courses and apparently they were looking for some people to explain the art gallery’s shows, hence you had proposed yourself.

Although you knew there would be many more talented people also attending it, but… you hadn’t felt like giving up.

If you got the job, you might have had to quit one of your many jobs and spend more time with Erik, alongside paying for some new therapies.

Then you had seen the Lothbrocks at one of the tables.

And you had been glad of having met again Sigurd: you sometimes would see some of his performances at lower TV channels, and always joked with Erik about his songs.

Ubbe and Hvitserk had been indifferent to you and you had kept up the same behavior.

But Ivar…

… part of you was worried about him finding out about Erik, solely from your thought.

Back in the day, he used to be extremely intuitive.

And part of you couldn’t help but feel the pain of rejection all over again.

You had tried to find an excuse to avoid them, after the first little chat, although you were aware they would be talking about it: the small town from which you had come from had talked since you had shown Erik to it.

‘She used to be such a good girl’.

‘She used to have such a bright future ahead of her’.

‘She could have been so successful…’.

Blah blah blah.

Although you would discourage people from getting pregnant at such a young age, you didn’t feel like you had lost anything, maybe just pushed it a bit in the future, but you, yourself, had gotten through your own prejudices of being a single and younger mom.

You might have lost something, but your child was a blessing in your life.

So, you just shook off the critics.

You were waiting at the cash desk, chatting amicably with the cook of the diner, the one who made the last turn with you, always having the kind heart of packing something for you, and leaving some sweets for Erik, slowly gaining a little spot in your family, as ‘uncle Will’.

You were also checking the situation at the Lothbrock table, because, whereas all the other clients had already paid or were going to do it soon, they were stalling.

Their meals were finished, and they were chatting, although there would be more silence than actual words, and when you had sent Marlou to ask if they wanted a dessert or more coffee, they had simply replied that they were full.

They were obviously waiting and deciding who had to pay for the meal, who had to come face to face with you.

You almost expected them to start playing ‘paper, rock and scissors’ but finally you heard the distinctive screech of one of the chairs moving, but as you raised your head to see whoever had finally managed to collect their courage ‘to battle you’, you couldn’t help but be a bit nervous to discover it was Ivar.

He looked a bit annoyed, as if he had expected somebody else to volunteer at his courageous attempt, but nobody did and you immediately shut your eyes onto the screen of the cash machine, finding their bill, so that you wouldn’t have to talk with him too much.

He, instead, seemed a bit chatty, although he had that painfully awkward smile in his face he had whenever he was nervous about doing something.

Back in the day when you were together you would rub onto the back of his hand if you were in public to let him know your support, or when you were alone, you would body-hug-attack him.

But those memories seemed so long ago.

“It has passed quite some time” he mumbled softly, trying to chat you up, but you had no interest in conversing with him.

‘I see it on my child’s face’ you wanted to mutter, but again: you couldn’t make Ivar discover about Erik.

At first it had been a petty thought of your broken heart, but the more Erik grew the more you were scared that Ivar knowing of him would take him away from you.

It was irrational, but sometimes you would check out on your child.

You would do it also that night.

“Quite some time, indeed” you shot back, telling him the total and asking whether he would be paying in cash or not.

Ivar seemed a bit taken aback by the coldness in your tone, but reacted to it better than he was used, hiding his pain at your harshness, as he told you he would be paying in cash, keeping up the entire rest of the transaction in silence, meanwhile you opened the cash collected the money, counting it discreetly, printed the receipt.

He tried to do one last attempt.

“… we should come all together one of these days”.

More like hell no.

But you didn’t reject the proposal completely.

“It would be nice” Ivar’s face seemed to regain a bit of color at that affirmation “I am just a lot busy with work, but I’ll see what I can do”.

And with that you passed him the receipt and wished him a good day, turning to the kitchen to fake an emergency there, whereas Will was simply packing you the leftovers which would be your dinner.

You waited there, spying on Ivar, seeing him for the first time in five years properly: he dressed as the industrial magnate he was rumored to become in a few years, expanding his father’s properties, but he didn’t have the face of an happy magnate.

At least Destiny hadn’t given him that.

He indulged a bit on his feet, and pushed a few dollar bills into the tips bucket, something that low key opened a bit your heart to him but didn’t make you feel any less convinced about hiding him from Erik.

You closed the shop alongside Marlou, who continued on commenting about how ‘gorgeous were your school friends’.

‘They were all so handsome! Ahh what a lucky family!’.

‘They could have been your children!’ you had retorted almost receiving an elbow in your stomach from the woman, as she muttered that ‘at least it would have been better than Karl’, her thirty something unemployed son with a permanent place on her sofa.

After you had wished her ‘goodnight’, you had walked till your apartment, rushing a bit both because seeing Lothbrocks had surprised you and both because you couldn’t wait to see again Eric, who had stayed the day with your mom, waiting simply for you at home to tell you all about his day.

No matter how tired or shaken you were, your son’s smile never failed to make you feel a bit better.

---

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riotwritesthings · 4 years

Text

Baby Crazy

WinterIron, 8k, E, crack | AO3

This is partially because of that video of Sebastian Stan being cute with a kid, and mostly because my friends are terrible influences. By which I mean they’re the best and I LOVE THEM. Here’s some crack. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. No shame 2020.

For some reason, the children of New York love Bucky Barnes. It’s heartwarming to witness, and it’s making it really hard for Tony to ignore his gigantic crush on the man. Especially because Tony can’t stop suggesting they maybe have a baby together. The rest of the Avengers just want a vacation.

Despite popular belief, Tony does actually think before he speaks the majority of the time. Maybe that doesn’t include when he’s a little slap happy after a fight, but he feels like that should be forgivable. Especially when he’s watching Bucky oh so gently hand a sniffling toddler back to a sobbing mother, and Bucky has to extra gently loosen the kid’s tiny fingers from his tac-vest. There’s only so much Tony can be expected to stand before his brain just checks out.

Tony leans heavier against the concrete barricade in the middle of the street and, completely without thought, quietly sighs out “ugh, just put a baby in me already.” Apparently not quietly enough though, because Bucky’s head snaps up and around to look at him, eyes wide and, if Tony’s not mistaken, the faintest hint of a blush across his cheek bones. Tony, on the other hand, has a horrible feeling that his own face is bright red as he ducks down behind the barricade with a grumble of “stupid enhanced hearing.”

It would be so much less suspicious if Tony could just play it cool, wave and wink and play it off as a joke instead of some kind of weird gut reaction that he really has no idea where it came from. But no, Tony has a big stupid crush, even worse, he has actual adult feelings, and he has already proved himself incapable of ‘playing it cool’ around Bucky. Mostly at this point Tony is just aiming for ‘not a complete idiot.’

He has a terrible feeling he’s failing miserably, and not just because he’s currently crawling away along the ground behind the barricade. “Don’t judge me,” he says as he crawls past Natasha, because he really does not appreciate the scathing look on her face. Then she shakes her head sadly, which is somehow worse, and Tony pouts as he continues his totally manly and mature crawling flee.

He spends the rest of the day avoiding Bucky, telling himself it’s fine. It’s all fine. It’s just because his head got rattled around in that last fall, he’s not obsessed with the idea that Bucky would make a great dad, that Tony would really like to see that up close and personal. Nope, not even a little bit. This isn’t a problem.

And it wouldn’t be a problem, right, Tony says weird shit all the time, it should be swept away under a constant stream of other weird shit, except... Tony can’t seem to stop doing it.

No one is exactly sure when or why it happened, but somehow the Winter Soldier has become the favorite Avenger among the children of New York. Tony gets it, he really does, Bucky has the whole ‘strong silent’ thing going on most of the time, he’s cool and sweet and just the right amount of a smartass. (It’s possible Tony is projecting, just a little bit.) But then the problems began when the kids actually started to approach Bucky, because nothing could have prepared Tony for the sight of Bucky crouched down and patiently letting a bunch of kids poke and prod at his arm.

Tony was already compromised, how could he not be, watching as Bucky smiled gently at an adorable group of children, but then Bucky had looked up and met his eyes, looking confused and excited and terrified and a million other things all at once. A million things that Tony could read in an instant and he’d immediatly lost himself in about a thousand different day dreams of raising a family together, what the fuck.

It had really forced Tony to deal with the fact that his ‘stupid crush’ is more ‘actual adult feelings that will never go away and will probably eventually ruin his life’, because there’s nothing like watching the man he’s terrifyingly in love with interact with small children to finally and officially ruin his denial. Tony had spent two days locked in his lab stress-building after that little revelation, ignoring the fact that apparently he’d been spending so much time with Bucky lately that Tony was missing him after even a couple hours, and come out of the whole thing almost convinced that he would be able to handle this. He could act like everything is normal, like nothing had changed.

Tony had been very, very wrong. He cannot handle this, and he absolutely cannot act normal. How can he possibly act normal when the second they leave the tower to get some lunch Bucky is swarmed with excited children, and Tony gets to watch Bucky’s small grin bloom into something wide and warm and soft? Tony is only human, okay. One of the kids tugs at Bucky’s pant leg until he kneels down and lets the kid whisper something in his ear, and Tony whines under his breath as he clutches at his stomach.

“Bruce help,” he mutters, quietly enough that he almost definitely won’t be overheard this time, “I think my ovaries just exploded.”

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce responds absently, and then apparently actually registers the sentence because he looks up from the takeout menu he’s been pouring over to fix Tony with a flat look. “You need help,” he says seriously, “please just talk to the man like a reasonable person.”

“About putting his baby in me?” Tony asks hopefully, then pouts when Bruce just shakes his head and walks away.

“I’m going to get lunch, you can join me when Bucky’s done with his newest fans and you’re ready to act like a human,” Bruce calls over his shoulder, heartlessly.

Tony’s head whips back around at the sound of Bucky’s quiet, rumbling laugh just in time to see the kid’s face light up proudly, and Tony makes another strangled sound deep in his chest.

As a general rule, Tony does not enjoy PR stunts. He just might be able to excuse this one though, seeing as how it is in Central Park, and he gets to actually enjoy some sunlight rather than being shoved in another room full of socialites. And this one is for children, who Tony generally like way better than socialites or the press anyways.

It is both a gift and a curse, really, because now Tony is sitting at a picnic table watching a bunch of giggling kids braid flowers into Bucky’s hair under a tree about thirty feet away. Flowers. Into Bucky’s hair. Tony is charmed, and a little jealous, sure, because he wants to play with Bucky’s hair too damnit, but mostly Tony is just hopelessly charmed.

Tony groans pathetically for the third time in as many minutes and slumps down across the table, barely avoiding face planting into a half eaten cake that, ironically, has all their faces on it. "Real question,” Tony says out loud to no one, “do you think he'll have my babies?"

"I don't... think that's possible, Tony," Steve says slowly, and Tony jumps a little because he maybe forgot Steve was there. When he looks up Steve is making a weird scrunched face, like some kind of prude, as he says “what-"

"Then I'll have his babies, I don’t give a fuck," Tony huffs, dropping his chin to his crossed arms and fixing his eyes back on Bucky. Who is now letting a beaming little girl place a flower crown on his head and Tony doesn't even care that he’s probably going to have to pay for all those ripped up flower beds.

"I don't... think that would work either,” Steve says, breaking into Tony’s swooning again, “seriously, what-"

"But,” Tony interrupts, raising one finger as he turns back towards Steve, “what if he fucks me really, really hard?”

"I don't think you know where babies come from," Sam says and Tony jumps again, because when did Sam get here?

"You wont know if you don't try," Clint points out cheerfully, and when did that asshole get here?!

"Don't encourage him, I don't want to think about any of this," Steve says with a groan, pushing away his plate of food.

Tony finally sits up properly to look around the table in confusion as he asks "when did you assholes get here? Don’t you need to go charm parents or something? I already did my shift.”

"We've been here the whole time, man," Sam says and great, now they're all giving him weird looks, "you need to get it together, there are kids around."

"He needs a basic sex ed class," Clint says, and when Tony looks over Clint is rearranging the remainders of the cake to Frankenstein together what’s left of their faces. Tony doesn’t understand how he’s the weird one here.

Tony has a response to all of this negativity, it is a clever and scathing response and he forgets it instantly when Bucky turns towards the table, waving at them with the chubby little fist of the kid he’s now holding in his arms.

Tony slumps back down across the splintery wood with a garbled groaning sound that turns into a sigh of "fuck I want his babies inside me so goddam bad."

"Gross," Sam says while Steve makes exaggerated gagging noises and pushes his plate further away. “Man up,” Sam says cryptically, patting Tony on the shoulder and Tony groans again. At least it’s followed by the sounds of everyone getting up and finally leaving him alone to his misery / daydreams of how adorable babies made by Bucky would be.

At the sound of approaching footsteps Tony looks up again to ask if they’re sure he can’t have Bucky’s babies only to squeak instead because oh look, it’s Bucky. Still holding a child, both of them smiling hopefully at Tony and Tony’s heart lurches dangerously in his chest.

“Hunter here has something for you,” Bucky says, his voice soft in a way Tony has never heard before and the kid nods eagerly before wiggling around to dig his little hand into the giant pocket on his tiny little cargo pants. Bucky has to shift his grip constantly to keep the kid from tumbling out of his arms as Hunter pulls out a sheet of paper folded over itself multiple times and Tony’s not about to sob, he’s not. Everything is fine.

It’s a welcome distraction when the kid abruptly throws his weight forward, arms outstretched, and Tony has to reach out to grab him as Bucky makes panic face and just tries not to drop the over-excited kid.

“Woah, okay, what do you have for me?” Tony asks, twisting sideways on the awkward picnic table seat so he can settle the kid in his lap and then help to unfold the paper.

It turns out that what Hunter has is an impressively and hilariously accurate drawing of their fight with the giant frog last month, and Tony instantly loves it. He loves it more and more as the kid stutters through an explanation of every painstakingly included detail, like Thor covered in slime, and the exact moment Tony came bursting out of the frog’s chest in a spray of red crayon.

“Hunter, I can’t lie to you,” Tony says seriously once the kid has finished explaining that the Hulk is purple because his dog ate the green, “this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Amazing. Are you sure I can keep it? This should be in museums.”

Tony grins wide when Hunter bursts into delighted laughter, pushing the paper harder into Tony’s hands. When he looks up again Bucky is still standing there, smiling down at them all soft and warm, purple and yellow flower crown sitting a little lopsided on his head, and Tony’s heart lurches again.

"Are we ready to go?" Tony asks, looking around one last time even though FRIDAY has already confirmed they’ve successfully rounded up all the tiny, vicious alien mice.

"Almost, Bucky is taking pictures with a couple kids who snuck past the police barricades," Natasha says, looking entirely too proud of random thrill-seeking kids as she points somewhere behind Tony.

Tony does not turn to look, because that sounds dangerously adorable, and instead just tips his head back with a heavy sigh as he asks "but when is he going to give me a baby?"

"What was that?" comes a voice from behind him, and Tony spins on his heel so fast the armor gouges into the street a little to find that yep, Bucky is right there with an expression that Tony kind of wants to call bemused teasing. Or maybe just confused amusement.

Tony definitely can't run away this time, mostly because the stupid tiny alien mice got into his boots and chewed up the important wires. He’s also pretty sure he can hear Natasha snickering at him, so he figures hey, fuck it, might as well double down. “I said," Tony repeats with an over-exaggerated roll of his eyes, "when are you going to give me a baby?!”

He’s not sure how he actually expects Bucky to respond to that, because Tony has not thought this through at the fuck all, but he’s definitely not expecting Bucky to look surprised for a split second before giving Tony a smirk that is honestly filthy, how dare he make that face in broad daylight. “Maybe once things calm down at work,” Bucky says lightly, patting Tony on the shoulder as he walks past on the way to the transport vans.

“Some of us aren’t getting any younger here!” Tony calls after him, and it’s probably ridiculous to want to pout just because he couldn’t actually feel Bucky’s hand on his shoulder through the armor. He is anyways though, because frankly it’s way easier than dwelling on the fact that okay, apparently they joke about this now. That definitely won’t make Tony’s problems worse or anything, not a chance.

“Well you certainly look like ya are,” Bucky says, pausing to toss Tony a wink before clambering into the back of the van.

Tony is too busy stuttering and blushing to notice he’s moving, and then he’s walking straight into the side of the van with a tellingly loud clang of armor against metal. Natasha outright laughs at him, and Tony is pretty sure he can hear laughter from inside the van, too. Life is so unfair.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Steve demands with slowly dawning horror.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bucky says flatly, but Steve is not an idiot, and he absolutely sees the way Bucky keeps glancing across the road as he hoists a laughing child up to sit on his shoulder. In fact, Bucky appears to be staring straight at Tony, who’s slumped back against his parked car with an expression that Steve wants to call half pain and half longing. And half stupid.

Steve has already had more than enough of this, thank you very much, but his attempt to storm off down the street is thwarted by Tony chasing him down, clutching at his arm, and frantically whispering “I want his baby.”

“It doesn’t work like that Tony,” Steve says miserably, trying and somehow failing to pry Tony’s grip loose, “that's my best friend, please stop saying these things to me.”

“Okay, but I want it,” Tony whispers back, clearly not listening at all and still staring at Bucky with wide eyes, “I want his baby inside me, and I want him to put it there. Vigorously.”

“Please go back to whining about how pretty his hair is, that was way better than this,” Steve begs, which are some words that he never thought he’d say and these pining morons might actually be the death of him. He never thought he’d miss the days when they just silently made heart eyes at each other from across a room.

As they both watch Bucky boosts another kid up onto his other shoulder while their equally excited dad snaps approximately a million photos on his phone, and Tony nearly sobs out “fuck me, I just love him so much.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh, then snaps his head around to stare at Tony with one eyebrow raised. “Wait,” Steve says slowly, a smirk growing on his face because this is certainly a new development, “what was that last part?”

Tony blinks dumbly at him for a second, like he legitimately hasn’t been listening to himself when he speaks, and then his eyes go wide. “I said he’s hot and I want to have his babies!” Tony says, probably too loudly considering they’re still standing on the street and Steve has to resist the urge to laugh. “I didn’t say that I have feelings! There are zero feelings here, fuck you!” Tony continues, looking more and more panicked by the second and Steve almost feels bad for him. Except for the fact that he does not, not even a little bit.

”Very convincing,” Steve says, patting Tony on the back. Down the street Bucky carefully sets both kids back on their feet and waves goodbye, and Tony makes a strangled sound.

Sometimes, Tony thinks back fondly on when things in his life made a single bit of goddamn sense. Mostly though, he’s accepted this interesting new form of insanity.

Like when he walks into the kitchen to find Bucky and Peter sitting at the kitchen table, Peter giggling to himself as he sticks what appears to be Mario magnets all over Bucky’s left arm. Why wouldn’t this be happening?! Tony can’t help the short laugh that bursts out of him before he manages to smother it down, and Bucky turns to him with a baleful look.

“I’m not crazy about the kid from your first marriage,” Bucky says flatly, and Tony loses control of his laughter again as Peter makes a squawking sound caught somewhere between offended and confused.

“Well, he’s part of the deal,” Tony says with a shrug, and smiles brightly as Peter makes a couple more meaningless noises. He refills his coffee mug, then fixes Bucky with a serious look even as he starts backing out of the room and says “you want some better ones, we better get started on making them.”

“I’ll put it in m’ calendar,” Bucky says with a wink, and Tony pretends to swoon so that hopefully no one will notice that he’s actually swooning a little bit, cheeks warm and everything.

“I am scared and confused,” Peter volunteers, green shell magnet still clutched between his fingers, and Tony laughs his way out of the room as Peter squeaks “am I being adopted?!”

Steve walks into the living room to find Bucky sitting on the couch in the near-dark, face buried in his palms, and is instantly on high alert. “Bucky?” Steve asks, looking around the room, but the TV is currently showing a geico commercial and somehow Steve doesn’t think that’s the problem. “What’s going on- what’s wrong?”

When Bucky lifts his head and looks up at Steve his eyes are wet, and Steve is about to panic right up until Bucky opens his mouth and says “Steve. He’s so fucking precious, Steve. What the fuck.”

“What,” Steve says flatly, because what the fuck is Bucky talking about. He looks around the room again, hoping this time he’ll find some kind of answer, and oh look at that, the commercials have ended and apparently Bucky has been sitting here watching the highlights of last night’s press event. More specifically, the interview Tony had done with a tiny well-dressed child outside the actual event. Because of course that’s what Bucky is nearly crying over. “I hate you both,” Steve says with a sigh that feels like it comes from the very depths of his soul.

“Steve,” Bucky says again, eyes back on the TV, “Steve, do you think Tony’s kids would be as pretty as him?”

“I want to disown both of you,” Steve says, and then huffs in annoyance because Bucky is clearly not listening.

“He has an entire wall of art and letters from kids in his workshop,” Bucky continues on, completely unphased by Steve’s hate, “he can still tell the story behind each and every one of them. Bet he’d make the prettiest fuckin’ babies.”

“I’m leaving,” Steve says, but before he can actually move Bucky is whipping his head back around with a distressingly hopeful look on his face. “No-“ Steve tries to say, because he has a terrible feeling he knows exactly where this is going, but Bucky talks right over him.

“Steve,” Bucky says and completely ignores Steve’s desperate head shaking as he asks “do you think Tony would have my babies? We would make the cutest little babies on the entire fuckin’ planet, I just know it.”

“Nope,” Steve says loudly, finally spinning on his heel and stomping out of the room, “nope nope nope, I don’t want to be a part of this. I’m taking the quinjet, if anyone needs me, don’t, because I will be back in the damn ice.”

“Steve!” Bucky shouts after his retreating back, “don’t you think our babies would be cute, Steve?!”

Tony isn’t sure why people seem so determined to hand Bucky their babies lately, but he’s certainly not complaining. By which Tony means that he is absolutely complaining, because just once he would like to go out for dinner with his teammates without his heart exploding over the sight of Bucky cuddling a chunky little infant close to his chest.

“I want to have his babies,” Tony sighs, hands clutched to his chest, and it really should be more concerning that he’s barely even aware he’s doing it anymore, doesn’t realize the words are out until Steve sighs heavily beside him.

“Tony please, stop,” Steve says, eyes closed and expression pinched like he’s getting a headache, “why can’t you just talk to each other like normal people.”

“I talk to Bucky all the time,” Tony objects, because he really does, he spends more time with Bucky than just about anyone these days. He just doesn’t talk about pointless, useless things, like his feelings, or the fact that his biological cock is apparently chiming like Big Fucking Ben.

Steve just sighs again, looking around like he’s trying to find help but Rhodey and Sam had left them behind almost as soon as they had stopped, the bastards. Tony is helpless to look away as the baby raises one tiny hand to pat at Bucky’s cheek, and when Bucky turns his head, meeting Tony’s eyes as he pretends to bite and then gently kisses that chubby little baby fist Tony makes a squealing sound deep in his chest that finally has Steve walking away too.

Tony goes home at the end of the night and sobs into his pillow. More or less. He collapses across the couch in his suite and presses his face into the armrest as he whines “it’s like he doesn’t even care that I have a heart condition! How am I supposed to live like this?!”

“Then fuck him or die already,” Rhodey says heartlessly, sprawled across the armchair and flipping obnoxiously through a magazine. Tony doesn’t even know where he got a magazine, because it’s certainly not Tony’s.

“It’s like you have no sympathy for my pain,” Tony says, finally pulling his face away from the arm rest to glare at his so-called best friend.

“Ran out of it months ago,” Rhodey agrees, loudly turning another page and Tony is pretty sure he brought that magazine himself, just so he could do this. Tony has to admire that level of dedication.

Tony blasts one of the flying monkeys, actually, real flying monkeys, out of the air as it tries to swoop down at Bucky, and this is one of the times that the insanity level of their lives is a little too high for even Tony’s standards. It’s almost worth it though, because Bucky looks up at him with a quick flash of a grin and his voice is warm through the comms as he says “thanks sugar.”

“You know how you can make it up to me?” Tony asks, ignoring the flush working its way across his face in favor of smirking widely because he can already hear the rest of the team groaning in protest. And hey, great thing about a metal suit, no one can see you blush.

“How’s that, sweet thing?” Bucky asks, also ignoring the rest of their team and Tony can hear the grin in his voice even as Bucky leaps over to the next rooftop and takes aim at another swarm of flying monkeys. Flying. Monkeys.

“Don’t,“ Sam says, and there’s a grunt as he kicks one of the pests out of the air, “this stopped being funny so long ago.”

“You could put a-“ Tony starts, only to be cut off by a combination of his own laughter, Sam’s protesting sounds, and one of the monkeys crashing into him and trying to pry his helmet off.

“Tony please I am begging you-“ Steve tries, and Tony would swear he can actually hear Steve’s soul leaving his body.

“Put a goddamn baby in me!” Tony finishes with maybe a little too much emotion, knocking the monkey and away and blasting it with great prejudice.

“Alright it’s funny again,” Clint says around a burst of giggles, but Tony is much more interested in Bucky’s quiet laugh. It has him smiling all through the rest of the fight, even if it is with goddamn flying monkeys.

“Bruce, I need to ask you something,” Steve says, bursting into the library and he feels bad when Bruce startles hard. Bruce nods though, still looking a little rattled, so Steve decides to launch right into it. “So you know how Tony and Bucky are being extra obnoxious with their super obvious pining lately?”

“Unfortunately,” Bruce says with a pinched expression that Steve knows all too well. He’s pretty sure that’s what his own face looks like all the time lately.

“So I realized, there’s still a lot I don’t know about the world these days, I am constantly learning new things, and it occurred to me-“ Steve pauses, chewing on his lip for a second before he decides to just blurt it out. “They can’t actually make a baby, right?! Because I’m pretty sure they’re just being dumb but I also don’t want to be wrong, and- Bruce, am I going to be an uncle?!”

Bruce just blinks at him for several long, silent seconds. Then he shuts his book with a decisive thunk, pushes himself to his feet, and firmly says “I need a vacation.”

“That’s not an answer to my question!” Steve protests, because at this point Bruce is basically the only person Steve can trust to not fuck with him about this. And Steve has learned his lesson about diving too deep into google looking for answers. That way lies madness.

“Vacation,” Bruce says again, then politely but firmly elbows his way past Steve and out the door.

“I’m not ready to be an uncle!” Steve calls after him, and pouts when Bruce refuses to come back and answer his questions.

Tony did not start the day thinking he’d end it getting crushed by an air-born taxi during what should have been a routine fight, but it looks like that’s what’s going to happen. Because of course the latest bad guy just has to go down in a blaze of exploding glory that knocks Tony to the ground, disables his suit, and flings every vehicle parked along the block flying.

The taxi is just a blur of yellow as it approaches, and Tony squeezes his eyes shut. He peeks one open hesitantly when several seconds go by and he still hasn’t been crushed, and then chokes on his breath at the sight of Bucky standing above him, holding the majority of the car off the ground with no apparent effort.

“Please put a baby in me,” Tony blurts, entire body flushing hot and he’s so far past caring if that’s somehow become his gut reaction to just about everything Bucky does, he’s never meant anything so much in his life.

Bucky smirks slow and filthy, which is unfair to begin with, and then holy mother of god switches to holding the taxi with one hand so he can pretend to tug at his belt with the other as he asks “right now?”

“No!” Comes several shouting voices through the comms, and Tony laughs weakly. It’s probably a good thing the fight is over, because he doesn’t think he has the brainpower to even stand right now and wow, this armor is not erection friendly.

When Tony looks around it’s to see Steve sitting on the curb with his face in his hands, and if he listens closely he can just barely hear Steve muttering something under his breath that sounds like the word ‘stupid’ over and over again. Clint is standing nearby with what appears to be his phone held out, like he’s recording Tony’s mini-crisis here, and Tony would be upset if it didn’t mean there might be actual footage of Bucky catching the car. Which Tony would really like to see. For reasons. Natasha is just shaking her head like she’s ashamed of all of them, and from the looks of it Sam has already flown away.

“Maybe later,” Tony says regretfully, and tries not to moan out loud when Bucky easily shoves the car away.

Bucky offers him a hand and Tony to his feet, steadying him when Tony’s legs threaten to give out and Tony really hopes he can blame that on the unpowered suit.

“This is why I can’t have anything nice,” Tony says with a heavy sigh as Clint tackles Sam off the couch, one of their controllers flying across the room in the process to clatter loudly into the wall.

He turns at the sound of quiet laughter from behind him, because Tony would know that laugh anywhere, and sure enough he looks up just in time to watch as Bucky launches himself over the back of the couch and lands right beside him, arm still stretched out along the back and so close to being wrapped around Tony’s shoulders.

“I don’t know why you want more kids,” Bucky says, grinning over at him before shooting a pointed look at the oversized children still wrestling on the floor. “The ones we already have are terrible.”

“I resent that,” Natasha says from the safety of the armchair, easily winning now that all her competition is thoroughly distracted, “some of us are perfectly pleasant.”

“You’re on thin ice,” Tony tells her, punching absently at the buttons of his own controller because he can’t look away from Bucky’s stupid beautiful face, and his stupid gorgeous smile. Finally he gets it together enough to tell Bucky “that’s why we need more, these are the worst children. We need to replace all of them. If at first you don’t succeed try, try again, and all that.”

Bucky turns back to him with a toothy grin that has Tony flushing hot all over and says “wanna replace all of ‘em, huh? Sounds like a whole lot of tryin’.”

“Get a room,” Clint says, voice muffled because his face is currently stuffed into Sam’s armpit, his own finger shoved into Sam’s ear for some reason.

“That’s what we’re trying to plan here,” Tony says, but it gets drowned out by Natasha’s cheer of victory and the ensuing fight as Clint tries to tackle her out of her chair too.

“Bucky,” Steve says, as reasonably as he possibly can, “you gotta put the baby down.”

“No. Why?” Bucky demands petulantly, clutching the baby closer while it giggles and coos.

“Because Tony is in the corner literally sobbing and looking at cribs online and this is getting out of hand,” Steve says, and when he looks over at where he’d left Tony all he sees is the top of the man’s hair where it’s peaking up above one of the tables lining the edges of the room, and apparently Tony is now hiding behind furniture. That might actually be better, somehow. At least he’s not wandering around asking people for input on baby clothes anymore. “Please put the baby down and just go ask him out like a normal person,” Steve begs.

“I’m not putting the baby down,” Bucky says stubbornly, even as his attention is now firmly fixed on the top of Tony’s head, “did you even see his tiny little bowtie?”

“I did see his little bowtie,” Steve says, taking a deep breath and trying to summon all of his patience. He can’t start yelling in front of a baby, in the middle of a black tie charity gala, no matter how much he wants to. “I also saw Tony basically burst into tears the second you picked up the baby, and if the two of you don’t get it together soon you’re going to drive us all insane. Please just ask him out.”

Bucky looks down at the baby again, bouncing it a little in his arms and Steve kind of hates that Bucky still manages to find a way to look unsure about this. “What if he says no?” Bucky asks, barely loud enough for Steve to hear him.

“Are you fu- are you fooling with me right now?” Steve demands and there he goes, he’s about to completely lose it in front of all these nice because because his best friends are just so stupid.

“Don’t swear in front of th’ baby,” Bucky chides him.

“I’m not swearing in front of the baby,” Steve grits out, “now go ask out the man you’ve been offering to impregnate for longer than any of us are comfortable with.”

Bucky still isn’t looking at him, barely even manages a smile when the baby tugs at his tie and makes an unbearably adorable gurgling sound. “He’s just kiddin’ around,” Bucky says, voice quieter than Steve has ever heard it, “he- he doesn’t mean any of it.”

Steve glances over at the corner again, where it looks like Natasha and Rhodey are trying to talk Tony out of whatever online shopping spree he’s on. Then Steve takes a long, deep breath. “Put the baby down,” he says to Bucky calmly, “so that I can punch you in the face really, really hard.”

Tony knows Bucky is in the living room watching old cartoons for some reason, because he always is on Thursday afternoons, so Tony pours a second cup of coffee and carries it in from the kitchen.

“Coffee for you, oh father of my disaster children,” Tony announces as he rounds the couch, Bucky’s favorite mug outstretched, “I even made it disgustingly sweet the way you like, even though it actually hurt my soul a little bit. I felt real pain.”

“Thanks doll,” Bucky says, easy as anything, leaning forward to take the mug from Tony’s suddenly numb hand. His smile is warm and happy and gorgeous and it makes Tony’s heart start beating triple time in his chest.

“You know how you can make it up to me?” Tony asks, and his own voice echoes hollowly in his ears because he has an idea, and it’s probably a terrible one, but he thinks he might just go through with it anyways.

“How’s that, darlin’?” Bucky asks, grinning wider and he’s waiting for the same old joke but there’s something in his eyes, something Tony knows. Something that has him stumbling a half step closer, licking his lips nervously and shivering when Bucky’s eyes track the movement.

This is it, this is Tony’s last chance to chicken out, to not ruin his friendship with a sweet, clever guy that Tony’s not sure he could actually live without at this point. Tony doesn’t back out. “You could kiss me,” he says instead, voice shaking, clutching his own coffee mug to his chest like it could possibly protect him.

Bucky blinks at him slowly. “You know that’s not how babies are made, right?” He asks, one eyebrow raised, expression slowly shifting from confused to hesitantly hopeful.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, nodding a little wildly, “but, I thought- you know, I figured it might be a good start.”

Bucky calmly sets his coffee down the on the table. Then he surges to his feet, takes Tony’s face between his big palms and finally, finally kisses him deep and hungry. Tony’s own mug goes crashing to the floor and Tony does not care at all, not when he can finally wrap his arms around Bucky without wondering how long is too long, without worrying that he’ll give himself away. All of Tony’s cards are already on the table here and Bucky is apparently right there with him, fingers sliding back into Tony’s hair and a low, desperate noise rumbling through his chest.

So Tony just holds on, tangles his own fingers in Bucky’s hair, digs his fingers into the thick muscle of Bucky’s shoulder and kisses him back. Tony kisses him back for all he’s worth, because if Bucky still thinks this is a joke then Tony is at least going to pour everything he can into it, going to do everything he can to memorize the feeling of Bucky’s lips against his, Bucky’s nails scratching at his scalp when Tony teases his tongue along the roof of his mouth.

Except Tony is starting to think this was never a joke, not to either of them, because when they break away panting Bucky’s just drags his hands down Tony’s back, pulls him in closer and sighs out “oh- Tony-“

”Also, you should put a baby in me,” Tony blurts, because how can he not, laughing giddily.

Bucky does not laugh. Instead Bucky lets out a low groan, hands sliding lower to palm at Tony’s ass as he growls “I’m gonna fuckin’ try.”

Tony is still laughing as Bucky pulls him into another kiss, and then he stops laughing, gets lost in just trying not to melt as Bucky licks into his mouth, kisses him deep and filthy. Tony completely fails, melts easy as anything under Bucky’s attention and the next thing he knows they’re on the ground, barely avoiding the spilled coffee as Bucky shoves his way between Tony’s thighs.

Bucky bites at Tony’s lip and along his jaw, slides a hand under the small of Tony’s back and hitches his hips up so Bucky can grind against the curve of his ass as he growls out “fuck, babydoll- you been tryin’ to make me think about fuckin’ you all the damn time?”

“Were you?” Tony asks, breathless and delighted, arching his back harder and grinding up against Bucky’s stomach with a shaking moan. “Because that was not an intended side effect, but I am also not complaining.”

“Still thinking about it,” Bucky says on a soft groan, nearly shoving them both across the floor with how hard he’s grinding himself against Tony, “fuck, sweet thing I have been dyin’ t’ get inside you.”

“Then fuckin’ do it,” Tony moans back, fingers scrambling at Bucky’s shoulders, yanking him into another kiss and moaning again when Bucky’s fingers slip down the back of his sweats.

Tony doesn’t even notice the approaching foot steps until he hears the voice of patriotic disapproval, screeching out “hey Bucky are you still in- oh what the fuck guys?!”

“Get the fuck out, Steve!” Bucky yells, voice rough and it sends a shiver all down Tony’s spine.

“We’re trying to make a baby here!” Tony shouts at the same time, tightens his thighs around Bucky’s hips and doesn’t stop grinding up against him.

“I hate you both and I’m so happy for you!” Steve screams back as he high tails it out of the room.

They both dissolve into laughter, and it warms Tony’s heart as much as his pants to feel Bucky’s quiet laugh rumbling through his chest and into Tony’s. He kisses Bucky again, light and sweet even though they’re both smiling too wide to really make it work, and then says “we should probably get out of the living room. I propose my bed, it’s the best.”

“Counter proposal,” Bucky says and then stands up, lifts Tony straight off the ground and up into his arms, “we find the closest room with a fuckin’ door.”

“Hnng,” Tony says in response, and Bucky laughs against his throat, digs his fingers into Tony’s ass.

They end up in the pantry, which is not ideal but definitely the closest option. Bucky presses him up against the shelves and it’s not exactly comfortable but Tony doesn’t care, because Bucky kisses him deeply and starts tearing at both their clothes. And Tony can grab ahold of the shelf above his head, try to rock himself down into it as Bucky starts fingering him open with some kind of oil from a bottle that’s currently abandoned on the floor, spilling everywhere.

“C’mon, fuck-“ Tony gasps out, thighs shaking around Bucky’s hips as Bucky’s fingers press into him again, deep and demanding. “Fuck- please hurry the fuck up, I have been- ohh-“ Tony gets a little distracted from what he’s saying when Bucky finds his prostate and decides to play with that new discovery for a minute, doesn’t let up until Tony’s entire body is flushed hot and tingly, ragged whimpers tearing from his chest and already embarrassingly close to the edge.

“What was that, sugar?” Bucky asks and oh, Tony can just hear the smirk in his voice even if he can’t see it because Bucky is doing his best to turn Tony’s neck into an impressionist painting. When Tony opens his mouth to reply Bucky slides a third finger into him, sucks hard to Tony’s pulse and it turns his words into more garbled moans.

“Fuck me already,” Tony finally manages to snarl out, digging his heels into the small of Bucky’s back and tugging him closer, “god- please honey I have been going crazy thinking about getting your cock in me and- ah, yes fuck god- and I swear if you don’t hurry the fuck up-“

Bucky cuts him off with another kiss, sloppy and breathless and Tony whines as Bucky spreads his fingers a little more, stretches him a little wider. “Been thinkin’ about this too,” Bucky says, swipes his tongue over Tony’s lip and growls when Tony shakes and clenches around his fingers, “spreading you open jus’ like this, fuckin’ you every possible way, stuff you so full you get every one of those damn kids you want so bad.”

“Bucky-“ Tony whines desperatly as every word sends another hot spike straight to his gut and fuck that shouldn’t be so hot but fuck it really is. “Please, please- fuck I swear I’m ready just fuck me open already-“ Tony trails off again when Bucky withdraws his fingers, makes whining noises of protest until the head of Bucky’s cock nudges against him, slick and huge.

And then Bucky starts pressing into him, cock spreading Tony open a little more with every hard roll of his hips while Tony moans his head off, knocking everything off the shelves as he tries to brace himself, tries to shove himself further down onto Bucky’s cock, tires to take him deeper.

“Patience, babydoll,” Bucky says, breath shaking against Tony’s jaw, “gonna fuck you just the way you want I just- damn you feel good- just gotta do this part nice an’ slow an’-“

“Fuck that,” Tony decides, finally gets his hand braced properly and shoves himself down hard, wailing breathlessly as his Bucky’s hips slam against his ass, his cock sliding so deep that Tony swears he can feel it everywhere. “Yes, god, fucking perfect,” Tony sighs and yeah that burns a bit, and yeah he’s definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow, but it is so worth if for the feeling of Bucky’s cock throbbing inside him, the slightly dazed look on Bucky’s face even as he grinds a little deeper.

Bucky’s grip is bruisingly tight on Tony’s hips, pulling him into it as Bucky rolls his hips a little harder. “Wanted it that bad, huh?” Bucky asks, scraping his teeth over the shell of Tony’s ear and tightening this grip to stop Tony from trying to fuck himself on Bucky’s cock.

“Yeah, let me have it,” Tony whines, tightening his legs around Bucky’s hips and he doesn’t care that Bucky’s jeans are digging into his thighs, that his own sweats are still hanging off one ankle, that they’re still in the goddamn pantry. All he cares about is getting properly fucked, the way he’s been dying for, and the fact that Bucky isn’t just giving it to him. “Please honey, fuck me already, make me feel it, fill me up and then fuck me again, gimme everything you got.”

“I’ll give you everthin’,” Bucky promises, warm and earnest against Tony’s lips, then withdraws and thrusts back into Tony fast and hard, knocking a loud moan out of his chest that only gets louder as Bucky immediately starts up a brutal, perfect rhythm. “Gonna give you exactly what you want,” he growls between thrusts, dropping sharp, toothy kisses along Tony’s jaw, “fuck you so full you’re leakin’ with it, an’ then do it everyday ‘til I knock you up good and proper.”

“Holy fuck,” Tony groans, finally releasing his hold on the shelves to grab for Bucky instead. Something goes crashing to the ground, definitely breaking, but all Tony can focus on is the aching pleasure of Bucky moving inside him, thick cock rubbing over his prostate and pressing so deep inside him that his every breath comes out as a warbling moan. “Please, please- oh fuck that’s perfect, you’re so perfect-“

Bucky’s next thrust is hard enough that everything on the shelves rattle, a couple more things falling to the ground and Tony nearly screams before Bucky smashes their lips together again. He licks hungrily into Tony’s mouth and pulls him impossibly closer, until he’s basically just fucking Tony up and down on his cock while Tony wails and clenches around him.

“So fuckin’ good,” Bucky gasps when they break apart again, his thrusts going short and uncoordinated, hips slapping roughly aginst Tony’s ass, “so tight and warm, take me so fuckin’ perfect, tell me you’re close sweet thing, wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“I’ve been close since the living room floor,” Tony says with a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair and pulling him into a kiss that more sharing air than anything, “please, please-“

Bucky presses him harder into the shelves and gets one hand between them, rubs his thumb over the head of Tony’s cock and Tony is fucking gone. He comes with a loud, garbled moan that was intended to be Bucky’s name, orgasm washing through him in heated waves until everything goes a little warm and hazy.

“Tony, Tony- fuck-“ Bucky groans, fucking Tony into the shelves with short, hard thrusts, grinding deep and Tony can feel the way Bucky’s cock twitches inside him, “Tony-“

“C’mon honey,” Tony slurs out, rocking his hips into the next thrust and tugging at Bucky’s hair, “put your fuckin’ baby in me.”

Bucky laughs roughly against his throat, both arms wrapping tightly around Tony and grinding into him hard. “Fuck yeah doll, gonna fill you up so good, knock you right up.”

“Ohh fuck,” Tony moans, shaking as Bucky continues to rub against his prostate mercilessly and it sends shock after shock of agonizing pleasure up Tony’s spine, “c’mon, give it to me.”

“Shit,” Bucky gasps, then sinks his teeth into Tony’s shoulder and comes with a low groan, shelves rattling again as he shoves into Tony hard, comes inside him with several hot pulses that have Tony shaking and whimpering all over again.

“Fuck,” Tony says eloquently, finally going limp in Bucky’s hold and letting his head thumping back against the nearly cleared off shelves as he tries to catch his breath and let his heart rate slow back to something a little more reasonable.

When he forces his eyes open Bucky is right there, smiling at him warm and fond and Tony doesn’t know how he’s just now recognizing all the love in that expression. He really hopes Bucky can see it on his face too, because Tony doesn’t have the breath or brain power to try and put it into words right now. Bucky must get it though, because he smiles wider and cups Tony's cheek again, kisses him soft and sweet like they have all the time in the world. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to actually set Tony back down and Tony is not complaining. Mostly because he can't quite feel his legs. Partially also because he’s still enjoying the feeling of Bucky buried deep inside him.

They break away from the kiss slowly, still sharing the same air, right up until Bucky shifts his weight and something crunches loudly beneath his foot. Tony giggles, which quickly turns into a pained groan when his head thumps back against the shelves, and then a happy groan when Bucky laughs and it shifts his half-hard cock inside Tony, messy and amazing.

“Can’t believe we finally did that,” Bucky says with another soft huff of laughter, nudging his nose against Tony’s with a goofy grin that Tony can now absolutely admit makes him go all soft and wobbly.

"Neither can I!" Comes a muffled shout from the other side of the door, and Bucky’s metal arm tightens around Tony’s waist as they both jump slightly. Then they’re both laughing, nearly drowning out the sounds of Steve’s All-American Offense as he basically screams “we can all hear you in there!!”

“In front of literally all of our food?! Really?!” That would be Clint’s voice chiming in, and Tony has to tuck his face down against Bucky’s shoulder to try and smother his combination of laughter and breathy gasps.

He can feel Bucky’s come starting to leak out of him, and he tightens his thighs around Bucky’s waist in an attempt to pull him closer. And they’d been having such a nice moment before the assholes arrived. Tony figures the least he can do is talk some shit. “Hate to break it to you puritans,” Tony calls, lifting his head again, “but this is far from the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“That’s what I told them,” comes Rhodey’s voice, and he does in fact sound unphased. Thank god for college friendships. “Please at least put your pants back on before you come out of there, I know how you are.”

“I just want my Oreos,” comes another voice, and that would be Natasha, and Tony winces because Natasha’s special peanut butter Oreos are definitely one of the things on the ground.

“We were here first,” Bucky points out, voice still low and rumbly in a way that is giving Tony ideas.

”It’s the communal kitchen!” Steve shrieks, and if he doesn’t calm down soon his poor old heart might just give out on him.

Tony laughs, only wincing a little when he hits his head again. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he calls gleefully, “did the community want to get in here then, get in on this?”

“Fuck no,” Bucky snarls against Tony’ throat, arms tightening around him and Tony would swear he can even hear the low grumble of a growl escaping Bucky’s chest.

“Oh ho ho, possessive,” Tony says, delighted, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair and tugging slightly, “I can work with that.”

“Give you somethin’ to work with,” Bucky grumbles and Tony can feel his smirk as Bucky rolls his hips, cock sliding through the slick mess of his come, teasing over Tony’s over-sensitive prostate and almost fully hard again.

“Fuck- yes,” Tony gasps and he’s not sure Bucky even actually went soft, and they are going to have so much fun. “Want it- want you to fuck me so full I can’t move with it- Bucky-“

“Anything you want,” Bucky promises, kisses him again and thrusts his hips forward, presses Tony back into the shelves with a slick, obscene sound and swallows down Tony’s shaking groan.

On the other side of the pantry door, Rhodey shakes his head and says “we should just leave.”

“But-“ Steve starts, only to be cut off by a loud moan that he could have gone his whole life without hearing.

With one last look at each other, everyone scrambles to get out of the kitchen as fast as they possibly can. Steve is going to make them run so many drills for this.

#buckytony #starkbucks #winteriron #crackfic #okay slight apologies #but they WOULD make pretty babies okay #fanfic

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seawitchkaraoke · 4 years

Text

Sketch in Shadows

(ao3 link in the notes)

This whole idea was stupid. It was way too early, barely even afternoon, she should be in bed and instead, here she was, sitting at a too small desk on an uncomfortable chair, listening to this human guy talking about some other long dead human guy, who had apparently been really good at drawing sunflowers.

The whole thing had been Toby‘s idea – of course. She‘d suggested that going to university would help her learn about the modern world and at the same time continue the „figure out what you actually like and what your mom made you like“ thing Raysel and her had going on and August had agreed, because she was bored, and she didn‘t have anything else to do and hey it might be an adventure, except this time without the getting lost for a hundred years part. So she‘d looked up some classes that sounded interesting and snuck out way too early, letting Raysel sleep who had wisely refused the education plan.

She had been bored. Somehow, she was even more bored now; she‘d really thought that art history would include a little more art and a little less life stories of dead humans.

August leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for just a second, sighing. She could leave anytime, it‘s not like she‘d signed up for anything or like she was actually planning on getting a degree.

She opened her eyes again.

There was a cat on her desk.

She stared. The cat stared back.

August blinked. The cat did not. It also didn‘t disappear, which would have been convenient.

„Um.“ said August, intelligently „I kinda need that desk. You‘re sitting on my things“

The cat said nothing.

August sighed. „Fine. I wasn‘t taking notes anyway, but once the class is over you have to let me get my stuff“ She reached out, petting the cat behind the ears. It was very fluffy, with long grey and white fur, making it look almost silver. It was a beautiful cat.

August leaned back, her hand still buried in the cat‘s fur, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn‘t wait to get out of here, beautiful cat or not.

The air smelled of paper and dust and human sweat and the violets and dry hay of the Daoine Sidhe changeling in the second row and the peppermint and burning walnut wood of the Cait Sidhe in front of -

She yanked her hand back so fast, she almost overbalanced, as she stared at the not at all normal cat in front of her.

The cat blinked, slowly, deliberately. August did not. She stared.

„You‘re Cait Sidhe! What are you- never mind, I don‘t care what you‘re doing here, why are you on my things?“

The Cait Sidhe, still, did not say anything. Of course not. They couldn‘t exactly transform back into a form capable of the English language in the middle of a lecture hall after all. They just looked at her with big purple eyes.

Right. Mortal cats didn‘t have purple eyes. She really must be more tired than she‘d thought.

„Ugh fine! Just give me my stuff back once the class is over okay? And then I can go home and tell my sister this was a stupid idea and you can do, whatever it is Cait Sidhe do all day“

The cat, again, said nothing, just looked at her out of big purple eyes that really should have ticked her off earlier that this was not a mortal cat.

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

The cat‘s name, it turned out, was Zircon and they were part of the Court of Golden Cats (which was ironic considering how silver they were), though they mostly stayed at the university, helping out stressed students and making sure none of the faerie brides were stirring up trouble. They told August all this in the span of the few minutes it took to walk back to the carpark, where Quentin would hopefully be waiting with the car.

„That‘s all great but it doesn‘t explain why you were sitting on my things. I‘m not planning to ‚stir up trouble‘ as you said, I‘m just here because my stupid sister convinced me that university might be fun and not boring“

„Excuse me, you find me boring? And that, when I was trying so hard to entertain you, I don‘t know whether to be hurt or insulted“ they smirked, walking backwards, facing August „you might say you don‘t want to stir up any trouble, but I always check out the new fae on campus just to make sure. And you‘re not exactly just any random fae, August Torquill, you said your name was? I met your sister, though I doubt she realized, she was covered in quite a lot of blood at the time. More importantly I heard what your mother did to the king of dreaming cats to force your sister to bring you home. So I hope you can forgive me, if I need to make my own picture of whether you‘ll stir up trouble“

„Great so you‘ll judge me because of what my mother did? You just said yourself I wasn‘t there for that! I was the one who made her give Tybalt and Jazz back, but no one ever seems to remember that”

That was the wrong thing to say. Zircon hissed and was suddenly too close to her face, the smell of peppermint and burning walnut wood welling up all around them „you want a price for doing the bare minimum? For not being as horrible as your mother? Should I get you a medal?“

August paled, “No! I…. I’m sorry, I’m just really exhausted and tired of people looking at me and only seeing my mother”

Zircon stopped at that, stepping back, slightly „Okay. I won‘t judge you by your mother‘s actions but I know how dangerous your family is, I‘m not so stupid to think you wouldn‘t be as well.“ They looked at August, smiling, showing their far too sharp teeth „you‘re welcome to continue classes here if you decide it isn‘t too boring after all. But this university is mine as much as it is anyone‘s and if I think that you are going to cause anyone here harm either by yourself or by bringing your cursed mother down on us, I will not hesitate to rip you apart. I‘ve heard how fast your sister heals, so I‘m sure I wouldn‘t need to worry about breaking Oberon‘s law“

They stepped back and grinned, teeth having lost their inhuman sharpness and said, almost joyfully „If you‘re interested in art but not the ‚boring‘ stories about dead human artists, you might want to check out some of the more practical classes, I‘m sure you‘d enjoy them“

With that, they sauntered around a corner and a moment later a long haired silver cat with bright purple eyes ran off over the yard.

Well. That could have gone better.

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

August dropped in the passenger‘s seat of the car, groaning. She just wanted to go home and sleep some more and not deal with any stupid cats anymore.

Quentin shot her a sidelong look, as he drew out of the parking spot „So who was that person you were talking to? Cait Sidhe?“

„Their name is Zircon and yeah they‘re Cait Sidhe. They don‘t like me on account of my mother being the worst, they threatened me in case I was planning to start trouble for ‚their‘ university and they told me to try practical drawing classes since art history was boring“

Quentin blinked. That seemed to be the motto of today. „Huh. Well, I can‘t say I can fault them for disliking your mother-“ „Who could“, August muttered, „-but practical drawing classes might be a good idea if art history was too theoretical?“

„ Less theoretical, more just talking about the life and death of some human artist who was really good at sunflowers or whatever“

„Van Gogh?“

„Yes him. And I‘m sure that‘s interesting for the humans, but I wanted to hear about history of art, not history of dead artists“, she sighed, sinking deeper into the car seat „This whole thing was a stupid idea, I can learn about art by practicing, I don‘t need classes, especially not at a university with a cat who hates me“

Quentin looked at her for a second, then turned back to the road, „You know Toby used to be convinced Tybalt hated her. It was all she ever talked about“, he smirked, „so… you know how that ended“

„I‘m not Toby, I‘m not going to fuck a cat!“, Quentin shot her a look, “sorry, sorry I know I shouldn’t say it like that but still. I’m not gonna have sex with the first person I meet who isn’t related to me or a teenager, Cait Sidhe or not”

Privately, she thought she really didn‘t think she wanted to have sex with anyone, cat or no, but that wasn‘t something to discuss with her sister‘s teenaged squire

„and anyway, I‘m not going to see them again, I‘m not going back“

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

Two weeks later, August was once again standing in Berkeley, this time with art supplies slung over her shoulder and at a more reasonable hour – thank Oberon for evening classes. She hadn’t wanted to come back, but while going shopping with Raysel and occasionally May was fun and drawing on the giant chalkboard in Raysel and her shared room was enjoyable and occasionally incredibly cathartic, she’d been hanging around Raysel for months now and as much as she was learning to love her cousin, occasionally she needed some time away from her and away from the house that had a far too high average number of screaming teenagers in residence than August was entirely comfortable with.

So here she was, stepping out of Walther’s office, that Chelsea had opened a portal to – after calling first, to make sure Jack or some other mortal grad student wasn’t in – waving goodbye to the alchemist, who was working on some project or other in between his classes, and walking over to the art building.

She had barely set her things down, and there they were, a silver cat, with ridiculously fluffy fur and clearly unnatural purple eyes. August wondered briefly if any of the veterinary or biology students had ever tried to catch and study them; it should really be obvious to them that those eyes weren’t mortal. Then again, humans could dismiss a lot of things and would probably not jump straight from “cat with purple eyes” to “fae are real and walk among us”. Still it seemed irresponsible.

Irresponsible or not, they were strolling in casually, looping around students’ legs who cooed and occasionally bent down to pet them. August smoothed out her face, it wouldn’t do to be caught glowering at the campus cat, that would just make her stand out and not in a good way.

She shrugged out of her denim jacket – full of patches and glued on rhinestones and metal studs, because it turned out she liked being able to customize her own clothing however she wished – and sat in her chair. The teacher called the room to silence: “Welcome everyone! I’m sure Zaddy here is very happy to have your attention but I’ll need you to focus on me now. My name is Professor Smith and today we’re gonna learn how to draw a still life – though when we get to animals, you’ll be free to focus on Zaddy all lesson long….”

She kept talking, explaining the concept of a still life – apparently a drawing of unmoving inanimate objects – and setting down various things for them to use as models. August did her best to ignore Zircon – who had stalked over to her and was now sitting on a nearby shelf full of art supplies, yawning and showing off all their teeth – and listened intently to the teacher, already thinking on which of the objects she would like to draw most. There was a vase of flowers, though thankfully no roses, making the decision easy enough.

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

After the lesson ended, August packed up her half finished drawing and walked outside. Zircon had left at some point during the lesson, but she didn’t worry about them, if they wanted to talk, they’d find her before she called Chelsea and left, if not, all the better for her. She did not want to talk to the cat. If they had decided to leave her alone, that was exactly what she wanted anyway.

No such luck. She turned the corner and there they were, leaning against a wall, human disguise firmly in place. Their eyes were a dark blue in this form, their fluffy hair, that would surely be striped silver, grey and white in their true from, simply black. They looked good, of course, it would be silly to choose a human disguise that made them look bad, and yet August suddenly really wanted to know what they looked like in truth.

She pushed the thought away just as Zircon pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her

“I can’t say, it isn’t a delight to see you again, but I thought you’d said you found this place “boring” and didn’t wish to return?”

“Yes, and I thought you might not bother me with a speech today, but I guess we’re all mistaken sometimes. Also, you can drop the pretentious speech, if you’ve been living at this university for as long as you implied, there’s no way you speak like that”

Zircon laughed at that, “Ah but it’s that or speak in memes, which might at best confuse and at worst horrify you. I would have thought you’d prefer this sort of speech, after all as far as I know, you haven’t been living in the mortal world much?”

“Right because you’d know how much exposure to the mortal world I’ve had. I live with an average of 2 to 4 teenagers, I pick things up. Anyway, what do you want? I already told you I’m not here to make trouble.” August inwardly prepared herself for another round of threats. Maybe she should just find another university to attend; true Berkeley was neutral territory and therefore convenient but surely she could figure something out.

Zircon shock their head: “I know, and I already warned you what would happen if you changed your mind on that. As far as I’m concerned we’re good; no, I am here to tell you the same thing I tell every fae student here and to ask you a question that’s just for you”

August frowned “okay? And what would that be?”

“First, I’ve been taking care of this university for a long time. I protect and help the students, both mortal and not and in return no one minds when I steal some snacks from the cafeteria or curl up in someone’s office. That means if you’re planning to attend regularly, I’ll be happy to help you too. You’re unlikely to need this, but if you ever need a place to sleep or a warm meal, just find me and I’ll help you. If you need advice on what classes to take or where the best spots are to get someone to teleport you out of here, if you want somewhere closer to the art building than Professor Davies’ office, I’ll be happy to give suggestions.”

“And you offer this to everyone?”

“Yes, although obviously I can’t just say it to the humans. With them I have to be a little more subtle, but I help them all the same”

“I’m sorry but aren’t Cait Sidhe supposed to, I don’t know, keep to the court of cats and run around chasing rats all day or something? Tybalt is going to have to give up being king when he marries Toby, because it’s a conflict of interest, how is taking care of an entire university not a conflict of interest?”, she stopped herself, “um, no offense or anything.”

Zircon laughed lightly: “ah, see Tybalt is a king and I am just a normal Cait Sidhe who finds that “chasing after rats” all day gets old quickly”

August reddened in embarrassment “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry, I’m still…. I’m still unlearning a lot of the things my mom taught me”, this was getting uncomfortable, “um, but you said you had a question?”

“Yes!”, Zircon grinned, “would you like to go for coffee?”

Wait what?

“Excuse me?!”

“I asked if you would like to go for coffee. Or tea if you prefer, of course.”

“Caffeine doesn’t work on me, so I would prefer tea actually, or hot chocolate, but that’s not the point- are you asking me on a date?! Last time we talked you threatened to rip me apart!”

“True and you came back here anyway and didn’t try to hurt me or set your mother or your sister on me. You’re the daughter of a firstborn but you attend art classes at a human university and wear a denim jacket with patches and stuts and glitter and you haven’t called me a beast or vermin even once. You’re intriguing and I’d like to get to know you better. Call it a date, if you like, or a call it just a friendly chat between acquaintances”, they smiled, this time almost softly and August knew she would say yes, “or call it nothing at all and decide afterwards what it was. Now I ask again, though slightly amended: Would you like to grab a hot chocolate?”

The night had barely started, and Chelsea wouldn’t mind picking her up later – it wasn’t like it would take her much time after all. And Toby always said she should meet more people.

“Yes” August said, a smile of her own forming on her face, “I think I’d like that. Just one condition”

“And what’s that?”

“We go somewhere run by fae if there is such a place around here. If were gonna get to know each other better, I want to see your actual face”

Zircon smiled.

#october daye #august torquill #fanfiction #nonbinary character #asexual character #yeah i'm a fanfic writer now i guess #lmao two days ago i was still like 'nooo i don't write'#anyway meet Zircon! they're my oc and i love them very much #please let me know what you think?

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xbaebsae · 4 years

Text

OTP Questions

Tagged by @f0xyboxes , @dieguzguz, @nightwingshero, @deputyrhiannonhale and @returnofthepd3 thanks for thinking of me sweethearts♥

(art by minilev)

Rheese Bennett & Jacob Seed (idk if anyone even reads these except me but under cut because long post)

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Jacob. Now don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t loose his cool all that easy but Rheese can be a pain sometimes and he lacks the patience.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither of them.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? This is actually what Rheese does when they break up about three months before the game. He finally is too deluded by Joseph’s demands of him that she cannot get through to him anymore and keep him from hurting people. They have a pretty bad fight about him torturing people that ends with him actually slapping her with the intention of making her shut up because she wouldn’t stop arguing against him. She gives him one moment to apologize for that, but he doesn’t so she leaves :’)

Who trashes the house? They frequently throw things at each other.

Do either of them get physical? Depends on when. Jacob pushes her around sometimes or touches her pretty roughly when he suffers from the effects of his PTSD. No domestic violence though. They also land real blows in training fights, same level bad on both sides really.

It’s worse during the arrest when they aren’t together anymore. Jacob was pretty devastated when he realized she actually left for good (he interpreted ‘i am leaving’ as her going home). It resulted in a lot of self blame (justified) which his family couldn’t really deal with. Joseph convinced him in the end that she was just another test he had to overcome in his life to find his correct path. So, he pretty much behaves just like he does in-game. She doesn’t get special treatment, she gets starved and thrown into murder trials like everyone else.

How often do they argue/disagree? Pretty often. In the beginning it’s all they do, until they realize that having normal conversations every once in a while isn’t so bad actually.

Who is the first to apologize? Apologies are for the weak :)

SEX

Who is on top? Jacob

Who is on the bottom? Rheese (though she won’t admit it if you asked her)

Who has the strangest desires? It’s nothing very strange tbh (at least not by my definition of strange... god i’ve seen ... things on deviantart. Definetly none of that!)

Any kinks? Yeah, the perfect combo of wanting to feel powerless and wanting to feel in control. It complies with their character really. Rheese was forced to take care of herself ever since her teen years, which developed her into a pretty tough person. She likes the control she has over her life, and doesn’t let herself be pushed around by anyone. Feeling stripped of that control is however really exciting for her. Jacob’s kinda the other way around (imo anyway) in that he’s constantly following orders nevermind when or where, even within his own family (to not disappoint Joseph).

Who’s dominant in bed? Jacob, Rheese only if he forces her to be :)

Is head ever in the equation? Yes

If so, who is better at performing it? Rheese. Slightly unfair though because she’s simply worse on the receiving end.

Ever had sex in public? Yeah, much to her dismay.

Who moans the most? Rheese

Who leaves the most marks? Both do in different ways.

Who is the more experienced of the two? Jacob

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Even the nastiest sex is ‘making love’ to them really. It’s frankly a form of talking to them because they both truly suck at verbal communication. Also, Rheese has the old fashioned rule in her life that she won’t sleep with people she isn’t sure about, so before actually being together they don’t have sex. Tho she’s close to breaking that rule multiple times.

Rough or soft? Rough, sometimes foreplay is soft.

How long do they usually last? Depends on time and mood. Also Rheese is a lot younger so she sometimes could go again when he can’t. However that doesn’t mean he gets the best of her sometimes :’)

Is protection used? Yes on her side

Does it ever get boring? No

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Some small cabin at the place they train Judges. It was kinky, they got caught and she prefers to just not talk about it ever again.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children? No, they never wanted to. Their daughter Jaina was an unwanted accident.

If so, how many children do they want/have? They have 1 and that’s already more than they wanted.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Rheese

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Jacob usually. But sometimes she’s good at it as well.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Jacob, and it bothers her a lot in public. He doesn’t really care about what his people think of him, he knows he’s the boss so they can’t say shit. It’s also a way of just showing off that she belongs to him and that’s exactly why she doesn’t like it, cause she ain’t property. Also, people might believe she only became a Chosen trainer because she fucks the boss, which isn’t true because she got that position from someone other than Jake, based entirely on her performance.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Until Rheese falls into deep sleep and starts spreading her limbs everywhere uncontrolably.

Who gives the most kisses? Jacob

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Honestly, just existing next to each other is enough. They are just as happy just sitting in the same room, doing their own tasks, as they are going out for a fishing trip (actually she hates fishing, but the lakes are nice).

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? The bed

How often do they get time to themselves? Usually evenings and nights. They would have more time together if Rheese didn’t value her alone time. Sometimes she prefers to spend her days off alone, going on a ride through the forests or just relaxing without anybody around. He doesn’t quite approve of that but she doesn’t let herself be locked up.

SLEEPING

Who snores? None of them

If both do, who snores the loudest? Nobody

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Share a bed when living together.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Usually fall asleep cuddling but where they end up is entirely up to chance.

What do they wear to bed? Underwear usually. Though t-shirts along with that in the beginning.

Are either of them insomniacs? Jake has trouble sleeping and often wakes up. Her presence helps him but she’s not a magic sleeping pill so the issue never fully disappears.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nah

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Usually the first, when it’s too hot the latter.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Both. Rheese loves his messy hair, especially after she bullied him enough into letting it grow a bit. He however calls her hay-head, because her hair gets all tangled up and poofy despite being tied into a braid.

Who wakes up first? He does, good luck getting her outta bed before 10.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Nobody does, they aren’t romantic.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Rheese digging her face in the space between his neck and shoulders while one leg and one arm hugs him and he has an arm around her.

Do they set an alarm each night? When there’s work the next day.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? No, though she sometimes uses his laptop to watch movies.

Who has nightmares? Jacob has real ones, Rheese only the occasional bad dream we all get sometimes.

Who has ridiculous dreams? She dreams demented shit sometimes, never talks about it though.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Rheese, she’s a restless sleeper. Got kicked out of the bed for it more than once.

Who makes the bed? Neither of them. They don’t care about it being untidy.

What time is bed time? Depends. Usually Rheese stays awake longer to finish watching movies.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Nothing special, sometimes talking, sometimes a movie, sometimes sex, sometimes just hugging in silence.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Jake, esp when she talks too much in the morning.

WORK

Who is the busiest? They both are pretty equally busy.

Who rakes in the highest income? It doesn’t really matter to them. The cult pays food and since they don’t care much about materialism, they don’t need much money.

Are any of them unemployed? They have their job in the cult. Rheese works as a deputy before and after her stay there. so no.

Who takes the most sick days? Neither really take any unless they are really so sick they can’t move. It’s an unhealthy work ethic but they feel useless when just lying in bed all day.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Jake didn’t before, but he sometimes does because of her in the morning. Not that he really minds though, who’s gonna say anything against him?

Who sucks up to their boss? Jacob in regards to Joseph, which Rheese thinks is very unhealthy. She doesn’t like how he lets himself be used so much and mostly blindly follows whatever his brother says. They have a lot of arguments about this and in the end it’s what ruins their relationship.

What are their jobs? He’s head of security at Eden’s Gate. She’s a deputy, then pseudo joins the cult and works herself up to become a trainer of the Chosen, then she returns to her deputy position for the arrest.

Who stresses the most? He does

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Police work wasn’t her passion. It was just a career she thought wouldn’t be boring. No noble motives and such. She only reprises her role as the deputy for the arrest because she falsely blames herself for everyone who’s been hurt by Jake’s hands after she left him. Her return is based on her trying to redeem herself. She had fun training Chosen, but she wouldn’t want to be part of any torture cult.

Jacob barely has any opinion on his work. He believes what he does is what needs to be done and he’s the best suited person for the job. You won’t find him complain, though he secretly just wants peace in his life. He hopes the cult’s actions will ultimately lead to that.

Are they financially stable? They have enough.

HOME

Who does the washing? Neither until one of them is fed up with the pile in the sink or the lack of clean plates in the shelf.

Who takes out the trash? Usually Rheese is bothered by it first.

Who does the ironing? They don’t

Who does the cooking? She makes good pancakes. But other than that? Don’t allow her in the kitchen because she can’t cook for shit. He can cook a couple of things but is often simply too lazy to ‘play housewife’ so their dinners often consist of very simplistic things. Occasionally one of them will bring home takeout.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Rheese, just...keep her out of the kitchen.

Who is messier? Both pretty much. His place is a mess and she isn’t bothered by it because her apartment looked the same.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Jake, to annoy her.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? They both just throw them wherever.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Jake, again to annoy her. (her ‘ewww you’re fucking nasty’ face is really entertaining)

Who is the prankster around the house? Neither, they diss each other a lot, sometimes joke on the other’s cost but no deliberate pranks.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Doesn’t really happen.

Who mows the lawn? No lawn

Who answers the telephone? They answer their own cells respectively. He refuses to get a smartphone.

Who does the vacuuming? They don’t own a vacuum cleaner. Only a broom and a mop.

Who does the groceries? Usually he does.

Who takes the longest to shower? Rheese, she enjoys the feel of hot water on her skin.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Not much difference there. Rheese doesn’t bother anymore with any routines and such after Jake told her he hates when she wears makeup because it makes his hands sticky when he touches her face :’) Though sometimes she will still put eyeliner out of habit.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? No, they don’t need much.

How many cars do they own? Jake own an old truck and a motorcycle, Rheese used to have a car but sold it. She prefers riding on her horse Nugget anyway.

Do they own their home or do they rent? She had an apartment in Missoula before ‘joining’. Then she lived at Stone Ridge for a while, then she moved in with him to his place. A tiny cabin far up a mountain at the far outside of the region.

Do they live in the city or in the country? Country

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Yes, especially the forests.

What’s their song? You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Working, doing their own thing, living. He’s more possessive about her than she is about it. But they both function normally when not being together.

Where did they first meet? Technically at the church during her very first sermon to ‘join’ the project. But they only interacted about a week later when he’s supposed to bring her to her initiation at John’s place. They immediately hate each other :’)

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Whoever does the grocery shopping? They both aren’t big on other shopping trips.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? She’s not very show off-y. Jacob likes showing she ‘belongs to him’.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Both

Any mental issues? Rheese doesn’t really, she lost her parents and her family is extremely distant but it never gave her trauma.

Jacob still deals with the aftermath of war esp. His PTSD gets bad sometimes and he has sleeping issues.

Who’s terrified of bugs? She is afraid of spiders, and would appreciate if he killed them when they are in the house. But usually he ends up throwing them at her and tells her it’s therapy to defeat her fears.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Neither, see above

Their favourite place? A small lake behind a mountain near his cabin.

Who pays the bills? The cult

Do they have any fears for their future? Yeah, they are very conflicted about it. Neither of them know where it all leads and their differences (esp the age one) is an issue at times.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? They don’t really do that.

Who’s the tallest? He’s 6'1, she is 5'2. He constantly calls her ‘Shorty’, not in any endearing cute nickname way, but purely to mock her height.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Happens with both of them frequently. Tho Jacob is more prone to this because he showers less on his own. So when she’s in there he’s often like ‘might as well join’.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Rheese starts this trend which he really doesn’t complain about. She also argues that it makes sense because then there will be less laundry to take care of. Can’t really argue with that really.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? She does, very very badly cause she can’t sing.

What do they tease each other about? Her short height and his age. Always.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Doesn’t really happen but he does judge her Power Rangers T-shirt she wears for sleeping.

Who crushed first? They both kinda did. They blamed it on physical attraction at first, which made Rheese mad because he wasn’t her type. It takes them a couple of months to actually admit they might eventually possibly perhaps maybe have feelings for one another :)

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Not really

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Rheese does once, and another time they do it together.

Who swears the most? Jacob, though she’s pretty good at it too.

Tagging @joeyhxdson @fadedjacket @shallow-gravy @chazz-anova @ja-crispea if you want to. Idk who did this by the time this gets posted.

#tag games #deputy rheese anne bennett #sched

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