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cheynovak · 16 days

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A Night to Remember

Part 2: In the spotlight

Jensen Ackles x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: On screen chemistry, sexual tension, unfaithful, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language

When a candid photo of Jensen Ackles and his co-star Y/N sharing an intimate moment goes viral, it threatens to upend the actor's carefully balanced life.

Jensen must navigate the fallout and confront his true feelings.

As he and Y/N strive to set the record straight, they are forced to examine the boundaries between professional connection and personal emotion.

Will their flirtation under the spotlight lead to lasting consequences, or can they find a way to protect what truly matters?

*Click*

One click, one misstep and there it was, the picture and news articles circling on the internet.

Los Angeles, CA – In a surprising turn of events, Supernatural star Jensen Ackles and his co-star Y/N Y/L/N were spotted together in what appeared to be a romantic setting. This unexpected sighting has ignited a whirlwind of speculation and intrigue among fans and media alike.

Ackles, who has been happily married to actress Danneel Ackles since 2010, was seen with Y/L/N at an upscale restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. The pair were seen at a local bar, a fan saw them engaging in deep conversation, sharing laughs, and even holding hands across the table. Dressed casual for the evening, both actors appeared relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company.

An eyewitness, who wishes to remain anonymous, shared, “They looked really close and seemed to be enjoying each other's company a lot. It felt like there was definitely more than just friendship between them.”

Y/N Y/L/N, who has recently to be rumoured as the new member of the cast of Ackles’ latest project “The boy”, has quickly become a fan favourite. However, this is the first time they have been seen together.

Fans of Ackles have taken to social media to express their disbelief and confusion. One fan tweeted, “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Jensen and Y/N? What about Danneel? This doesn’t make sense!”

Another fan commented, “Jensen and Danneel have always been so solid. I hope this is just a misunderstanding.”

As the news spreads, neither Jensen nor Y/L/N have made any public statements regarding the nature of their relationship. Danneel Ackles has also remained silent on the matter, choosing not to address the swirling rumours.

It is possible that the outing was entirely innocent and misconstrued by the public. Hollywood friendships often involve close and affectionate interactions that can be easily misinterpreted.

In the meantime, the internet continues to buzz with theories and opinions, eagerly awaiting any clarification from the involved parties.

Fans hope for a positive resolution that respects all individuals involved and clarifies the situation.

Jensen stepped into his house, the warm familiarity of home wrapping around him. It had been an incredible cast, filled with unexpected connections and heartfelt moments. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of Y/N, their shared laughter, and that unforgettable evening.

It was just a stupid drunk kiss, but still she knew what he needed, a chance to feel like he had it still in him, flirting picking up a nice girl at the bar, even though it was his co start who knew he felt insecure.

However, his smile faded as he saw his wife, Danneel, waiting for him in the living room, her expression unreadable. She held her phone in her hand, and Jensen’s heart sank with a premonition of trouble.

“Hey, babe,” Jensen greeted, trying to keep his tone light. “You’re up late.” Danneel nodded, her eyes fixed on him. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. There’s something I need to show you.”

She handed him her phone, and Jensen’s stomach tightened as he saw the screen. There it was the photo from the bar. It captured the moment just before the kiss, the intimate way he and Y/N were looking at each other unmistakable.

“Danneel, I...” Jensen started, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“Jensen, I get it. It’s part of the job, right? You work closely with your co-stars. But this… this looks personal.” Her voice was calm, but he could hear the hurt underlying her words.

Jensen took a deep breath, his mind racing. “It wasn’t what it looks like, I swear. We were just talking, drinking and then… I don’t know. It just happened.”

Danneel looked at him, her eyes searching his. “I trust you, Jensen, but you have to understand how this looks. The internet is already buzzing with rumours. People are talking.”

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt gnawing at him. “I’m so sorry, Danneel. I never wanted to hurt you. Y/N and I, we just got caught up in the moment. It didn’t mean anything, it just turns out she is the same playful spirit drunk.”

Danneel sighed, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for Jensen to join her. “I believe you, but we need to be careful. Our family, our kids—they’re going to hear about this. We need to be ready to handle it.”

Jensen sat beside her, taking her hand in his. “I’ll talk to Y/N. We’ll figure out a way to set the record straight. I love you.” he said before kissing her goodnight. Danneel squeezed his hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

The next week Jensen sat in a conference room with his manager, Y/N and her manager, Lisa, who was explaining their new plan.

“So, we’ve decided to lean into this,” Lisa said, spreading out mock-ups of promotional posters featuring Soldier Boy and Y/N’s character. “The internet is already buzzing about the photo. We’re going to introduce her new character on ‘The Boys’ as the love interest.

We know it wasn’t supposed to leak out yet, but we’re going to drop some on set photos, and I would like that you two make a video.

Y/N glanced at Jensen, her eyes wide with surprise. “If that’s possible, that would be great!” Jensen leaned back in his chair, a mix of relief and excitement bubbling up. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Jensen and Y/N found themselves standing in front of a camera crew, tasked with filming a special video announcement. Jensen stood beside Y/N, offering a reassuring smile as they exchanged a quick glance.

They had rehearsed their lines countless times, but there was still a nervous energy in the air.

“Hey, everyone, it’s Jensen Ackles here,” Jensen began, his voice confident as he addressed the camera. “And I’m thrilled to introduce you to the newest member of our team.”

Y/N stepped forward, their expression a mix of excitement and determination. “Hi, I’m Y/N, and I’m beyond excited to join the cast of ‘The Boys’

“Our new season is going to be bigger and better than ever,” Jensen continued, his enthusiasm infectious. “And with Y/N on board as soldier boys new love, I know we’re going to blow you away.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Get ready for an epic ride, folks.” With a wink they end the promo video.

“Y/N, can we talk?” Jensen asked, his voice serious as he pulled her aside. Y/N nodded, her expression guarded but curious. “Of course, J. What’s on your mind?”

Jensen took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. “Look, I can’t shake this feeling that… maybe things between us aren’t as straightforward as we’ve been pretending.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes. “Jensen, I told you before, that kiss, it was just a moment. I know it didn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t want to make things more complicated than they already are. That’s why… I think we need to set some boundaries.” he added.

Y/N’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Boundaries?”

Jensen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Look, I value our friendship, Y/N. And I don’t want to lose that. But I think we need to be careful about how we spend our time together.”

Y/N’s expression softened, a sense of resignation settling over them.” Maybe it’s best if we avoid situations where…” Jensen nodded, relief washing over him that Y/N understood. “Exactly. So, no more one on one getting drunk together, okay?”

“Yeah, sure no problem. I thought that kind of was a done deal without saying anything.” Y/N smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

A few months later

The cast of "The Boys" had a busy schedule at the Comic-Con weekend, but Jensen found himself with a rare moment of downtime. As he sipped on his coffee backstage, he noticed Y/N stepping onto the stage for a solo Q&A session with the fans.

Jensen leaned against a nearby wall, watching from the shadows as Y/N took the microphone, a radiant smile lighting up their face. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Y/N’s eyes sparkled with genuine excitement and gratitude.

“Hi, everyone!” Y/N greeted, their voice warm and inviting. “Thank you all so much for coming out today. You guys are the best!”

As she began to take questions from the audience, Jensen found himself mesmerized by the way Y/N engaged with the fans. She listened intently to each question, her expressions ranging from thoughtful to playful, depending on the fans.

She had an incredible ability to connect with people, making each person feel valued and heard.

One fan, a young girl dressed as her character, nervously approached the microphone. “Hi, Y/N! I just wanted to say that I love you, and you’re my hero.” Y/N’s eyes softened as she leaned forward, her smile radiating warmth. “Thank you so much! That means the world to me. You look amazing!"

As the panel continued, Jensen couldn’t shake the growing feelings stirring within him. Y/N finished answering another question, glancing backstage and catching Jensen’s eye. She gave him a quick, playful wink before turning back to the audience, and Jensen felt a flutter in his chest.

The cast gathered for a dinner at a cozy restaurant after their appearance at a Comic-Con. The atmosphere was warm and lively as the cast members laughed and chatted, enjoying each other’s company before the whirlwind of events ahead.

Jensen and Y/N exchanged polite smiles in between their casual conversation with others, the tension from their previous encounter hanging in the air between them like a silent understanding.

As the evening progressed, Jensen couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, her easy laughter and infectious energy drawing him in despite the distance he had tried to maintain.

Throughout the dinner, their eyes meeting in fleeting moments of connection. Each glance spoke volumes. There was a playful spark in Jensen’s gaze, a hint of mischief that danced in his eyes. Finding it way too easy to find an opportunity to flirt with Y/N, even from across the table.

As the evening progressed and the drinks flowed freely. The warmth of the alcohol combined with the electric energy between them, fuelling a newfound boldness within him.

Leaning slightly on to the table, closer to Y/N, Jensen’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, a subtle gesture that worked like magic on her. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto Y/N’s, sending a message of longing and intent.

Y/N’s breath caught at the sight, her own heart racing in response to Jensen’s unspoken flirtation. The air between them crackled with tension, the heat of their mutual attraction igniting like a wildfire.

Despite the playful banter and laughter around them, Jensen and Y/N were lost in their own world, a world where the only thing that mattered was the intoxicating game of pulling and pushing.

He saw how Y/N casually reached for her drink, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass in slow, deliberate circles. The motion was hypnotic, and Jensen found himself entranced by the simple yet sensual act.

She looked up at him through her lashes, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Y/N gracefully stood up from the table, her fingers lingering on the back of her chair as she cast a lingering, meaningful glance over her shoulder at him. Her eyes held a silent invitation that sent a thrill down his spine.

Jensen watched her as she walked away, her movements fluid and confident. He knew exactly what she was suggesting, and he felt a surge of anticipation. Excusing himself with a casual comment to the rest of the cast, he waited a few moments before following her path.

His heart pounded in his chest as he approached the restroom area, glancing around to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted.

He pushed open the door to the women’s restroom, his eyes immediately finding Y/N. She stood by the sinks, her expression a mix of mischief and desire. The door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing them in their private little world.

“Y/N,” Jensen murmured, his voice husky as he stepped closer to her. “Are you sure about this?”

She smiled, the kind of smile that sent shivers down his spine. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his chest, sending a wave of heat through his body.

Jensen closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hands finding her waist as he pulled her close. Their breaths mingled, the air thick with the electricity of their desire. Y/N tilted her head up, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his pulse race.

Without another word, Jensen leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up longing and unspoken words that had been building between them. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as she pressed herself against him.

Jensen’s hands roamed her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, their tongues dancing in a rhythm of their own.

For a moment, they broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other’s as they caught their breath. “I’ve never been more sure about anything,” she replied, her voice a seductive whisper.

Let me know what you think, like, share or comment <3

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Taglist: -> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read!

@yvonneeeee @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch

#fanfic #jensen ackles #x reader #fluff #jensen fucking ackles #soldier boy #the boys #jensenedit #jensen ackles soldier boy #ben x reader #romance

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Can u pls write something like dark!reader x steve rogers high school AU , where R is rich spoil brat & she always had a crush on steve but she always bully him by calling him skinny and all and Then yrs later, time changes her family discarded her from will and she becomes poor and need job, got hired for PA by dark ceo!steve rogers who she bullied her all school lifee😈😈

okay this is a lot for a headcanon but I don’t have time to do a whole oneshot BUT I also really like it so we’re gonna just make a longass headcanon here we gooooo

warnings for heavy dub con, choking, slapping, degradation (by steve), bullying (by the reader), abortion mention, brief mention of/implied assault.

“heyo pipsqueak” you called out to get steve’s attention, laughing when he frowned. “looks like you grew a whole inch over summer, be sure to have your mom draw a line in pencil on the doorframe.”

he just rolled his eyes and got back to chatting with his friend. not friends, friend, cause he only had one: bucky, who snarled at you as well.

“pick on someone your own size, if you can find somebody with as big a head as you,” bucky shot back, making you scoff.

“you know, it’s a shame you hang out with this deformed freak, you could’ve been popular. you’ve got the looks for it.”

“I’d rather keep my brains, thanks,” bucky explained as you walked away with your posse of fellow popular kids.

you didn’t used to be so mean to steve. it was sort of a comedy of errors, really. you two had been friends in elementary school-- you, him, and bucky were the rambunctious trio up until middle school.

things change for boys and girls in middle school. guys just get along with each other and don’t think about it much. girls, though... girls need to be sharp. it’s eat or be eaten. and you wanted to eat.

you were lucky that you developed early. it meant that girls respected you and boys feared you-- not just for your attractive features but for the fact that you loomed a foot over most of them.

you started to take advantage of it. and by the time you realized you had feelings for your best friend steve, it was already too late-- he was at the bottom of the food chain and you were at the top.

you told your new girl friends that you wanted to take steve to the sadie hawkins. they laughed at you. for a moment, you felt what it was like to be outcast and you never wanted to feel it again. so, you told steve and bucky that you’d grown apart. and you were happy to just be former friends...

it was steve that started it. he called you out. he told you that you were nothing like who he used to know-- you had become vapid and cold and narcissistic.

“you’re so busy worrying about what other people think, you never take the time to think for yourself.” that was what he said. and it fucking hurt.

“saw you talking to your boyfriend steve the dweeb,” your friend tanya announced at lunch just a few minutes after that conversation. and you were angry, and hurt, and truly friendless despite being surrounded by other popular girls. so you said some things you could never take back.

“steve? as if. did you know he still sleeps with a security blanket? and he has his friend bucky fight for him every week cause if he took a punch he’d crumble to dust?”

and so, mortal enemies were formed. it only got worse in high school, as you fought to secure your title at the top while steve and bucky’s presence filled your heart with guilt and your gut with anger.

if only you’d known how quickly you could fall from your high horse.

it started when you dated tanya’s ex, brock. she was made so she spread a rumor that you would fuck any guy on the football team, even all of them at once.

apparently, a lot of people believed it since tanya had been your sidekick since 6th grade.

two football players believed it. and when you wouldn’t follow through on it, you got yourself a black eye.

that meant you missed school for a week because you couldn’t possibly show up looking like that. tanya told everyone it was because you got grounded and sent away to church camp after your parents caught you in bed with one of the neighbors. so now your reputation was ‘sleeps with football players and old men.’

only brock had been there for you.... but it turned out he had motives of his own. you had originally planned to wait until college, but brock was clearly wanting something in return for putting up with dating pariah #1... so you let him take your virginity.

the condom broke. when you dashed to the trash can to hurl in the middle of history class, you knew something was wrong. (and lost that many more social points in the process.)

brock dumped you the second he found out you were pregnant. didn’t even help you pay for the abortion. he got back together with tanya and told her the real reason for your ‘medical absence’. and that was the last straw for the former homecoming queen.

the humiliation drove you to some.... poor choices, for the next few years. you tried not to think about them now, but it was hard not to when their consequences were staring you right in the face: no money, no job, nearly homeless, and desperate.

over a hundred job applications later, only one had called you back and scheduled an interview. and you only needed one.

so there you were, waiting in the chilly lobby area while the receptionist typed away and chomped her gum, tapping your toes and glancing out the window occasionally.

you were surprised when you had been told your interview would be on the 51st floor. you sort of assumed it would just be some random manager interviewing you, not somebody important enough to have a waiting room like this, or a view like this.

when a man stepped out from the nearby hallway, your eyes went wide. he was tall, and handsome, and obviously muscular underneath the exquisite suit. you suddenly felt underdressed in your hand-me-down business clothes.

then he called your name. and you realized he was going to interview you.

you stood up and nodded. “you can follow me to my office,” he instructed with a smile, leading you down the hall to the corner office. you were in awe of the grandiosity of it all. you were dumbfounded when you saw CEO on the door.

“there must have been a mistake,” you explained as he shut the door behind you. “I... I’m just interviewing for an entry-level position.”

“no, there’s no mistake,” he shook his head, “I have you exactly where I want you. take a seat.”

he circled his desk and sat on the other side of it, resting his elbows on the desk and giving you an oddly smug smile. an awkward silence was finally broken when he realized, “you must not remember me.”

“I... have we met?”

“I don’t blame you, I look pretty different,” he shrugged. “I must’ve grown a whole inch this summer.”

you gave him a confused look before realization dawned on you, along with shame, and fear.

“oh... oh my god, Steve?!” you squawked. he just grinned. “you look... you look...”

“taller?”

sexy.

“you look great!” you said aloud instead.

“yeah,” he agreed, “wish I could say the same for you.”

you swallowed dryly. “so that’s what you want,” you sighed, “to get back at me. I understand. I deserve it...”

“I don’t want revenge,” he denied. “I’m just sorry to see you haven’t been... thriving, since high school. your job history--” he scanned your resume briefly-- “well, you don’t have one. have you been slumming it all this time?”

“without my parents’ money? yeah,” you admitted.

“surprised you applied here, instead of turning tricks on 5th and Columbus.”

your back straightened and your eyes went wide at that comment.

“I mean, you’re already dressed for it,” he smirked.

you stood up and crossed your arms. “if you’re just going to insult me, then I’ll leave now. I’m sorry for everything I did to you, steve,” you announced, voice shaky with oncoming tears.

“can you really afford to leave?” he pressed. “if you have a chance at a job?”

that, unfortunately, got your attention. “you... you might actually offer me something?”

“I will offer you something,” he corrected, “if you just sit down and listen.”

you relented, returning to your seat. you could stand a lot more insults if there was money on the line.

“to be honest, there’s no way I can hire you for the position you applied for,” he sighed. “you’re just underqualified. but I think I can create a position for you.”

you liked the sound of that. “what kind of position?”

“well, that’s tricky, seeing as you don’t have any skills,” he frowned, “except one. so that’s the one I plan on using.”

the look in his eyes made it all too clear what he was referring to, but as you shrunk into the leather chair he went ahead and clarified.

“I’ll pay you whatever salary you saw in the ad. but you won’t be doing data analysis or office management or anything like that. all you’ll be doing is spreading your legs for me whenever I fucking want.”

fear shot up your spine; his eyes were devouring you, pinning you to the chair, and you tried to process that. “I--”

“before you say anything,” he interrupted immediately, “let’s just be perfectly clear that this might be your only shot at a real job. what I’m offering has better pay than stripping, and better benefits than hooking. and unless you have any education or experience I don’t know about, you’re totally fucked.”

“seems like I’m fucked either way,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“see, you’ve still got that sharp tongue,” he grinned. “can’t wait to put it to better use.”

maybe it was just desperation for cash. maybe it was because he was good-looking and you could do a lot worse. maybe it was because, on some level, you felt like you deserved his punishment after how horribly you’d treated him.

“I’ll do it,” you sighed. “when do I start?”

he stood up and reached across the desk to grab your neck, glaring at you. “right now.”

his free hand was already fumbling with his belt, the one on your throat guiding you downwards. “on your knees,” he instructed, and you slipped out of the chair and onto the floor.

he let go of your neck and you figured he was going to come to you, but instead he stood still and demanded: “crawl.”

debasing as it was, you crawled on your knees to his side of the desk, and he laughed at you bitterly. when you reached his feet and popped back up, you gasped at the sight of his hard cock right in front of your face. it was bigger than your face. and it was dripping precum.

“don’t get so bug-eyed, you can handle it,” he grinned. “if your mouth’s as big as I remember...”

you didn’t want to hear any more. you just wanted to get this over with, so you quickly took his head between your lips and started to suck. you were shocked when he slapped you, hard enough to knock his length from your mouth and to make you reach up and clutch your stinging cheek.

“fucking whore,” he grimaced, “did I say you could put it in your mouth? god, you’re so fucking desperate. just open your fucking mouth and I’ll show you what I want, okay?”

you nodded and stammered an apology, looking up at him with watery eyes and an open mouth. he swiped the latest drop of precum on your tongue before gliding his cock over it, grabbing your hair to keep you steady as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“fuck, that’s better,” he sighed. “so much better when you just do what you’re told. I remember how you used to be so cruel with this mouth. now you’re being so welcoming...”

you just sat there and let him use your mouth, trying not to gag when he hit your throat.

“look up at me,” he instructed, “yeah, that’s it. can’t have you forgetting who’s doing this to you, now can we?”

that went on for a bit longer until mascara-stained tears streaked your face, which he seemed rather proud of.

“damn, wouldn’t mind having you swallow my come right now,” he admitted, “but I have bigger plans. get up, bend over my desk.”

you coughed briefly when he pulled out, but did as you were told. he instantly yanked your skirt up over your ass and spanked you several times roughly, making you sob and whine.

“wanna see this ass all bruised up in the shape of my hand,” he explained. “so we can both remember how hard I fucked you.”

he tore your panties like they were paper, chuckling when he found you already wet.

“dripping already, just from choking on my cock? poor baby...”

you spread your legs slightly, though you were sure nothing was going to adequately prepare you for his size.

“you figured out how to use birth control since graduating, right?” he asked, and you nodded quickly. “good. cause I’m not using a condom,” he continued as he let his cock glide over your folds, groaning slightly, “and there’s no way in hell I’m pulling out.”

he pushed forward in one brutal stroke, making you cry out loudly. you really hoped these rooms were mostly soundproof.

“shit, you’re tight,” he hissed, already pulling back and thrusting back in. “clearly you recovered from your years of slutting it up in high school.”

“that-- that wasn’t true,” you defended.

“oh, just shut up,” he growled.

he fucked you fast and deep, his hips pushing yours into the edge of his desk with each thrust. his hands pinned you down at your shoulders, another reminder that you were entirely at his mercy.

“fuck, this is just what you needed... somebody to put you in your place. makes sense that it should be me, since you hated me so much.”

“I didn’t h-hate you,” you hiccuped.

“yeah, you wanted me, didn’t you?”

“always,” you admitted.

“wanted my fat fuckin’ cock to tear up your pussy? is that it?”

“yes,” you moaned, “yes, steve, wanted to be yours.”

“even when I was skinny and short?”

“even when you hated me,” you added.

he growled slightly and you felt your walls tighten around him suddenly. he chuckled, clearly aware that you were enjoying this.

“you want more, baby? want me to fuck you harder?”

“whatever you want,” you answered instead. “just use me however you want.”

he moaned and leaned down to cage your body in with his. “fuck, baby... you’re taking this better than I thought you would. such a good girl for me, huh? such a good little slut. want me to use you, baby? take all my anger out on you?”

“yes,” you whispered, sobbing when he began to fuck you more brutally than you thought possible. but it felt good. so good that your legs were shaking, so good that you felt even better when he tugged your hair.

“yeah, gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?”

you nodded and bit your lip.

“m’ close too,” he admitted, “you’re gonna be so full of my come, it’s gonna be dripping down your legs when you walk out of here...”

your orgasm made your body shake and your eyes roll back.

“fuck, I can feel you coming,” he groaned, “fuck, just like that-- fuck!”

you felt his warmth fill you as his cock flexed against your walls. you were busy trying to catch your breath when he slumped down on top of you and pushed the air from your lungs.

“damn... didn’t think I was gonna come that fast,” he sighed. “see what you do to me? fuck, I knew this was a good idea.”

sure, it felt good, but you were sure he was only going to get rougher and meaner the longer this went on. you couldn’t imagine how you were going to get out of here without somebody noticing your wrinkled clothes, messed-up hair and, as he’d pointed out himself, come all over your thighs.

“guess I’ll see you at 8am tomorrow, huh?” he chuckled, giving you an unexpected peck on the cheek. you couldn’t answer, though, interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing. “oh, sorry, gotta get this.”

he reached for the phone and picked it up, bringing to his ear all without pulling out of you or even lifting his body from on top of yours.

“bucky, hey,” steve grinned as he spoke into the phone, looking down at you and stroking your hair, “you’re not gonna believe who I ran into today...”

#dark!steve rogers x reader #ceo!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers hc #dark!steve rogers smut #Anonymous

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spencersawkward · 3 years

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omg i’m so glad u have a tumblr!! ur literally my fav mgg fic author ❤️ i’m a hoe for that man can u do sleeping together for the first time with like an age gap or something spicy lmao

hi omg thank you 😊 that literally means the world to me! also thank you for requesting one of my fave things to write haha i love first-time-having-sex-together tropes. happy reading!

summary: reader is an artist who needs some inspiration, preferably from her new boyfriend.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, age gap, creampie, a little breeding kink, oral (male receiving), kind of Dom!Matthew vibes, dirty talk, praise kink with a hint of degradation as well (not super prominent).

word count: 4.4k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

masterlist

I straighten up and bend backward a bit to relieve the pressure on my spine. my hair is falling out of the knot on my head and I push a stray piece behind my ear, placing the wooden paintbrush between my teeth. aside from the warm, mellifluous tones pouring from the speakers, the apartment is silent.

I've hit a creative wall, it seems. every time I've tried to paint this week, I find myself standing above a stretched canvas with nothing but a frown and crossed arms. even little details feel wrong to add; the empty space is taunting me. it doesn't help that my thoughts have been flooded with memories and fantasies of Matthew. we've been on a couple dates now, sweet outings that leave me fluttery inside. I remember the words he says, the shape of his smile and the curve of his jaw, like they've been been in my mind forever. he's elusive, however, and hasn't initiated anything sexual with me. I think he's afraid of coming on too strong. there's a considerable age gap between us, but I don't care. I want him all the time-- whenever I'm at work, or trying to paint, all I can think of is how good it would feel to have those strong, veined hands on me.

christ.

before I can lose my courage, I text him. if anything can inspire me, it's his presence. likely, he's at work and won't be able to respond or come over, but it's worth a shot.

I'm just sliding my phone into my back pocket when the response comes in. a smile spreads over my face; he'll be over in half an hour. in the meantime, I'll sweep the background with shades that remind me of him: rich, emerald greens, honeyed tones that reminisce of his eyes. he'll pop against any backdrop.

I'm bent furiously over my work when he tells me he's arrived, and my heart thuds in my chest. even after hanging out several times, the butterflies are as alive as ever. they flood my stomach while I buzz him into the building.

"hi." he greets me when I open the door, curls messy. he must have just come from work.

"hi, Matthew." I smile up at him. his gaze travels over my face, my body, taking in my appearance for a moment.

"you look lovely." he says it genuinely, despite the fact that I'm literally wearing a paint t-shirt under a pair of rummaged overalls. I forgot to fix my hair, too.

"thanks." I blush, about to turn away when he bends down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. it's the first time he's said hello that way, and part of me flushes with the knowledge that he's attracted to me right now.

"now," he looks around my apartment as I step back to let him in. "what can I help you with?"

"I have a small favor to ask." I spin the paintbrush between my index and third fingers, reaching out to take his wrist and pull him towards the couch.

"anything," he replies, then sees my setup. "is this your studio?"

"slash living room." I chuckle. Matthew sits on the soft cushions before staring up at me. I don't miss his pupils dilating as they travel over the shape of my body. instead of allowing myself get distracted, I gesture to the wet paint on my canvas. "I need you to model for me."

"like, be your muse?" he beams at the notion, incredibly pleased with himself. I like this about Matthew; although he can be self-deprecating and doesn't take himself too seriously, he appreciates my admiration.

"oh, hush." I giggle. he laughs, reclining on the couch now that he knows why I invited him over.

"how do you want me to pose, Picasso?"

"well, let me re-orient myself." I hold up a hand, grab the abandoned easel, and try to get everything set up. he never takes his eyes off me.

"why were you painting on the floor?" he asks, slightly amused. I jerk my head toward him, narrow my eyes.

"it's my process."

"no judgement." he holds up his hands in surrender. I place the canvas carefully on the easel so that he can't see my work, then gather up my paints, palette, and brushes. there's a moment of pure silence when I frown as I glance between his face and the chasm of space awaiting its representation.

"you look tired." I observe. he lets out a sound that resembles a laugh.

"I am."

"how long did you sleep last night?" I ask as I start painting, focusing on the shape and planes of his face. if I don't get the composition exactly correct, I'll have to throw the whole thing out.

"three hours." he says this like it's normal. my eyebrows shoot up.

"three hours? why?"

"I had to work on lines." he shrugs.

"don't move." I order. he suppresses a grin.

"my sincerest apologies."

"uh huh," I dip my brush into a pale skin shade that I've mixed to match his pigment. "you need to get more sleep."

we continue on like this for a while, making light conversation while I get down the basics of my portrait. I can't handle anything that requires more than a fraction of my attention while doing this, and he seems to appreciate my concentration.

that said, it's beyond difficult to focus when he stares at me like every movement is magical, something he wants to memorize. I feel pliable under his watch, a little bit like a doll. he could bend me every which way, ask me to do anything, and I would give in. and who could blame me?

my thoughts slip into darkened territories, and the hue of my cheeks must do the same, because he gets this mischievous smile on his face that I can't ignore.

"what are you thinking about?" he asks softly.

"hm?" I turn to him. "oh, nothing."

"really?" his brows lift in that intimidating, delightfully entertained way that sets my skin on fire.

"I..." I trail off, wondering if I should give into the chaos in my mind. the thoughts that slash through my psyche whenever I see the width of his shoulders, the fit of his shirt. "I should have asked you to pose nude."

Matthew blushes-- actually blushes-- when I say this, his head dropping momentarily as a grin takes over his features. when he lifts his gaze to mine again, there's a different look in his eyes.

"yeah?"

"mhmm." no taking it back now. "I think that would be too distracting, though."

"how so?" the corner of his mouth tugs up.

"you know why." I avert my attention, only once flitting back to him. his tongue darts out over his lips and he holds contact.

"say it." he dares me. the tone of it, slightly dominant, makes my stomach flip. quietly, I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I have trouble keeping my hands to myself."

we stare at each other, words finding and dying on tongues in the silence.

at this point, my painting has been somewhat abandoned. brushstrokes sit unaccompanied by actual structure, except for the general godly shape of his face, and I'm clenching the utensil between my fingers as if to channel the sexual tension elsewhere.

"is that right?" he notes my absolute stillness and stands up, walking toward me in a relaxed, confident gait. all I can do is look up at him when he stands before me. the top button of his shirt is undone, and I can see the smooth skin beneath, each of the other buttons awaiting my fingertips.

"yes." the word is messy. he runs his index finger over the shell of my ear, bends down, whispers so low that the phrase almost gets lost in the air.

"me too."

he plants a gentle kiss on my jaw, hand reaching tentatively to rest on my waist. I can feel the caution in his actions, the worry he has about pressuring me. I'm cognizant of every breath he takes, especially the hitch when I give into myself and kiss him.

his mouth is warm and soft. the tension twists and knots between our bodies, roiling in the empty space as we resist the energy still. but I don't want to resist. I know that I want this, and he seems to want it just as much.

"Matthew." I pull away, his teeth tugging gently on my bottom lip.

"what is it?" his eyes, dark, search mine. my pulse quickens beneath my skin.

"I want to be with you."

"you are with me." he chuckles lightly, glancing at my features. the full circles of my eyes, the bloom of pink spreading over my cheekbones.

"no," I shake my head. "I mean... I want to be with you."

"you want to have sex?" he asks, clarifying. I nod eagerly, though he frowns a bit. "are you sure?"

"do you not want to?" I try to keep the disappointment out of my face. maybe I misread the situation. the most we've done is make out on his couch and once in an Uber on the way back from our first date. but there's a sweet, burning sensation whenever I see him, something I want to dive into. I want him; I've wanted him since the moment we met.

"of course I want to," he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. relief loosens my chest. "I just don't want you to regret anything."

"I couldn't ever regret this." my eyes travel over his frame, over the little scar beneath his chin. he angles my face up to examine my features. there's a smirk on his face.

"then what are we waiting for?" his hands move to encircle my waist, tugging me to him like I'm something long-awaited, like he needs my weight against his. our lips meet again, my head tilting as we kiss deeply, my fingers twining in his soft hair. I'm standing on my tiptoes as I do it, and one of his hands reaches down to squeeze my ass. he grunts as my pelvis moves against the quickly-forming hard-on in his pants. I can feel it against my stomach as he ruts against me just slightly. I smirk.

"sit on the couch again." I whisper when I pull away. he's holding my face with one hand, staring into my eyes with the kind of dominance that tells me he knows exactly what to do. but I appreciate that he follows my request, pulling my hips toward him as he backs up and sinks onto the cushions. he sits, awaiting my next move. when I sink onto my knees and settle between his legs, he bites hard on his lip. I don't move at first, willing to draw out this beautiful moment when he's watching with undivided attention.

"what are you doing down there, sweetheart?" he feigns innocence when I give him my doe eyes. I run slender fingers over the erection in his pants, his quickened breath an indicator of just how needy he secretly is. I revel in it.

my free hand wraps around his upper thigh, digging my nails in slightly. he's so gorgeous, and the tension of his muscles beneath me is enough to break my resistance. I start to palm him through the fabric, torturing slowly while he runs fingers through my hair and tries not to buck up against my touch. I finally get around to undoing the button on his pants. he waits impatiently. I tug them down his legs, lingering on the waistband of his boxers. when they come down as well, another kind of knot forms in my tummy. he's perfect.

"oh my god." he throws his head back when his dick hits his stomach, the pleasure of releasing it its own sensation.

"hm?" I wonder aloud, wrapping my hand around the base and starting to slowly pump him. he raises his head to look at me.

"you're just... doing so well." he breathes. I grin at how easily I've got him; I was worried about being too shy or him being more experienced, but he's greedy for me. I love the power I have right now.

I surprise him by flattening my tongue against the underside of his cock, dragging it up over the throbbing vein and pausing at the top. I let him stare at me with my mouth hovering over him, the head resting on the tip of my tongue. he moans when I begin to kitten lick the precum that leaks out, grip tightening in my hair as it comes out of the ponytail I made earlier. the veins in his arm clench as I sink slowly onto him. my cheeks hollow. his jaw drops open, dewy skin catching the light, as I start to suck on him.

"fuck..." he trails off. I begin to bob up and down, doing tricks with my tongue and swirling around the head, savoring every single second. his desperate touch, the way he bucks his hips up involuntarily when I try to take him to the hilt, all of it causes me to moan. vibrations draw out sinful noises from him as well, those heavenly sounds that he litters with my name. my hands rest on his thighs at first, then move up to rest on the warm, taut skin of his abdomen. I crave every centimeter of his skin, his contact, especially when I can feel the rushed rise and fall of his panting. I give him full use of my throat, sliding over him and moaning with every tug of my hair. he mutters profanities, praises me, struggles to keep his eyes open just to see me peek up at him from beneath my lashes. his expression tells me he's got plans for me.

"if you don't stop, I'm gonna cum, baby." he groans, smoothly tugging me off of him. there's a slight popping sound and I settle onto my knees, staring up at him. the smile on my face is unmistakable. I love that I can do this to him. I grip his legs and pull myself up into his lap, drawing myself across him just before his erection, glancing down at it. his hands rub over the tops of my thighs, tracing over the curve of my hips and resting on my ass. I start to roll my body down, my lips finding his throat as I suck and bite. my tongue licks over his Adam's apple and he shudders, drawing me closer so that my stomach brushes his cock.

"stop teasing." he starts to undo the straps of my overalls, chuckling a bit to himself as they fall easily. I blush.

"pretty sexy." I joke. Matthew suddenly grabs my chin, holds me in place so that I look him dead in the eyes.

"you're perfect." he smiles admiringly, then toys with the hem of my t-shirt. I reach down, pull it off and toss it somewhere in the room. I'm not wearing a bra, and Matthew slides his hands up my waist, ribcage, pausing just below my tits. when I grab his fingers and place them over me, his dick twitches.

"excited?" I smirk. his fingertips seem to have a mind of their own as they begin to toy with my nipples, the pad of his thumbs teasing me. I sigh, chest pushing out towards him desperately. he holds my body like he's worried I'll crumble, but also in a way that connotes a deep longing. something spilling over.

"can I take you to the bedroom?" he asks me breathlessly, one of his hands leaving my chest to stroke his own cock. the sight makes me groan helplessly while I grip his shoulders and grind against his lap. he picks up the pace for himself. "I can't wait any longer."

I nod eagerly, gasping when he stops touching himself to pull up his pants, hoist me up into his arms, and stand, carrying me with surprising ease down the hallway of my apartment. I point him to the correct room and he laughs when we get inside.

"you're messy." he laughs, although I'm not sure if he means the scattered papers around my bedroom or the whine that issues from my throat as I reach for his clothed dick while I'm pressed to him. it's sitting against my navel and I want to see his undone expressions.

I ignore the playful comment; he lays me down gingerly on the bed, straightening up to gaze at my figure before I push the rest of the overalls down my legs and cast them off. he lets out a giggle as I pout at the work I have to put into getting naked.

"stop laughing..." I blush, smiling. but I'm giggling too. he grazes the inside of my thigh, unable to keep from touching me while I discard my panties.

"I'm sorry." he laughs in a way that shows he isn't sorry at all, but the soft kiss he plants on my lips tells me it's all endearing to him. I wrinkle my nose slightly. for the first time being naked around him, I feel surprisingly comfortable. he watches me with a quiet adoration, like I've spun sugar and gold between my fingers. unable to contain myself anymore, I grab fistfuls of his shirt and undo the rest of the buttons. every second that his skin isn't against mine is a new kind of torture. it comes off easily and then the pants come off, too, until we're just staring at each other.

"do you still wanna do this?" he speaks carefully with me. I don't know where to look-- at his perfect chest, stomach, the purplish bruises already forming across his throat, or his enraptured face. it's almost overwhelming, and the waves of desire crash over me, hindering my words.

"yes," I nod. "yes, yes, yes." the word keeps falling from my lips even as he crawls on top of me, burying his nose into my collarbone and kissing feverishly. one hand supports his arm beside my head while the other reaches down to part my legs. I sigh at the cool air that's interrupted by his dick rubbing over my folds. he starts to grind down, drawing out every second of foreplay while I try to catch my breath. my eyes tilt to the ceiling, fluttering shut. I bask in every sensation. his warmth, his weight, all of it presses down.

"do we need a condom?" he asks softly, his cock throbbing against my center.

"birth control." I shake my head. he nods against my skin, allows me to tangle my fingers in his curls. "I'm clean."

"me too." I reply. he grabs my hip and yanks it towards him, pulling his chest away to straighten while he lines himself up at my entrance. he's concentrating on the place where our bodies meet, eyes full of lust when they peek up at mine.

"tell me if you need me to stop." he says softly.

"okay." I can't think of anything else. every cell of my existence is consumed with thoughts of impatience, and when he slides into me, my thighs tense and my mouth drops open.

"Matthew... oh my god." my voice is more like a mewl, in shock as my walls squeeze around him like they're trying to reject the sudden pressure between my legs. his jaw clenches, sinking into me until he reaches about halfway.

he lets out a surprising groan, leans down to kiss my shoulder as he finds a sweet spot. our chests are pressed together and, judging by the way he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts my torso to his, he likes the feeling.

we stay there a moment, him trying not to hurt me. but then I lift my pelvis up, trying to take more, and he inhales sharply.

"do something," I beg him quietly. "please."

I feel his lips curl into a smile and he pulls his face up to see my expressions. his hips push forward, my body sliding up the bed with the force. he watches my eyes roll back, my ribcage expand, my face overcome by pleasure. his gaze is unrelenting with lips slightly parted as he begins to thrust in and out of me.

I'm already a panting, moaning mess beneath him. he touches his nose to mine, swallowing each other's breaths while he moves.

"is this how you want it, baby?" he smirks, getting lost in his own lust. I nod and he gently turns my face to his. "tell me what you want."

"more." I sigh, hips again raising to meet the thrusts that are growing more forceful each time. my nails drag up his back, the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair and tugging at the ends. he sinks his teeth into my neck lightly and moans. I wrap my legs around his torso.

"such a pretty girl..." he growls in my ear. his grip on the sheets tightens when I clench myself around him, drawing him impossibly closer to my core. I can't help the helpless moans spilling out of me. I'm insatiable right now, scratching at his shoulders until I'm sure I'll leave red marks. he groans lasciviously at the clawing, ramming into me with an unrelenting voracity.

"oh my god," I yelp, back arching as he hits my g-spot. "right there, Matthew." my pleas fall on receptive ears: he holds me tighter to his chest and pounds into me.

"you like getting fucked by older men?" he whispers dirty things in my ear and I nod quickly, hardly able to speak through the ungodly sounds escaping my mouth. I cling to him and he lets me, treating every limb like it belongs to him.

"yes-- fuck, yes." I moan, almost sliding out of his grip from how hard he goes.

"you can take it," he breathes out, fingertips digging into my ribs while he holds me up. he's leaving marks that won't go away for a while, remnants of the full power of his desire. I want more, writhing and using my limited mobility to grind against him. he chuckles darkly over my skin. "look at you."

"Matthew, I'm gonna--" I gasp when he slams into me particularly hard. "I'm gonna cum."

"good." he shudders slightly, that attitude showing again. he reaches his hand up a moment to run through my hair. "cum on me, princess."

my lips part and I try to gulp down air, but it's impossible with the way he's holding my attention. the thing about Matthew is that he's so sweet and gentle that whenever he looks at me like I'm a plaything, it shocks my insides. they turn to jelly, eager to please and quick to satisfy. he switches so easily with me, and he doesn't even need to request my submission. I give it more than willingly.

"fuck me..." I pant out, feeling my pussy start to clench over and over around him. my orgasm fuzzies the edges of my vision, creeping up my spine until it's arched. "oh fuck-- Matthew!" I practically scream while my frame gives out. I'm shuddering, crying out at the absolute euphoria wracking my body.

"scream my name, baby." he groans, his own orgasms approaching quickly. the fluttering of my cunt around him is causing the vein in his forehead to throb. he rocks into me, the headboard knocking into the wall while he nears the edge. "such a good girl for me."

I nod and meet his thrusts with my hips while I ride out my orgasm, inadvertently finding myself wound up again. the pleasure of his fingers when they reach between our bodies to rub my clit causes me to buck into him, whining mercifully while he gets me off again.

"oh--" he sucks in a breath when I squeeze, keeping him here with me. "you feel so good."

he starts to lose control, hips juddering to get as deep as he can get.

"can I fill you up, baby?"

"yes." I reply immediately. he smiles a little, lifting me up more so that he can hold me under my ass while he pounds into me so deeply, I can feel his dick brushing my cervix.

"oh my god," he moans, the sound desperate as I feel him twitch and spill inside of me. he keeps pushing as though to keep his cum within me, panting over my skin. "such a tight little cunt."

the circles on my clit, combined with the sinful things he continues to say, cause me to whimper and climax all over again. I moan his name, absorbed in the warmth of his seed in my stomach.

"you want more?" he slows his thrusts but pleasures me through my orgasm while I nod helplessly.

"I'll cum in you again tonight." he promises, taking my shaking, weak form as a sign to withdraw. both of us wince at the sensitivity until he lays me back down on the bed so gently, it makes me question if what we just did was real.

neither of us speaks for a moment, trying to regain our composure as he rolls down onto the mattress beside me. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling him drip between my thighs.

"that was..." he turns his head to gauge my reaction. I don't even bother to hide the satisfied grin on my face.

"amazing."

"yeah?" he rolls over onto his side and places one large hand on my stomach. his touch makes me bloom.

"mhmm." I hum. his face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a beautiful sight that makes me want to kiss him all over again. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way for someone so quickly.

"can I get you anything?" he smiles. I don't say anything at first, only reach out to cup his face in my hands and pull him to me for a chaste peck.

"no, thank you." I rub my nose with his. "I'm gonna take a shower and make something to eat if you want to join me."

"definitely." he examines my features once more as if to assess damage. but there's only pure joy painted across my face. "are you sure I didn't go too hard on you?"

"you can go harder tonight." I tease.

"what about your painting?" he suddenly recalls the project lying in the living room.

"rain check." I shrug. he laughs, wraps an arm around my waist.

"alright, then."

#matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds #smut #mgg smut #one shot #first time #artist #spencer reid

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battybatzgirl · 3 years

Text

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary:

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Stare Enough

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 4034

Summary: Bucky's got a new stare. Sam spends all afternoon and most of the evening working up the courage to meet it.

Both Sam and the food are the main attraction at this party and the problem with that situation is that it takes so damn long for one main attraction to get a second to enjoy the other.

He’s grateful—god, is he grateful—for the turnout. Friends, neighbours, the kind of people he and Sarah call family without there being any actual relation by blood, they’ve all shown up. Since the Blip, Sam’s felt like he’s always around, but this feels like a real homecoming. No sadness, nothing bittersweet. It’s a celebration and he’s at the center of it. Him and the food.

At last, Sam’s done the circuit with his plate, spooning creamy salads and grilled vegetables, stacking shellfish pink as a sunrise. There’s a fresh-baked roll perched atop a scoop of sweet potatoes and caramelized onions that smells so fucking warm and mouth-watering he has to resist walking with his nose buried in it. He collects a set of utensils furled in the middle of a paper napkin (courtesy of an efficient assembly line of old ladies, chatting and twisting neat rolls of cutlery), plate bowing into the palm of his other hand, and that’s when his damn phone vibrates in his pocket.

Sam halts and makes a sound of frustration. Nobody’s come to this thing empty-handed, so there are dishes crowding the surface of the tables, no place to set his plate down. His phone vibrates again. A teenager comes up to peruse the spread in front of him and Sam sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

“Here,” he says heavily, offering up his beautifully arranged and wonderfully fragrant meal. The cob of corn shining with the butter he lovingly smeared over it nearly rolls over the edge. “You’re the luckiest kid in the world.”

Quickly, Sam turns away, sliding out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He doesn’t want to witness the boy digging in. His stomach growls as he greets Joaquin Torres.

“Sam,” Torres says. “Uh, I mean, sir. Mr. Captain Am… Captain Wil—”

“Take it easy,” Sam laughs. “You know me, Torres. Don’t get starstruck now.”

“Honestly, I never really got over you being the Falcon. Now that you’re Captain America… Apologies if it takes me a little while to be cool about it.” After a pause—taken while Torres attempts to become cool with Sam being Captain America, Sam assumes—he asks, “You celebrating?”

Not far from where Sam’s standing, there are two little girls singing along to their clapping game. At a table behind them, a trio of elderly gentlemen are arguing over which one of them it was that caught that 50-pound snapper off the dock back in 1978. There’s a sear of meat and fish being rotated onto and off of the grill and, bouncing over everything, music from a speaker someplace.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a broad grin. “Yeah, we are. I’d save you a plate, but I can’t even manage to hang onto my own.”

He doesn’t mention that Torres is responsible for that situation; he’s aware that, besides being a fan, the Lieutenant is a little bit infatuated with him. Sam’s trying to be gentle until the day he can respond to Torres with friendly smack-talk, the way he would Steve or Scott or Bucky. Maybe not exactly like he does with Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torres cheerfully insists. “I wasn’t calling for that, I just wanted to give you a heads up about something.”

“Alright. Let me just…”

Sam strides away from the heart of the party towards the water, seeking quiet. Kids dart in front of him and that’s nothing unusual, but when he follows them with his gaze, he sees they’re running towards Bucky. Bucky, who has his Vibranium arm extended and two kids dangling off it already, one of whom might be Sam’s nephew. Of course, Mr. Casual, Mr. Smiles, Mr. Social Butterfly, is carrying on a conversation like his arm isn’t being used as a jungle gym. A conversation with Sarah.

For just a moment, Sam stops in his tracks, considering whether he should go over there and break up any potential flirting. But then he watches them. Bucky’s just talking to her, not flicking his gaze up and down while he checks her out. And Sarah, she’s relaxed and smiling, totally at ease, like Bucky’s another member of their community. That makes him a friend. Family.

That’s one thought too far and Sam jerks himself into motion again, walking until he’d be swimming with another step.

“What’ve you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to watch as much of the coverage of the fight outside the GRC vote as I can, trying to get a sense of how they’re spinning Walker’s reappearance, the legacy of the Flag-Smashers now that Karli and her inner circle are gone… Anyway, there’s a lot of footage and you’re at the center of most of it.”

“Guess the new suit draws the eye. And the cameras.” It’s no surprise to Sam. Part of the job of being Captain America.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, Torres?”

“Bucky’s in the background a lot,” he explains in a voice that tells Sam there’s more Torres isn’t saying.

“Makes sense. He was in the thick of it as much as I was.”

“He’s there at the end too. When you were talking to the Senator about power and the common struggle. Man, that was a great speech. Do you think—”

“Torres. Please. The point.”

“Right, for sure, man. Bucky never takes his eyes off you.”

That flusters Sam for a second. He wasn’t expecting the blunt delivery, especially of those words. He squints down at the water where it’s lapping the side of the dock. He knew Bucky was there; they spoke right after, when Bucky tried to feed him that bullshit (and he knew it was bullshit at the time) about texting and missing the exact speech Torres is apparently still hung up on.

“So Bucky was actually listening to me,” Sam says carefully. “That’s a surprise, but it isn’t really the kind of thing that’s significant enough for you to bother notifying me about, is it?”

“I’d say that depends on what you consider significant.”

“Torres.”

“I know, but he’s not just listening! It’s how he’s looking at you!”

“Like he’s wishing I would wrap it up?” Oh, Sam remembers Bucky’s miracle from their session with Dr. Raynor.

“Like he’s totally into you! Major heart eyes. Sir,” Torres hastily adds.

And Sam should reprimand him for this. Calling with a trivial piece of information when he must know Sam’s already being very selective about which of the hundreds of recent calls (and it’d be more if more people had this number) he chooses to pick up. Calling to speculate on how Bucky was staring at Sam that night in New York.

“I don’t need to tell you this is gonna be one of those investigations we keep between you and me,” Sam states.

“For sure. I just thought maybe you’d wanna know.”

“Uh huh. You get any real news, you pass it along.”

“I will.”

Sam ends the call and turns. He looks to his right: the sparkling river. His left: his people, all the way down to the squirt with the glasses who’s hanging off a metal arm, and the man that arm belongs to.

He’s felt it, the way that Bucky stares. It’s not like it used to be though, when it irked Dr. Raynor at the police station in Baltimore, or confused Walker and Hoskins in the back of that jeep in Germany. This new stare of Bucky’s isn’t one Sam’s ever caught him doing. Bucky hasn’t quite let him. That’s actually how Sam noticed it was happening—Bucky would immediately glance away instead of leaving that dead expression on his face when Sam met his eye. Now that he has proof of it, proof he’s certain Torres would send him footage of in an instant if he asked, he’s scared to look.

Instead, he watches Bucky look at other people. Like Sarah. Like kids from the neighbourhood. His literal hangers-on disperse as Sam observes, scattered after Bucky leans towards them to say something. Sam sees half his smile and even that much has his heart swelling up in his chest. Bucky weaves through the tables and standing groups, the dancers and the kids who’ve broken out a skipping rope. (After eating from that buffet? Kids are crazy. Gonna make themselves sick.)

Without thinking too hard about it, Sam returns to the noise and the smells, trailing Bucky with a stealthy eye on his ass in those jeans. There’s no friction here between him and everybody else Sam cares about, he can see that in every short, friendly exchange someone engages Bucky in as he walks. Things flow as smoothly as the butter oozing off the corn Sam reluctantly gave up. Clearly, they remember Bucky from when he was here helping with the boat. They respect him. They like him. They’ve gotten to that last thing faster than Sam has, which makes Sam feel a little embarrassed as well as a little overwhelmed by how much the two of them have actually been through. He’s seen Bucky as a mindless killer and it almost brings a genuine tear to his eye—here on this glorious day in front of all these folks—to see the dork who rushed out to get his hands on a copy of The Hobbit in 1937 return in his current form as the dork who’ll take a fake punch from AJ and blush over brazen old women telling him how handsome he is.

Bucky stares different? Well. Sam feels different about the staring.

Sam keeps his distance until Bucky reaches the food, then his stomach gurgles a reminder than he hasn’t eaten yet. No ass is nice enough to distract him from his meal. He sidles up beside him and Bucky seems unsurprised, not even glancing over.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your phone call,” Bucky clarifies, adding a heap of glossy green beans to his plate. Damn, those are some of Sam’s favourite. Bucky better not take all of them. “They need us somewhere?”

“Oh. No.”

Bucky shoots him a suspicious look after this stilted response, but he doesn’t say anything until Sam grabs a plate of his own, hungry eyes roving the feast that’s diminishing now that people have started coming back for second helpings.

“Put that down,” Bucky instructs. He doesn’t wait; he takes the plate out of Sam’s hand and tosses it back towards the pile. Thankfully, the plates are made of paper.

“Buzz off, man,” Sam tells him, reaching for the plate again. “I’m starving.”

“I figured.”

Wait.

“That’s for me?” he guesses, gazing longingly at the plate Bucky’s preparing.

“Yep.”

When Sam doesn’t reply, Bucky pauses with the plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other and sighs.

“I didn’t want you to miss the good stuff. This party’s for you.”

“I think it might be for both of us.”

Bucky seems too self-conscious to say anything to that. He goes back to loading up Sam’s plate while Sam quietly feels his throat close up with emotion as he watches. He clears it gruffly.

“I woulda had to eat the cake you brought,” he jokes. “Pretty sure only the really little kids have eaten any. You know, people who don’t know better.”

“I was tryin’ to be a good guest.”

“I can’t believe you brought a store-bought cake,” Sam says, laughing as he grabs a set of cutlery for the second time and continuing to shuffle along next to Bucky.

“Have you ever seen me cook?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Trust me, what I did was kinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky demands challengingly, turning to face him. “I do say so.”

Sam’s eyes go from the plate Bucky’s holding between them up to Bucky’s face. He’s close. And he’s got this look, this dancing look in his eyes that undercuts the shit out of the hard line of his eyebrows. Trying to seem all stern. All Sam can think for several seconds is that, if he just grabbed Bucky by the chain around his neck and hauled him forward, they’d never get the food stains out of their clothes. But their laundry would smell delicious.

He clears his throat.

“Then you better stay for a while.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and he hands Sam the plate he’s prepared for him.

“I plan to.”

When Sam picks a table to sit at, he makes sure there’s enough room for Bucky too. When Bucky sits next to him, he sits so close that their thighs press together and claims that’s all the space there is. Bucky talks and laughs when other people at the table talk to him. He’s easily drawn into conversation now and Sam feels weirdly proud of having brought this great guy home to meet everybody, even if he’s not here like that. People tells stories about last week and last century interchangeably, one old smartass making Bucky howl with laughter when they toss out a memory of Little Sam Wilson streaking from his house to the river for a naked swim. This is the danger of welcoming Bucky into the community. Sam, suppressing a smile, doesn’t really mind.

Elbows up on the table so he can eat, talk, and gesture emphatically with his fork, Sam feels Bucky’s stare creeping up on him. Slow, like the sun slides across the landscape when the clouds blow past. Bucky didn’t make this food, but Sam can feel his satisfaction as he watches Sam accept what he provided. Feels like there are grasshoppers springing around in his stomach. He still has a roll on his plate, one side soaked in family-secret barbecue sauce, and he tears it in half. While the rest of their table are caught up in some story being boisterously told by overlapping voices, Sam turns to Bucky and wordlessly offers the bread, edges dimpled where he gripped to split it. They watch each other chew and Sam’s closed mouth is smiling.

Inevitably, somebody pulls Sam back into the conversation and he does his best to laugh and heckle, covering the fact that he wasn’t listening, that he dropped the thread. The voices rise and rise and fall like water slopping over the side of a bucket.

In the next quiet moment, Bucky inclines toward him slightly and says, “You wanna talk later?”

And Sam says, “Sure.”

The day feels long, long, long, and Sam’s face gets sore from smiling, tired from talking. He does not confess that to Bucky, who’s almost always at his side. Lights go on overhead and beers come out of coolers, leftover food packed up and redistributed among neighbours, small children with drooping eyelids toted home. At first, Sam thinks Bucky’s leaning into his side because he’s drained from so much socializing too, but when he meets his eye, he just sees an invitation.

“Where are you two goin’?” Sarah asks when they slink past her carrying a too-big Cass in her arms.

“Just walkin’,” Sam tells her.

“Gotta stretch our legs,” Bucky contributes.

She looks from Sam to Bucky and back, smiling knowingly.

“Uh huh,” Sarah says.

Sam grabs Bucky by the shoulder to turn him forcibly away from his sister’s insinuations and just… forgets to let his hand fall as they wander along the water. Bucky’s steps angle towards his until his arm’s bumping Sam’s side, Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders. Is this still the body language of a couple buddies on a warm Delacroix night? Is it now, when Sam drops his arm and brushes the back of his hand across Bucky’s?

They leave the party lights on the horizon with the lazily setting sun, scrabbling off the end of the dock and onto the riverbank. Sam reaches up to give Bucky a hand down, so he won’t step in the soft mud and sink to his ankles. Bucky clasps his hand firmly and jumps.

The sound of people drops off down here and the sound of wind in grass, frogs hiding between reeds, rises.

“Are there alligators in here?” Bucky wonders, scanning the river’s edge.

Sam laughs.

“For sure.”

“And you swam here when you were a kid?”

“Even then,” Sam boasts, puffing his chest out, “my courage was legendary.”

“Yeah, and your nudity. Is there anyone within a mile of here who hasn’t seen your bare ass?”

Their eye contact holds. Oh right. Sam breaks away with an awkward, hiccupping laugh, directing his gaze at the dirt.

“The gators haven’t gathered too close to the dock in decades,” he promises Bucky. He stares out at the undisturbed water, enjoying the sun on his face. “Got skittish of the boats. Most of ’em, anyway.”

“Consider me not entirely reassured.”

“You scared of a little Louisiana lizard, man? Didn’t you grow up with Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Nah, that was after my time.”

“Damn, you’re old.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, refusing to look at him.

“You wanna take a dip?” Sam goads.

“No.”

But by the time Sam’s pulling his shirt over his head, Bucky’s peeling off his socks. Sam spares him a smile and keeps going, the ground soft underfoot. It could be like the few times they’ve changed in proximity to one another before, but it’s not. He senses Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time. Face hot, he takes a quick look in Bucky’s direction as he’s unzipping his jeans. His heart feels like his new suit—wings just waiting to unfurl.

When they’re down to their underwear, they wade in.

God, it feels nice. The water’s cool and the sun’s clinging to the horizon.

“Just don’t get any water in your mouth,” Sam instructs, then dunks his face and comes up squirting water at Bucky from between the gap in his front teeth, a trick he perfected as a kid. “That arm ain’t gonna rust, right?”

“You asked for this,” Bucky warns. He points a menacing finger and plunges below the surface.

Sam twists as he treads water, trying to see what’s going on down there, searching for a ripple or bubbles of released air. His legs move in twitchy kicks because that’s where he’s expecting Bucky to grab him. But the idiot is playing some kind of psychological game first, making Sam wait a full minute. Two minutes. Three.

He’s opening his mouth to call out Bucky’s name when he breaks the surface. Sam’s ready to swap the concern he was about to form into words into a taunt instead—did Bucky get down there and decide the scariest thing he could do was let Sam’s imagination take over?—until Bucky shakes his head and slicks his hair back. Then the words get caught in Sam’s throat and he just kinda stares.

“There was a really gross fish down there,” Bucky informs him. “Do you guys have eels there? Mighta been an eel. Maybe we should get out.”

“Alrighty, scaredy-cat, let’s get you to shore.”

Bucky propels himself out in front, arms moving in powerful strokes, and Sam’s hand darts out on instinct, fingers closing around Bucky’s hard calf muscle. Bucky jerks and Sam burst into loud laughter.

“Did you think that was an eel? Did you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

I’m lucky you what? Sam wants to ask when Bucky trails off, but he just swims after him.

During their game/possible eel panic (there’s no way it was an eel), they weren’t always fighting the current, so they’ve drifted downstream some. Bucky takes sloppy, sloshing steps out of the water, underwear that might’ve been light grey now dark and plastered to his ass. Sam feels like he’s choked on river water, though his mouth is dry. He lumbers out too and they begin the march back in the direction of the dock and their clothes. The water tickles as it runs down Sam’s legs; must be bugging Bucky too because he plucks his waistband away from his skin before letting it snap back. Clenching his jaw, Sam stops himself from trying to see too much.

This end of the dock is made of old boards before it transitions to pavement farther down, wood smooth on Sam’s feet when he and Bucky haul themselves up, dropping their collected clothes and shoes into a single pile. No point getting dressed until they’re dry, so they sit on the edge of the dock, feet swinging. Feels good. Feels home. They don’t speak until the sun’s set, the sky orange, then grey, then rich, velvety blue.

“You know, don’t you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Know?”

“Yeah, you know. Whenever you don’t know something, you talk and talk—”

“Sometimes I can work through a problem better if I vocalize,” Sam explains.

“But when you do know,” Bucky goes on, ignoring Sam’s input, “you’re quiet.” He looks at Sam. “You’re quiet.”

What else is Sam? Nervous. His skin’s prickling with it, and because even the warm air feels cold when he’s just climbed out of the river. There’s a wet patch spreading around him that he can barely see with evening rapidly deepening into night. He lifts a hand from the dock and sweeps it up his neck, brushing water droplets away.

Without glancing over, he says, “You’re doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Staring. That new stare you do.”

“Maybe,” Bucky acknowledges. A bird starts calling, the sound drifting in and away like the sway of a hypnotist’s watch and Bucky’s silent until it’s over. “Maybe I’m staring for the same reason you’re quiet.”

Sam waits. Bucky doesn’t add anything, so Sam turns to look at his face, hung with cool shadows.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?”

“I thought you would say it,” Bucky argues defensively.

“You’re the one who’s been staring at me like that for a week. You should go first!”

“Please, you don’t even know how I’m staring at you, I only do it when you’re not looking.”

“Do it now then and see what happens,” Sam dares him.

“Fine.”

Just like that, Bucky locks in like Sam’s attention is the only handhold on a sheer cliffside. Vital and stable, a last chance, the one thing around him that wants to help him higher instead of watching him fall. A lot of that’s familiar from his regular hard stare, but then something opens up behind his eyes. Some fragile thing (that might be Bucky’s sense of caution) breaks. Suddenly, Sam’s seeing what Joaquin saw in the news footage and amateur cell phone video. Except he’s seeing it two feet in front of him. It’s intense. It makes the air a little harder to breathe.

Bucky’s lips curve into a smile, then part as he says, “I love—”

Hopefully, he wasn’t going to end that sentence with ‘store-bought cake,’ because Sam can’t really take back his reaction. The finger slipping behind Bucky’s ear as he cradles his face, the mouth sealed to his. Especially that. Thankfully, Bucky kisses him back, just as hard, and then harder.

“Thank god,” Sam pants when they break apart.

“You interrupted me.”

“I got you to stop talking? Guess we’re in my miracle.”

“I’d complain…” Bucky shrugs. “…but your miracle is pretty nice.”

“Not bad, right?”

He sighs and looks out over the water. Bucky pushes up on his fists and sits closer, offering his hand for Sam to interlace their fingers.

“Hey,” Sam prompts when it hits him that it’s super dark outside and they aren’t gonna dry much more like this, “did you book a hotel room again?”

“You kiddin’ me? I spent all my money on that cake.”

Sam laughs.

“Right, well, I guess you need a place to stay tonight then.”

“You know anything nearby?” Bucky asks with a soft smile.

Getting to his feet and bracing to pull Bucky up after him, Sam uses his free hand to motion towards their clothing pile.

“Put your pants on,” he says, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Joaquin Torres #Sarah Wilson #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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peachsayshi · 3 years

Text

Chapter 10 - Intimate (2)

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Fluff

Summary: Gojo uses you to relieve some of his stress after his little argument with your best friend, and poses a question that catches you off guard.

A/N: this chapter was a bit difficult for me to write and I think it's because it turned out to be sort of a filler chapter! Also, please excuse any errors - I am definitely posting this half asleep lol! but I am really excited to share the upcoming ones! I initially said that this was going to be 25 chapters but I outlined the rest of the story and there will be more! Hehe I do plan on doing the few extra one-shots in the end, so I hope you enjoy.

- - -

“Tell me you’re mine…”

You blushed at the thought of Satoru’s words, painfully aware of the knot that tightened in the pit of your stomach which then tugged at your lungs, slowing your breath. You reached for the seasoning packets, ripping open the colored wrappers to prepare the ramen broth. You watched as tiny circles began to form from the bottom of the metal pot, bubbling it’s way to the surface. You could hear the shower still running from your bathroom, a bit relieved that Gojo was taking his time because you wanted to bask in the few precious minutes you had to yourself to try and quieten your racing thoughts.

You couldn’t focus on the task of preparing dinner because the word “mine” slipping from Gojo’s lips in a feverish claim was playing on a loop in your head. The way his tone darkened with urgency when he held his body close to yours sent goosebumps to run up your arms. You couldn’t figure out where the possessive streak came from or why he felt the need to assert his dominance over an act that should not have been as intimate as it felt. You folded your arms over your chest, subconsciously pinching your skin as you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

There was a difference when you made your own personal comparisons in the safety of your mind versus Gojo bringing it up in the bedroom. Somehow admitting your confession to him made you feel vulnerable and his reaction didn’t make it any better, appearing to be competitive about the entire situation.

That doesn’t make any sense, why would he care? you wondered.

You never actually paid attention to how Gojo felt about your ex-boyfriend. For the most part he’s always been nice to him. Although the two of them weren’t the closest of friends, they seemed to get along whenever you all hung out together. You never would have anticipated that Gojo would be…

Jealous of him ?

That he would resent him?

Honestly, you didn’t even have an explanation for what it could possibly mean.

“ Pay attention…”

Gojo’s voice startled you, you didn’t even realise he was standing right behind you until you noticed him reach his arm forward to reduce the flame, stopping the water from bubbling over the pot.

“Whoops! Lost my train of thought for a second...” you lied, refusing to look in his direction in the hopes that he wouldn’t catch you blushing.

“That’s a safety hazard, you know?” he teased, still standing dangerously close behind you as he reached for the dry noodles himself and placed them into the pot. “You need sharp eyes when cooking otherwise you’ll end up having an unnecessary accident.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you as you circled to face him. Gojo had borrowed one of your black silk scarves, using it as a makeshift blindfold since his own was now tumbled between your bedsheets on the floor. You could smell your coconut and hibiscus body wash off him, the scent combining with the residual cologne on his clothes. An easy smile spread across that handsome face, his relaxed demeanor contrasting the state he was in when he first knocked on your door.

He’s your friend, you reminded yourself. What happens in the bedroom doesn’t mean anything…

It shouldn’t mean anything.

“Whatever you say, sensei ...” you chirped, burying your wayward thoughts. “Why don’t you grab those mats and I’ll bring these over to the table”

You assembled the two bowls, adding a little extra broth for Gojo because you knew he preferred it that way. Meanwhile, he had placed the two mats on the opposite side of the dining table, taking care not to disturb your work set up.

“Here you go,” you said, as you slid the bowl in front of him while he took his seat.

“Thank you!”

At first you both sat in silence, Gojo was responding to a few unanswered text messages but you were studying him with curious eyes, waiting for him to give you an explanation for his sudden visit.

“ Sooo, you want to tell me what that was all about?” you asked.

“That being?”

You waved your chopsticks in the direction of your bedroom, raising your brow before replying, “That being the sequence of events that just transpired…”

“ Stress relief ...” Gojo explained in between bites as he casually tucked his phone back into his pocket.

You thrummed your fingers against the warm bowl in your hands, fidgeting with the chopsticks in the other. “Well, I’m glad I could help you unwind, I guess...”

He flashed you a wicked grin, “Me too, because I need a repeat of the show...”

“I can’t look at you when you say that,” you remarked, focusing your attention onto the noodles and growing shy at his comment.

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“A little…”

“I don’t understand why, that was fucking hot ...”

Your face burned, the heat radiating all the way to the back of your neck from his words. You cleared your throat as you rolled your eyes at him, desperately trying to brush off his statement in a cool manner. You could feel the knot in your stomach, the thoughts you were having crept back into your mind as you tried to hush them away.

You decided to shift the conversation away from the bedroom and back to Gojo instead. If he wasn’t so flustered by his own emotions, you might have accepted his excuse of needing to relieve stress but you knew there was more to the story.

“Did something happen at work?” you questioned.

Gojo chuckled to himself, “It’s funny how you won’t even acknowledge my compliment... ”

“Are you really going to make me pry a proper answer out of you?” you huffed, and he could hear your annoyance in your tone.

Gojo wished that he didn’t have to get into this particular part of the conversation with you, knowing full well how it was going to bring down the mood.

“No, nothing happened at work,” he said with a sigh, “I was with Rina. She asked me to stop by her shop…”

You knitted your brows in confusion, “That’s kind of random.”

Gojo nodded his head, “I thought so too. She initially told me that she wanted to get my opinion on some new items she was dropping for her menu. Turns out I was only there because she wanted to know how long you and I have been sleeping together for…”

You choked at his statement, his nonchalant words nearly going over your head.

Gojo kept eating, unphased by your reaction. “Need some water?”

“Y-yes…no, ugh, nevermind …she asked you how …”

“ How long you and I have been fucking… ” Gojo replied, flicking his index finger back between you both to fully clarify his statement.

The knot in your stomach cinched, a wave of nausea swirling in your gut as you placed your chopsticks down.

“How... how did she even find out? ” you whispered to yourself as you slumped against the back of your chair.

“She saw us at the park.”

“ Oh .”

You and Rina have both had your fair share of arguments before but sometimes when her emotions got the better of her, Rina’s outbursts often came with her sharp tongue. Over the years you had to explain to her that her words carried more weight than she thought, and in turn she became more conscious around you. However it suddenly dawned on you that Gojo might have been on the receiving end of Rina’s unfiltered anger.

You covered your face with your hands, groaning with frustration. “What did she say?”

“ Hmm ?”

“What did Rina say to you?”

Gojo shrugged his shoulders, “don’t worry about what she said to me. I know she didn’t mean anything by it...”

“But you were upset when you got here…”

“Let’s clarify something, Rina was upset because she was hurt. I was just annoyed by the situation. There’s a difference...”

You wished he would take your conversation a little more seriously and not brush it off with such ease but sighed knowing full well that Gojo wasn’t going to tell you what exactly happened which meant that Rina must have said something deliberately hurtful towards him.

“ I’m sorry… ”

“Why are you apologizing?”

You picked up your utensils, “For dragging you into this unnecessary drama I started. I should have just told Rina what was going on between us…”

Gojo paused after slurping a noodle, “well, why didn’t you tell her?”

“She’s been overprotective recently… ” you explained, not wanting to get into the details that the reason was purely based on your break up and how terrible you have been about getting over it. “I knew that if I told her about our arrangement she would analyze me to death over it and I didn’t want to deal with that…”

“Fair point,” Gojo acknowledged with a hum.

His short responses unsettled you, and you found yourself overcompensating to make up for it. “I’ll talk to her and smooth things over and I’ll make sure she apologizes for whatever it is that she said to you. She shouldn’t take her frustration out on you just because she was upset with me...”

Gojo nodded his head but you could clearly sense that he was not in the mood for any serious conversations right now. Taking himself out of this particular topic, Gojo quickly changed the subject after you made your last statement.

He kept the rest of the chat lighthearted, distracting your worries by telling you little anecdotes he had about his co-worker, Nanami. You suddenly found yourself giggling when Gojo revealed that he practically stalked Nanami for an entire day just so he could force the man to hang out him.

“I feel bad for the poor guy, you completely terrorize him,” you stated, clearing the table once you were both done eating.

You made your way over back to your kitchen where you rinsed off the bowls before placing it in the dishwasher. “You’re free to hang out if you want,” you offered, noticing Gojo get himself together as he was preparing to leave.

“I think I distracted you enough for tonight,” he replied.

You walked him to the door, following in line with his long strides. Just as he was about to reach the handle of your front door, he stopped before turning to face you.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation about what is going on between us,” he stated, his voice low and serious.

You blinked a couple of times in surprise before parting your lips to respond, “I know I don't owe anyone an explanation but I know what Rina’s feeling and the only way I can see myself fixing this problem is by telling her everything. We never keep secrets from each other and I would probably be equally as hurt if she chose to hide something from me too... ”

Gojo pressed his lips together, navigating the words floating in his mind before reaching his hand out to touch your fingers.

“I get it but I just…”

“ Just ?...”

He exhaled, “I don’t want you overthinking anything between us, okay?”

“Don’t worry, even though we are terrible at sticking to our own rules, I am fully aware of where we both stand…”

You notice the relief wash over Gojo’s face as he slips his fingers away from your touch, “Good, because I like what we are doing.”

“I-I like it too…” you replied almost instantly, your heart racing at your own admittance.

The sorcerer left you a bundle of nerves when he said his goodbye. The knot in your stomach made its presence known, twining itself around your insides as you couldn’t escape this foreign emotion that seemed to have infiltrated your body.

***

CHAPTER 11 - FRIENDS

#Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo x reader #Gojo Satoru x ofc #Gojo x ofc #Gojo Satoru x female reader #Gojo x female reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x rader #jjk x ofc #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fan fiction #Gojo Satoru #Gojo

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itstheimpossibledream · 3 years

Text

It’s Only A Play -Part 3

Word Count:3244

Pairing : AU Henry Cavill x FemBlack!Reader

Summary: We love a good slow burn. SMUT

The bag crackled in his large hands. You found yourself wondering why he even bothered delicately tearing the wrapping, when he could easily smash both the wrapper and cookie open in one fist. The fortune seemed so small in his hands.He held the paper back a bit further than you would have expected and you realized he was probably one of those people who needed glasses but refused to get them.He cleared his throat again."It says 'The art of living is taking the biggest chance.'"

"In bed." you said quickly

"What?!" his eyebrows flew up in shock but,he laughed to keep from appearing to hopeful.

"It's an American thing. You read a fortune cookie and at the end you add in bed. It makes every fortune cookie funnier, I promise."you said not breaking eye contact. He threw his head back and laughed even harder. It was a childish trick but, something about it tickled him so much he hardly noticed when his hat fell off of his head and onto Kal who had been peacefully sleeping in the slice of floor behind Henry's chair. His baritone chuckles echo through the apartment and you’re amazed that neighbors didn't even cross his mind as a concern in this place.Realistically he probably wasn’t even home enough to get a noise complaint. His laughing had lessened and you could feel him watching you. You knew people who had embarrassingly nice apartments but, nothing like this. This was just lavishly ridiculous.

"It gets lonely being here alone." He said evenly,reading your mind. "Family doesn't visit much and keeping friends with a schedule like mine is just..."

"Not easy ." you finished for him.You could feel his eyes boring into you carving out a space in your heart for him and you try to will yourself to stop. You both sat comfortable on the silence for a while, momentarily mutually mourning the lifestyle you lost to live your dream.

"Okay read yours!" Henry gestured to you cookie. You smashed it to bits,gingerly pulling out the paper fortune. You sat up tall clearing your throat trying to figure out if this fortune would be equally funny or if your childish trick had run it's course.

"You Are very talented in many ways in bed." You say bursting out laughing as he doubled over again.

"Come on! How come I couldn't have gotten that one" he jokes shrugging his shoulders.

" Just wasn't your fortune."you tease winking at him and getting up from the table.Okay so you were flirting with him,definitely flirting with him. But a highschool showmance was so unlike you. You knew the golden rule was to never go for your co-stars and yet here you were winking and shit. Maybe he'd ignore it , he really knew nothing about you outside of your work.

"So what made you like this story? When you got the script when did know you had to do it ?" He had moved from the table, his eyes shown brightly as he recovered his hat from the floor on his way. At the end of dinner you assumed it would be normal to grab your jacket and go back to your room.It's not like he had really planned for you to be over, and you weren't even friends so staying up this late with him to gossip wasn’t exactly in the cards. You had already learned so much more about him than you had expected to. He expertly moved to the kitchen,uncorked a bottle of wine he had chilling in the refrigerator and returned to the couch handing one of the glasses to you. So, now you were staying, I mean it’d be rude to turn down wine.

"Uhhhhh- well I think the relationship is relatable, it's real. It's not about these two perfect people but, it's about this perfect love they have... ya know?" You whirl yourself onto the seat on the couch next to him."To imagine what they were going through as a couple I mean- it must have made everything harder, these characters are from completely different worlds and they still choose each other in their own way. " He nods next to you , this was new. Geeking out with him about work wasn't what you expected but, you were actually enjoying it.

"So let me ask you something?"he pushes leaning in , He wrings his hands together and you’re distracted by the veiny passageways that mark down from his forearms."When do you think it would actually be necessary for them to have a sex scene?"he asks timidly.

"Right!" you exclaim! "I love Stephen but the way he directs it makes it feel so clunky !"you emphasize with your hands and he chuckles saying "Okay I'm so glad you noticed it too- like who has sex like this robots?"

"You know his partners have to be weird." you laugh , noticing how pointy his canines are. God, he looks like one of those twilight vampires, his stupid skin probably did shine in actual sunlight Not that New York would get any though,you acknowledge while making a mental note , not to drink to much of the wine that was clearly causing you to get distracted. You finish your glass and set it on the coffee table.

"Yeah I don't know i just think it's an unconventional love story and we need more of those." you smile , sheepishly meeting his eyes , going back to the topic of the show. His lower lip juts up as he nods,in agreement.

"Soooooo what's next?"you pop up, moving to his kitchen opening random cabinets, trying to find his liquor stash. You come across the empty bottle, of what must have been the wine you just drank and turn to him in the living room with a fake pout. It wasn’t that you were bored, or even that you didn’t want to spend time with him sober ;as much as it was that you desperately needed to cling to the idea that he wasn’t a good man for you.

"O. you can smoke out on the terrace if you want, and I don't have any more drinks here but,I can call down to the frontdesk to run and get you something.” Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head.

"Of Course you have a front desk."you chortled to yourself.

"Hey, this is the flat the show is paying to keep me in not my own." he pointed at you in mock sternness

"No I'm okay. I don't smoke and drink all the time " you chided at him,he probably didn't really think that. He was just trying to drum up some conversation.

"and here I thought you were a real New Yorker." he jokes breaking into a toothy grin.

" I'm from a very small town-" you divulged with a sigh"definitely not New York.”

"Yeah- there's not many people from where I grew up around here either." he said plainly , moving to take off his rehearsal sneakers, for what was probably the first time since you had gotten to his place.

"You miss it a lot huh?" you ask

"I mean I go back often but, it's just much nicer to not have camera's up your ass all the time."he huffs, moving to the second set of laces.

"Ahh that good old Hollywood fame." you joke, with a sigh. He just smiles at you, beaming embarrassingly knowing he can never seem to say the right thing around you. For some reason busting his balls was somehow so much better than admitting to a feeling that you were becoming increasingly aware of,you wanted him.

"I'm not like a smoker smoker" you say, slicing through the silence "I picked it up from my ex and it just kinda stuck." you admit with a flippant gesture of your hand." But, only when I'm nervous or something."you felt the need to clarify.

"And why would you be nervous?"He smirked, pushing his shoes under the decoratively simplistic coffee table across from him and sliding down the front of the couch to sit on the floor. His thighs seemed abnormally large as he spread his legs out and started stretching. This time it was your turn to look away from him.You peeled your eyes,just as quick as he had before your shower. The confidence that radiated from him was absolutely maddening. You couldn't understand how any man could be so aware of their looks and yet still come off as slightly shy.

"I'm always nervous the first days of rehearsal.The new schedule, the new people, it's all just overwhelming at times." you divulged honestly. He pulled a knee into his chest heaving a sigh as you continued. "I wish I never started smoking though." you circled back.

"Do you wish you never met him too?"Henry asked, inquisitively peering up from under his hat as he switched knees. You exhaled slowly,fighting for the right way to answer that question.

"Sometimes yes" you nodded. "When I first moved to New York it was really tough, I felt really lonely too." you allowed your voice to trail into a whisper. There is a silence and then you can feel his eyes on you, your cheeks burning red-hot and the more you avoid looking at him the stronger the urge is.

"So that's why you're single." it was brutal but, you weren't upset.Long ago you had come to a similar realization about yourself. Plus, european’s had a way of sounding rude while simply stating facts, it’s part of what makes them so trendy.

"You've allowed life to make you become tough and jaded so you just don't date?Is that it?" he perked an eyebrow in your direction while removing his baseball cap.While you took no offense to his comment, that didn't stop you from hating it.

"Why do you care?" you asked immediately, choosing the defensive instead of going deeper and chasing him down the rabbit hole of honesty.

"See what is that?" he questioned.It was clear he was not going to be letting this go anytime soon.

"I'm trying to do the assignment. I'm trying to get to know you and you push me away."

"Don't be ridiculous."you roll your eyes toward him once again."I'm not pushing you away I just have boundaries and things I don’t want to discuss with you."

You push up from the couch and head in the direction of your room. It was not within his right to pry about your personal relationships,and truly there was nothing more to discuss. Plus, you knew if you stayed close to him a moment longer, you would give into his eyes and the beautiful vanes bulging in his large hand.

"Why?" he asked jumping to his feet,his agility momentarily shocking you as you turn to leave.

"Because I don't want to ! Because you're not-"

"Not what?" he pushes" I've been working around you and this thing between us and I don't why you can be blunt about everything else except this !" He got dangerously close to raising his voice and it stirred the butterflies in your stomach. Something about him being so stern with you set your sex drive ablaze. You could feel yourself biting down hard on your bottom lip and the more you refused to break eye contact with him the more fired up you became. You could see the honesty behind his eyes, he was trying with you, he was proving himself every step of the way and you hated how much you loved it.

"Fine. What is it? What's the THIS?" you ask sarcastically, staring directly at him. His face looked blank and you wondered for a moment if you had asked the right thing. He grabs your hand,falling back onto the couch and pulling you onto the couch on top of him.You quickly realize you are able to put yourself in a position where you can straddle him as he grabs your face, pulling you down to kiss him. You kiss him back slowly , taking time to explore with your tongue. You can feel his hand tangled in your hair at the back of your head and it does something wild to you. You grind down into him and you hear a slight moan escape his mouth.

You bite down suddenly on his bottom lip before coming up for air and he simply can't take it anymore. He wraps his arms around your legs and lifts you up by the bottom of your thighs, carrying you into the bedroom. You feel ridiculously delicate in his arms as he carries you. You break from the kiss momentarily, to make sure your head is ducking all the way under the doorframe as he holds you,smiling into your kiss.

You pull your own shirt off, letting it hit the floor with a loud 'thwack'. The noise momentarily wakes you out of your horny haze. As he lays you on the bed,you bring your forearm up to cover your eyes, in the vaguest attempt of shielding yourself from your own embarrassment. He pulls your pants off and while unsure ,you don't protest as he gingerly splays your legs open for him to see the wetness that had pooled in your underwear.

"O you're so wet for me now."he smiles from ear to ear as you peek through your hand just enough to see his perfectly chiseled chest and you shut your eyes again wondering if this could be real, if he's real.

" We're not done ."he smirks, grabbing you by the legs and pulling you towards him. He then gracefully flips you over onto your hands and knees facing away from him.He pulls your panties down and drags his large fingers over your wet slit and you arch your back at his touch. He settles one hand on your hip as he uses the other hand to work himself into you.You had imagined he was big, but when you feel his head poking into you, you knew your fantasies could never compare to the reality. He uses the hand on your hip to slowly pull you further onto him until you are taking in his whole length. Moving painstakingly slowly, in and out of you. You hear him moaning above you and then he whispers "Fuck” in that stupid accent before snapping his hips into you and pushing you forward. He uses his other hand to prop you up because he knows he's pushing way to hard for someone of your size. Slamming into your pretty little cunt over and over again. You let out his name and you allow plea after plea for him to let you cum. He pounds into you grabbing your hair and pulling your face up to meet his.After a few more thrusts he finally graces you with a reply.

"No." he says and then pulls out of you. Your body immediately feels drained, completely and utterly fucked out and somehow all you want is more. You hold the position for a minute breathing into the lack of movement when you look back to see Henry watching you. Working himself in his large hand, the veins in his arms bulging and a slight bead of sweat beginning to work it's way onto his forehead.

"Turn over" he commands, and as much as you want to move quickly your legs feel like jelly,the smile line at the corner of his mouth fades as he walks towards you and flips you over himself. He positions himself above you again and says "I want to see that pretty face you make when you cum." he smiles down at you sweetly. Pushing in between your hot folds again and the noise you make is downright pornographic. You know it , he knows it and only fuels the fire behind his thrusts . He reaches for your neck again, giving you a pale necklace of fingers and veins that contrasts with your skin . With his other hand you feel him grab at your hand and interlace your fingers with his, above your head. Your eyes fly open and he is looking directly at you, smiling a bit and you can tell he is taking you in. Revelling in all the tiny noises and ways your body responds to his. You can feel his pace quicken as his moans increase, it almost feels as though the longer you look at him the harder he fucks into you, challenging you, seeing if you can handle him. His curls begin to dampen and stick to his forehead, you watch while he looks down on you. He momentarily breaks having his hand at your throat to bring his own pointer to his mouth. You watch as he lighlty bites down on it while letting out a moan.It's almost as if he's trying to keep himself quiet, or burn this view into his brain, but he's to turned on to focus. He fucks into you harder and harder, you can't take it, seeing his teeth around his own finger made you absolutely feral. You cried out his name immediately and before you could realize what was happening you felt your walls tightening again under him. Your legs shook as waves of pleasure washed over you and you could feel yourself clamping down on him. He fucked you through the orgasm, and when it seemed as though you had recovered, he climbed up your body, forcing his cock down your throat, and came instantly. He shudders and makes deep grunts on top of you. You can't help but gag a little on his length as you try to take in the art that is his unclothed body. He hears you struggling for breath and immediately pulls himself out of you. He holds a thumb at the bottom of your chin and watches as you swallow every drop of him. When you're done you look up at him, giving him your best attempt at doe eyes and he turns your chin up for him to kiss you . Fuck. Fuck. you were not supposed to fuck your coworker.Especially not this coworker, you barely even liked him. After a few moments of making out the contact fizzled and eventually he was just laying next to you, breathing heavily.

"It's purely physical." you sighed, watching the small curly hairs on his pecs as his chest heaved.

"Is it?" he began laughing. His smile shone bright in the dimness of the room. He turns to face you, leaning in for a kiss again and you're to weak to deny him.

"Dammit." he whispers between your lips. You grab the back of his head pulling him closer to you, your mind to blissed out and high for you to think.He kisses you hard and then pulls back. He hops off the bed, chest heaving as he uses his forearm to wipe away the sweat. You sleepily roll over to face where he's going. Some minutes pass and before you know it your overly fucked body is begging for rest.You drift of to sleep feeling euphoria in the big bed.

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justimajin · 3 years

Text

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.3

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (3k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, depictions of graphic violence

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, January 5

Your feet pace back and forth.

It must have been two, three‒maybe four days? You can’t recall anymore. All that remains in your memory is hours of roaming the long hallways of the house, nearly close to memorizing the amount of lights from the ceiling, or the multiple portraits set aside in one particular hall, lining together every head that came after Namjung.

You know every room colour, every room door, every speck of dust that lingers behind, but you’re nowhere close to transparently knowing the shareholder’s inside out.

Not having their favour means no communication. No communication means no reports are sent back, the static box still stored and hidden away.

Your bottom lip has become battered from your constant chewing, losing track of how many circles you’ve paced at this point.

And yet, it isn’t very difficult for you to decipher the exact reason for your distress.

The shareholders don’t want you around. The moment you stayed during their meeting was off putting enough for them and Namjoon's sudden interest for you to be vocal about your father’s intentions had piercing glares thrown in your direction.

But you’ve been assigned a task and you have to accomplish it, regardless of their desires.

Sucking in a deep breath, the sound of the doors to your bedroom wrenching open completely fails your attempt to calm down.

Swiveling around, Namjoon stands in front of you, eyes wide with delight.

“Oh, you’re here!” He quickly enters, striding over to you in an instant. “Is everything alright?”

Realizing that you’re simply gawking at his abrupt presence, you hastily shake your head.

“I-I was just surprised to see you.”

He smiles warmly and for some reason, you immediately flush at the gesture. You wonder if there will ever be a day where you can get used to the constant tenderness his eyes hold.

He raises his hand and you simply stare, until he leans closer to signal you.

“Come with me.”

Blinking, you cautiously take his hand, and he tugs you away, far from the confines of your room and into a place that makes it easier to breathe.

***

A gust of a wind immediately hits you, the brisk breeze feeling cold yet exhilarating at the same time. It’s strength blows and ruffles your clothes, the flowers at the bottom of your feet delicately brushing up against your skin.

You spin around with knitted brows, facing Namjoon who stands a distance away from you. He’s still clad in the suit he was wearing from work, but his eyes are closed, as if he was trying to absorb and completely immerse himself with the wind.

A question sits on the tip of your tongue.

“Why did you bring me here?” You nearly have to yell, the sound of the wind and the distance not aiding with your voice projection. Namjoon dreamily opens his eyes, walking over to you.

“It’s my mother's garden.” He points to the flowers, a cascade beginning with white, down to lilac purple and petal pink, “They have a calming effect, don’t you think?”

A strained smile remains on your lips, “I guess…”

Namjoon takes a step closer to you, “I’m sorry.”

You turn to him, eyebrows raised, “For the way the shareholders acted with you during our meeting, for putting you on the spot like that, and then leaving you alone for so many days even though we just got married‒”

He abruptly pauses, a pondering finger left on his lips.

“Wait, I don’t think this is enough of an apology, just give me a moment.”

Spinning around as if to leave, your arm involuntarily reaches out and latches onto his suit’s jacket.

He glances at you with surprise and you let go right away, awkwardly stifling back a cough.

“I-Its‒...it’s okay.”

Namjoon is frozen, teeter tottering between remaining by your side and leaving at once. After a moment however, he makes up his mind and leaves, before hurrying back with what would be adjacent to a small tree in his hands.

There’s a frown on your lips when he presents it to you.

“It’s a bonsai tree.” He quickly clarifies, “I got it a while ago and have been maintaining it since.”

You hum, leaning closer to observe it. It’s best description would be a miniature tree, although now you notice the string of ethereal pink that wraps around the branches.

“It’s beautiful.”

A warm, knowing smile crosses Namjoon’s lips. He gestures for you to sit down, still holding onto the small tree.

“So you mentioned you were raised in the outskirts of the country? And then went to the imperial academy?”

You nod right away, “What was it like?”

“Um…” You attempt to wrack through your mind for an answer, “My family didn’t have much but tried their best to raise me. I ended up going to the academy because they assumed I would be the next L/N head.”

“Did you want to be the next head?”

“Not really…” You fiddle around with the hem of your shirt, “I just went because my parents wanted me to.”

“So you didn’t want to be involved with the business and you didn’t want to go to the academy?” Namjoon repeats, like he was trying to memorize the facts, “What did you want to do then?”

You blink, staring at him wide eyed, “I don’t know….” There’s a cloud brewing above your head, fog spreading, “I guess...I never figured out what that was.”

“Come on, there must be something.” He raises the tree in his hands, “No bonsai trees to look after?”

A wide grin spreads across his features, yet your expression remains stoic and confused. His smile begins to deflate, and he lowers his arms, but an unexpected smile cracks across your lips, morphing into a lop-sided one.

“There was one bonsai tree, but it wasn’t a plant, or a mini tree for that matter.”

Namjoon eyes you in intrigue, as if you were telling a story that he was enraptured in. A genuine smile surfaces on your lips, fond memories emerging from the depths of your mind.

“I used to love reading....with my father, every Saturday morning.” There’s a spark within your eyes, recalling the day you first peered into his library much to his own joy, “It was something he initially picked up on as a hobby and then later introduced to me. I still remember days where I used to be buried beneath books and my mother would scold my father for the habit.”

A snicker leaves your lips, “I got into so much trouble once, I didn’t attend my classes at the academy to keep reading and I’d never seen my mother so furious.”

There’s a ray of euphoria splashing over your features, eyes brimming with excitement and bliss. You can’t believe you can still remember these memories, memories that are years old and only consist of absolutely innocent times.

Times in which you were allowed to indulge your natural curiosity instead of exploiting it.

At that, your smile falls and you turn to Namjoon to apologize for your abrupt rambling, but your breath hitches in your throat. He’s extremely close to you, only a mere inches away, and although there’s a small tree sitting in his arms, the look in his eyes is enough to draw your attention.

You awkwardly cough, looking away with a flush spreading over your skin.

“W-Why are you asking me all these questions?”

Namjoon blinks, as if broken from a trance.

He meekly smiles, “We’re married now, but there’s still so much I don’t know about you…”

You swivel around, eyes completely wide. The loose dots clumsily connect, but it’s enough for you to understand his intention behind bringing you out here.

He’s shared a piece of himself with you, in hopes that you’ll share a piece of yourself with him.

Namjoon gets up holding the tree, offering you his hand. You stare at it for a mere moment, a thousand thoughts swimming through your mind.

Cautiously taking his hand, you have to remind yourself that this is all a simple mission ‒ nothing more, nothing less.

***

Namjoon takes you across the garden, pointing out the various flowers that he’s aware of, while you trail behind him and listen in. At one point his bonsai tree nearly falls from his hands when he trips over a sharp ledge, and you’re quick to offer your help in holding it.

This results in your carrying of the small plant, and Namjoon’s deciding to let you know what he named it.

“Cherry?” You repeat, knitting your brows together.

Namjoon hums, “Like cherry blossom.” Pointing towards the string of pink you noticed before, you realize that the faint dust was indeed the emergence of new blossoms along the branch. “I have other ones too, and they all have names.”

You perk your eyes up at that, continuing to slowly trail behind him. There’s something that uncomfortably itches at the back of your throat, the apprehensive feeling in your stomach increasing.

The longer you’re here, following along with Namjoon and listening to his thoughtful words, the longer the mayhem increases. Red flares are exploding in your mind, and heaving ringing pounds through your skull, dragging you back before it’s too late.

“Y/N?”

You suddenly jolt from the proximity, realizing you’ve stopped in your tracks and that Namjoon is gazing at you with troubled eyes. You’re about to shake it off, mutter that you were just lost in thought, when a loud blare rings through the air.

“Sorry.” Namjoon winces, hurriedly taking out his phone and swiping away the piercing sound. “Hello?”

You peer down at the tree in your hands, curiously holding a branch between your fingers. “The deal’s been finalized? Already, Yoongi?”

At the sound of the shareholder’s name, your head snaps up. Namjoon goes silent for a moment, before his voice dips into a lower tone.

“I-I understand...I’ll be there soon.” The line is cut off, and he looks up at you, an apologetic smile forming on his lips.

“I have to leave, it’s for an urgent matter.” He takes the plant from your hands, “I’m sorry.”

You instinctively shift as he moves, grabbing onto his suit jacket like before. “I‒…”

He pauses, eyes rounding. The naive look he holds makes you grimace, the lie easily slipping from your lips. “I-I really don’t want to be alone here….”

Confusion dawns on him and you gaze down at the ground, attempting your best to mimic a somber expression.

Namjoon tilts his head to the side and places a finger on his lips, as if he were deeply pondering.

“I-I understand…” Although his words suggest it, he struggles with the implication. Relief floods through you, hoping that your professing is enough to sway him.

However, the last thing you expect emerges from Namjoon.

His tone drops a register and his piercing eyes flicker at you, holding onto an alluring yet ominous ambience to them. It sends shivers down your spine and you instinctively want to back away from him, caught off guard.

“It won’t be pretty.” He sharply enunciates. Swallowing hard, you can only nod in response.

Without another look, he gestures for you to follow him.

***

It would be a lie to say that you’re not knowledgeable about the Kim’s.

However, to say that you’re too knowledgeable about them, would be most accurate and a fact that you’ve always been careful to conceal.

The Kim’s manufacture weapons. They have far more connections that an octopus would have limbs, and they spread out everywhere, making deals left and right.

However, these are simple facts. Easy to memorize and remember.

And hurdles away from reality.

The building is far from Namjoon’s office, and exhibits a strange bluish grey hue, almost as if it were abandoned for decades. Yet when Namjoon hurriedly paces ahead and the steel door creaks open, your jaw drops.

It’s massive ‒ assembly lines running parallel and forklifts moving along to put up the heavy bundles of steel. It becomes clear to you in that one exact moment, of how much wealth the Kim family truly reigns over your heads.

Your dilated pupils glance in Namjoon’s direction again and he’s occupied with opening a separate door, far from the catastrophic noise raising in the room. Following him inside into an expansive hall, you’re again confronted with the four individuals that seem to despise your very existence.

Hoseok is the first one to scorn, stepping forward immediately.

“You brought her with you?” He spits, eyes throwing daggers at your form from across the room. Namjoon intervenes in an instant, raising his hand.

“She’s staying.”

Hoseok appears to want to protest more, but instead remains silent with only a twitch of his nose and another glare in your direction. You’re taken aback from how he’s rendered mute, but Taehyung crosses his arms and focuses on you.

“You better keep your mouth shut.” Brushing past you, he turns to Namjoon, his demeanor shifting. “We’ve just received the samples today.”

Yoongi takes out a large briefcase and places it on the table before sliding it in Namoon. As he works his way through the codes on it, Jungkook begins handing Yoongi more of them, and he slides them along.

The moment the first one is open, your heart rate spikes up.

A colossal gun is encased within the soft black styrofoam, nearly double the size of your arm. It’s distressing structure includes a handful of large bullets, one of which Namjoon picks up and inspects.

Tapping the side of the copper metal, his gaze narrows in intriguement, as if the bullet in his hand were a mere lightbulb. “What is it made of?”

“Lead and antimony.” Yoongi clarifies, “It has long distance range.”

Namjoon hums and your fists tighten, nails digging into the flesh of your palms. You had never imagined the Kim’s would be exploring these kinds of weapons, a weapon so fatal when their business has only ever focused on producing simple handguns.

Apart from the severity of the new knowledge you’ve just obtained though, for some reason the glint in Namjoon’s eyes as he views them seems to frighten you more.

His next question drains colour away from your skin.

“Do they work?”

Yoongi smirks like it’s a question that shouldn’t even be asked. Taehyung reaches over, swiftly grabbing onto the abundant gun and lining it with his shoulder.

“Would you like to see?” He ponders, and Namjoon nods, backing away from him. Taehyung cranks back the hammer and closes one eye, directing his aim for the wall.

You patiently wait for him to release it, expecting to hear a sudden spike in the breeze accompanied by a loud boom. But that’s when Taehyung shifts his feet, changing his angle with a small smirk dancing on his lips.

Aiming straight for you.

Your heart pounds in your ribcage and before you say anything in opposition, he releases the bullet.

“….if you ever are found out, Y/N…..

....at the split second in discovering your true nature….

....the Kim’s will not hesitate….

...they will never hesitate at the opportunity to dispose of you….”

The sound of your palpitating heartbeat blares through your eardrums, breath completely halting. Save for the frozen state your body has entered, the sight of having all eyes glued to your form barely draws your attention.

The bullet has whizzed right by you, landing on the wall you are standing in front of.

Taehyung snickers.

“It’s hard not to show off these precious babies when you have a L/N in the room.” He remarks and from afar, Hoseok shares his knowing look.

“That’s enough.” Namjoon stomps over in Taehyung’s direction, grabbing the gun from his hands with a scowl.

“What?” Taehyung innocently questions, cocking his head to the side. “It’s not everyday that you get to see a L/N in here.”

He gyrates, facing you, “I was hoping a demonstration would have helped you understand how the Kim’s operate.”

“Taehyung.” Namjoon warns again, but he saunters over to you, not fazed in the slightest.

“How was your father planning to save the company again? By letting it drown first or by setting all his assets on fire?”

His sharp eyes twinkle with amusement, brows narrowed as if he were observing you. There’s a handful of words prepared to spew from you, ranging from how he was completely wrong and downright conceited, but you bite your tongue back, recalling why you’ve persuaded Namjoon to bring you along in the first place.

You clear your throat instead.

“Well you know what they say,” A small smirk curls on your lips as you meet his gaze, “The L/N’s never did understand true power.”

There’s no naivety leftover in your expression, no hint of hesitation remaining anymore. The card you’ve pulled out is one you’ve been taught rather than naturally embodied, and it’s one you’ve been persistent to never use.

But you’re running of time and the only one to carry out your mission, is to wholeheartedly agree.

Taehyung appears taken aback, prepared for a giant fire to be thrown his way that ends up only drowsed in complete water. Your response has rendered him speechless, but it’s not long before a smile begins to tug on his lips, the dark look in his eyes commending you for the statement.

When he steps back, you notice the look of intriguement surfacing on every individual present ‒ save for the man you’ve been married to.

Although you’re content that you’ve captured their attention, it’s hard to ignore the stunned eyes Namjoon sends your way.

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the-sympathetic-villain · 3 years

Text

You Belong With Me - Chapter 43

AO3 | First | Previous | Epilogue | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.

Word Count: 8846

Chapter Warnings: Prejudice, Mistreatment based on profiling, Mild violence, Mentions of weapons, Flirting, Kissing (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

---

A sudden bitterness hit the roof of his mouth as the intimidating towers of the gatehouse came into view. Sensing hostility in the air sent shivers down his spine and his dread only seemed to deepen as they approached the sealed portcullis and Roman increased his pace towards the castle entrance.

Their journey back to the castle had been swift. Remy had conjured a mysterious dark brew from his jacket that had allowed them to move through the night through the night despite their exhaustion, but the ragged breath of his companions made it apparent their rush had not been without cost.

Logan slowed his pace, taking in the anxiety of the faces around him as the reality of the situation began to settle over them. The light drizzle in the air wrapped around him in gentle comfort as he looked to the cracks in the sky. Subtle, white light shined through the shattered barrier between the realms blurred by the haze of rain dropping from the few clouds hanging in the sky.

He could have stared endlessly at the breathtaking sight, but his attention was abruptly drawn back to his friends as Roman ducked his head and pushed through them towards the guards at the gate.

“What is the meaning of this?” Roman demanded as the guards straightened into a salute. “The castle gate is only meant to be sealed in times of war, so explain yourself."

“This gate has been sealed by order of the king, your royal highness.”

“What?” Roman's expression faltered as the guard bowed her head respectfully and turned to present him with a letter bearing the royal seal. He paused, skimming the document as confusion spread across his face. “Why would he—”

“With all due respect, sire. The castle's been in disarray since the sky broke yesterday, sire.” The narrow frame of the guard stiffened as he turned his stare to her and she bowed her head as she continued. “Certain folks been acting out like they sudden grudge against their neighbors. Reports all across the countryside that people been changing—”

“More like they’re being transformed to beasts,” The guard on the far side of the gate interrupted. His lips pursed as his nose flared with disgust. “If you ask me, the troublemakers should be rounded up and—”

Logan’s skin prickled at the man's harsh tone, but his discomfort was short-lived as Roman turned to snap at the man.

“If I hear a single word advocating the mistreatment of our own citizens, I'll have the speaker arrested.” Roman gritted his teeth, radiating a cold authority that sent chills down even Logan’s spine. “Spread that to the rest of the guard. I will not be lenient twice.”

“Yes, sir.” The guard’s eyes dropped as his body stiffened and shrank back.

“Open the gate.”

The man's eyes darted up at him with surprise in his eyes. “But, sire—”

“It is not your place to question me.” Roman cut off the man's protest. His eyes flashed over at the female guard’s surprised expression as she looked up at him. “We have information crucial to my fathers’ understanding of yesterday’s events. This cannot wait for the shutdown to be lifted.”

“Of course, sir.”

The guards’ moved swiftly to lift the heavy portcullis from their path, giving a stiff bow at him as they stepped out of his way. Roman returned a quick nod at them as he entered the archway, lingering underneath the stone arch for as he ushered the rest of their group through the gates.

Once through, Roman paused, allowing them to circle around him in the open space of the empty courtyard between the exterior walls and the castle. The usual hustle and bustle of the castle’s residents had entirely gone, leaving the usually lively space in an eerie silence.

“This is creepy.” Virgil muttered, shoving his hand in his cloak. “Place shouldn’t be empty like this.”

“We'll sort things out, Virge.” Roman stated. His natural air of authority hadn’t yet faded as he stood tall in front of them, staring down the stone walkway towards the castle. “People are scared because they can't explain what is happening. Shutting down the castle must have been the only logical solution to temporarily settling the unrest.”

“Cool logic, princey.” Virgil muttered with a huff as he glanced over his shoulder. “Still creepy.”

Remy stepped forward, ignoring Virgil’s apparent discontent. His usually carefree expression held an uncharacteristic degree of anxiety as he addressed the prince. “I need to visit the fae before anything else. They need an explanation before anything gets out of hand.”

“Remy,” Roman hesitated. His shoulders were stiff as he looked back to Logan and Janus’ uncertain expressions. “We cannot proceed without you. Without my fathers’ memory, our explanation will be meaningless.”

“Sorry, Roman.” Remy muttered. “I’m not putting your father's understanding above the needs of the Fair Folk who are trapped in their homes, scared of the second coming of a war no one wants to remember.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Remy, Roman." Janus nodded as he shared a look with Remy. “Unlike the humans, most of the fae in this realm were around when the war began. We cannot delay in reassuring them that this will be different, otherwise they may become restless.”

“Talking to my father is in their best interest.” Roman straightened up. “We need to clarify what’s happening before our courts start pushing for more stringent action. I don’t want to further strain the relationship between our people any further.”

“I can go.” Patton piped up, his voice chipper as he interrupted their stern conversation. Their eyes turned to him and his bright smile softened the harsh tension for a brief moment as he continued. “The Fair Folk of the castle know me. I know they'll accept my word until Remy and Janus are able to visit themselves.”

Remy’s eyes landed on Patton as he considered his offer. “You would have to visit all of the fae, not just those under the Seelie court.”

“I can visit everyone.” Patton reassured him with a gentle nod of his head. “Danu introduced me to the Fair Folk of both courts in the castle. I’m sure they’d be willing to take my word.”

“Fine, kid. You convinced me.” Remy muttered with a quick flourish of his hand toward Patton. “The task is yours but make sure you mention that both Janus and I are in negotiations with the human king. With any luck, that’ll keep the lot of ‘em from acting up ‘til we can come to an agreement.”

“Sure thing!” Patton beamed. “You can count on me.”

“Hold on, Pat.” Roman interrupted, holding up a hand as Patton turned to go. “The castle is under lockdown. You can’t be wandering around alone.”

“I’ll take him.”

Roman glanced up as Virgil stepped forward, nodding as his friend came up behind Patton. “You’re sure, Virgil?”

“You don’t need me to talk to Thomas,” Virgil shrugged without a second thought. “and you know the guards won’t dare mess with Pat if I’m around.”

Roman paused, turning back to Remy. “Will Patton be able to approach the fae if Virgil joins him?”

“Yeah, kid’s fine.” Remy smirked. “Even if he don’t know it, Virgil’s met most of the fae in the castle. They know he works for me.”

“Very well.” Roman hummed his approval as Remy nodded at him. “Both of you need to move quickly though, and I expect you to report to the courtroom when you’ve finished.”

“You got it, kiddo.” Patton nodded, already taking a few steps off their current path. He took Virgil’s arm, pulling him along. “We’ll be along as quick as we can.”

“Stay safe.”

Logan watched as his friends took off across the courtyard as Roman called after them. The pair sprinted towards the gates of the castle’s southern point where the majority of its residents resided and silence settled over them as Roman nodded at Remy and Janus. He gestured for them to follow him as he turned back to the path.

“I need all of you to stay close to me.” Roman stated in a quiet, reluctant tone. His voice dropped as he turned over his shoulder to stare at each of them in turn. “With Janus’ scales and the new blue hue of Logan’s scars, Remy’s the only one of you who might pass for human right now. I'm certain no one will touch you while I’m around, but all the same, today’s not the day I want to be taking chances.”

A faint smile made it's way across Roman’s face as the fae surrounding him nodded their acknowledgement and his expression softened as his gaze focused on Janus.

“Janus, I want you in particular to stay right next to me.” Roman added with a quick wave to the fae for him to move closer. “There’s still a pretty hefty bounty on your head and I don’t want to take any risk of losing you. Okay?”

The fae’s scaled face tipped up to meet the genuine concern in Roman’s eyes. Logan watched the brief hesitation in Janus’ eyes as he wrestled away the disbelief at the prince taking initiative to protect him. The moment was brief and the subtle shock faded from his amber eyes as he nodded at Roman, moving to the prince’s side in a show of silent acceptance of his help.

“Thank you.” Roman’s voice became a whisper, biting his lip, as he turned to lead them to the royal court.

Logan's chest tightened with dread as Roman navigated them through the empty corridors. The prince's reassurances echoed among their hollow footsteps as they climbed the stairs, and despite the prince’s reasonable explanation, the lack of signs of life in the castle was unnerving.

Despite Logan’s own reservations, he could see that Roman seemed unbothered, passing down the hall without a second thought, ignoring the movements of the few unhappy guards milling about on patrol as they leered at the fae passing through the halls.

Logan stared back, holding their gaze without a waver of fear. The anxiety the lingering stares of the guards once caused disappeared as he called forth on the power coursing on his veins, feeling it playing at his fingertips as he met the guards’ eyes with a piercing stare.

Their discontent at the Fair Folks presence hung in the air, burning in the back of Logan’s mouth as reached the peak of the last set of stairs and the imposing, double doors of the courtroom came into view. Immediately, the knights on either side of the doors crouched, reaching for the weapons at the sight of the fae. Logan reacted defensively, biting his lip as lightning crackled between his fingers, but Roman quickly lifted an arm to stop him.

“Drop your hand from your weapon immediately.” Roman growled, straightening up with an air of authority and he stepped toward the two knights. His stare intensified as the knights bowed their head uncertainly, glancing at each other as they continued to hold their weapons. Roman’s disapproval grew as his voice became threatening. “That was an order. Take your hands off your weapons.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The first knight stated, gripping the hilt of her sword as she held up a hand to stop Roman. “You are traveling with a wanted criminal. We can’t be certain you are in the right state of mind. These creatures can control—”

“They are people, not creatures.” Roman chewed his lip as he stepped in front of Janus. The woman hesitated, unwilling to draw her sword on the crowned prince, yet still not convinced by his conviction. “This man is in my custody and my father and myself alone will pass judgment on him. That is not your place.”

“Your Royal Highness—"

“Stand down.” Roman commanded, not allowing the woman to finish. “Your prejudice is misguided and that sort of thinking will no longer be tolerated in my court. The Fair Folk live within our borders and we will protect them as we do our own citizens. Understood?”

The woman and her companion remained hesitant. “Sire, I still cannot let you pass. The court is sealed. No one is allowed to enter—”

“That rule clearly does not apply to myself.” Roman interrupted with a swiping gesture, cutting through the woman’s excuses. “You are preventing me from delivering crucial information to the kings. This is your last chance to stand down before I have you arrested for treason.”

“Aisling, come on.” The woman’s companion took her arm, pulling her from the door she remained hesitant. They looked down at her with a gentle guidance as she lifted her hand from her weapon. “Don’t push this.”

“Very well, sire. I apologize for my interference.”

Logan watched as the woman stepped away from the door. His heart dropped at the nervousness in the woman’s expression as Roman’s stood over her. The prince’s demeanor shifted and immediately dropped to a sincere sympathy as he spoke again.

“Your diligence in defending my fathers is noted, but I assure you that you are acting in the country’s best interest by allowing us to pass.” Roman stated plainly in a tone that remained firm, yet less forceful than before. “Now, I need you both the spread the word to the rest of the guard. If a single fae in the castle is hurt, the perpetrator will answer directly to me. None of them are to be harmed and there will be no exceptions. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, go.” Roman finished, gesturing for the guards to leave as he turned to the door. He glanced back at Remy as the guards rushed away, waiting until the guards had left the area before speaking openly to Remy. “In order for you to give my father his memory back—”

“I need to be able to touch him, babes.” Remy ran his finger through his hair as he crossed his arms and returned Roman’s questioning gaze. “No way around that and we need to be alone if we’re gonna make any headway with Tommy boy.”

“Leave that to me. ” Roman nodded with a slow breath as his hand rested on the handle of the door. “No more stalling. All of this ends now.”

Swallowing as Roman pushed open the door, Logan followed close behind him as the opening grew wider. A calamity of voices beyond the threshold that seemed to be immediately doused as Roman stepped into the middle of the courtroom. The silence continued as Logan joined the other fae in the courthouse, hyper aware of the dozens of eyes that fell on his scars as they glittered a faint blue hue.

“Roman!”

A familiar voice filled the air as Logan’s attention was drawn forward. He looked up just as a set of arms folded around Roman’s neck and his heart stalled in his chest the man suddenly fussing over Roman as the crowd turned to watch.

Thomas.

Logan froze in place as Thomas ran a hand through Roman’s hair, leaning back to look over him as he whispered to his son in hushed tones. He watched in silence as a second man came up beside them, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. The man’s dark hair lifted to reveal an equal glimmer of worry in the man’s eyes as he stare at Roman.

“Where have you been?” The man stated as he squeezed Roman’s shoulder. His voice was quiet and soothing as Logan listened to him let out a relieved breath as he looked to Roman. “You and your brother have both been—”

Logan bit his lip at the mention of the kings' lost son and guilt start to ache in his chest as Roman continued, gently guiding them back to the matter at hand.

“I’ll explain everything. I promise, but first—”

Roman's voice was immediately drowned out by sound of shuffling footsteps and adrenaline flooded Logan's body as a bruising grip closed around both his arms. His eyes flashed a bright blue and the air around his skin started to crackle in self-defense. A loud yelp from behind him was all the excuse he need to kick out of the aggressor’s grip, spinning on his heel to face the guard.

Logan’s heart dropped as his sight narrowed past the guard to the defeated look on Janus' face as he allowed the other guard to force him to his knees. Fury filled Logan’s lung as the fae’s gaze dropped and he immediately lunged to his friend. His attempt came to a quick stop as the another guard caught him around the waist, but he resisted the guard’s entanglement. Anger burned in his chest as a charge started to build in the air around them, but a loud voice interrupted them, echoing in the chambers as the world came to a halt.

“Enough!”

The hall stilled as Logan tipped his head up to the booming voice. The firm expression on Thomas’ face didn’t falter as he held his hand up in a commanding gesture for the guards to stop their advance. The air shimmered behind Thomas, giving Logan pause until he spotted Remy whispering Thomas’s ear. The sight was unlike anything he seen before. Light itself seemed to bend around the shadow fae and Logan guessed the crowd around them couldn’t see the fae interfering with their king’s decisions.

“Let them both go immediately.”

Logan felt a shift in the room as the guard’s arm pulled back from his waist. Shock lingered in his mind as he hesitated, glaring over his shoulder at the menacing stare of the guard, but his anger quickly dissipated as Janus’ soft groan jarred him from his thoughts. Giving one last nervous look at Remy and Thomas, he turned to rush over to his friend as Janus lifted himself off the ground. Logan caught his shoulders as the shaking man swayed, barely concealing the fear in his eyes as the crowd leered at him.

“We must speak alone.” Roman breathed with a resolute look in his eyes as he stared up at Thomas and the other man. “We can make a formal announcement to the court after our private conference, but the crowd will only aggravate the issue.”

“Agreed.” Thomas nodded. Logan sucked on his lips, nostalgic at the familiar understanding tone in Thomas’ voice as he listened to his son. He watched quietly as Thomas met each of the noble’s eyes with a determined stare. “The court will adjourn for a temporary recess. Members will be summoned again once I’ve cleared the information that Prince Roman has to present to Nico and myself.”

Thomas’ tone left no room for argument, but all the same, Logan blinked in surprise as the members of the court automatically filtered toward the exit at their king’s command. The act was clearly not one made of benevolence. The heightened tasted of bitter discontent burned at the back of his throat until the last noble closed the door behind them, but they were soon gone all the same. After a moment, Logan turned back and shared a shocked look with Janus as Remy stepped out of his hazy reality and hooked an arm around Thomas’ shoulder.

“Heya, babes. Been gone a bit too long this time, wasn’t I?” Remy purred with an insufferable grin. “Things really gone to the dogs around here.”

“One of these days, I’m going to be dethroned when a member of the court notices me whispering to myself, Remy.”

“That could be fun.” Remy’s grin widened as he leaned into the kings mock anger. “I might just make a mad king outta you yet, girl.”

“I have no doubt you could fell my reputation before I even took a breath, if wasn't so useful.” Thomas smirked, eyeing the fae with a playful glimmer in his eyes. “The thought would keep me up at night if you were half as corrupt as you pretend to be.”

“Oh, hun.” Remy purred, coaxing a reluctant smile out of the king. “Keeping you up at night’s might as well be my life’s purpose.”

“Well, you do well to keep me on edge.” Thomas chuckled, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “Can I assume that your appearance mere hours after the sky breaking means—”

“You know what it means, girl.”

“It’s over?”

“This disaster is finally over, so long as we come to an understandin’ on how the fae are going to be treated from here on out.” Remy muttered as his smile soured, pointing at the door the guard had left through. “Which starts with not allowing that kind of shit to happen again. Another one of your guards lays a finger on a fae and all bets are off. Got it?”

“Understood, Remy.” Thomas nodded sheepishly. “Retraining the guard will be my first priority.”

Remy snorted. “If I get my way, you'll dismantle their ranks altogether.”

Thomas blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, girl. They do more harm than good.” Remy muttered, eyes flitting to Roman as his grin widened to a sharp-toothed smirk. “But for now, we got some reintroductions to do since you even get to keep yer memories this time, babes.”

Thomas’ expression went blank as Remy’s words turned gears in his head. His voice dropped with concern at the lack of explanation in the fae’s eyes as he tried to find his words. “Logan?”

Logan let out a sharp breath as Thomas muttered his name. His chest suddenly ached as the freshly resurfaced memories rushed to the forefront of his mind. He dropped his arms from Janus, pulling his hands to his chest as tears threatened at the corner of his eyes.

“Is that?”

“That’s the kid, babes.”

Tears blurred Logan’s vision as slow footsteps approached him. He startled as a hand rested on his shoulder, looking up to see Thomas’ soft, brown eyes staring down at him.

“Logan, may I—”

Thomas’ voice was cut off with a soft grunt as Logan rushed into Thomas’ open arms. Gratitude washed over Logan as the king surrounded him with warmth, whispering hushed reassurances to Logan as he composed himself. The gentleness continued until Logan felt well enough to step back, bowing his head with embarrassment as he noticed everyone’s eyes on him.

“I—I never got to thank you.” Logan breathed, feeling light-headed as he avoided Thomas’ concerned expression. He swayed as he stared at the ground, struggling to string together the right words in his head. “Remy had to take me away and I never—I never—”

“Take a breath, Logan.” Thomas whispered, resting a hand on each of Logan’s shoulders. “There’s no need to rush .”

Logan forced himself to draw a long breath, following the breathing technique the Virgil had taught him as he tried to push past the melancholy clouding his mind. He crossed his arms, vaguely feeling his fingernails digging into his arms as he stared at the ground until he felt Thomas’ hand close around his own. Logan blinked as Thomas pulled his hand away and he found himself staring at the red marks on his arm until a choked breath escaped from his lungs.

“Say what you need to, Logan.” Thomas whispered, gently gripping Logan’s hand as he watched his reaction. “Whatever you need to get off your chest is okay. I can take it.”

“I—I never got to say goodbye.”

Thomas paused as his expression softened to a smile. “Logan—”

“I know Remy had to take me. Both of you didn’t have a choice. I know that, but—” Logan stopped, barely containing his emotions as Thomas’ grip tightened on his hand. “—but it bothers me that I never got to say goodbye.”

“Logan,” Thomas whispered. He glanced back to Remy’ apologetic gaze, feeling his heart sink at the guilt in the dark fae’s eyes. His voice dropped as he squeezed Logan’s hand and met his gaze. “You deserved a proper explanation from me before I sent you off with a stranger. I can’t imagine how you must have felt, even if you trusted Remy, but—” Thomas paused with a gentle smile as Logan looked up. “—I also knew there was never any need for you to say goodbye.”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze lifted from the ground to Thomas.

"Remy was always going to bring you home, Logan.” Thomas smiled as tears glistened in his own eyes. “We needed you to be safe, but I knew when the time was right, I knew you would come home.”

“I—” Logan’s knees went weak as he leaned into Thomas’ arms, biting his lip as the king pulled him into his chest. “Thank you—Thank you for everything. You were so kind to me—”

“You deserved every ounce of kindness and more.” Thomas whispered, curling his hand around the back of his head. “I was honored to give you a place to call home.”

“T-thank you, Thomas.”

“You always have a home here, Logan. Always.” Thomas whispered, gently rubbing Logan’s arm as he stood up off the king’s chest. “No matter what happens, you are part of my family.”

“I appreciate that and everything else you did for me,” Logan whispered, wiping the tears from his cheeks as Thomas wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “More than I believe my words could possibly convey.”

“It’s only been a pleasure to be a part of your life, Logan.” Thomas whispered as he guided Logan back toward the head of the courtroom. “Remy?”

“I’ve got him, girl.”

Logan’s world shifted as he leaned back into Remy as the older fae pulled him underneath his shoulder. His head was swimming with an overwhelming mix of emotions, but he was grateful for the grounding touch of Remy’s arm around him and the warmth of Thomas’ hand on his back.

“What do you think, kid?” Remy jostled Logan lightly, winking as Logan turned up to him. “Tommy boy’s still pretty much a babes. Don’t you think?”

Logan’s memory of meeting Remy came rushing back and he flushed as Thomas raised an eyebrow. He reached wrist to his cheek, closing his eyes as he ducked to hide his blush. “Shut up, Remy.”

Thomas blinked his confusion at the growing redness in Logan's cheeks as he watched Remy chuckle in Logan’s ear.

“Nah, I’ve been waiting years for you to realize how endearing that was, kid.” Remy laughed as Logan groaned at the memory. “I ain’t gonna let go of that so easy.”

“I didn’t know what I was saying.” Logan whispered, feeling the burn in his cheek intensify.

“I hate to inform you that’s what made it totally adorbs, hun.” Remy cooed in his ear, swaying with him as Logan’s stomach twisted.

“Should I ask?” Thomas chuckled as the Logan curled into Remy’s shoulder with a flustered groan.

Logan let himself go limp, pinching the bridge of his nose as Remy hummed happily. “Please, don’t—”

“Hush, kid. I ain't done embarrassing you yet.” Remy purred as Logan ducked his head away. He ran a hand through Logan’s hair as he turned to smirk at Thomas. “You see, that night you tried to return little Logan, I planned on just taking, but Logan insisted you was a babes. So, ‘course I had to meet the king the kid was so sweet on."

“Is that so?” Thomas raised an eyebrow at Remy’s wide grin down at Logan.

“‘Twas the way it went down. I swear on my cold, black heart.” Remy giggled as Logan’s bright red face disappeared deeper into his shoulder. “Little Logan was so convincing I couldn’t walk away without meeting yours truly.”

Thomas chuckled as his smile toward Logan softened. “That’s actually rather sweet.”

“Remy—” Logan groaned as he leaned away from his shoulder, taking a long breath as he avoided Thomas’ eyes.

“It’s my gods given duty to embarrass you, kid.” Remy chuckled, rubbing his arm to comfort him. “Sorry, not sorry.”

“Fine, just— Can we move on now?” Logan let out a long, feeling a new wave of embarrassment as he looked up to Thomas’ amused smile. “I’m inclined to believe if you continue, I may be have to shut myself away and never return.”

“Aww, look at that.” Remy hummed in a chipper tone. “Yer finally taking after my own flare for the dramatics—”

“Remy, please—”

“Alright, alright. I’m gonna quit tormenting you, kid.” Remy grinned, looking up to Thomas. “After all, we got a lot of ground to cover today before we’re able to shake this tragedy for good.”

Thomas’ smile faltered as Remy’s own expression turned serious. “What do you need me to do, Remy?”

“We’re done with that bit, girl.” Remy muttered. “You can't just rely on my for answers anymore. We’re onto the hard part now.”

“What do you mean?”

Remy grinned as he guided Logan and Thomas back to the others. “Means the world’s a clean slate now and we gotta make some new rules, which is why this has got to be a mutual decision. Your people need you to be their advocate this time.”

“Certainly.” Thomas nodded, standing up straighter. “Where would you like to begin?”

“For now, some introductions are in order. So, Nico. Girl, you’re up.”

“Oh, um. Certainly, Remy.”

The man whose hand previously rested on Roman’s shoulders stepped forward and Logan looked up at the man’s wavy brown hair and gentle smile as realization finally dawned on him. “You’re Nico.”

“Yep, that’s me. I suppose it’s about time we were introduced.” Nico smiled, extending a hand out to Logan. “You’ve made quite the impression on my husband and son. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man everyone’s been fussing over.”

“I imagine so. I'd think they’ve had a fair amount to say after all the trouble I’ve caused them.” Logan smiled timidly as he took Nico’s hand, but the man only seemed to beam brighter.

“Their words have been nothing less than adoring. I promise.” The kindness in the man’s warm smile melted away Logan’s own nervousness. The king chuckled quietly as his white smile gleamed down at Logan with bright eyes “In fact, I have to admit I’m excited to get to know the man who’s captured their hearts.”

Logan chewed his lip as his eyes flitted to Roman’s soft smile. “I only hope I can live up to their expectations.”

“I’m certain you will.” Nico whispered gently, eyes following Logan’s to Roman with a curious glance.

“Great,” Remy grinned, giving Janus a gentle shove forward. “Alright, Jan. You’re next—”

Logan felt Nico’s grip stiffen slightly as the king looked over his shoulder, and though his gentle smile remained, Logan felt the hair on his arms started to rise as both king’s gazes latched onto Janus. The fae’s eyes darted to both of the king’s for a moment as he regained his balance from Remy’s attempt as forcing his introduction. His movements slowed as he stood up, crossing his arms across his chest as he dropped his eyes to the ground with a frown. Janus’ dark hair fell over his cheek, partially obscuring the scales on his cheek as the kings continued to stare intently at him.

“Perhaps a little tact would have been warranted given the circumstances, Remy.”

“Not if we want this to move quickly.” Remy muttered quietly as Thomas stepped between his family and Janus. He let out a short breath as he moved in front of Janus and held up a hand to Thomas.

“Relax, Thomas.” Remy muttered, looking tense. “Jan-Jan don’t mean no harm. You got my word that he’s on his best behavior.”

Logan watched as Nico stepped in front of Roman and he glanced nervously at Thomas before turning back to Janus. His body tensed at the sight of Janus' nervousness. A bead of sweat dropped down the fae’s face as Remy stepped in front of him.

“He’s the fae who—”

“I am the fae who kidnapped your son—” Janus finished as his amber eyes flashed up to the kings. He held their gaze for a moment as he chewed his lip before allowing his eyes to fall back to the ground. “—and honestly, that’s hardly the worst thing I’ve done to you.”

Remy looked up to meet Thomas suspicious gaze and raised a hand to reassure him before flashing a warning glance at Janus. “You’re not exactly winning yourself any favor with that remark, Jan—”

“Well, quite frankly, I’m not here for their approval.” Janus stepped forward, reaching forward to rest a hand on Remy’s shoulder. Logan’s stomach twisted at the guilt in Janus’ slitted eye as he stepped forward toward the suspicious kings. His shoulders slumped with surrender as he bowed his head. “My actions towards your family were inexcusable and I have every intention of atoning for my mistakes.”

The silence hung between them. Logan’s heart strained in his chest as Janus offered himself up for the kings’ judgment. The fight seemed to leave his body as he brushed his dark hair off his scales and he took in the kings’ hesitant expressions.

“You need not fear my interference any longer.” Janus continued with a frown. “Given the circumstances, I only ask you to allow me to serve my purpose as a representative of the Seelie Court until they’re able to provide a replacement . After a representative has been appointed, I will humbly submit myself to judgment by your court for whatever punishment you deem necessary.”

Logan bit his lip, ready to protest when Roman’s voice filled his ears.

“Janus, you’ve earned my forgiveness.”

Thomas and Nico’s gaze followed Roman as he stepped past their defensive stances. Their body language seemed to change as Roman reached out a hand to Janus’ shoulder in a moment of soft comfort. Logan smiled as the prince turned back to his fathers with a determined glimmer in his eye.

“Janus was an indispensable ally in ending the suffering of the fae and bringing my friends home safe.” Roman stated with a quick glance at Logan before turning back to his fathers' eyes. “I do not wish to see him punished for his actions.”

“Roman, you cannot interfere on my behalf.” Janus whispered, pausing briefly. He glanced at Roman with appreciation in his eyes, but his tone remained flat as he eyed the kings' cautious stares. “Whatever penance asked of me, I will accept so long so long as the Seelie Court retains a seat at the negotiations table.”

“That’s not fair.” Roman protested, stopping as Janus held up his hand.

“Trust me. Whatever punishment I serve from your court will be a mercy compared to what awaits me in my own .” Janus stared at Roman without blinking, willing the prince’s silence. “You are not responsible for my well-being. I alone am responsible for my actions.”

“Are you expecting an easy out for your crimes?”

Janus tipped his head up and quickly withered under Thomas stern glare. Biting his lip, he held up his hands in surrender as he straightened upright away from Roman. “Rest assured, I will answer to the Seelie Court for my crimes. I cannot dodge their punishment. I merely answer to your will before theirs.”

“Perhaps, then I should just turn you back to your own people.”

“That would be your prerogative.” Janus held Thomas’ gaze as Roman looked helplessly between them. “I am not asking for your mercy.”

“Then, tell me.” Thomas paused. “What are you asking for?”

Janus hesitated at the neutral expression on Thomas’ face, glancing quickly at Roman’s own confused expression as he chewed his lip with uncertainty. “What kind of question is that?”

“One that I expect you to answer before I pass my judgment on you.” Thomas stated, gesturing for Roman to return to his side. The prince hesitated uncertainly, before giving a final, cautious look at Janus and moving to his father’s side.

“I hope you do not expect me to beg for my life.” Janus hissed, baring his teeth. “If that’s what you’re expecting, I won’t sacrifice my dignity—"

“That is not what I asked you.” Thomas interrupted. He shared a cautious glance with Nico, waiting for his affirmation before continuing. “I asked you what you want out of this arrangement.”

“I—” Janus paused, curling his hand to his chest in confusion at the subtle communication between the kings. “—what?”

“I do believe Tommy boy’s offering you a choice on yer punishment, Jan.”

Janus turned over his shoulder to stare at Remy’s smirk. His eyes lingered on his friend for a moment before his expression darkened and he turned back to Thomas, looking up and down at the king with suspicion. “Why would you do that?”

Thomas shared another charged look with Nico as his husband’s arm wrapped around Roman’s shoulder, watching him carefully. His gaze lingered on Roman’s concerned stare for a moment before turning back to Janus. “If Roman is able to forgive you for what you did to him and his friends, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to do the same.”

Janus bit his lip, nearly drawing blood in shock. “Why the hell—"

“Now’s not the time to be making enemies, babes.” Remy reached forward, resting a hand on Janus’ shoulder. Slowly, the man’s defensiveness fell away as Remy reassured him. “Thomas is a good guy. He's not going to pull the rug out from under you.”

“So, tell me.” Thomas continued, watching them carefully. “What do you want to come out of this?”

“Nothing.” Janus whispered, allowing Remy to rub his shoulder in gentle comfort. “I—I didn’t expect anything from your court.”

Thomas smiled at the gentleness in Remy’s eyes as he let out a long breath. “I can only assume that negotiations between the courts are going to be grueling. Quite honestly, if you’ve established rapport with Roman, I’m inclined to grant you a pardon given that you continue your duties of representing the Fair Folk’s court.”

“What?” Janus looked up in shock.

“I hope that should keep you out of too much trouble with your own court as well, though I won't pretend I know how the Fair Folk operate their politics.”

“It'll help, Thomas.” Remy smiled as a tinge of relief flickered in his eye.

Janus blinked, staring up at the king in disbelief. “But why?”

“Logan and Roman were willing to defend you,” Thomas paused. His tone softened as he chuckled his amusement at Remy running his finger through Janus’ hair as the fae grumbled. “and Remy is clearly sweet on you—”

“That doesn't even cover half the story, babes. Known him for years and I can vouch that you’re making a good call, Tommy boy.” Remy grinned at Thomas as Janus turned his head away to hide the light dusting of redness growing on his cheeks. “Not only is he the best representative you could ask for from those bastards of the Seelie Court, but this bastard in particular, may be the only one willing to talk both the courts down from imprisoning yours truly for the next century for keeping Logan a secret from ‘em.”

“Well, I'd hate to lose such a powerful ally.” Thomas laughed as the tension dissipated out of the air. He smiled as the nervousness in Logan and Roman’s faces faded away. “Janus, you are granted a pardon for your transgressions against the crown, given that you continue to aid in negotiations—”

“—and that you continue to put up with me, love.”

“That was not one on the conditions, Remy.” Janus muttered, barely concealing his amusement behind a relieved sigh.

“It is now.” Remy purred, tipping his eyes down to Thomas with a glimmer in his eyes.

Thomas rolled his eyes glancing back at Nico before giving a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t make the rules.”

“You’re the king.” Janus protested, gesturing to Remy. “No one should ever let him make rules. It's unconscionable.”

“Too late, hun.” Remy grinned. “I already run this joint, whether you like or not.”

Logan smirked and was about to turn away when a loud crash of the double doors interrupted Remy’s thought. His head shot to the door to see a heaving Patton, trailing through the door behind a panicked-looking Virgil. He froze in place as all attention was directed to him and he stuttered, struggling to find the right words.

“Outside! There’s—There’s something going on in the sky!”

The room was quiet for a flash before the entire group rushed to the windows. Logan followed the stampede of footsteps as a subtle flashing of light flickered in the window. He followed close behind Roman as they stepped out onto the balcony and his breath left his lungs are he stared out over the castle walls to the purple hue of the sky as sections of the subtle white cracks in the sky grew flashed brighter before fading away. The sight sent shivers of power down his spine as he stared out across glowing sky, feeling magic pouring forth into the world.

“That’s just an aftershock of the barrier breaking. Sky's returning to normal and all.” Remy whispered, unable to pull his eyes from the shimmering shy. “Ain’t nothing to worry about, Virgil, but damn if it’s not beautiful.”

The smell of dust filled the air as Logan leaned onto the stone railing of the balcony, watching the bright light of the of the sky faded back to its normal color as the sun hovered over the horizon.

He smiled at the scent of fresh rain as water drizzled from the clouds above them, refracting the bright light in bright bursts of colors as the rain hit the surface of the land. The air drifted over his skin and Logan pulled in a peaceful breath as Roman came up beside him.

Logan smiled, glancing up at the prince as his warm shoulder leaned against him. Happiness spread across his chest as he hesitantly took Roman’s hand in his own. “It’s all really over. Isn’t it?”

Roman hummed happily as he looked up to the sky with an optimistic smile. “I’d like to think that everything’s only beginning.”

Logan blushed as Roman’s fingers intertwined his own.

“There’s really no limit to what we can do now, Logan.”

“Well, even if all options are now on the table—” Logan whispered, squeezing Roman’s hand. “—there’s no place I’d rather be than here with you.”

Logan reached his hand up to Roman’s cheek and flushed as the prince turned down him. Bright light filled the sky around him like bursts of shimmering starlight as Logan closed his eyes and the prince pressed a gentle kiss to Logan’s forehead.

“You’re—”

The quiet sound of someone clearing their throat filled the air behind them and Logan’s head spun around. Thomas and Nico staring back at them as Remy smirked at them from behind the kings.

“I can explain.”

Logan turned over his shoulder to witness the nervousness that had flooded Roman’s eyes as his fathers stared at him. He frowned, squeezing Roman’s hand as the prince stepped out in front of him.

“Then explain, Roman.” Nico whispered, sharing a look with Thomas as he came up beside him.

Logan could feel Roman’s determination in the air as the prince raised his head to the kings.

“My responsibility to my kingdom has always come first and foremost in my life. I've happily done anything you’ve asked of me, because I know the importance of my position.” Roman paused with a look of melancholy in his eyes as his eyes flitted to Virgil briefly before his gaze returned to his fathers. “I’ve never asked for anything in return, but this is the one time I have to make a request for myself. I can't keep my head if I continue to deny my heart.”

Thomas let out a sharp breath, sharing a knowing look with Nico before tipping his head to Roman. “Make your request, Roman.”

“I know that the law compels me to court someone of royal blood to maintain my status,” Roman’s grip tightened on Logan’s hand as he continued. “but I’ve fallen for Logan and to court anyone else would feel like a betrayal to myself and to him. Please—I’m pleading for you to convince the court to allow me to pursue what my heart desires.”

“Roman—”

“It will not interfere with my duties.” Roman sputtered out without thinking. “I’ll work twice as hard—”

“You work too hard already, Roman.” Thomas stopped him, holding his hands out to reassure his son. “Even if the court was going to oppose you on this matter, Nico and I would whole-heartedly fight for your right to court for love rather than gain. I'm sorry if we ever made you feel like we would do anything else.”

Roman blinked, taken back by Thomas’ response. Their silence was deafening as his word echoed in his ears. “What do you mean ‘if they were going to oppose?’”

“Girl, even the most stuck-up tools the human court ain’t about to start off negotiations by snubbing the Fair Folk.” Remy interrupted, stepping around Thomas. His eyes flashed to Logan, smiling as the kid returned a knowing smile. “In fact, I hate to break it to you, but I think you’re the only one hasn’t figured out there’s an easy solution to yer problem.”

“What—” Roman furrowed his brow until a familiar, melodic chuckle filled the air behind him and he was drawn back to Logan’s sweet smile. His brain stalled at the relaxed expression on Logan’s face as the man stepped forward.

“I’ve known since I regained full access to my memories.” Logan whispered, staring down at their intertwined fingers for a moment. He was quiet as a warmth spread across his chest as he looked up to Roman’s soft, brown eyes. “There’s nothing barring us from being together anymore, Roman.”

Roman blinked. He looked to his fathers for confirmation, and to his surprise they merely nodded, further increasing his confusion. “But I thought —”

“Logan’s the child of an actual goddess, babes.” Remy cooed as Roman eyes turned to him. “If anything, he outranks you. No chance your court's gonna want to piss off the entirety of the Fair Folk by claiming our nobility is less valid, ‘specially when the humans start realizin’ how many of us are left.”

Roman blinked as his shoulders relaxed and he looked at Logan. “And you knew?”

The corner of Logan’s lips twisted into a guilty smile as Roman stared down at him. “I only realized after regaining my memories. The time wasn’t right to mention what I’d learned until the danger everyone was in had passed.”

“But just now, you could have—”

“You’re right. I probably should have stopped you,” Logan admitted sheepishly. “but hearing you speak from your heart was actually quite endearing.”

Roman let out a sharp breath as his shoulders dropped and he laughed. “My chest felt like it might burst from the anxiety, but I’m glad you got some enjoyment out of my misery.”

“In all fairness, this is hardly the worst outcome that could have occurred.” Logan’s eyes flashed with gratitude as Roman stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him. He relaxed into Roman’s chest, letting out a long breatg as the prince’s warm grip settled around his shoulders.

“May I suggest that the rest of us give them their space for a while?”

“Aww, Jan-Jan.” Remy cooed, leaning into Janus. “You’re no fun."

“I’m sure you will force the details out of Logan eventually, Remy.” Janus sighed, forcing him to the door as Remy resisted his guidance. “Besides, you have work to do. Negotiations are waiting for us.”

“Boring.” Remy sighed, winking at Logan as he ducked through the door.

“I can live with that.”

“Thank you, Janus.” Logan whispered as the older fae filtered their friends back into the courtroom. He smiled as Janus nodded back before following the others, leaving Roman and him standing together in peaceful silence.

Logan leaned against the balcony as Roman relaxed. He smiled down as his fingers intertwined with the prince’s soft hand. The brilliant lights started to fade from the sky as muted colors filled the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. A deep feeling of contentment spread across Logan’s body as Roman reached up to brush the hair out of Logan’s face. He let out a long breath as the prince’s gentle touch sent a pleasant tingling across his skin.

“This is very nearly perfect.”

Roman chuckled as he dropped his hand. “Only nearly?”

Logan’s smile faded slightly as he looked up at Roman, acknowledging the carefully hidden sadness behind the prince’s eyes. “I can tell you’re still upset about your brother, Roman.”

Shock flashed in the prince’s expression and he tripped over his words, unsure how to respond to Logan reading his hidden emotions. “That isn’t your problem to worry about, Logan. Not with everything he—"

“The Remus that hurt me was not your brother, Roman.” Logan interrupted. He stood up straighter, staring into Roman’s eyes as they flashed with guilt. “I want you to have your brother again and I’ll help you make that a reality. Whatever it takes.”

“Thank you, Logan.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” Logan raised a hand to Roman’s cheek with a smile. “I only want you to be happy.”

“I still have to tell my fathers about him.” Roman whispered. “I should have before, but—”

“We can tell them together, Roman,” Logan reassured him. “and Remy has already offered to help us bring him home. It will hurt them, but there is a solution ”

“I know.”

Logan stepped forward, raising both hands to the prince’s cheeks. Calmness radiated from his voice as he comforted the prince. “Right now, you are doing everything you could be to bring him home. We’ve broken the curse, and as soon as the negotiations have reached a point of agreement, I will go with you to fetch him from the Other Realm. I promise.”

Roman sighed, nodding into Logan’s hand as the man’s voice soothed his nerves. “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Logan. I’m so glad to have had the opportunity to meet you.”

Logan scoffed as he dropped his hands sheepishly and turned to face the castle. “I’m only glad you stuck around long enough to see me become more than the shell of a person I was when we met.”

“You were never less than you are now.” Roman whispered as Logan looked away. “Even if the pain was too much to handle at that point, the amazing person I know was always there.”

Logan let out a sharp breath as Roman’s arm rested around his shoulder. “Buried deep below the surface, perhaps.”

“I don’t think so.” Roman’s lips curled into a smile as he pulled Logan close to him, shielding him from the cold wind of the night. “From the moment I talked to you in your cell, I you showed me that you were kind and honest. The changeling may have taken your confidence in yourself, but he was never able to steal from you the things that really mattered.”

An uncharacteristic giggle pulled from Logan’s throat as he leaned into Roman’s chest and he whispered up to him as he listened to the man’s heartbeat. “Thank you for believing in me. It’s funny. I feel like my happiness should be pouring out of me but it seems I have no more tears to cry.”

“I plan to keep it that way for a long time, Logan.” Roman smiled as he raised and had to Logan’s cheek, tracing his fingers along the blue scars with adoration. “The world is my gift to you and there are no barriers to keep you from what you want anymore. I’ll do anything to make it so.”

“You’re all I need, Roman.” Logan let out a breath as reached a hand up to the prince's cheek and placed a gentle kiss on Roman's lips. A burst of happiness swelled in his chest as the prince pulled him closer. He couldn't stop smiling as he curled into the prince’s arms, hand resting on his chest. Peace settled over him as they embraced each other and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon and the first stars began to appear in the night sky.

By the time Virgil had finally come to usher them ins for the night, he was nearly falling asleep against the prince’s chest, but he was grateful all the same. Though this night was ending, he knew many more would follow and he was excited to see what the future would bring.

---

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts logan #ts roman #ts remy #ts janus #ts virgil #ts patton #ts thomas #c!thomas #ts nico #logince #sleepceit #karrot kings #You Belong With Me #villain writes

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writingsfromhome · 4 years

Text

Plus a Little Extra I

Part 2 / Part 3/ Part 4

A/N: The YA reader in me can’t stop writing YA Harry so here’s another high school fic, Harry’s your bffl but just as he gets into a relationship you realise there’s some more-than-friends feelings between you two. But it might be too late. Part 1 of 3 maybe?

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I was in love with my best friend and there was nothing I could do about it.

I know, it sounded like a lame cliche. But this cliche was painful and I had to live it everyday, watch him walk up to his girlfriend and kiss her for everyone in the hallways to see. And then third-wheel them all the way to homeroom.

It was another Monday, painful and boring as usual, and I wait in the parking lot for Harry to finish parking his car before he hops out, nearly forgetting his backpack.

“It surprises me that thing still runs,” I look at his car in pity. “You really should just let it go already.”

“For your information,” Harry pushes me. “My car is a she and I will love her for as long as she keeps giving.”

“That’s what he said,” I roll my eyes as we walk into the double doors of high school. “Men.”

“I meant about my car,” Harry tries to clarify but I keep teasing.

“Uh-huh, hey look there’s May, should I tell her what you just told me about how you treat your women.”

“That big mouth is going to get you in trouble one day,” Harry wags his finger at me. My heart drops as his girlfriend May approaches and kisses his cheek. He immediately responds to her, pulling her in for a kiss.

I drag my eyes away, “See you kids later.”

As cool as I tried to make myself appear, I felt like dying inside. Seeing Harry with someone else suckerpunched me every time.

And it really isn’t what you think, it’s not like I’d harbored a secret crush and didn’t have the balls to ask him out. I’d only realised I had a crush on Harry near the end of the summer and by September he’d already started dating her.

Harry and I were best friends since we were seven, and even though we ran in different circles in high school, we managed to remain just as tight. I always thought he would be my best friend forever. Nothing else. But everything had changed one warm evening last August...

Two Months Ago

“Who do you have homeroom with?” Harry asks. I just got off my shift at a music store I worked at part time. Harry sometimes walked me home and waited for me to change so we could hang out in the evening. Usually we stayed in and watched The Office or Friends, sometimes we went to parties.

“Mr. Lee,” I groan. Schedules had just been released that morning.

“Really?” Harry jumps in front of me and walks backwards. “I’ve got him too!”

We do a mini-celebration dance on the sidewalk as we realise we had two other classes with each other. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad if Harry was by my side. Partners in crime.

“Partners in crime again,” Harry reads my mind. “It’ll be like middle school all over again.”

“Except there’s no way you’re copying any of my homework!”

“I can be persuasive when the time comes. I’m not worrying.”

“And I can be stubborn when the time comes!” I stick my tongue out at him as we reach my house.

“I know that all too well.”

I give Harry the finger and he makes himself comfortable in my room while I freshen up.

***

“How do you know her again?” I ask Harry as we make our way to the bus to take us to a house party he’d been invited too.

“She was in my biology class,” Harry shrugs. “She sent a dm on Instagram and said I should come with friends.”

“You know she meant um, male friends?”

“Yeah...?” Harry looks over with a confused face and I push him away from me. He laughs, “You’re close enough.”

“So not what a girl wants to hear.”

We end up talking about the upcoming school year all the way to the party. It was in a nice part of town; a pool party because whoever had invited Harry had money for a built-in pool to fit however many people were here. With the cars parked around the block...a lot. As soon as we walk in, people assault Harry and I wander away to find people I knew. This was a common occurence-we would find each other eventually.

I spot a few of my friends and we get to talking.

“It’s May’s place,” one of my friends says. “Like May Lemont?”

“The one that says every french word with that fake accent?” My other friend scrunchles her nose.

“Yeah like we get it, your dad’s French.”

“She’s never even lived in France.”

I’d only shared a couple classes with May, didn’t know her enough to share in the gossip so I excuse myself to get a drink.

“Drinking alone?” A voice asks. My heart skips a beat, I’d know that voice anywhere. James, my childhood crush, stood on the other side of the island.

“I’m going back to my friends.” Stupid thing to say-that’s not how you flirt!

“Can I suggest a counter offer?” I raise my eyebrow at James’ question and he walks closer to me. “We take our drinks into the pool and get to know each other.”

This is...kinda random, I think. No, I accidentally say out loud. Shit!

But James just laughs. “A little birdy told me you were looking for me?”

I stay silent, who would have told him that? Harry? They were on the same football team but he swore he wouldn’t say anything to James about my crush. I was going to kill him!

“Right...well why not!” I rush out back and holy cow, dozens of my classmates crowd the wide space. May’s parents must be really well off.

I spot Harry talking to a group of his people, May lingering nearby. I consider going up to her but James calls me over and I stand by the pool.

“Are you not coming in?” He asks.

I feel self conscious as I take my denim shorts off and reveal the bottom half of my one piece. This was James. Here. Watching me-quite intensely. Inviting me to be in the pool with him! Miracles did come true!

We float around with our drinks, splash each other and he lays it on heavy with the flirting. We eventually find a float that I sit on but he just leans on it.

“Kind of like Jack and Rose isn’t it?” James smiles, his dimples are deep enough to hold the pool we’re in.

“There’s plenty of room on this door,” I gesture to the empty space beside me.

“I’ll take the hero’s end,” James grins. “It’s more sexy isn’t it?”

“Sexy is staying alive-“

“Incoming!” Someone shouts from the other side and suddenly water shoots up around me. I blink and the float is nowhere around me as I sink into the pool.

I push my way up and spit out the water in my mouth, trying to catch my breath. I move the hair from my eyes to see who just disrupted my peace, deep down knowing who it was.

“Round two!”

My head is once again underwater but I’m slightly more prepared. I hold my breath and open my eyes to Harry’s sea green eyes mocking me as he kicks up but I grab his leg and pull him down before kicking away and up myself.

“Y/N you alright?” James asks when I surface. “Harry what’s the matter with you?”

“It’s okay,” I laugh. Harry could never go into a pool without pranking me somehow. “I’m alright. It’s just Harry being Harry.”

“Harry,” James says as Harry finally stops rubbing his eyes. “You’re wild.”

“James,” Harry goes in, slapping hands and slick chests. “You should join, dunk Y/N like-“

I push away, knowing what Harry was going to do. James locks eyes with me and we both have the same though, advancing on him and dunking him in ourselves. I laugh, my heart soaring as James looks at me as if really seeing me, finally. But then he goes under.

I splash Harry as he surfaces and accidentally splash the people behind him who in turn splash us and before we know it we’ve created a pool fight around us. More people jump into the pool to join in.

I can barely see and try to make it to safety but Harry makes it to me first and takes me down with him. When we surface, he’s mere inches away, his chest pumping as hard as mine.

His hand is around my back as we cling to the only safety in pool fights—the pool wall.

“Look what you’ve done,” Harry nods to the fight around us but he doesn’t take his eyes off of me. Not to look around at “what I’ve done” or see if we were in danger.

We’d been in this position before, Harry’s hands on some part of me and eyes locked. When we were trying to sneak out, arm wrestling to settle who was stronger, dancing at parties. But it never felt like this. Like his hand was spreading fire everywhere it touched and our eyes were decoding a language created right there between us.

“I should say you started it,” I lay my hand on his chest. I had no control over what I was doing. It’s just Harry, my head is shouting. My body pulses otherwise and I just wanted to get closer to Harry. I felt myself being pulled to him. I felt out of control.

“You’ve always been a troublemaker,” Harry mutters. And there, right there, his gaze falls to my lips and my heart is out of my chest and flopping like a fish in the water around us. I’d never thought of Harry like this, him and I. He was handsome-I wasn’t stupid. But he was my best friend. And this wasn’t supposed to happen...

My leg is yanked, hard, and I slip out of Harry’s arms. I manage a small breath before I’m underwater again, now staring at Harry’s knees. Someone pulls my arm away and I see it was James who had pulled me down. He winks at me and I probably looked dazed. I had no idea what was happening. Below or above water.

But James must have interpreted the dreamy look in my eye for him because he locks me into him and slowly presses his lips to mine. James. Kissing me. Underwater.

14 year old Y/N would be faint with pure excitement right now. And I can’t deny the attraction so I close my eyes and kiss him back. It was what I always wanted. And it was romantic and so perfect. Except for the part where I turn away to go up for air and catch Harry swimming back to the surface. He’d seen us.

What had I gotten myself into now.

I call Harry’s name when I surface but it was like he’d sprinted away because he’s too far away to hear.

“Y/N?” James surfaces beside me. “Are you okay? You’re shivering.”

“I-“ I realise I was. The adrenaline was too much, and now I was crashing with the realisation that something between Harry and I had just been changed. Maybe forever. “I just need to get out of the water, I’ll meet you back here.”

I pull myself out and walk into the house clutching my shorts, no longer conscious of my one-piece. I needed to find Harry, ask if we were on the same page because it felt like we’d suddenly split off into two separate series that didn’t feature one another. And I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why.

He’s nowhere to be found though, so I find an empty washroom and lock myself in it. I sit at the edge of the bathtub and fish my phone out to see if Harry messaged but 0 notifications.

I face myself in the mirror. My usual criticism of my body doesn’t come, I can’t stop staring at my face-I’d kissed James today. My face splits into a grin. At least there was that.

***

“There you are,” James must have searched for me. I stayed locked in the tiny room for at least a half hour just sorting the evening in my head. I bump into him in the den and he immediately places his hands on my hips. I swallow the insecurity I felt and smile at him, wrapping my arms around him too.

“Here I am, kind of had an emergency sorry.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, it was more like a personal crisis. “Have you seen Harry?”

“Why?” James asks. I tilt my head, he almost sounded offended. And when I don’t answer he tell me, “I saw him outside.”

“Let’s go hang outside,” I slip my hand into his and flash a pretty smile. He relaxes and pulls me into a kiss, a gentle nudge, before leading me outside.

A group of people sit around an outdoor firepit. I spot Harry’s grin as he laughs at something one of his footbal friends say. He’s shirtless-something I’d seen countless of times, but the flicker of the fire reflected off the water droplets on his chest makes him look like the hot stud in a cheesy teen movie. I clear my head.

“James!” One of his friends calls out and he lets go of my hand to chest bump him. Or whatever.

Harry’s eyes follow the commotion and he sees me. I raise my eyebrows and he smiles, like nothing was wrong. Like I imagined the whole thing. But when his eyes flicker to James hand as it drapes over my shoulder again, his face falls ever so slightly. And I know I wasn’t crazy. Something did happen.

Someone else calls out to James and he leaves my side again. I decide to walk over to Harry but before I could take a step, May settles beside him and says something that makes him laugh. A small voice inside urges me to break it up but I ignore it. May invited Harry, they obviously knew each other. I was getting ahead of myself. It wasn’t like they were going to get together.

***

“What you thinking about?” James asks later that night. It was way past midnight, most of the party had gone home and the remaining stragglers surround the firepit that was burning just as bright as before. It was a lot of the football team, their girlfriends, and a group of seniors that usually stuck together.

“Nothing,” I lie. I was thinking about Harry’s arm around May’s shoulders and the blanket around both of them that she brought out a little while ago. It makes my chest feel like it was being squeezed in a vice. It was a confusing way to feel about my best friend in the whole world. Maybe I was being possessive but maybe...my mind shifts to the pool. James hand on my thigh brings me back to the present.

“You’re so quiet,” he says. I look at his hand and thread my fingers through his.

“I like watching the fire,” I say honestly. “It’s kind of mesmerizing.”

“Like you,” James turns in place so his knees bump into mine. I look up and he looks at me with open adoration. “I really like you Y/N.”

“I...really like you too James,” I say. “For a while actually.”

“I know. Me too,” James’ response surprises me. He laughs at my surprise. “I’ve seen you in school, you keep to your people but I always thought you were funny. When you put down Ricky in English class...”

“Oh right,” my cheeks burn when I remember. I’d been appalled when the teacher allowed Ricky to give his disgusting interpretation of the book we were reading. Everyone listened with eyes bulging and I’d called him a pig...and a few other things. I forgot James had been in that class.

“It’s cool! We all gave him shit at practice that day,” he nudges me. “You’re hard to miss.”

“So why did you just approach me today?”

“Well...like I said someone told me you-“

“Who?”

“Eh,” James looks around uncomfortably. “Okay, May told me you were crushing on me. I could never read you so I didn’t know-“

“Wait, like May who threw the party?” I ask. James nods and I glance over to her leaning her head on Harry’s shoulder. That bitch! Wait, I realise the only way she would’ve know was Harry. My rage at May quickly flips to hurt at Harry’s betrayal.

“Y/N?” James calls my name. “Is something wrong?”

“I just...don’t know how May knew that. I don’t talk to her.”

“Oh, probably Harry,” James says as if it were just as obvious to him. My hurt doubles. “May’s crazy about him, always shows up to our practices and games and I think she thought you and Harry were a couple or something. Since you guys spend so much time together. She only told me cuz I thought the same thing, I didn’t believe her when she said you had a cr-“

“You thought Harry and I were together?” I ask.

“Or into each other or something, you two are always sneaking off places.”

I try to wrap my head around it all. Is that how people saw us? Did Harry know?

“So anyway I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow?” James asks. “A few of us are going to the beach at six.”

“Oh, my shift ends at 6:30.” I glance at Harry again and back to James.

“We can catch up to them, I’ll pick you up. Just text me where you work. Here, I’ll put my number in.”

I get his number and try to act casual, trying to convince him and myself I was unfazed by all the new info but my mind races and my hurt twists its way around my body. Mostly, the lump in my throat makes a home there and doesn’t let me forget.

I couldn’t act normal for much longer so I tell James I was going to head home. He offers to walk me to the bus stop but I refuse. I needed to be alone. But as soon as I turn the corner of the street someone calls my name. Harry comes running down, out of breath.

“You didn’t even tell me you were leaving, I thought we were going home together?” Harry says when he catches up.

“You looked cozy with May,” I say casually. “I didn’t want to break it up.”

“James didn’t even offer to walk you home? It’s not safe this late. Let me grab my shirt just stay here.”

“He did but like I told him, I’m-“ Harry’s sprinting back before I can finish. My stomach turns, I didn’t want to ride back with him with all the unspoken words between us. But he was right, it was unsafe. So I wait.

“So. James?” Harry starts off as we wait for the bus. “Did you finally tell him you like him like I keep telling you to?”

“No.” I answer curtly. I didn’t want to get into it but he keeps pushing.

“But I saw he finally kissed you,” Harry nudges me. “You spent all night with him. You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t need to. Apparently he heard from someone I was crushing on him.” I don’t even look at Harry and he picks up on the accusation right away.

“Wait you don’t think I told him?” Harry asks. “I swore on my signed poster of Friends, don’t think I’m giving that up so easily.”

I roll my eyes so I wouldn’t crack a smile. But I remember how easily he gave up my trust, and with that the cursed tear falls onto my cheek. I wipe it away quickly but not before he sees.

“What is it? What aren’t you saying, Y/N? Did James do something to you?”

“No!” I shout. “He’s great, James is lovely. A gentleman. He told me May told him. And the only person who could have told May is...”

“Me,” Harry faces me, his eyes apologetic. “I swear Y/N I didn’t think she was actually going to tell him. She was convinced I was-we were a couple. When she didn’t believe me I told her how you’d been in love with James since-“

“But why would she tell James?” I demand. “That wasn’t her secret to tell! It wasn’t yours either!”

“I don’t know!” Harry shouts, the guilt stressing him out. “Maybe she thought she was being helpful? Maybe she was just being nice!”

“God Harry are you that bloody naive?” I finally stare at him. “You totally broke my trust! Told some girl I don’t even know and she told James! What if he didn’t like me back? That would’ve been...oh my god that would’ve been so embarassing! She just wanted to have you for herself so she blabbed her mouth and you told her.” I jab his chest, tears pouring out of me like a broken faucet. “I trusted you and you told someone just because you thought she was...hot!”

I can’t stand his face. I step out of the bus stop and start walking; I would just walk home even if it took me an hour. We’d gotten into plenty of fights over the years but never like this, on a level this deep. And I didn’t want to be around him. It hurt too much. So I keep walking.

“I didn’t mean to betray your trust! Y/N! I didn’t even think she cared enough to tell James!” Harry’s voice gets closer as he catches up to me. He stops in front of me, holding my shoulders. “Why are you crying? I’m really sorry Y/N I’ll make it up to you I promise. I wasn’t thinking when I told her-it just came out when I was talking. I would never try to hurt you purposely.”

“I know!” I try to shake him off. “That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?” Harry shakes my shoulders and I look up at him. He scans my face in confusion. As the anger leaves my body, the hurt remains. Not only about Harry telling May my secret, but that it was May. It felt like he was leaving me behind and even though it made no sense I couldn’t shake the feeling. It felt like he was leaving me for May.

Harry wipes the tears from my cheek and pulls me into his chest. I bury my face there, he was my best friend and I was starting to realise I felt for him more than a best friend. And I was screwed. And it was all his fault.

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeats as he holds me to him.

Just one evening had rocked the foundation of our friendship, leaving fractures along the whole thing. This was a turning point, I realise as Harry holds me, and I think I was just mourning that.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #writingsfromhome #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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detectiveidiotboy · 3 years

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His Time In The Commonwealth II: Nick Valentine’s Story

so as my beloved fanfiction, The Black Widow’s Waltz, comes to an end, i’ve decided that i am going to re-release the backstory chapters as their own stand-alone fic, since they read well as their own story. before that, i thought i might do a fun little thing where i release each of the companions backstories as their own post here on tumblr under the tag #his time in the commonwealth.

and thus! on to part two!!! Nick Valentine; and how he made the worst decisions of his life

When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

It was dumb quote, but damn if it wasn’t applicable here.

“Nate!” Nick called, steeling his voice. “We need to talk.” The raven haired man looked up from the pot he had been stirring at his campsite. He was dressed in sturdy flannel shirt, hair tied back with a string - he was the picture of an old-world survivalist out on a camping stint. Nate smiled when he saw the synth detective - his friend.

“Nick,” He said, a pleasant ring to his voice, “Well isn’t this a surprise. I didn’t know you liked camping.”

Nick felt something stir deep in that little part of him that still insisted he was human. Nate had an effect on people, and Nick knew he wasn’t immune. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to just sit down with his friend and have a bowl of stew made from whatever wild creature Nate had picked off that day. Maybe this whole thing was ridiculous; Nate was odd, some would say a bit quicker to violence than the average wastelander - but he wasn’t a murderer. Right?

Whatever remains, however improbable...

“This isn’t a friendly visit,” Nick said, eyes narrowed. He stood firm between the trees, hands at his sides. “I’m here on business.”

Nate cocked his head, expression genuine and confused. “You didn’t tell me you had another case come in.” Nate said.

“I didn’t,” Nick said. “This is something I’ve been working on alone.”

“I wish you would have told me,” Nate said, turning back to his soup to stir the pot before it boiled over. “What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t help you crack a case that has you this worked up?”

“The kind who’s become my prime suspect,” Nick said. Nate had pulled the spoon up to his mouth to sample his creation. He lowered the spoon as he took in Nick’s accusation.

“Prime suspect?” Nate said, brows knit. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“Cut the crap, Nate - I know you murdered Piper,” Nick hissed. The words hung between the two for a long moment. The pop pop pop of boiling water broke up the monotony of the windless day. Nate stared at Nick, Nick stared at Nate.

“Well, I have to say,” Nate said, lowering his spoon back into the pot with a soft ting, “that’s quite the accusation coming from someone I thought was my friend.” The words stung, as did the harsh tone Nate said them in. Nick had to fight not to flinch. “I suppose you have some evidence to back up this claim that I murdered my girlfriend, right?”

“I do,” Nick said grimly, “you know I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t absolutely sure it was you.”

“Then by all means,” Nate said, crossing his legs and spreading his arms, “share with me.”

Nick took a breath. He’d been preparing for this confrontation for hours. He still didn’t think he was ready. “Piper didn’t tell anyone where she was going the day she went missing,” Nick said, “not even Nat knew where she was.”

“I know,” Nate said, sounding impatient. “That’s why it took the city so long to find her remains.”

“But you see, the thing about that is,” Nicks said, “When they found Piper, there was a notepad and pencil in her pocket, as if she had gone out looking for a story.”

“She was dedicated to her work,” Nate mumbled, eyes staring at the autumn leaves on the ground. For all Nick saw, Nate looked exactly like the grieving boyfriend he claimed to be. The kind, accurate description of his late friend followed by the image of Nate appearing somber and dejected made Nick's head spin, but he soldiered on.

“That she was,” Nick nodded, “which was why she never left Diamond City without telling someone where she was going. What good’s a story if there’s no one to tell it, right?”

“I assumed it was something secret or sudden,” Nate said. “Something like a follow up on her story about the mayor now that he’s dead and confirmed to be an institute spy.”

Nick grimaced. He would have to circle back to that later, since he was almost certain that Nate had been the one who 86’ed McDonough as well. “That’s what everyone assumed. Hell, even I thought that the poor girl had finally bitten off more than she could chew, maybe pushed one too many buttons with the Institute - but then I thought about it and something about the story I’d heard just didn’t jive.”

“Oh?”

“See, the body was found with a notebook and a pencil,” Nick continued. “Now I’ve sat down to plenty of interviews with that girl over the years - not once did I see her use anything other than a pen.”

“So that’s your evidence?” Nate said, unimpressed. “Piper switched up her writing utensil and suddenly you think I killed her.”

“No, of course not,” Nick said, “But the fact that you were the last person to see her alive does raise a few questions.”

Nate narrowed his eyes. “Nick, you know that I was nowhere near Diamond City when she died. I was with you, tracking down those holotapes."

“No - you were nowhere near Diamond City when Piper was presumed dead,” Nick clarified.

“I don’t think I follow you here, Nick," Nate said.

“I found her, Nate, ” Nick said, voice softer than intended. He felt his jaw lock up. If he were human he would have swallowed - the reflex was still there for him. He took a deep breath and continued. “She's in a bunker not far from the old drive-in. I found the real Piper.”

It had been only a few hours prior that Nick found himself face-to-face with the body of his dear friend; there was no mistaking her face, slumped over an old-world desk with eyes still open. She hadn't been dead long. If only he had been faster… the state of her body and room surrounding told him she hadn’t been dead more than a week, maybe even only a day or two - which was a far cry from the near month-and-a-half that the city guards had presumed her deceased. When all of this was over with, Nick would go back and make sure she was buried properly. For now, he had to see justice through.

“When the guards found what they thought was Piper's body, they couldn’t make out her face. The poor thing was filled with so many bullets the only way they could identify who it was was by her clothes and the notepad planted on the body.” Nick said. "The Piper I found died about a week ago, around the very same time that the Guards found the fake Piper."

“So if I'm following you," Nate said, eyeing Nick with an unreadable expression, "you think someone kidnapped Piper, dressed some random body up in her clothes, and then, after the guards found what they thought was Piper's body, they killed her."

"Not someone, Nate, it was you. I know it was you," Nick said solemnly.

"And why do you think that?" Nate spit. "What motivation could I possibly have to kill her?" He was clearly offended, which was fair enough considering the accusations - but if he really was the culprit as Nick suspected, then there was a disturbing amount of genuine indignation present in his eyes.

"I don't know," Nick admitted. "No matter how much I think about it I can't say why you did it, but I do know is how you did it."

"Enlighten me." Nate crossed his arms and glared.

Nick closed his eyes. He hated every second this dragged on. "Everyone assumed McDonough's assassination was the work of the Institute, including Piper. She was worried that if the Institute had anyone to come after next, it would be her. Now she was fearless, and she'd put her life on the line to tell the people the truth more than once before, but Piper wasn't just worried about herself. It was Nat she was really concerned for."

Nate's eyes twitched, following along the story. "So that's why she skipped town… You think she went into hiding."

"Exactly," Nick said. "When I went snooping around that bunker there weren't any scratch marks or signs that Piper had been trying to escape - hell, there was a spare key in her pocket that worked with the lock. It was a nice set up too; Piper had everything she needed to live down there for weeks - food, water, ammo, turrets. There was no way she managed to stock up all that alone. Piper did well for herself as writer in a city, but not that well. She had help making herself disappear, someone she trusted more than anyone else, someone with the means to sponsor her little stay in the woods."

"And you think that person is me," Nate concluded. "And you think the person who helped her hide would be the same person who killed her, since no one else would have known where she was - ergo, you think I killed her."

"Bingo," Nick said.

Nate sighed, slumping back against a tree. "Nick, as much as I admire your skills as a detective, the evidence you've provided is circumstantial." He said. "I won't deny that I have an over abundance of caps, and Piper trusted me more than just about anyone else, but you're still missing one key thing here - why would I kill her? She was my girlfriend."

"And that's just what you were banking on, wasn't it?" Nick accused. "Why would anyone suspect you - the two of you were like a couple of sweethearts pulled straight from a 2050s romance flick. All you had to do was play the part of the grieving lover for a few days and then disappear for a little while."

Nate narrowed his eyes, expression soured and irate. He opened his mouth to argue, but Nick didn't want to hear it. "All that is besides the point. I don't need to know why you killed her. All I need is proof that you did," Nick said, "Hard evidence."

"Evidence that you do not have," Nate pointed out.

"Not yet," Nick said, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a key with a Vault Tech ornament attached to the chain. Covering eyes of the tiny vault man was the number "2" stamped on in old-world ink. "This was the key I found in Piper's pocket. It's a copy, a spare, and I'm wiling to bet that whoever did her in has the original." Nate snarled and Nick felt the place where his heart should be skip. "It's been over a week since you've stopped by Sanctuary or any of the other settlements where you offload your crap. I checked. I'm willing to bet you still have the key on you-"

"Nick, this is ridiculous," Nate said with a roll of his eyes. "Even if you don't find the key on me that won't prove my innocence."

"But if I do find it, it prove at the very least you lied when you said you didn't know where she was, and if that were the case then you should have known all along that body the guards found wasn't her," Nick said.

The pair stared at each other, both knowing exactly how this would end yet neither wanting to initiate the final move. Soft sounds of woodland life filled in the gap in their standoff. Nick found his nerve after twenty full seconds and spoke.

"Empty your pockets."

"This is stupid."

"Turn out your pockets, Nate," Nick said, this time far more sternly.

"It wasn't me!" He insisted. "Anyone could have killed her! She was hiding from the Institute after all-"

Nick unholdered his gun. "Nate, don't make me do this," He said, putting the wide-eyed man's head in his sights. "Just turn out your pockets, nice and slow."

Nate stared at Nick as if he had never seen the synth before in his life. If Nick hadn't destroyed their friendship before, this was likely the last straw. He didn't want what he said to be true, but part of him hoped to God he was right. He'd crossed a line here and he knew there was no going back if this was all just a mistake. Slowly, Nate's hand reached down into his jeans. He dug around in his right pocket for a moment before pulling his hand back out, fingers curled around something small. Nate opened his palm to reveal a keychain labeled '#1' over a Vault Man fob.

Nick lowered his gun, opening his hand to accept the damning key from Nate. There was no denying it now. Even if the keychain was some sort of astronomically improbable coincidence, Nick's optical sensors were sensitive enough to detect every groove in the key's body - it was identical to the one Nick had found on Piper. He looked between the metal object and his supposed-friend, waiting for an explanation. In spite of everything, Nick silently begged for Nate to prove him wrong.

Come on, Nate, work with me here, Nick thought. Tell me I'm wrong. Give me an explanation, something I don't know, something obvious I've overlooked. Give me some new evidence, some new lead - promise to help me find whoever killed Piper and bring them to justice. Just please, don’t be you.

Nate continued to stare at Nick, expression unreadable. His anger he’d shown before had died off into an almost calm, pestered look. Silence dragged on between them for a full eighty-four seconds, the numbers ticking up in the back of Nick’s head. Finally, Nate’s shoulders dropped, and the thin line of his mouth fell into a disgusted frown.

“Really? You couldn’t have waited, like, a month before doing this?”

Nick was struck by the shift in tone. Nate wasn’t upset any more - if he ever really had been - but instead just seemed bothered by Nick, as if the synth had interrupted his afternoon with some trivial nonsense. Nick couldn’t keep the shock from his face.

“Does that mean you really did it?” Nick said, unable to stop himself. “You murdered Piper?”

Nate arched a brow at his former friend. “I thought you already figured that out, detective,” He said mockingly. “Yes, Nick. I killed Piper. Everything happened exactly as you said it did, down to the last detail. Congrats, you solved the case - serves me right for palling around with a cop.”

Nick realized well after the fact that his mouth was open. Dread flooded his system as he went over the words Nate said, replaying the admission a thousand times in his head in a desperate bid to find some meaning other than the obvious. “Why?” He said when he could finally get his mouth around the words. “How could you do it, Nate? She was your friend - your partner. She trusted you!”

Nate had the audacity to roll his eyes at Nick. “Why do you care? She was annoying anyways.”

Nick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could this be the same man who had rescued him from the Triggermen? The man who’d been helping him work through cases for almost two months now - who’d helped him track down Eddie Winter and put the old Nick’s fiancé to rest? A part of him wondered if Nate had been switched out by the Institute, because surely to God Nick couldn’t have been so thoroughly fooled for so long.

But he knew that wasn’t true. The Nate in front of him was the same Nate Nick had always known. The same man who killed Skinny Malone and Darla while saving Nick's life. The man who had gunned down the entire settlement of Covenant while rescuing Stockton's daughter from fanatics. The same Nate who had burst out laughing and applauded when Nick put his foot down on Winter's chest and nailed him between the eyes. Nate had always been this way. Cunning, smart, charming, sadistic, cruel. Some detective he was - Nick had been overlooking the obvious this whole time. Nate was a monster.

“You’re sick,” Nick hissed, anger winning out over hurt and betrayal. He dropped the key and raised his pistol to take aim again. “I ought to shoot you now before you cause any more harm.”

Nate laughed, a choked, manic sound. His head turned to the side and he squinted at Nick. “Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Nate said. “We can still be friends, you know?”

“I’m not your friend,” Nick spit, “apparently I never was. Friends don’t murder each other’s friends because they’re ‘annoying’ them.”

Nate sighed in a harsh, irritated breath. “You’re overreacting,” He told Nick. Nate turned around, completely unphased by the barrel of Nick’s gun pointed at his temple, and began packing up his camping supplies. “Come on. Let’s just forget this whole thing and move on. She’s dead now - shooting me won’t bring her back, you know.”

“Shut the hell up you goddamn physcopath” Nick snapped. “The only reason I haven’t put a bullet in you yet is because you’re going to come back to Diamond City with me and face justice there.”

“Really?” Nate said as he smothered the campfire with dirt and stones. “Does Diamond City even have a judicial system? Even before everything went all martial law it seemed to run on a system of ‘do what we say or get shot.’”

Nick ignored him. He’d come to the conclusion that anything he said to Nate would be brushed off or disregarded completely. Nate didn’t seem to grasp the severity of what he'd done, and Nick was beginning to realize that nothing he said would make him understand. There wasn’t a shred of decency in that bastard that wasn’t a put-upon performance.

Nick marched up beside Nate and snatched the man by the wrist. Nate looked at the metal skeleton of a hand clutching his arm, then up at Nick with a curious expression.

“You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not,” Nick said sternly.

“I really don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing by doing this,” Nate said calmly.

“You know what? I don’t really give a damn what you think,” Nick said. “You either follow me back to Diamond City or get shot in the head and dragged back as a corpse - either way is fine by me.”

Nate snatched his wrist back, throwing Nick’s hand off with a force Nick hadn’t realized a human was capable of. Nate shot the detective a skeptical look. “You’re not going to shoot me,” He said confidently.

“The hell I won't!” Nick said, raising his gun once again to level with Nate’s skull - this time the barrel sat less than an inch from his forehead. Nate knocked the gun away with a casual swipe of his hand.

“No, you won’t,” Nate said, reaching down to grab his sleeping back that he had rolled back up into its case. “You’re not a killer, Nick - I’ve never seen you shoot someone who wasn’t shooting at you first. Face it, you’re just not built for this.”

Nick grit his teeth, eyes locked with Nate for a moment before the latter turned and continued packing up. His finger tightened around the trigger, hands trembling. Why couldn't he shoot? Was there some sort of calibration error in his circuits?

Finally, with the last of his items packed up, Nate turned his back to the detective and began walking off back towards sanctuary. “Whenever you get over this come find me, ‘kay?” He said with a dismissive wave. “I got a pretty interesting radio call from an old friend of yours up north. Seemed like he had a case for you, and I'd love to tag along. I'd be willing to check it out with you if you can manage to keep your pistol in your pocket.”

Nick watched as Nate pushed his way through the forest, stepping over brambles and bushes to clear out. His head was lined up in Nick’s sight, but he didn’t seem to care, because Nate was just that confident that Nick Valentine was not going to shoot him in the back.

Nick lowered the gun just a fraction. Nate was right about him, Nick wasn’t a murderer. Not in his previous life, and not in this one. Despite how much the post-apocalypse had tried to break him down, Nick had always stuck by his morals. Everyone deserved a chance to become a better person, and justice cannot be found by gunning down defenseless people. Even Eddie Winter had pulled a gun on him first during their standoff in his bunker.

“Hey, Mister Valentine!!”

Nick turned, mouth open and chopsticks full of noodles in the air. The young girl in a pink coat looked up at him; she was new in town, if Nick recalled. Barely old enough to be out of school and already trying to start up her own paper company. The news was one of the old Nick’s guilty pleasures - as yellow as journalism was back then, it was nice to sit down with a paper and read about what was happening in the world. Nick had been rather thrilled to hear someone was trying to bring it back.

“Hi there,” He said, putting down his bowl on the counter. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet.”

“Piper Wright, chief writer of the Public Occurrences. Yes, I know the name's ironic, ” She popped up onto the bar stool next to Nick. Amazingly, she hadn’t seemed bothered at all by Nick’s half-empty bowl or his metal hand - he was used to the first one or two meetings with people being riddled with uncomfortable questions and staring.

“Good to make your acquaintance, Piper,” Nick said, tipping his hat politely. Very few people liked to shake hands with a synth, he’d learned. “The name’s Nick Valentine, local private eye.”

Piper smiled like he’d just announced himself as a wealthy corporate heir here on holiday. “I’ve seen the signs,” She said, twirling a pen between her fingers. “I was hoping to ask you a few questions for our latest issue.”

Nick tried not to let his discomfort show. Him and questions were almost never a pleasant pair if he wasn’t the one asking. His past was a touchy subject, especially now that the Institute was becoming a major threat, and if people weren’t asking him about that, their questions typically centered around his anatomy in a far too personal way - he could hardly imagine what queries would pop up in the mind of a post-adolescent girl. Still, the kid looked excited, and she was being professional about this. Besides, if things got out of hand he could always excuse himself and head back to the office.

So, Nick shrugged and said, “Sure, Piper, I got a few minutes.”

“Thanks!” She squeaked, snatching a notepad from her pocket and clicking her pen. Nick braced himself for whatever questions came next. “So word on the street is you were recently in Goodneighbor for a case,” Piper started. “Can you give me a statement on the current state of affairs in Diamond City’s delinquent sister town?”

Nick blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh, um,” He said, wracking his memory for the case she was talking about. Lately his memory had been getting harder and harder to sort through. Nick didn’t know how long he was built to last, but he was sure he was well past his warranty. Finally, Nick pulled up details about his trip. He took another second to skim through the less appropriate sections and put together his response. “The place is doing a lot better now that Hancock is in charge,” he said. “There’s a couple of shops set up now that keep the doors open, and you’re a lot less likely to get stabbed if you turn your back on the wrong guys. I even heard they’re putin’ together a Neighborhood Watch, similar to what we got here in Diamond City.”

Piper nodded, scribbling on her pad in barely-legible letters. Nick paused to let her catch up, watching her absorb herself in her work. He wondered if that was what he looked like when he was pouring over case files.

The interview lasted for over an hour, ending with Nick inviting Piper over to the Dugout Inn to introduce her to the Bobrov brothers (and to treat the skinny orphan girl to a meal.) Never once did she mention his synthetic nature, nor did she ask about his past. Part of him knew she was biding her time, there was that journalistic glint in her eye that hinted at a deep curiosity, but she was polite enough to save the more personal questions for later. It was the first time in a while Nick had been treated so much like a person.

Nick pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out louder than any he'd fired before. The bullet nailed Nate in the back of the head, causing him to lurch forward as he fell face first into the forest floor. The leaves settled; Nate didn't move. Nick lowered his pistol, staring at the body of a man he'd mistakenly thought was his friend. The sound of the shot reverberated through the woods, bouncing off trees and echoing in Nick's auditory processors.

The gun ended up back his holster, barrel of the crude pipe-pistol still trailing up smoke. Nick looked at the man face down in the dirt, letting his visual systems perform a cursory scan for signs of life. Not even a twitch. Nick ran his good hand over his face and sighed.

"Christ," he muttered, fingers curled in frustration and dragged them down his face. "Damn… shit."

Nick looked back at the body, feeling nothing for the monster he'd gunned down. He pulled the rim of his hat down over his eyes and turned around, ready to walk back towards town.

Nate laughed.

Nick's walk of shame came to a sudden halt; the sound of leaves rustling as Nate pulled himself up off the ground filled the air. "Well shit," He said, hand coming up to touch the blood on his forehead. Dark red lines ran down his face, staining his lips and they curled up in a smile. "You think you know a guy…"

Nick barely had time to react. He turned around just in time to be tackled by the impossibly fast man. He didn't even have his gun out of the holster - Nick reached up and raked his metal claw of a right hand across Nate's face, aiming for the eyes. He pushed Nate off of him, scrambling to get to his feet. He wasn't built for combat, but he could slow down his processors to give himself an edge over most biological opponents. It did almost nothing against Nate; the man was inhuman in his movements. Nick got his gun in hand but before he could fire off another shot Nate had him by the wrists, yanking the synth's arms painfully back against the socket. Nick yelled and was forced to drop his weapon.

The two broke apart from their death grapple, Nate panting and Nick reeling internally to keep up. The man's black hair ran down from his tied-back hair, sticking to the blood on his face in frizzed clumps. Nate chuckled, still gasping for air. He reached into his jacket for a pair of brass knuckles with home-make spikes. "So," Nate snarled, "this really how you want to go out?"

"If it's the last thing I ever do, Nate, you're going to pay for what you did to Piper," the synth hissed. Nick lunged at Nate, aiming for his neck. Nate shrugged off the attack with a side step and an elbow to Nick's torso. Nate wrapped both hands around each other and slammed down on Nick's shoulder, throwing him off balance before pinning him to the ground. Nick turned, scrambling for his discarded gun. The brass knuckles came down on Nick's jaw, tearing the synthetic skin and damaging the delicate machinery there. Nick grunted, but managed to get his fingers around his pistol. He turned, propping himself up by his elbow to unload his last 5 shots into Nate's chest and neck. Nick might as well have been shooting a wall for all the good it did.

The brass knuckles came back down on Nick's jaw again and again, knocking the synth flat on his back. Nick's sensors screamed in warning, flooding his mind with signals that half of his face had been torn away. He felt the sting and the cold of his skeletal jaw exposed to the elements. Nate hovered over him as he reeled from the damage, panting hard as he rose back to his feet.

Nate took advantage of Nick's sensory overload to bring his foot down on the synth's chest, tearing through his undershirt and exposing his synthetic plates. He kicked away the plastic there as if Nick were little more than a can of cram. Nick tried to scramble back on the heels of his hands, but Nate's foot came down on the freshly-exposed wires of his chest, the pressure pinning him down and flooding his system with agony.

Nick cried out. There was no helping the involuntary response. His insides were far more sensitive to damage than his outsides, and his systems translated that through his neural network as pure agony. Nate seemed to delight at the newly discovered weak point in the synth; he ground down with his heel, tearing the wires out of place and snapping delicate components. Nick choked on a scream.

"I really didn't want things to end this way, Nick," Nate chided. "It's not too late to go back to the way we were." The offer was followed by a jerk of Nate's foot, digging deeper into Nick's wires and an agonizing, overly-full feeling in Nick's middle. Nick grit his teeth, raising his head to glare at the man who had him pinned.

"Go to hell!" Nick spit.

Nate shrugged. "Ah well, have it your way." His foot yanked back, ripping several wires out from Nick's center. Coolant flooded his system and his vision blinked. Before Nick could react, Nate stomped down directly on his power core, cracking the casing with an electric jolt through Nick's system. He couldn't remember a single instance of pain worse than the feeling of electricity freely flowing through him, energy fading fast as every single internal system shorted and failed at once. Nick seized, sputtering and jerking as Nate kicked down again, cracking his core and initiating Nick's final shutdown procedures.

Critical failure imminent, entering semi-permanent hibernation. Shutting down higher processes.

The last thing Nick saw before the world went dark was Nate staring down at him, smiling and laughing as the lights went out in Nick's eyes.

---

Nick’s processors came back online as if not a single second had passed since he was put down. The stiffness and rust in his joints begged to differ.

"What on earth…?" he dragged a hand down his face, eyes still closed. He flinched when he felt the part of his face that had been torn off courtesy of Nate's strong left hook. He could only imagine what he looked like now. Nick blinked, but his optics weren't functioning yet, so it just made the darkness he experienced all the more prominent. "Hello? Anyone there?"

"Nah, you're just imagining me," A new voice rang from Nick's side. A hand rested on his shoulder, urging Nick to stay laid down. "Turns out synths can go schizo too."

Nick furrowed his brow. He recognized the voice. "Deacon?"

"Bingo! Get the synth a prize!" the sound of Deacon's laughter filled the room

It had been a long time since he'd seen the man. Nick was one of the few people Deacon couldn't fool with his disguises - thanks in part to Nick's advanced optics - so it gave Nick the unique opportunity to befriend the man who knew everyone in the Commonwealth but no one had ever really met. So far, Nick hadn't been tempted to take up on that offer. It wasn't that he disliked the man or thought he was a bad guy (in fact, Nick was almost positive he was pretty high up in the Railroad, which was a cause he could get behind as an escaped synth himself) it was just that when he wasn't putting on an act Deacon was… well, annoying.

Regardless, Nick would put up with him for now. It appeared the man of mysteries had saved Nick's life, since there didn't seem to be anyone else around and the last thing Nick recalled was having his power core crushed by a megolomaniacal jackass.

Nate.

"Shit," Nick muttered, hand over his bare mouth. He hated the way he could feel his teeth against his palm. "Nate… that bastard got away."

"Heh, yeah, he sure did…" There was something deeply depressing hidden behind those words. Nick felt a tug on something in his chest and his systems threatened to power off again. He sucked in a breath reflexively - a hold over from his lost humanity.

"The fusion core should be able to support basic operations on this unit," A new voice, this one far more curt and masculine than Deacon's. Nick frowned at being referred to as a 'unit' - then remembered he didn't have the synthetic muscles to do that any more. Christ, no wonder the new guy didn't think he was a person - depending on how much damage there was there might not be much left that separated Nick from the mindless Institute drones appearance-wise.

Vanity aside, there was something else more important in what had just been said.

"Fusion core?" Nick said, turning to face the direction of the voice. "Are you tellin' me I'm running on fusion power right now?"

"Affirmative," the clinical voice said after a brief hesitation. "I am adapting your systems to accommodate for the change in source power. There are a few more optimisations that need to be in place before you are functioning at full capacity." Nick felt a hand in the hole of his chest redirecting the wires.

"Right - and who are you again?" Nick said, leaning his head back against what he assumed was a table. "Not to be ungrateful, but I prefer to at least know the name of the guy performing system wide changes to my person."

Deacon snorted. "That's fair - I prefer it if the guy at least buys me a drink before rooting around in my insides," Deacon said. Silence filled the room until he decided to answer the question for the other man. "This is Paladin Danse - he's another one of Nate's discarded 'pet projects'."

"Former Paladin," Danse corrected. Paladin? So he was Brotherhood, then? That explained his expertise with fusion technology, and his stiffness about talking with a synth. Danse unscrewed the casing around Nick's central nervous system. Nick grit his teeth at the buzz it gave him, but apparently auxiliary power didn't reach his diagnostic system, so he was spared from the worst of the pain.

"Pet projects?" Nick prompted. "What has that bastard been up to since he tried to off me."

"I'd say he more than 'tried'," Deacon said. "You've been offline for the better part of two years, old friend."

Nick started, emotions churning under his exhausted systems. "Two years?" he said. Deacon made a noise of conformation.

"Welcome to the year of 2289, bud! Diamond City is a police state, Goodneighbor is back to complete and total anarchy, and just about everywhere else is some degree of hell-on-earth - and we owe it all to our mutual sociopathic murder-friend." Deacon's voice was as cheerful as ever, but there was a undercurrent of cynicism that Nick didn't recognize in the man. Something had changed for Deacon personally in the past two years. It seemed for a moment that Deacon wasn't going to elaborate, but thankfully Danse took over for him.

"Deacon told me that you and Nate were close before he turned on you," He said as he messed with Nick's insides. "It is my understanding that he murdered someone one who was… friends… with you?" Nick could hear the many, many levels of discomfort this man had over talking to a synth. Guess you could take the man out of the Brotherhood… Deacon must have given Danse a crash course on synth rights, since the former Paladin was at least willing to operate on him and explain the bare minimum of what was going on. What a member of the Railroad was doing hanging around with a Brotherhood soldier - ex or not - was it's own mystery.

"He did," Nick answered the question posed to him. "Piper. A reporter from Diamond City. They'd been dating for a couple months, but I guess he got bored and decided that a break up was just too much work, so he killed her." Nick's voice was spitting with malice by the time he reached the end of his story. He felt the hands inside of him twitch as he spoke - an emotional response.

"I'm… sorry for your loss," Danse said, clearly uncomfortable with a synth expressing emotions. "Nate has ruined a lot of lives, and ended even more prematurely."

"The guy's a downright bastard," Deacon agreed.

Danse continued. "Deacon informed me of your history with Nate because he believes it may make you a valuable asset-"

"Ally," Deacon corrected.

"-to our cause."

"And what cause would that be?" Nick asked.

"We're gonna take that Sole Surviving fuck down," Deacon said darkly. Something about the man had definitely changed, there wasn't a doubt about it left in Nick's head.

"Ambitious goals," Nick raised a brow. "Can't imagine how much use a barely-functioning old synth will be, but if there's any way I can help you can count me in. I made a promise to Piper that I intend to keep."

"Excellent," Danse said. He twisted something in Nick's spine and his eyes flickered to life. His vision was duller than before, almost like he was looking through an old terminal rendering, but at least he could see again. Power began flooding his limbs and Nick felt energy surge through him unabated. "Is this sufficient for basic functions?" Danse asked.

"Might be a bit much, actually" Nick admitted, testing out a flick of his wrist. The motion was faster than he wanted. Danse nodded and adjusted the settings. While he worked Nick thought of something. "Stop me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't we be better off teaming up with one of your two 'connections' to take down Nate?"

The pair shared an uncomfortable look between the two and Nick felt his heart (or whatever counted for it) sink.

"If it's the Brotherhood you are referring to," Danse said, voice low, "then that would be impossible. They're gone."

"Same with the Railroad," Deacon said, looking away from them both.

"Gone?" Nick asked. He flinched as one of his wires was snipped. "What do you mean gone?" After the entrance they made into the Commonwealth, Nick didn't exactly expect the Brotherhood to just pack up and leave quietly. And as for the Railroad…

"We mean gone, Nick," Deacon said. "As in gone, destroyed, deceased, dead, departed, no longer in existence." Nick stared at Deacon. There was a barely noticeable tremor in the man's arms; Deacon wasn't the type to get emotional, but that didn't mean he didn't have emotions. As far as Nick could tell, the Railroad had been Deacon's family, likely the only people who actually knew him as himself and not as some alternate persona.

"Jesus. I'm sorry," Nick said to the man. Deacon shrugged.

"The Brotherhood was eliminated as well - taken down from the inside by Nate," Danse continued as he finished up the adjustments to Nick's new core. "He was granted an honorary emergency Knighthood in the hope that he would assist us in infiltrating and neutralizing the Institute."

"An honorary Knighthood?" Nick said skeptically. "I've never known the Brotherhood to be particularly liberal with their granting of titles."

"He had… assistance in acquiring Brotherhood support," Danse said, voice thick with an attempt to hide his guilt. "Among the ranks of the Brotherhood there was a synth infiltrator - Nate befriended him- it- and used the connection to get closer to Elder Maxon." Nick felt the excess of power ebb and sighed, allowing the ex-soldier to replace his chest plate before sitting up.

"Mhmm," Deacon hummed as Danse finished his story. "And are you going to mention the fact that the 'synth infiltrator' was you, or should I?"

Nick had to admit - he hadn't seen that coming. He looked back at the ex-Paladin, whose teeth were grit and eyes firmly planted on the ground. He would have never guessed the man was a synth - judging by the look on his face, neither had he. Being the way Nick was had its drawbacks, but at least he never had any delusions about his synthetic nature. This poor bastard must have just found out recently.

"I was unaware of my status at the time," Danse said, confirming Nick's theory. "However, that is no excuse. Subconsciously, I must have been aware that my actions would lead to the destruction of the Brotherhood. After I avenge them, I fully intend to face the consequences of my betrayal - unintentional though it was."

"Oh come on, man," Deacon whined with a roll of his eyes, "you're not some kind of Institute sleeper-agent. Nate tricked you. He tricked all of us."

"That's one theory," Danse said, packing up his tools. Nick threw his legs over the side of the table and tried his hand at standing up, thankful that despite lacking a shirt he still had his pants, which made the process far more dignified than it would have been without them. His internal gyroscope was offline, giving him a sense of synthetic vertigo. He kept a hand on the workbench, adjusting to his new stage of being.

"How long is the fusion core going to last?" Nick asked. He was under no delusion about the state of his body. Fusion cores were more like batteries than the self-sustaining generator his previous core was - the average core could keep power armor going for about half a day at most. Nick was far less energy-intensive than a suit of armor, but there was no telling how his systems would react in the long term. His life expectancy had at least been cut in half, likely more than that.

"It's hard to say," Danse told him. "It can be replaced, and will most likely have to be changed out rather frequently.”

“How frequently are we talkin’ here?” Nick asked.

“There’s no way of knowing for sure,” Danse admitted. “Because you weren't designed for fusion power there's no way to gage the charge without removing it."

"Fantastic," Nick grumbled, already imagining a life of constant, unpredictable shut downs. Still, better than being dead, he supposed.

Danse handed Nick a shirt and his coat and hat, all of which he gratefully accepted. Covering up his new chest wound was a start to feeling back to his normal self, but one glance at his face in Deacon’s sunglasses said that he was going to have to take up wearing scarves if he ever wanted to feel a shred of dignity again.

“So,” Nick said, still rubbing at the metal now taking up the space where his jaw should be. “What’s the plan for putin’ Nate on ice?”

Deacon smiled, as though laughing at his own internal joke. “Heh. Ice. Funny you should mention that…”

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #fallout 4 fanfiction #fo4 fanfiction #Nick Valentine #fallout 4 companions #the black widow's waltz #his time in the commonwealth

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obsessedwithtoomanythings · 4 years

Text

Two Is Better Than One

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Forester, Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader X Dean Forester

Words: 1869

Warnings: SMUUUUUTTTTTTT!!!!!!! Oral (both genders). Handjobs. Like, there is no plot. Just smut. Dom!Sam, since that may be considered a warning (more for our panties than people being triggered)

Author’s Note: So this is a repost since my original post got flagged. I removed the NSFW gif and am pretty sure it won’t get flagged again! No beta, so mistakes are all my own.

This is season 1 Dean Forester. I MUST CLARIFY, DEAN IS 18 IN THIS FIC!! NO ONE IS UNDER AGE!!!! I am aware that he was 17 in the actual season 1, but I am making him 18 in this fic for legal purposes. :)

Also, I had no idea how to set this situation up, sooooo… This is literally porn and nothing else.

Tagging: Started a new tag list and it is completely open and ready to add people!

"Relax," I say against Dean's lips. Despite being 18 and probably a virgin, Dean seems to know what he's doing. His tongue skims over my lower lip, silently begging for entrance. The decision to play coy was the biggest thing in my mind until I feel Sam's lips graze over my neck and spine. My lips part in a gasp, and due to that motion, Dean is able to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue moves against mine, and I can taste the mint on him. As his confidence grows, Dean threads his fingers through my hair as Sam's lips roam to my neck. I feel him nibble on my neck, forcing a muted moan through my lips. A moan that Dean quickly swallows. Sam's large hands dance down my sides, landing on my waist. His fingers tug on the hem of my tee-shirt, which forces my arms to lift above my head, almost on their own accord. Dean's mouth detaches from mine, causing a whine of disapproval to leave my lips. Sam tugs the shirt over my head and throws it to god knows where in the shady motel room. Dean's hands wrap around my wrists, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to maneuver my arms to keep them above my head. He leans in again, but instead of my lips, Dean runs his soft lips and tongue over the underside of my arm. The sudden touch of his tongue against me forces a moan from my lips. "Jeez, Dean here is giving me a run for my pride. Here I thought I was the best at completely worshipping you." Sam mumbles against my skin. Dean continues laying sweet kisses down my arms, then internally decides Sam has my neck covered. He moves down to kiss my breasts, despite the bra covering the soft flesh. Sam moves to remove the garment from my body, unclipping it and pushing it forward so Dean can handle the rest. Dean hesitantly pulls the fabric from my body and stares for a moment. The way his eyes glance over my skin hints to me he's never seen breasts before. At least, not real ones. Sam seems to see this as well. "Go ahead, Dean. It's okay. You can touch her. She won't bite... Hard." Sam says, his large hands still on my hips. His lips reconnect with my neck as Dean's hands come up to cover my breasts. He slowly kneads them then removes his hands. A whine slips from my lips before being replaced with a drawn out moan as Dean latches his mouth onto a soft pink nipple. His tongue swirls around my nipple and I vaguely wonder if he isn't a virgin. I'm not able to give it much thought before I feel Sam's hands run down and push my shorts off my legs. His fingers skim up my thighs before making contact with my lace-covered clit. His touch causes my chest to jut out, and Dean pulls back. His eyes glance down to what Sam is doing and looks up, almost innocently. "Can I...?" Dean asks, trailing off due to his embarrassment. Sam pulls his hand back leisurely and gestures to my clothed sex. "Go ahead," Sam says and I can hear the smirk on his lips. "Wait. You can if you both remove the shirts." I practically whine, desperate to feel their bare chests against my own. They both remove their shirts quickly before replacing themselves exactly where they were before. Sam's muscular chest presses against my back as he quickly reaches up to turn my head and plants his lips on mine. He takes my breasts in his strong hands, twisting and pinching until I gasp at every touch. I reach my hand out for Dean's in an attempt to guide him. His fingers come in contact with mine and I pull him closer, Sam's tongue probing inside my mouth. I use Dean's hand to rub over my stomach for a moment before he takes the lead and slips his hand under my panties. My hand whips back to grip Sam's hip as Dean allows his fingers to brush lightly over my sex. My fingers pull on Sam's jeans, begging for him to remove them. He removes one hand from my breast to unbutton and push down his pants and boxers. I take his length in my hand as Dean continues his ministrations. I reach forward and attempt to unbutton Dean's jeans as well, but it's difficult with one hand. Sam pulls back from my lips, his throbbing cock hot and heavy in my hand. "Dean." Is all he says, and Dean pulls his hand back before pushing his pants and boxers down, eager to have my hand on him. I reach forward, my fingers wrapping around him. His cock is a bit thinner than Sam's but almost just as long. I slowly jack them both off, their grunts and heavy breathes sending waves of heat straight to my center. I didn't expect to feel Dean's fingers slipping under my panties again though, running lightly over my sex. His fingers drift to run through my folds, and upon feeling the wetness between my thighs, Dean lets out what can only be considered a growl.

"Holy shit." Is muttered between Dean's pants. His finger swirls around my entrance and a moan leaves my lips before he pulls away.

"Dean-" I whine into Sam's mouth. I break the kiss before looking at a very nervous Dean.

"I don't know what to do." He says, his eyes drifting down to look at the floor. I reach my hand out and he takes it hesitantly.

"We'll show you." I say, a smile on my lips. I take Dean's hand and lead it back towards my panties. I feel the fabric slip down my legs and turn to see Sam sliding it down, his nimble fingers running over every curve. Dean slips his hand back down to my sex and repeats his previous actions.

Dean shifts and then his husky voice is in my ear.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Move your finger in small circles around my cli-"

He has caught on fairly quick and is doing exactly as I said. His finger is using the slick from before to swirl around my clit in sweet, smooth, circles. My head falls back against Sam's shoulder as I squeeze my eyes shut, Dean's name falling from my lips.

"Is he making you feel good, baby?" Sam whispers. I nod my head quickly, one of my hands threading through Sam's locks.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you. I said, is he making you feel good, baby?" Sam repeats, a stern voice defining itself. No matter how many times I hear that voice, it will always send shivers down my spine.

"Yes. Yes, Sam."

"Yes, Sam what? Tell me baby." He demands, his teeth lightly nipping at my earlobe.

"Yes, Sam. Dean is making me feel so good." I whimper, practically melting into a puddle in front of these two gorgeous men.

"Tell him that."

"Dean, god- You're making me feel so good." I gasp, his fingers moving faster. My eyes fly open when Dean speaks again.

"Can I use my mouth?"

"She would love that." Sam says with a chuckle. Sam is clearly the boss here, and Dean and I both know it. Turning towards Dean, I nod my head and he sinks to his knees. His hands skim up my calves until they land on the backs of my thighs. His hazel eyes glance up to meet mine with a look of nervousness.

"It's okay, Dean." I mumble to calm him down.

"Will you put your hand on my head? That way you can guide me a little bit?" He says, a blush covering his already flushed cheeks.

I remove my hand from Sam's hip and run it lightly through Dean's brown locks. He smiles up at me before leaning forward to skim his tongue over my sex. If it was Sam, I would pull and yank at his hair, screaming his name until he made me beg for him to let me come, but this isn't Sam. This is a soft, sweet, Dean. His licks are small but strong, forcing tingles up my whole body. Sam can see me holding back, trying not to freak the kid out. He moves to touch my hand that is threaded through his hair and mumbles into my mouth,

"Pull mine."

I twist his hair between my fingers and tug. A groan pours out of Sam's mouth straight into my own, and I can't help but think about how I'm the luckiest girl on the planet. Having his hair pulled must have been Sam's snapping point because he reaches into his jeans and pulls out two condoms as I tap Dean on the shoulder.

He stands quickly and stares at me, his tongue darting out to wet his swollen lips. He glances at Sam when the condom is offered to him. He stares at it for a moment before speaking.

"Can you... Can you put your mouth on me?" He mumbles, his eyes once again casting downwards.

"Yeah. Do you wanna come in my mouth?" I ask, pushing him towards the bed. He nods his head quickly as he sits down on the bed, legs spread and cock bouncing slightly in his opened jeans.

After a moment of tugging on his jeans, Dean sits up so he can rip them off. I grasp his cock in my hand again before running my tongue up the underside. Sam runs his hands along my ass before palming it tightly.

"Want me to fill you up while suck his cock, babe?" Sam asks huskily. When I only nod, he pulls his hand back and brings it back down on my ass. Hard.

"I'm sorry, say that again baby girl."

"Yes, Sam. Please." The minute the words are out of my lips, Sam lines himself up with my entrance and pushes in. A groan leaves our lips and I pull Dean back into my mouth. My tongue swirls around the head as Sam thrusts into me, his hands gripping my hips so hard, it'll probably bruise. A fire starts building in my belly, Sam hitting my sweet spot with every stroke. Moans are coming from my mouth, which land directly on Dean's cock, forcing moans from his own mouth. Dean's hands tangle in my hair, not pushing, just there.

"Y/N... I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna last..." He gasps, his hands tightening in my hair. I feel the coil breaking inside of my stomach as I moan around Dean.

"Do it, Dean." Then he's spurting. Thick ropes of his come coat my mouth as Sam leans down.

"Your turn."

The dam breaks and I cry out around Dean's softening cock as my orgasm slams into me. Sam's hips falter and I know he's finishing into the condom. Dean wraps his arms around me and pulls me to lay down next to him as Sam brings back a warm washcloth. My eyes drift closed as I hear Dean.

"Next time you two are in town... Let me know."

#sam winchester smut #sam x reader x dean #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader x dean forester

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

Text

Winner’s Curse Ch. 22

“Please please come in quickly,” the honorable wizard Yen Sid urged Uma, barely muffling his own coughs from the dusty air of Judge Frollo’s “house.” Quite ironically or perhaps more telling, Judge Frollo’s abode was the basement of a brothel. A cruel twist of temptation or perhaps a house of convenience since it was no secret that Frollo indulged in his hypocritical desires while preaching at his imaginary pulpit during the day.

But Uma wasn’t here to hear how she was destined for hell. It was night, the perfect time to meet the rest of the Anti-Villain Club while Frollo was away.

It felt like the situation was getting more dire the more time past. Amplified by the restlessness Uma felt because they weren’t getting anything done!

Sometimes Uma wanted to give in to her temptation to just dump the Auradonians for themselves. They didn’t really offer her any information or skills that she needed. Plus, they were slow at best. Uncaring and disobedient at worse, far more concerned with their own problems and feelings. They didn’t know how to work with a team or for a cause other than themselves.

Such royal behavior. Must be nice to put your moods first when your need for food, shelter and safety were never in question.

So it was a breath of fresh air to meet with the Anti Villains. Though they did not give her the assuring efficiency of her pirate crew, they were still Vks, her people. And she would need all the allies she could get if they were to stop the Coven.

Yen Sid gestured to the faded rug with, of course, an image of a man bleeding and crucified while a red devilish monster stabbed at his torso with a pitchfork.

Frollo’s erstwhile, rebellious daughter, Claudine took the head of the rug with Diego De’Vil and Yzla on both sides of her. Harold, Jason, Hadie, Big Murph, Hermie Bing, Eddie Balthazar, Celia and a blonde girl that Uma didn’t recognize rounded out the rest of the circle. Uma took place across from Claudine and Yen Sid stood by, pacing around.

“What news can you give us?” Yen Sid asked, starting the meeting abruptly.

Uma hadn’t noticed when Yen Sid signalled to her from the alleyways but the elder wizard looked even older. He was hunched over, not from age but like there was an invisible yoke on his shoulders. His face was riddled with new lines of wrinkles, stress and fatigue. And he was pale. So pale.

Uma had seen that sort of sickly paleness before. The sheen of sweat from a non-existent flu. He looked like death. The Isle after 20 years was starting to take its toll.

Though Uma had no personal attachment to the wizard nor did she care for his method of teaching goodness so Vks would be accepted in Auradon, when they should be accepted because they like any other person should have a home without abuse or poverty, she respected what he was trying to do. He didn’t see them all as one mass of worthless deviants to be scorned and ignored. He could have stayed in Auradon, doing nothing like all the rest of the so-called good guys, but he didn’t.

And this place was slowly killing him.

This place was going to be the death of all them if Uma’s revolution didn’t work.

Uma cracked her neck, inhaled and began to brief them, even though her report didn’t offer much encouragement that their plans were going to be successful.

“Our communications link with King Ben no longer works thanks to the Isle’s crappy service. However, we were able to inform him that the invasion is taking place in less than a week before we were cut off.” “Circe is officially on our side and will assist Yen Sid on more complex, powerful spells against Nerissa and the others.”

“The rest of the Coven-” “Believes.. Well actually tolerates the idea that you and Calix are still loyal. Lala still is on their side but Jade thinks she can convince her to switch again. Zevon and Ginny are lost causes. But you are going to round up your crew, and Harriet’s crew for extra manpower.” Yzla interrupted, and shrugged at Uma’s glare, “Jade told me.” “Ah yes.” Uma pursed her lips, shaking it off to not act too ruffled. She had been aware that Yzla and Jade were close but she didn’t particularly like that they were discussing things without her. That’s how plans got overturned. And people were overthrown.

Uma pushed that thought away as too paranoid. After all, they were all here for the same thing. Escape, not power.

“Yes, so you already know that. I do believe we will be able to persuade the rest of the Isle on our side.” “Wait the rest of the Isle. Like you mean some other kids right? Or the Hun gang. Not not the whole Isle?” Eddie asked. “I meant the rest of the Isle. The adult henchmen. The orphaned kids. The Huns, the mercenaries, the prostitutes. Anyone and everyone who has no power or big villain names.” The rest of the club looked at turns confused, intrigued and disbelieving at her.

“They are like us. They gain nothing from the Coven gaining more power. They get everything if they helped the revolution. No more oppressors. And a promise from King Ben to take all of us off the Isle to better housing, new jobs and actual food. A better life.”

“Whether Mal likes it or not.” Uma added internally. That had been the one thing she managed to speak to King Ben about, and surprisingluy he agreed wholeheartedly. He had seemed horrified when she described the living conditions that children dealt with. The way teens had turned to violence among other things to survive their abusive parents. He didn’t think he’d be able to convince Auradon should be abolished completely. Big villains would probably stay indefinitely. But he was welcome to her suggestions for programs to hep Vks.

“That’s why I need your input. King Ben is putting me in charge of VK Integration Programs and I want to know what we need.” “Uh, that’s nice. A truly Christian thing to do,” Claudine sneered saracastically, she had always been the most doubting of anyone having good intentions what with who she had for a father, “But shouldn’t we get out of here before we plan any VK Integration Programs?”

“This is part of how we are going to persuade the rest of the Isle to help us,” Uma smoothly bridged the two disparting ideas, “We need solid plans with how, what, when. Something solid and real that people can imagine and believe in. When the other Vks and adults hear of these programs, these programs that are as real as when King Ben invited the Core Four, they will be willing to fight for their chance to get in. They will rise up against the Coven so that they could be free.”

Claudine and Diego still looked suspicious, but Jason, Harold, and Big Murph practically had stars in their eyes. Hermie was smiling shyly and Hadie was tapping his chin thoughtfully. He was the first to pitch in.

“I think there should be something for the victims of Hans and Lars.” Everyone turned to look at him which caused the spiky-blue haired teen to flush and clam up. , Uma nodded empathetically, “Continue.” “Well, I mean-uh.Well we all had it bad. But Prince Hans is another level of bad. I went there once with dad for one of Staylan’s parties and I lurked around and man, that dude is nuts. He has photos of his “harem” all “sexy bruised” and stuff. And Lars…”

Uma narrowed her eyes. She didn’t need Hadie to elaborate on Lars. Gil had already told her everything she needed to know about the icy sadist. It was a term that was generally thrown around for an island full of villains with bloodlust, but Gil described the sickeningly calm way Lars acted. How Lars almost described it in seductive terms the way a whip would constrict a person’s throat until the breath left them. The calculating gaze he’d watch the ones he picked as “lovers.” Apparently a sadism that he picked up from his dad.

“Yeah, everyone knows Drizella is his favorite. Poor Dizzy.” Eddie shook his head.

Dizzy had always been left alone with her grandmother, Lady Tremine, but Uma had always assumed that Drizella, like almost all the parents on the Isle, was neglectful and uncaring. She hadn’t thought that Drizella may have been dealing with her own things.

And why wouldn’t she? That was Gil’s mother had to go through everyday with being Gaston’s unfavorite. While Uma was more concerned with the kids on the Isle, she could see now that some adults may need help too.

“Great. Center for sadist victims. What else have we got?”

“Do we have to go to school if we go to Auradon? I just don’t think I need it. My band is doing pretty well and I bet those royal dorks never heard music like mine.” Diego mock-shredded on his guitar

Uma cocked her head. She got his point. She didn’t think there was anything Auradon Prep had that could teach her anything useful. Like smizing as she heard from Celia Faciliar’s letters from Freddie. Plus there were some teens near adulthood like Harriet who probably wouldn’t want to be forced into classes when they could get jobs. Same with adults who never learned to read in their lives and still didnt want to.

“I’ll talk about it with King Ben. What else?” Uma said.

“Food that isn’t covered with flies. Fresh food, not trash.” Hermie said.

“Uh that’s just a given. None of their food is rotten.” Celia told the lithe brunette before Uma could clarify that good food comes with the territory.

Several ideas were thrown around, but the main ones came down to food, homes away from the possible revenge of their parents and others, and none of the Goodness 101 that Celia heard Freddie taking.

“Great. Now the important thing is that you spread the word of these programs to the other. You have to make people want this badly enough that they will fight. Act like its their only chance because it is. From there, I will send my crew to organize them to key points and learn some better and dirtier fight tactics.” Uma announced.

The rest of the Club nodded somberly at the announcement. There was not much emotion from Uma’s command. No relief, excitement or even nervousness. Just a numb sort of nod that they understood. But the words, “This is your only chance,” clearly rang in their heads.

It was now or never.

Everyone slowly got up to leave, thinking their own thoughts except the blonde who slipped to walk next to Uma, expertly slinking through the alleyways.

“Hi, um, I know we haven’t met before but um.. I’m Cosette.” The literally dirty blonde introduced in a fake high voice, clearly highlighting her nervousness, “I’m Gaston’s daughter. Gil’s half sister? You know Gil right? I mean, of course you do. I’ve seen him and everyone knows he hangs with you. I’m sorry I’m babbling. It’s just this is all so new-”

Uma stopped walking so she could give her her full attention. Yes, now that she stopped to actually look at Cosette, she could see a bit of the resemblance. The blonde hair, the high forehead and cheekbones. She looked older, maybe Harriet’s age, though her ample chest peeking from her corset gave the impression of a woman in her 20s. Unlike Gil, she didn’t have the usually confused look in her eyes. Just scared.

That look heightened Uma’s protective instincts. The helpless usually did that, as unvillainous as that was, plus the Gil resemblance.

“Why haven’t I heard of you before?” Uma asked skeptically even though she was pretty sure Cosette was honest.

“Um I’m a girl. Dad wouldn’t acknowledge me. Actually he tried to throw me away and try again which is why Mom left and… it seemed safer to avoid him. But- but I heard from Celia about this Anti-Villain Club when I went in for a reading, and Celia said you’d come so I thought I’d ask you. You know, for permission.” Uma thought. The story was realistic enough. But there was too much to do right now to focus on a family reunion. Unless…

“I will. You have my word. But first, how good would you say your fighting and/or spying skills?”

#uma #celia facilier #hermie bing #eddie balathazar #winner’s curse #yen sid #cosette legume #hadie #claudine frollo #big murph #diego de’vil #yzla #jason #harold #anti villain club #my fanfic #my fanfiction #disney descendants #chapter twenty two

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

Nothin’ But a Good Time

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Dremora (Demon) X Male!Human (Nord) Warning: Anal, Demon sex, Deals with a demon, Skyrim, blowjobs, handjobs

Word count: 2676

Summoning an unbound Dremora means that it can turn on you. This Dremora has a better idea than just killing the summoner.

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'Summon an unbound Dremora' it was a difficult spell and a dangerous one at that. To conjure a Dremora was on its own, dangerous. To conjure one that you know will attack you is just plain stupid. Yet, desperate times call for desperate measures.

The dungeon wasn’t a challenge for a mage as talented as myself. It was almost comical to be tasked with a quest like this. The Skeevers die on sight, the Draugers are similar to practice dummies, the puzzles are elementary at best. I will be paid in no time at this rate. If only every mission was like this.

As I near the final room I learn that extending some modesty once in a while might be beneficial to me and my ego.

The room ends with a dragon priest instead of my anticipated Deathlord. I really should have kept my mouth shut but the new reward of a mask keeps my spirits high. I face the spirit with a new wave of optimism and cockiness until the graves give way to Draugers. This is fine, I can deal with that. Down the way towards the floating priest two more coffins give way to Deathlords, alright this is less ok.

The battle is full of loud explosions of fireballs and lightning strikes. The Draugers become more of a hassle as anytime I try to deal with them I have to take my attention from the three major threats in the cavern. I take to summoning familiars and Atronachs, drinking bottles after bottles of Magicka. I pick off bits of health from the Deathlords as I try to avoid hits from the priest. His magic staff is becoming too much a problem that I fear I may lose my life this day.

Carding around the edges of the room for the hundredth time I take a direct hit from the Dragon Priest's staff. I hit the ground harder than reasonable, sliding along the uneven cobble on my shoulder. I quickly attempt to stand but the room turns, I fall back with a heavy sigh. I see the low life Draugers come in for the kill. In a last-ditch effort, I cast one more summoning spell, conjuring the one being I swore I wouldn't.

In a swirl of black and purple, a Dremora is officially summoned. Without preamble, the dangerous demon snaps forward and fast. It takes on the Draugers quickly with inhuman strength and speed. As everyone is distracted I look through my bag for potions or food, knowing the unavoidable battle that will come to me.

I watch from the corner of my eye at the Deadra armored beast fights. It takes care of the undead creatures very well, finishing off a Deathlord in the time it took me to swallow down minor healing. Once I catch my bearings I stand and begin to loot through the dead bodies, begging to gods for a potion or two. When that, thing, is done it will turn its ire onto me. I must be prepared for the fight.

I don’t notice the silence for a moment as I reach for the minor magic potion at the bottom of a broken urn. It doesn't occur to me till I feel the dark presence behind me. With a quick breath, I turn and throw a bolt of ice at the demon. With a lazy effort, it pushes the ice off like it was a bug in the way.

"Generally people give thanks but I can't say I'm too familiar with Nord customs," the Dremora chuckles. I straight at his laugh, utterly confused. The being cocks a dark brow at me with a grin," You seem a lost for words."

"Aye," I eye him," just a bit of miscommunication."

His arms cross while changing weight to one leg," How so?" His demeanor is startling, to say the least. I have never interacted with demons before, well in a friendly manner at least. I've killed a few to use their hearts for potions, I'm no saint. The college generally warned against conversing with them unless you can have the upper hand.

"I was informed that this conjuring spell was to summon an unbound Dremora," I clarify.

"That I am," he tilts his head with an amused smirk," Do you believe I have no free will? That I will attack anything that breathes? I found the deal is far greater than the taste of freshly spilled blood."

I sober at his words," the deal?"

"Yes, the deal," he chuckles," you summon me, I protect you, now I get something in return. Give and take sort of thing." I eye him cautious, not open to making deals with conniving creatures like him.

"What kind of deal?"

"Hmm, not sure. I haven't decided on what I want yet, but I do have ideas," he answers in thought.

"What could you want," I slide my hand towards my dagger, cautious but not completely open to fighting just yet. The Dremora casts a glance to my hand then back up at me. His brow raises again but he either doesn’t care or doesn’t mind me reaching for my weapon. Arms still folded he begins to circle me, walking lazily around with his eyes wondering my body.

"What do I want," he taps his finger against his elbow," many things. The better question is what do I want that you can give me. You could be my slave, do my bidding here in the living realm. To kill who I demand, to retrieve what I desire. But I don’t need another one, I already have all the slaves I want. You could give me something I haven't reveled in for a while." he stops his circling and walks towards me. Panicked, I back up till I thump against a wall. Quickly he grabs my face and regards me in an appraising way. "You are very handsome for a mage, most are old and cynical. You are young and full of mirth, perhaps I shall partake just this once," he hums as his thumb brushes my cheek.

"W-What do you want," my resolve slips for a second. I'm not ignorant or oblivious, he wants something I myself haven't partaken in since starting college. Before the time of my studies, I took to parading around as many women as I could, drinking and partying with the liveliest of maidens. I have never been with a man, let alone a demon.

"Here is the deal, you take my seed and we call us even," his hold switches to my throat," if you don’t, then I take your blood as payment."

"You're seed," I ask confused," do you believe you could impregnate me?"

He scoffs," No you stupid man, I wish to spoil myself inside you. Once I do, then we are square. This acceptable, Nord?"

"Blood or cum, such an impossible choice," I roll my eyes," as long as you don’t rip me a new one I will reluctantly lay with you, demon."

"Reluctantly," the Dremora laughs," you caved very fast for someone who is reluctant."

"I'm not above my ego to rather die than fuck a man, just be fast and I can forget about it," I sneer.

"Like I'd give you the curtesy to forget," he chuckles darkly," but if you insist."

I startle when head leans down and captures my lips with his, wasting no time shoving his tongue down my throat. The intrusion sends a jolt down my spine, spurring my interest just a peek. A chill runs through the room and the rock bites into my skin. I shiver when I feel the hard grip of his hands on my uncovered hips.

"You seem to be less reluctant now," he whispers in my ear as his hips brush against mine. I look down at our now nude bodies, seeing my hardening cock against his thigh.

"Is but nerves," I scoff. He hums in an answer as he lowers onto his knees. Its almost a powerful sight to see such an evil being kneeling. The sight is even more uplifting when he grabs my half-hard dick in his hands, stroking me in a lose hold. His mouth joins in for a moment, my spine snapping straight as the electric feeling runs upwards. "damn, Dremora. Ever heard of pacing one's self," I ask as my hips buck. He chuckles around my cock, the vibrations feeling divine.

"You were the one who wanted fast, and I'm the one who didn’t want you to forget," he kisses along my shaft, palming my balls with an uncoy look. His attentions are not what I expected, the sight more arousing than anticipated. I watch him lather my member with his tongue, bucking and sighing with the feeling. I rest my head back to the wall, mouth parted in an unending breath. As I feel myself nearing my end he backs off.

"Don’t want you to end so soon my handsome Nord, now it's your turn to be on your knees," He laughs. I give him an unabashed face before doing as he says. I get down on my knees ready to return the favor. He confuses me by not standing but crawling around behind me. It seems he is ready for the main course. He grabs my shoulder and pushes me forward. I catch myself on my hands as his hand rests on my back.

His clawed fingers trail down my spine, my skin tingling with anticipation. I can feel the warmth of his cock resting at the crease of my ass. The tip nudging just barely between my cheeks. His palm slides over my lower back before trailing over and cupping my hips. He swiftly pulls me flush to his thighs, his cock gliding up and settling close to his stomach. The weight is similar to the one in my stomach, the suspense making my own cock twitch. He pushes me away then pulls me back to him again, enjoying the tension in the air.

I fall onto my forearms and buck back into him with a groan," Just put it in already!"

His deep chuckle echoes in the room," so eager aren't we? I thought this was supposed to be my payment."

I look over my shoulder at his wicked grin," what? Cant, we both get something out of this?"

"I suppose we can," he tilts his head. The Dremora says nothing else as he continues tracing his cock on my ass. Soon he grabs ahold of one of my cheeks, clenching the muscle between his fingers. He spreads me open and regards his new toy. I wait with bated breath as his other hand lazily trails down to rest his thumb over my pucker. My stomach clenches as I choke on a gasp, I guess the eagerness is getting to me. He chuckles as he presses his thumb to me, massaging before inserting. I let out a long groan and rest my head to the filthy floor. He lets himself just rest there, humming as he listens to my panting breath.

"Please," I find myself crying out, not sure what I'm asking for. He somehow figures it out as he removes his thumb and grabs ahold of his cock. He presses himself to my entrance, slowly pressing his tip inside. There is resistance but he pushes on. With a sudden pop, his head is engulfed. The image and the reality of someone being in my ass make my cock leak and a whine let out from my chest. Before I could beg some more he pushes in farther. His head sliding further inside, the unfamiliar feeling of something this far inside me is intoxicating. My anus being stretched isn't pleasant, it aches and stings. Still, my cock remains hard and drips pre to the floor. His length rubbing along my prostate makes the pain feel like nothing.

I relish every inch till his hips are finally flat with my ass. Once he is to the hilt I hear him breathe. He sucks in a greedy breath and grips my cheeks with a painful hold. I can feel my hips try to move, the urge to buck back into him is strong. God, what my guild would think of this. Hell! What would my church think of this?

"By the divines, you are the tightest hole I have ever had the pleasure of fucking," the Dremora calls out in wonder," I believe this will be sufficient payment indeed." before I can comment he pulls back then thrust forward with a sharp snap of his hips.

"ack-, fuck," I cry out. I rub my forehead along the ground, the bits of rock digging into my skin. I hardly notice them as he pulls out again and bucks forward. He finds a pace quickly, using me like some common whore. Seeking his own fulfillment as I whimper and cry in the dirt. His inhuman cock does wonders to my insides, his length hitting places I never knew existed. My cock bobs with each thrust, a string of pre falling to the ground make me groan. I find myself reaching under myself and gripping it. The mixture of him and my hand makes my brain feel fuzzy.

"Are you going to touch yourself, my little Nord," he chuckles above me," Love the feeling of my cock rearranging your insides?" I whimper like a dog as I stroke myself, twisting my hand over my tips then clenching my base. If I knew being fucked in the ass was so grand I would have done this sooner. I'm almost curious if being fucked by a Nord is the same as this? Perhaps a Dremora has better prowess with these kinds of things. Either way, it's hard to think, at the moment a Dremora is a way better lay than any of my past lovers.

"Faster," I cry as I buck back into him. He laughs, curling his fingers over my waist. He slides them down over my stomach, feeling my muscles flex with each push of his hips. His fingers wrap around my base as my palms massages my tip. He gives short quick strokes that make me see stars. I continue pinching along my head as he rubs up against my shaft. My grunts and groans stutter as he fucks me from behind harder, knocking the breath out of me each time.

"Cum for me, my little Nord. I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you do," he rumbles beside my ears. I have no strength to deny him, falling victim to his assaults quickly. In a flash, my body seizes, my spine arching as I feel my balls tighten. I scream like I never have before as I shoot white ropes onto the dirt-covered floor. He doesn’t stop squeezing me, milking me for all I have as his own thrusts stutter. "Yes, just like that," he grunts. As I fall limp on my arms he thrust once more before stilling. I can feel his hot load coating my insides, the feeling is divine. He gasps hard, one of his hands making scratches along my sweaty body.

We both catch our breaths, resting for just a moment in such a dangerous surrounding. He soon pulls out of me, sitting up straight on his knees. I can feel his cum dribble out of me, trailing over my taint and onto my balls before dripping to the floor. I watch between myself as the drops darken the floor.

"You took my seed, the payment is fulfilled," he stands and walks around to my front. He kneels down in front of me as I fall limp to the floor. He grabs my chin and forces me back up on my hands," Till next time, my little Nord." he presses a kiss to my lips then with a smirk, he vanishes. I fall once again onto the floor, naked and defiled.

"till next time," I mumble to myself with a content grin.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wanted to write a MLM story and this smut came out. Also my best friend wanted me to write one too. so technically this is dedicated to him, Love you bro.

I love skyrim so enjoy this mess.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#monster boyfriend #Enigma-IM #demon #demon x reader #exophilia #skyrim #mlm

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

Text

'New faces' : an new chapter for "Redemption of a Bell" is out !

Chapter Summary : After waking up and been explained what happened by Dutch himself, Bell, still recovering, has no choices but to stay at Horseshoe Overlook, prompting her to make talks with the others....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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An job to do.....an job to do....Yeap, I definitely got an job to do and I have to make contacts with the others for the first time in my life. Dutch told me that I couldn't leave like that with the Pinkertons looking for us and since, it was since an long time that I didn't actually talk with someone. Maybe after all, staying here is maybe going to be better & perfect than wandering away without nobody to talk with but now....where to start ?

That was the only thing that was preoccupying me after Dutch left the cliffside : it was like the easiest thing to say but the hardest to do in reality. To who I could talk first in this whole camp ? I have no idea....so after taking an deep breath and making sure that I will not stupidly fall on the ground like I did minutes earlier because of my wound, I decided to finally move away from the cliffside to get myself back into the camp....

This place were now getting into life but each time I was passing near someone, there were like an moment of discomfort of me to be near those peoples, trying to open my mouth to say something, to present myself to them but there were something blocking me to do so. I was almost going to make another turn around the camp until I saw Hosea, drinking an coffee at the table that was near the place where everyone saw him, getting Williamson's head inside that barrel. Without any words, I moved to get sit in front of him.

"Bell." He smiled at me, his iron cup in his right hand as I was sitting, without speaking any words.

"Hi, Hosea." I finally spoke up, sounding like an shy girl....was it something I am ? Shy ? "How you've been doing ?" I asked him, fully stressed to talk to him as my hands went together under the table, trying to look away.

"I'm fine, enjoying an good coffee while I was going to read an book very soon." He replied with great enthusiasm, his eyes looking around the camp as me, it was the table I was looking. "What about you ?" He demanded, gesturing with his head towards my torso, seeing the bandages over my white shirt.

"Well, I thought that I was hit by an horse at full-speed when I woke up but since, it's getting better." I responded, taking an look too before passing my hands towards the three places I was wounded but that little move on the one in the shoulder, maked me moan silently in pain. "Actually, not so better." I corrected myself, causing him to break an little laugh.

"Next time, don't touch them too hardly." He advised half-serious & half-joking.

"Yeah, I will try to." I raised my left shoulder, the one that wasn't hurt before making an little grin before an silence came between us...it was weird for already 20 seconds. "So....uhm...Dutch told me about what happened." I broke the silence as I couldn't resist anymore...I needed to make talk.

"I hope that you were too much frightened by the news." He suggested and honestly, I was hesistating between saying yes or saying no because I was still alive and well but also trying to recover from 3 bullets that I receive.

"I was just surprised in fact about the days I spent to sleep." I told him clearly.

"You were not opening your eyes when we healed you and we couldn't let you die like that." He said to me and it was obvious for them to do that. "And I think that Dutch must have say it to you but you got lucky that him & the others find you in the mountains." He added.

"He told me that." I muttered in an happy tone before putting my arms on the table, looking around. "Now, it's all feeling weird for me." I stated, seeing those peoples living an normal life despite hiding from the authorities. "I don't know these peoples and...it seems that...well, I think I'm shy."

"If you were shy, were you going to talk to me ?" He smirked at me before putting down his iron cup on the table, he got an point. "I know that you aren't the type of person to be around people but it's better that you find an way to integrate yourself here." He argued about that, saying the same thing like Dutch before.

"In here, I only know you, Dutch & Arthur." I exclaimed, trying to find Arthur around but he wasn't looking to be here for the moment. "But now, wandering alone isn't really an option." I contended myself about that choice....staying here is better.

"You understand everything, Bell." He commented that before his look was focusing behind me as he started to spread his arms, like if to greet someone. "Hi, Arthur." He spoke up, turning around to see Arthur in his usul clothes : blue shirt, his light brown west.

"How's things, Hosea ?" Arthur started, making an sign with his hat to Hosea.

"Very good, been talking to Bell about everything." Hosea responded, causing Arthur to look at me curiously before repeating what he did with Hosea to me.

"Nice to see you back up, Bell." Arthur offered his hand to me and I accepted it, shaking hands with him. "You got some strenght in you, lady." He scoffed, an smile on his face.

"All I've got for the moment." I said, pointing at my torso before breaking an laugh out of us.

"I think you should get along with the others, Bell." Hosea suggested as I was getting up from my chair, to let him enjoy his coffee and an book he was getting out of his jacket. "Arthur, if you can help her...." He told him and Arthur nodded.

"Come on, let's make you meet the boys." He ordered as I started to follow him away from Hosea to get on another part of the camp...at another table that was this time an circled one where there were only person near it, alone and seemingly playing with an knife, he was looking mexican. "Javier !" Arthur greeted him.

"Oh, Arthur, you already come back here." Javier expressed his joice to see Arthur back here before his eyes went right on me, full curious.

"Javier, this is Bell, you remember ?" Arthur presented me back to him before turning around to look at me. "Bell, this is Javier Escuella, been with the gang for almost 4 years now." He added as I moved to shake hands with the man, keeping his knife in his hands.

"You could also say that I'm the singer and musician of the group." Javier joked, gesturing to an direction behind him with his head and it was surely pointing at an small tent with an guitar near it.

"I would like to see that." I exclaimed with an smile, curious about it.

"Yeah but we ain't fleeing the Pinkertons because of Javier's voice." Arthur scoffed him too, an small laugh out of his mouth. "Where's the others, Javier ?" He demanded.

"Well, Bill is back to sleep after he tried to shot her down while been totally drunk before Hosea make him drink water, Lenny is in Valentine to buy something and Micah...for him, I don't know." Javier replied, raising his shoulders about the last one. "I was thinking that we have now 2 Bell in here." He stated, causing me to narrow my eyes.

"Wait, there is another Bell in here ?" I questioned Arthur, looking around me because I was thinking that it was maybe an brother....

"Yeah....must forget to tell you that." He started, scratching the back of his head. "By the odds, we got another member also named Bell but for him, we prefer to call him Micah...or 'rat'" He clarified to me, whispering the last word not so loud to me. "Hopefully, you two got nothing in common except your name." He added, somehow sending an feeling of relieve in me...mostly because of the word he used.

"And not like him maybe." Javier suggested but I raised my shoulders, not fully knowing this Micah Bell perfectly to make an opinion and by hearing both of them, that wasn't pleasant for an start.

"I didn't see John, where is he ?" Arthur demanded.

"At your guess, he's with Lenny in Valentine." Javier replied in an low voice as Arthur put his hands on the table, not sitting on the chair near by, still standing up.

"Damnit, can he be just an father for Jack for good ?" Arthur muttered, looking down before he put his head, watching in an direction where this little boy I saw earlier, sitting with his mom on an tree trunk....so he's named Jack.... "Since we arrived here, he's always volunteering to go away from the camp."

"I can't tell you, Arthur." Javier complained, looking at his knife in his hands.

"This John...what is his problem ?" I asked both as I was nearly lost about that story nonetheless.

"It's hard to explain but he got an child with Abigail but he still thinks that Jack isn't his." Arthur answered to me, still looking at their direction away before he removed his hands from the table to put them on his waist. "If you want to know more, wait and since, you can go talk to her." He proposed

"Why not ?" I whispered, mixed about this idea before he was going to walk away until Javier stop him.

"Arthur, why don't we make an little Five Finger Fillet game ?" Javier suggested, showing his knife to Arthur and it was enough for Arthur to come back and to get sit in front of Javier, removing his gloves away on the table.

"Let's see if your knife isn't going to hurt yourself." Arthur exclaimed, getting out his own knife on the table.

"Well, my time is up, I'm leaving you both." I said, wanting to let the two play their game on that table and not actually wanting to see blood for the day.

Now that I was back alone, having let Arthur & Javier at that table, it was suggested that I go talk with this Abigail, still sitting on that tree trunk while she was watching her son near her, his hands on some flower to grab them in his hands. I was hesitating at first to go see them, not wanting to scare the little Jack again after what happened earlier this morning but Hosea was now peacefully reading an book, Dutch was in his tent near by, resting an little so it was my only option....I walked slowly towards the two.

"Hi." I started, slowly waving at Abigail and as I thought that Jack was going to run away, he wasn't paying attention, still in his things.

"Oh, hi, miss Bell." Abigail waved at me back, her voice sounding very pleasant to hear. "How are you ?" She asked me.

"Well, I can say that I'm fine." I replied, trying to move my right shoulder an little, putting my left hand on it to ease the pain in case. "Uhm....I think that we didn't get the chance to present ourselves."

"I already know you but you don't know me." She said in an clear and happy voice. "I'm Abigail Roberts Marston." She presented herself, offering her hand to me and like Javier & Arthur, I gladly accepted it, feeling that nice touch on my hand. "For the moment, it's just Roberts." She added in an normal voice.

"Oh ?" I breathed.

"Let's just say that my husband....John....ins't really present to take care of his son." She muttered, her eyes on her son, an little grin on her face. "Some must have told you that as I maybe heard."

"Yeah...uhm...Arthur told me that with Javier." I explained, looking at the two far away, still in their game of 'Five Finger Fillet'. "Uhm...I wanted to say that I'm sorry for having scared your son." I apologized to that event, feeling an bit bad for that.

"That ? Don't worry about it." She reassured me, gesturing that it was nothing with her hands. "He couldn't know that you were awake." She added.

"Look mom what I did !" Her son...Jack...spoke up, almost surprising me on the spot as he moved to get back to her mother, holding an made necklace with flowers on it. "Do you like it ?" He demanded to his mom that was taking the necklace in her hands.

"It's beautiful, Jack." She affirmed with an smile, saying the truth as me too, I was finding the necklace very nice.

"How do you like it, miss ?" Jack moved to look at me, asking me the same question.

"I like it too, kid." I smiled at him, telling the whole truth to him before he turned around again.

"I'm gonna see what we're eating, mom." He told her before he got an kiss from her on his forehead and then, she let him go away to the direction I was coming from, an big smile on her face to see him.

"That's my little boy." She exclaimed, talking to herself before she looked away at the horizon. "If only his father could be an real one...." She whispered, now sounding sad.

"It must be hard." I commented about that situation she was facing and she nodded. "I'm not the expert here but I hope that you will be okay." I said, not knowing anything about that type of thing....been lonely in my life must have done something to me....

"There's better men than John here but he's his father." She told me as I was looking around, trying to spot the others but I could only see Javier & Arthur, still playing and by looking at it, Arthur was winning, seeing Javier not so happy. "And you ? You ever got someone ?" She asked me.

"No, never was." I responded, passing my hands through my face. "Been wandering all of my life alone." I added but before I could speak more, I was interrupted by someone making loud noises in the camp.

"The strew is ready, you can come eat now !" It was the voice of an man shouting but I couldn't recognize it at all.

"Must be Pierson." Abigail said as she got up from the tree trunk she was sitting on, giving me the name of the person who was yelling at everyone in camp. "It was nice to meet with you, miss Bell." She affirmed, nodding at me before she start to walk away, leaving me alone and going to where this 'Pierson' was yelling and me...I was quite surprised of all these talks I had went well....

But I guess that this day is far to be done !

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #fem!bell #red dead redemption 2 #RDR2 #RDR2xColdWar #sadie adler

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