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scribbledonausednapkin · 1 year

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Missing Crystal: A Yellowjackets Mystery

Summary: Misty isn't that good of an actress, and Mari is onto her. A sharp tongued defender with anger issues and a sweet but savvy junior varsity player team up to crack the case of their missing teammate. The only things standing in their way are the scrappy psychotic team manager, the threat of starvation, and their group devolving into a cannibal cult.

Mari and Akilah put on their detective caps and work together to find evidence to expose Misty for killing Crystal; but is that what the Wilderness wants?

Warnings: Mentions of Canon violence/death/SI

Word Count: 4.5k

Cross-posted on AO3; Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Wilderness GPS

Akilah breathed in the fresh air, the only nice thing about being here and only because it was clean compared to the stagnant stench that suffocated her inside the cabin. Akilah used to love the outdoors, camping with her fellow troop members for a weekend was a way to get away from the continually growing list of things she needed to accomplish; but the outdoors she loved was a temporary retreat, she realized. The trips she enjoyed were just that - trips. She could escape to the forest and learn about the environment. She could go kayaking, learn how to build a fire, tie knots, all for fun. It was never meant to be longer than a couple days. Now it was her entire life.

Despite the unwanted permanency, the connection she felt to her environment was still strong. Her connection with animals was stronger than the one she felt to the forest, but there was still something there. Something Akilah had never labeled anything more than an enjoyment of the outdoors.

Akilah’s family was Christian so she was Christian, but she was also a scientist. Okay not actually, obviously, but she believed in evolution. She didn’t not believe in God and she attended church every Sunday, but some things just didn't add up. There had never been a real point in questioning it too much because what was she going to do? Tell her family she wasn’t going to church anymore? They would have killed her.

Still, it wasn’t like she hadn’t dabbled in faith. She wanted to feel a connection to God like her grandma and mom and sisters, like the one she felt with Simba; but honestly, closing her eyes and praying never helped nearly as much as talking to the stray cat.

Akilah had felt something yesterday. When Mari and Shauna looked like they would recreate the other night’s fiasco, she had been calm. She didn’t overthink it, she let the words find her as she acted on impulse. It was an adrenaline rush even better than winning a game, but was it a connection to the Wilderness or just her blood pumping?

Nugget was gone, but that was for the best. The innocent weren’t going to last long in this group, that much was clear. His sacrifice would hopefully bring them to food; and with food they could save Lottie. Food. Crystal’s body. Akilah gulped, closing her eyes.

“Hey, you okay?”

Akilah and Mari were by the side of the house filling two buckets with snow for water. It was still freezing, but they needed to boil it for drinking water since everyone was going out again. Akilah opened her eyes and found Mari’s weary expression. She gave a half-hearted smile.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“Me too. I don’t like this splitting up thing. Why would Crystal be near the cabin?” Mari frowned as she bent to dig her bucket into the pact ice.

“Maybe she really did get lost in the blizzard,” Akilah murmured, but Mari was having one of her stubborn tangents where she refused to see another option.

“Lottie never said anything about the queen card being like special or significant or whatever,” Mari grunted as she lifted the bucket, shaking the snow so it settled toward the bottom.

“Javi found it out there somewhere,” Akilah countered, scooping up her own bucket of snow, “and it’s the only queen in the deck. And its eyes are marked off. I think it could mean something.” That feeling of connection was there, maybe not with the queen card specifically, but something about the deck was definitely special. The flames had risen, everyone saw it, right? It couldn’t be another hallucination if the entire group confirmed its existence… right?

“You do?”

“Yeah, it’s worth checking out,” Akilah straightened up, standing firm in her opinion. Whatever they saw, this was a chance to save their friend without resorting to killing each other. Akilah was becoming more numb to the horrors and violence she’d crashed into but there was still hope for something better. They just had to make it through the winter. That’s what her gut told her anyway. Is that what faith was? A gut feeling?

“It’s just Lottie never -” Mari began.

“Mari,” Akilah cut her off gently, “can you just trust me on this?” Her eyes locked with the girl in front of her, brows glued in a furrow just as they had been all morning. Akilah wondered if Mari slept much last night, she hadn’t felt her tossing and turning nearly as much as usual. She’d burrowed into Mari’s back for warmth, even though more than half the time she was pushed off, but the girl had been stiff. So stiff for half a second Akilah feared she was dead, but no, she had been breathing. Maybe she was still hearing the dripping. Akilah almost wished she could still see Nugget the way she had, as a cute fluffy friend and not a corpse stained with Misty’s blood.

“Oh.” Mari stopped, surprised by Akilah’s request. “Yeah. I trust you.” Her expression finally relaxed, but her gaze was intense. “What you did yesterday was pretty cool. I mean, how did you even think of using the deck like that?”

“I don’t know, it just sort of came to me I guess,” Akilah felt a swell of pride and a bit of heat in her cheeks which was nice against the cold. Even if she had enjoyed orchestrating the ritual, attention still made her uncomfortable.

“So they didn’t teach you that in the girl scouts?” Mari cracked a smile, taking a step. Akilah realized they’d just been standing in the snow.

“No,” she chuckled, “Not really.” She swung the bucket around, falling into line with Mari.

“What about all that medical stuff?”

“What do you mean?” Akilah cocked her head.

“Like how you did with Shauna, that was really impressive.” Mari shrugged, the buckets felt a lot heavier with the depleted energy and receding muscles. They both struggled to carry the snow, even the short distance to the front of the cabin. Mari had insisted on putting distance between them and the ever listening ears of the group.

“Oh, um, I didn’t really know that much, just what I learned from watching my sister… I was thinking about medical school -”

“Woah,” Mari interrupted. “That’s serious.”

“Kind of. My dad’s a radiologist,” Akilah explained, “It’s good money and hours aren’t bad.” It was a solid plan for a comfortable future, or it could have been.

“Pretty exciting life you got there.” Mari huffed as she dropped the bucket down by the front door. Akilah moved to get closer to the entrance so could quickly enter while Mari held the door. When Mari didn’t immediately open it, however, Akilah looked up.

Mari was eyeing her with that usual suspicion.

“Is that what you really want?”

Akilah was surprised, she nearly dropped her bucket. The handle dug into her palms.

“Yes.” She responded immediately, then faltered under Mari’s unmoving gaze, “I don’t know, maybe?”

“You sound very confident,” Mari replied, smirking. Her hand went to the door handle.

“I think being a vet would be kind of cool,” Akilah blurted. Mari raised an eyebrow.

“I could totally see you as a vet.” Mari had an easy smile, so different from her usual resting bitch face.

“Oh - thanks.”

Akilah felt that embarrassment again, but she smiled in return.

“But maybe work on the whole knowing if they’re alive part?” Mari laughed as a harsh wind came by, reminding them that they were again standing in the cold. “Fuck,” Mari breathed as she shoved open the door.

“Okay, but only if you get your ears checked,” Akilah replied humorously, picking up the bucket into the creases the handle had left just a minute before. She shuffled into the cabin heading toward the fire.

“I swear I’m not crazy,” Mari said, but it was more to herself.

“Bullshit,” Van cut in. She was with Melissa and Gen shuffling through some old shirts and tying them into more headwear. Her tone was a bit harsh for a joke, but before Mari could be offended Akilah added, “I’m just kidding, we’re all crazy.”

Mari frowned, possibly wanting to object but she didn’t. Instead she started preparing the water.

Akilah noticed Javi and Nat by the window, though it wasn’t long before the young boy got up from the bed. Even though Nat had criticized her plan, she was still going to help. That made Akilah feel better at least, having Nat out there with her tracking skills maybe she could find Crystal. If she actually tried to.

Natalie’s eyes followed Javi as he stood, acknowledging her “gift” with a smile. Gift was the wrong word, it was more like reparations. Trying to make up for the time she let him stay gone, lost. Travis wanted to find his brother and she said no. Even if she was right and the group was more important, still, she had tricked him into thinking Javi was dead. Fuck. That was so fucked; and what did she have to show for it? No meat, no food, just more pain.

The shadows along the wall moved like it was evening. It wasn’t, she was pretty sure it wasn’t even mid morning. Time moved differently now that the last watch had broken. All they had out here were shadows and the sun which taunted them high in the sky where it could see everything they wished they could. A figure approached from the darker corners of the room.

It was Travis. The light of the fire lit his left profile, the reflection from the white snow through the window lit his right. Nat’s expression dropped.

“Need something?”

“No,” he said simply as he approached, raking a hand through his hair. He took the spot Javi left behind, his eyes drawn to the fire. Clearly that was a lie.

He was hunched over, a typical posture for him as if the weight of his shoulders were too heavy. His forearms rested on his thighs until he got the courage to say what he wanted; he sat up, sighing.

“You’re a good person.” He stated simply, craning his neck so his dark eyes could examine her. Nat didn’t reply, her eyebrow twitching in response, but she didn’t meet his gaze. “And I’m sorry for…” he shook his head, “ever making you feel otherwise.”

Cool. Cool. Yeah, this was normal.

Nat didn’t feel like a good person, but she also didn’t feel like she did anything wrong. Sure she felt bad about Javi being out there and facing him now was tough but she didn’t regret it. Travis got that now, that she did it for them , not to hurt him.

She didn’t respond, holding back tears. If all that were true, why did she feel so damn guilty?

Nat took Travis’s hand clutching it tightly, afraid to look into his eyes in case she started getting emotional or some dumb shit like that because she couldn’t do that right now. She had to prepare for a hunt. That’s what it was right? Maybe you could call it a search party but at the end of the day they were all about to do what she did everyday for almost a year. Hunt for food.

She’s already dead, Nat .

“What?” Nat slowly lifted her head from where she’d been watching his thumb stroking their intertwined fingers.

“I said, are you still pissed at me?”

“What? No.” Nat shook her head, drawing her hands back without thinking about it. “I get it, really. He’s your brother.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been better to him than I ever have been,” Travis basically whispered, hanging his head in shame. She couldn’t let him say that.

“Nah, I just feel bad. He was alone and cold and I -”

“Hey, wherever he was, he was safe.” Travis surveyed the group but no one seemed to be listening. They were all equipping themselves with all the clothing they had left. Nat’s eyes followed his. She got what he was saying. Maybe wherever Javi had been, he’d been safer than he was now. With them.

“He told Ben something,” Travis whispered so low she was sure she heard him wrong. Her eyes locked onto his, nodding for him to continue. He glanced back around them, making sure there were no gossips listening in. “He said he had a friend who helped him.”

“What?” Nat reacted a little too loudly. A couple of curious eyes hit them. Shit. She’d ruined their privacy, as thin as it was.

“I’m serious,” Travis replied firmly, then brought his hand on her neck and drew her in for a kiss. It was light, but deep enough to warrant a groan or two from the peanut gallery. As he drew away he whispered, “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Where’s Ben?” Mari asked, distrust present in her tone.

“He was in the bedroom,” Misty replied eerily. Since the stillbirth or maybe since Crystal disappeared she’d been acting weird, and not the usual Misty vibrating off the walls kind of weird. “He was fixing his crutches for the snow.”

Melissa was by the bedroom door and she pushed it open to reveal an empty room. “Not here,” she confirmed after an obligatory scan of the dirty walls with a single bed and empty suitcases.

“Figures,” Mari huffed. She looked over her shoulder at Akilah who shrugged. There was something going on with those two, they’d been whispering a lot lately.

Nat’s eyes found Javi standing in the kitchen fiddling with his gloves. Then they flicked to Travis who was watching her intensely. A friend ?

“He’s been acting weird since…” Gen started, but immediately trailed off.

“Since we ate Jackie,” Van finished.

“Yeah, you don’t think he’s trying to find Crystal first?” Melissa said, obviously suspicious. They were all beginning to turn on him.

“Why would he do that?” Tai asked dismissively.

“To… you know, stop us from eating her… or whatever.” Melissa shrugged, arms crossed. She had on the backwards cap she always wore, her blond hair streaked with dirt.

“He wouldn’t do that to Lottie.” Van defended, but her expression wasn’t nearly as confident as her tone. Her eyes lingered on the front door.

“Maybe he’s scared we’ll eat him.” Shauna said off-handly, more to herself than to the group. Still, it was clear by the uncomfortable air that everyone had heard.

“Won’t you?” Nat questioned, unable to hold back her defense of Ben. The girls had been treating him weird since the Jackie incident and she had no doubt he was high on their list of potential meal candidates.

“Don’t act like you’re better than us,” Mari growled.

“Hey, it hasn’t come to that yet, right Akilah?” Tai insisted, calling Akilah to once again keep Mari from a physical altercation. She was beginning to seem a lot like Mari’s keeper.

“Right, we have a plan. Let’s stick to it okay?” Akilah eyed her hot-tempered friend, communicating without speaking.

“Yeah.” Mari nodded, but it was clear she was worked up.

All of them were on edge.

“How should we decide who goes where?” Gen asked.

“The cards,” Van and Akilah replied simultaneously. They exchanged a look before Van grabbed the stack from the kitchen table. Nat watched helpless as the group used a deck of cards to determine all their decisions.

If this was the Wilderness talking to them, it was laughing its ass off.

Akilah ended up by the cliff. Mari was super pissed, especially when Misty drew the ten of clubs. Akilah, Misty, Travis, Gen and Van had drawn the black cards and so they ended up by the cliff. The rest headed for the forested area where the Queen had been placed, near the creek not too far from the cabin.

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Mari instructed. “And if she doesn’t want to look somewhere that’s exactly where you send Travis to dig.”

That was obvious to Akilah but she let Mari go on with her plan. Obviously she was anxious.

Akilah had known Mari since tryouts freshman year but even as a sophomore Mari was a sub for varsity so they never really interacted that much. When they crashed Akilah was the resident expert on what was safe to eat and Mari was in charge of cooking so they formed a natural team.

Mari was brass, that was for sure; but she was honest. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind or call out someone on their bullshit. Akilah appreciated that, admired it even. Maybe that’s why she gravitated to Mari the most. That and aside from Tai she was the funniest on the team.

“Misty, where did you see her last? Do you remember?” Van asked seriously. Their group was approaching the dump cliff, surrounded by a line of trees on either side. It was a mostly clear path, except for the snow up to their mid calves.

“I - I don’t know exactly. I think it was around here,” Misty replied, rubbing her biceps. It was miserably cold but the action annoyed Akilah. They were out there because of her.

Maybe Mari was a hater. Okay, she really was, but she also made some really good points. Misty never forgot anything. She remembered every game, who scored which goal when, whose fault it was the other team scored. She remembered all that medical stuff and who did which chore and all the lyrics to all those musicals and every line to that convincing ass monologue -

But she didn’t remember when she last saw her best friend?

“Did you guys dump the poop before you lost her?” Travis asked. He clenched his jaw and looked over his shoulder. Akilah was pretty sure he was more upset about the separation from Javi and Nat than being out in the cold.

“Um, yes. Yes, she dumped the poop and then we started heading back -”

“Heading back? Are we even looking in the right place?” Gen asked concerned.

“Yes, the card was over the cliff,” Van replied.

“But not right over it, maybe she got lost in the woods,” Misty countered.

“If she did, she'd be where the queen was,” Van answered confidently. Even though it was Akilah’s idea, Van was taking the ritual the most seriously. She seemed to know something they didn’t or maybe it was just that her faith in the Wilderness was so strong. No matter what it was she was a completely different person than the one that had led them cheering to the lake in the summer.

Akilah was glad Van was here. She knew it would be hard to keep Misty in check if it was just her leading the group, but Van was a strong believer and would listen to the Wilderness above logic. As long as Akilah used that to keep them looking in the right places, maybe they had a shot.

“We should start by the cliff. Even if you too dumped the bucket, maybe she got confused in the snow and turned back by accident.” It seemed likely enough.

“If?” Van was suddenly right beside Akilah and she jumped.

“What’s wrong?” Travis asked.

“Nothing, just tripped,” Akilah answered but she was thrown off by the wide and intense green eyes staring daggers into her soul.

“I meant when,” she corrected quietly to Van. Van looked over her shoulder, but her eyes fell on Travis for a moment.

The group came to the small clearing before the cliff. They looked out onto the snowy landscape, hearts beating rapidly from the little exercise on no calories.

“What if she fell?” Gen asked, shuffling toward the edge and peeking down below. There was a small squeak from Misty and Akilah glanced at her concerned face. She pictured what Mari told her: Misty digging frantically in the piles of snow covering the shit dump.

“Maybe she did,” Akilah answered quietly.

“We should split up and look,” Travis declared, “Standing around will only make you colder.”

Mari wanted to scream. No way she was out in the snow searching for Crystal’s body when she knew Misty was trying to cover it up by the cliff. She had to trust Akilah, she told herself, she had too.

If there was anyone Mari knew she could trust, it was Akilah. Well, Lottie too, obviously; but with her thoughts and plans to uncover Misty, only Akilah understood.

They had used the Wilderness to guide them and Mari was sure the Wilderness had answered. It had given them a sure sign Crystal was by the cliff. How could it not be more clear? The two of clubs, the exact one Crystal had drawn, was placed right over the cliff. Unlike most of the other times Mari held the deck, she had no control over which card was picked during the ritual.

Okay, okay, Mari had been fucking with the deck. It wasn’t hard - her brother Sam was a total nerd and super into magic when he was younger. As the youngest, and also because she was a girl apparently, she was the assistant. Except Mari hated being the assistant. So instead she pretended to be the assistant and learned all the tricks herself. Then when she and Sam performed for their parents, she’d stolen the spotlight. Not exactly the nicest thing in the world but Sam got her back when he tripped her into mud a week later.

The point was, she knew how to shift a deck. It was easy and since no one knew about her sleight of hand it was simple enough to rig the chores. The day Crystal disappeared she made sure Crystal got the two, but then Misty offered to go with her so she never drew her own.

It wasn’t possible that someone could have - or even would have - fixed the deck. No one could have expected the brilliance of Akilah. The Wilderness was speaking through her to them, but it felt like Mari was the only one listening.

The queen card - really? Yeah it was weird and maybe it had significance, but Lottie never said anything about it being special. Besides that it was nowhere near where Mari was certain Crystal’s body was. Akilah was a genius for figuring out how to speak to the Wilderness, but was she serious about this splitting up bullshit? Especially since not only was Misty part of the group she definitely should not be in, but also because the queen group was bigger than the cliff one.

It had been at least an hour of them searching, and while Mari was trying to give it her all, her heart wasn’t in it. Still, she thought of Akilah out there with Misty and she pushed through. Akilah wouldn’t half-ass it, she never did.

Mari didn’t know Akilah super well until they crashed, mostly because Mari was only really on JV her freshman year. She kind of was sophomore year, but she only played if Varsity didn’t need her. Then junior year she’d been bumped to starting center back with Lottie. Back then, Mari knew Akilah as the girl who was always studying before almost every game. She always had a textbook on the bench which would annoy Coach Martinez. Dork, Mari smiled as she thought back; but not like Misty dork like adorable dork.

Now she knew why Akilah was always studying - trying to be a doctor, or vet. She was probably the most studious person she knew other than Tai. Also pretty funny, and really sweet. Things didn’t bother her the way they did Mari, and if they did she never showed it. Akilah was subtle, she didn’t lash out whenever her anger bubbled up. Mari admired that, it wasn’t something she could do. When her anger boiled she felt she had to react or she’d burn alive. Holding back wasn’t in her nature.

“Hey!” Someone called from somewhere in front of her, hidden by the trees and snow. “Anyone nearby?” The scratchy voice of Nat rang in the still frigid air.

“Yeah,” Mari called, but she wasn’t sure Nat would care to hear her voice. She was probably hoping for Javi. Not that he would verbally respond.

“Find anything?” Nat’s tone was flat, devoid of hope. If anything she was probably hoping for a no. Where would that lead though? Aside from wishing for proof of Misty’s psychotic ways, Mari wanted food. Needed food. She feared the dripping would come back.

“Not yet,” Mari replied, turning away from Nat’s voice and stepping wide into the deep white sea.

Nat didn’t respond, not that she expected her too. If Crystal was here, Mari would find her. If the Wilderness was serious about this queen card shit, then Mari would just have to trust it.

“What was that?” She heard Nat’s voice, but it wasn’t necessarily directed at her. Still, Mari quieted and closed her eyes like Lottie taught her, listening for the sounds of the environment around her.

There was the chill on her cheek, the trees gentle swaying, the whistle of the wind -

The cracking of a branch.

Mari’s dark eyes shot open toward the source of the sound behind her, in Nat’s direction. Immediately she took off, hearing Nat huffing and boots crunching as she sprinted ahead.

“What is it?” Mari shouted.

“A deer!” Nat’s cry rang out.

A deer?!

“Where?” Mari yelled as she stomped through the covered forest floor trying to close the distance between her and her teammate. Her heart jumped at the idea of an actual animal in the forest, when they needed it most.

“A deer!” Nat’s voice repeated, but blew away quickly as the air whipped around Mari’s head. Her head wrap came loose, sagging around her neck. It was hard, so hard to run in the snow.

Nat’s blonde hair was barely visible as Mari dodged between trees, leaping over branches trying to keep up. Nat was so fast, Mari could never beat her in sprints. She was losing her, but she was fighting with all her strength not too.

“Hey!” A voice shouted from somewhere in the Wilderness.

There was the sound of more branches snapping up ahead to her right and Tai broke through the trees. Her long legs maneuvered through the brush and she sprinted by Mari, focused on the target ahead. She didn’t acknowledge her.

Mari kept running even as Taissa disappeared, legs feeling rock hard and heavy. A deer, seriously? A deer? It was the only thing keeping her from stopping as the cold hit the back of her throat and she gasped for air -

Then she was falling, crashing into the deep snow.

Mari landed hard on her forearms and the thick twigs below splintered against her bones as they broke her fall. She groaned as her body sagged forward into the frigid ice.

“Mari?”

She heard a voice calling her name. Melissa -

“Deer!” She screamed pointing ahead though her body was still stuck in the firmly packed snow.

“What?” Melissa panted.

“Deer!” Mari yelled with all her might as she propped herself up out of the snow. “Follow Nat!”

Melissa gazed wide eyed, but quickly took off in the direction Mari pointed. Mari’s head fell back into the freezing snow as Melissa’s dirty blonde hair disappeared into the forest ahead.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #mari yellowjackets #akilah yellowjackets #akari #akilah x mari #mari x akilah #Missing Crystal

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domthedevil · 3 years

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could you do asmo for the be gentle series but also add in a little bit of overstimulation because it's asmo and it feels fitting

It’s so fitting it hurts haha. I know he’d probably hold back a little for your first time, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have his own fun with you. Fuck I love Asmo. Mammon is next!

Be Gentle pt 5

Warnings: Asmo x AFAB!MC, loss of virginity

The discussion took an unexpected turn when Asmo mentioned how you felt about sex, your experience, and what you wanted to do. He definitely didn’t intend for it end in a bet over you. His brothers were so insensitive. And the fact that the relationship between all of you had worked until now was still a mystery to him.

“I’m sure when they’re ready it’ll be me they come too, but could we move on?” Asmo was hoping for a semi serious discussion.

Even his usual quip didn’t break up the brothers arguing. And when it seemed to be futile to try again, he excused himself and made his way to his room. He may be an expert in lust, but that also gave him experience as a lover. It’s a lot more important than just sex when it’s with someone you love. Maybe a little hot steam on his pores would make him feel better...

A knock at his door later that night surprised him, but when he saw it was you he was more happy than anything else. It wasn’t unusual to see you before you went to bed. A little face mask or talk with Asmo always eased your anxieties and sleeping came easier when you weren’t stressed out.

“Oh? Did you need some stress relief?” His usual flirty tone made your heart flutter a moment.

“S-something like that...”

You didn’t know how to discuss things exactly. So you were straightforward. Even Asmo couldn’t help the redness on his cheeks, it almost felt like confessing again. Asmo’s soft smile, the genuine smile only he showed you, made your heart pound.

“MC...You’re so adorable, the way you came to me.” The giddiness he’d been holding back came out a moment before growing serious again. “I promise I’ll be gentle. Let me love you.”

With his arms wrapped around you, you followed him to the bed. Your own arms hugged him tightly as he hovered over you. You kissed him roughly, eager and excited to be in his hands. Asmo’s chuckle was muffled against your lips, he thought this side of you was so cute. So tempting.

“It’s good to start slow...” Asmo whispered before pulling at your clothes. Lifting your shirt above your head, Asmo left kisses behind every spot his fingers touched. “There are lots of ways to feel good. And I want to show you all of them.”

You swallowed hard. Growing warm from his words alone. Your hands rubbed at his shoulders, wanting to rip his clothing off as well. You wanted to see the body you had always wished was pressed against yours. But the kisses and nibbles he planted were keeping you from moving. Each one a sweet paralysis; the sweet venom from the Avatar of Lust.

“Asmo...” it was a short but effective whine. He felt his member twitch at the sound.

His nibbles grew harder as he made work of the rest of your clothing. Asmo took a deep breath as he admired your bare body. Using his hands to memorize every dip and curve as he lowered himself to keep kissing your body. Long fingers traced X’s and O’s down your thighs toward the warmth between your legs.

You felt a little guilty receiving all this attention without returning, but Asmo assured you he was getting just what he needed this way. Emphasizing his words by stroking the obvious bulge between his own legs. Dipping his face lower, Asmo teasingly licked at your folds, tasting you like sweet honey. Your hips shook as he indulged himself. Using a skilled tongue to burrow inside you.

“As-Asmo.” Your moans left as a sigh. Sweet sensations of warmth and electricity shot through your body as he suckled on your delicate pearl. Your fingers buried themselves in his beautiful and soft hair. Needing to hold on to something. His own fingers found refuge inside your dripping entrance. Your walls were stretched against his soft fingers. The tips of his digits graced a soft spot inside you that made your hips jerk.

“You must be enjoying yourself. You’re expression is so lewd. Think I can make you come from this?”

“Mmn-! I’m really close already Asmo...”

“You’re so cute MC...” his voice trailed off as your thighs pressed against his face. He was back to teasing your most sensitive spots. It didn’t take much more of his magic fingers to build the warmth between your legs to its peak. Squeezing the fingers inside you roughly, your moan cracked in your throat as you shook. Licking his lips, Asmo watched your body twist and relax as you came down from your first high. He used this moment to remove his own clothing. He loved the way you watched him, how you eyed his cock. Taking your hand in his, he guided your hand to his twitching length.

“Touch me, MC. Please?”

Of course you obliged, eagerly moving your hand up and down as he took your breath away. Asmo’s kisses were fierce, deep, and mind blowing. He somehow knew all the things you loved. The little nibbles and long breaths he teased you with made you forget where you were a moment.

Pressing his body against yours, Asmo moved his hands to lift your hips. Aligning them with his own. You could feel his cock rub up and down your slick covered walls. He was so tempted to dive right in, but he wanted to take it slower. However the tip of his cock continuously hit your over sensitive clit. Making the heat from your core almost burst as you came again.

“A-Asmo! It feels so good.” Your whimper made Asmo’s heart almost stop. You looked so erotic, and you were saying all the things he’d always wanted to hear from you. Of course treating you how you deserved came naturally for the love struck demon.

“Touching me made you that excited hm?” His teasing whisper was hot against your ear as he lifted your hips again. “I can feel how wet you’ve become...I want to make you feel good.” Stealing your lips again, you moaned against his. “Tell me if you need me to stop. I love you.” Your face was on fire already, but now it burned even hotter. You nodded shyly, letting him ease himself inside you.

A sudden pain shot through you a moment. Hearing a sharp hiss, Asmo halted to see if you were okay. When you kissed him again he moved. Feeling stretched and full like you’ve never felt before, the pain dulled to a slow ache. Asmo’s hips had stopped moving about half way inside you. Your hand cupped his cheek as you looked into his rose and gold eyes.

“I love you too....I’m ready for more.”

Humming affectionately, Asmo pressed further inside you. His curving length touching the soft spot he had fingered before, making your back arch off the mattress. You were more sensitive than ever, you could almost feel every ridge and vein on his beautiful cock. Asmo’s hips moved in slow fluid motions. Whispering encouraging and loving words. He loved showering you in affection.

“MC...you feel so good. So tight. How is it?”

“G-good! It feels so good having you inside me.”

“MC~!”

His hips moved faster as he listened to you describe it. How good his dick felt. And he shared how good your walls sucking him in, like you didn’t want him to pull out, felt in return. The previous orgasms had your blood screaming. Every movement, even just the feel of his breath against your neck, made the heated coil in your core build. It felt different from the ones before. Somehow stronger.

Asmo chanted your name against your neck, moist with a sheen of sweat. Your arms wrapped around him as he continued to pick up his pace.

“I’m so happy you’re here MC. I’ve always wanted to make you feel this good. To hear your sweet voice crack and whine for me.” His words tickled your ear and made your clit twitch. “And I can show you so much more. Tell me what you want MC...”

“Come...I want to come so badly Asmo. I feel so hot, like I’m on fire.”

“Good MC...me too. Im burning up for you.”

Kissing without thinking, untrained and messy, you both locked lips as if you would run out of air otherwise. Your grip around him tightened as his thrusts angled deeper into you. The grip on your hips tighten as well, you were convinced you’d be bruised after. Cursing between gritted teeth you felt Asmo release deep in you, adding to the unbearable heat inside you. The feeling of being stretched even more brought you tumbling over the edge with him. Asmo gasped lowly as your walls squeezed around him once more. Filling you to the brim, Asmo almost couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Everything about this experience was better than he could have ever planned.

Separating slowly, Asmo sat on his knees to look down at you again. Your afterglow was stunning, he only wished he had more mirrors to show you how you looked. Kissing you sweetly on the cheek, he asked you if you were okay.

“More than okay...that was amazing.”

“I’m so happy to hear you say that. There’s a lot more Id love to show you.”

“I can’t wait. For now...could we...do it again?”

Asmo’s face hurt from how wide his grin grew.

“Of course, my love.”

This is a continuation of a requests, read the rest here:

Be Gentle (Levi x AFAB!MC)

Be Gentle (Belphegore x AFAB!MC)

Be Gentle (Satan x AFAB!MC)

Be Gentle (Beelzelbub x AFAB!MC)

#obey me fanfic #om! fanfic #ns//fw #obey me smut #om! smut #obey me #om!#obey me asmodeus #om! asmodeus #obey me Asmo #obey me! asmodeus #om! Asmo #swd om Asmo #swd obey me Asmo

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toosicktoocare · 3 years

Text

hi, here’s some Buck and Eddie sleeping quarantining together

It’s ten minutes of Buck listening to Eddie roll and shift around in his makeshift bed that he clears his throat and props himself up on his elbow, sighing. “This is stupid.” It’s dark, but he can still make out the dark lump on the floor beside his bed moving until it’s taller, and Eddie’s bare, tan skin is barely visible, his blanket pooling around his waist.

“Is this your way of inviting me to the bed?” Eddie’s voice is passively eager, and Buck sighs again, louder, a little more drawn out.

“Yes.” He drags out the word, a laugh slipping past his lips as Eddie hops up from the floor and throws himself on the bed, rolling over Buck to the empty side.

Eddie breathes through a deep sigh, the content evident on his breath, and Buck rolls over until he’s lying on his side, facing Eddie with a cocked brow.

“The floor can’t be that bad.”

“Tell that to my back.”

Buck huffs out a laugh, and he moves until he’s lying on his back, matching Eddie’s position. He stares at the ceiling, and though his muscles are still, his heart’s beginning to quicken in speed until it’s a rapid, rabbit’s foot thump against his rib cage. “This isn’t weird, right?”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Eddie grumbles around a yawn, and Buck can feel Eddie shift around in the bed.

He peers over to see Eddie lying on his stomach, his back faintly exposed with the blanket only pulled up to his hips. His head is turned away from Buck, and contradicting his own words, Buck stares, his eyes following the small, sharp curve of Eddie’s back.

“Go to sleep, Buck,” Eddie mutters, and Buck whips his gaze back to the ceiling and swallows thickly.

He’s thankful his ceiling fan ticks slightly because otherwise, he’s sure Eddie would be able to physically hear his heart threatening to burst out his chest. He squeezes his eyes closed tightly and takes to breathing exercies to steady his heart rate: in for four, hold for seven, out for four. He repeats this until his face falls slack, and then comes the water.

It creeps at the edge of his dream, a muted crescendo to decrescendo lapping faintly at his ears. It brings a furrow to his brow, and he rolls onto his side, his back to Eddie, to try and jostle the hint of a dream away during a brief bout of consciousness.

It comes back stronger when he nods off again. He falls into his first REM cycle, and the water’s all around him, floating debris slamming against his ankles. He stares around, stuck in a vast, seemingly endless, pool of rushing water that whips strongly around him, trying to pull him off his feet.

He holds his ground, bracing himself with bent knees, but then the debris gets bigger, longer, and he spares a glance down to see that the chairs and trashcan lids have morphed into listless bodies floating along the pulsing waves.

No, he thinks, shaking his head. Something’s off. The dark walls around him are closing in, but they can’t because he’s missing something. Someone..?

“Christopher?”

He works the name around his jaw, frowning, and the single word feels sour but right. Christopher should be with him, beside him, his small hand in his, but he’s not. There are bodies floating face first in the water around him, and Christopher isn’t here.

“Chris?” he tries, eyes scanning his darkening surroundings. He can’t... He can’t lose Christopher; he...

“Christopher!”

Something latches onto Buck’s leg, sharp, breaking his skin, and he falls, his entire head going under. The water’s cold and murky, painted in faint wisps of red, and Buck cannot breathe. There’s something heavy pushing against his chest, keeping him under, and he can’t break free.

“Christopher!” he shouts, dirty water rushing into his mouth, sinking heavy in his lungs. He twists and fights against the dark force against his chest. He tries to break free because he can’t breathe, and if he can’t breathe, then Christopher probably can’t breathe.

The water around him is growing redder, thicker. It’s getting harder to see, and it’s cold.

“Buck!”

He pushes with every muscle; his jaw clenched tightly. “Christopher!” he calls back. “I”m here!”

“Buck!”

Christopher’s voice sounds different, deeper but similarly desperate, and Buck’s lungs are burning. He needs to...

“Buck!”

Buck jerks forward, a strangled scream ripping up his throat, and he grips at the arms in front of him, staring frantically hard at the face before him, a face that’s pale, lifeless, floating, until it’s not.

“Buck? You with me?”

Eddie’s face slowly gains life and color until Buck can make out his sharp, worried features: his dark eyes narrowed, his forehead creased, his jaw set hard. “Eddie?” he rasps out, fingers tightening around Eddie’s arms.

“Hey, yeah. It’s me. Are you okay?”

A loaded question. Buck’s far from fine; Buck hasn’t been fine for a long time. He nods, but he doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s frown deepens.

“You were mumbling for Christopher.”

“It was just a dream,” Buck tries. He doesn’t want Eddie to worry about him; he doesn’t want anyone to see through the plasters he’s thrown up to mask his cracks.

“About the tsunami? Buck, have you-”

“-it’s fine, Eddie,” Buck says, pushing his voice to be light yet firm. “I’m fine.” Even as he says it, his fingers are still digging into Eddie’s arms, and he slowly releases his grip and falls back against his back with a sigh. “Sorry.”

Even through the dark, Buck can make out the brief pull of conflict against Eddie’s face. He knows Eddie wants to say more, but instead, Eddie carefully lies back on his back, his shoulder brushing against Buck’s.

“You going to be okay?”

No, Buck thinks.

“Of course.”

***

Buck stares at his bed; it’s still a mess of tangled sheets. His comforter’s been kicked toward the end of the bed. He got hot last night, after his dream. The heat was welcome though, comforting and encompassing, and when he woke to his alarm, he was on his side, and Eddie was pressed flush against his back, his arm wrapped tightly around Buck’s waist.

Buck can’t remember his dreams from the night before after the intrusive tsunami one. All he can remember is bright, wide-open warmth that wrapped around him, carried him over a light, welcoming breeze.

“Should we make the bed first?”

Buck turns a smile to Eddie, who’s walked up to his side, head tilting at the mess of the bed.

“I never really saw the point of making a bed if you’re just going to mess it up again later.”

Eddie breathes through a laugh, and he slips around Buck and flops onto the bed, a deep sigh morphing into a groan. “Me either, but my mother and my grandmother insisted.”

“Well, luckily they aren’t here, and you’re just stuck with me.” Buck climbs onto the bed, watching as Eddie fiddles with his phone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to Facetime, Chris,” Eddie starts, and he tugs at Buck’s arm until Buck’s falling onto his back beside Eddie, his shoulder knocking into Eddie’s.

Eddie holds his phone up until the camera’s squishing both their faces close into the small square in the corner, and then the call’s being answered, and Christopher’s face is so close, his smile so wide.

“Buck!”

Buck suddenly feels warm from head to toe, and he smiles so naturally wide. “Hey, Christopher!”

“Are you and daddy having a sleepover?”

Eddie snorts, and Buck slaps his leg outside of the camera. “Your dad’s elderly back can’t handle the floor.” He laughs loudly when Eddie’s over-dramatic pout covers their small screen in the corner.

“Tell us about your day, Chris. How’s virtual school going?”

Buck listens as Chris talks excitedly about his day, in specific detail, and for the first time, despite everything that’s happening and has happened, he feels calm, at peace, if he’s willing to admit he’s being cliche.

Chris and Eddie bounce naturally off each other for thirty minutes before Chris has to get off to get ready for bed. He and Eddie follow suit, and before Buck knows it, he’s back in last night’s position, lying on his back in the dark and staring at the ceiling, hoping, desperately, that his ceiling fan will continue to mask the echoing thump of his heart.

They lie like this for a while, and though Buck says nothing out loud, he knows Eddie’s still awake and working through his own thoughts.

“You know Chris is okay, right?”

“Hmm?”

“Because of you,” Eddie adds. “Chris is fine.”

There are things Buck knows that Eddie leaves unsaid: it was a while ago, stop worrying about it, I’m not mad.

“He’s a strong kid,” Buck opts for, turning his gaze when Eddie shifts until he’s propped up on his elbow, his body twisted toward Buck.

“You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. Though,” Eddie pauses, his face falling, “I wish you would. But, whether you open up to me or not, I know I’ve told you before, but you’ve got to let go of the guilt, Buck. No one could have predicted that, and you literally drove yourself to a hospital bed searching for him. You didn’t just save him, either. You saved so many people that day, and I don’t blame you for what happened. I haven’t lost my trust in you. I still stand by my thinking that Chris is safest when he’s with you.”

Buck’s eyes are stinging. He blinks quickly, slowing craning his neck until’s he’s looking up into Eddie’s dark eyes. “Good thing you just did enough talking for both of us.”

Eddie groans around a light laugh, and he flops back down onto the bed, twisting his body more toward Buck until he’s draping himself half atop Buck, his face dropping to Buck’s neck.

“I hate you. Haven’t you ever heard of a moment?”

“Who the hell has moments at 10 PM?”

“Lots of people!”

“Will you two please shut up?”

Eddie pushes himself up, his lips pursing together, biting back a laugh at Chimney’s groan from the couch downstairs.

Buck can’t help but giggle, and then Eddie’s falling back against him, and they’re trying, and promptly failing, to cover their laughs.

“I forgot he was here,” Eddie whispers.

“Too lost in the moment?”

Eddie buries his face back to the crook of Buck’s neck, and his breathy laugh is warm against Buck’s skin. They lie like this for a moment, both laughing quietly until their breathing evens out, and only the sound of the ticking ceiling fan cuts through the silence.

“Are you going to be okay tonight?”

Buck’s seen Chris tonight. Granted, it was through a camera that sometimes froze, leaving Chris’s voice still echoing through the speaker despite his face blurred mid-turn. But, he saw him. Alive. Breathing. Steady on dry land. And, Buck thinks, he’s got a very real, very alive, body atop him, keeping him grounded, keeping him from floating away.

Is he okay? No, Buck thinks. Okay is a loaded word with multiple jagged edges that struggle to smooth out and meet in the middle. But, tonight? With Eddie firm at his side, with Christopher safe and warm in his own bed?

“Yeah,” he says, and he can feel Eddie smile against his neck.

“I think I will be.”

#Buddie #911 fox #9 1 1 #9 1 1 fox #evan buckley #Eddie Diaz #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #emotional hurt/comfort #nightmares

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buckysgoldenheart · 3 years

Text

Angel in the Dark

Demon!August Walker x Reader

Summary: After a one-night stand, or what you thought would be one, a demon drags you to his world and forces you to grow wings like he has so you would have to stay with him, unable to permanently return to Earth.

Notes: (So this is like a one-shot that is little snippets/summary of something I might turn into a multi-chaptered fic. I’m not sure if I’m going to do that yet or if anyone would even like this idea, but if it seems a bit choppy, this is why.) I know its been an age and a half since i posted anything, but college, ya know? Also to those who have made requests, I have started all of them and they are to be posted next. I just started this fic a long time ago. I havent written anything for a while so it might actually kinda suck.

Warnings: Implied smut, kinda. Unhealthy attachment on August’s end. If I make this chaptered then there would be actual smut. I think cursing. Eventual Stockholm syndrome if continued.

Words: 1713

Angel in the Dark

You didn’t believe in fate, not really. You didn’t believe your life was predestined or anyone else’s to play with. It was yours alone, to make choices, good or bad. Only you decided when you did things and where you did them. And no one would have ever been able to convince you otherwise, until you met him.

Seeing him in that club, kissing him before you knew his name, now you couldn’t help but feel was in some way a trick, manipulated in his favor. That maybe bumping into him, quite literally, was his orchestration. Maybe whether you spoke to him or not, he had his sights set on you, and a one-night stand was never going to just get to be a one-night stand.

It was all too simple. Meeting you and not taking advantage, kissing you but following your lead, sleeping with you like you meant something to him. It didn’t add up. You could sense the kind of man he was; dominating and possessive. Too dominating and possessive to be as gentle with you as he had been. And all of it fell into a perfect line for what you now realized he wanted from you: not just sex, but more; nothing less than your life. But admitting all of that to yourself was entertaining the possibility that you were stalked like prey and any training at staying away from bad men had been a useless waste of time.

-------------------------------------------------

It was the third day, third of eight. August promised the pain would subside as the days passed, but so far he was proving to be a liar, not to your surprise. Every few hours, the wings ripped your skin wider to accommodate their size as they grew from the inside of your body pushing out. At three days, they were now the span of a couple feet, shining an opalescent white in the glare of the sun.

As you laid on your stomach, frozen in place against the mattress, wings bloodied and draped across your back with your eyes closed tight, you tried to understand the depth of the pain; how it was able to hurt the way it did. The feeling couldn’t compare to anything Earth may dare to offer. So different, so unnatural in its entirety, and indescribably excruciating. It was merciless, not letting you escape, not letting you find the will to walk without your bones threatening to crack. You could barely speak for fear fire would thrust itself up from your lungs and incinerate your throat. It was all-consuming, swallowing your body whole instead of localizing where the skin of your back had shredded open.

“Just a few more days,” August said, and you flinched at his voice. Every time he spoke it was a shock he was still there beside you, with his massive, black wings hanging over the back of the chair he sat in. Those monstrosities weren’t attached to his muscled back when you met him; nowhere in sight when he was in your bed.

August dabbed at your broken and bleeding skin with a cool cloth, eliciting little whimpers passed your chapped lips. “I know it hurts, Angel.”

“Don’t—" You forced out despite the heat in your throat, acid on your tongue, waves of nausea you knew would follow. “…C-Call me that.”

He sighed and continued to wipe the blood from your naked body. “I wish you wouldn’t say that. When the time is up, you’ll feel so much better about this, about me, and you’ll see how beautiful they are. You’re already so gorgeous, the wings will only add to your beauty.”

“I di-didn’t want--

“Don’t talk, Angel,” he said. “I know how you’re feeling about this right now, but humans are not allowed to live in this world. I had to do this so you can stay.”

You screamed as the wings tore your skin open a few more centimeters, and August quickly scooted his chair closer to brush the hair from your face.

He softly shushed you the way one might soothe a kitten, before leaning down and placing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “It’s ok. I’m not going to leave your side.”

You would have slapped at him, pushed him away with all your might if you had the strength, but your lungs were tightening, body burning as if it had been licked by the sun. You were dying, slowly morphing into a horrid creature from fantasies, leaving behind any trace of humanity. In your veins you could feel something coursing and altering your DNA. You knew you still looked like you, for the most part, but you weren’t you, not anymore. All because you met a man who got attached and wouldn’t let you go. All because he couldn’t remain in your world and decided with certainty that if he couldn’t be in yours, he would drag you to his. A place some believed in and some didn’t, a place no one could prove the existence of, now your iron cage.

------------------------------------------------

It was five more nights of torture before you felt like you could really breathe again, and even then, the oxygen was just as foreign as the pain you had trudged through, and you found little comfort in it fully filling your lungs.

“You’re awake.”

His smooth voice drew your eyes away from the scenery out the bedroom window; the first glimpse of true, heavenly beauty you’d seen since he brought you here. But you weren’t convinced it wasn’t an illusion crafted by his devilish fingers for your comfort. Much like his own beauty, a trick tempting you to call off your desire to leave this world and go home. You tried your best to ignore how perfect he looked; the curls of his hair, the scruff of his jaw, the black wings you first saw the night you met him when they had suddenly appeared only after you’d slept together.

“And you’re standing already. I hoped to come help you, but you’re clearly much stronger than I was after I had to grow my own wings.”

Your eyes flashed in anger before your tore them away from his, back to the rolling hills overlapping one another outside your window. The breeze rustling your hair, the chirp of the birds, the glisten of the sun off the small lake dotted in the landscape, distracted you from August’s approach. You stilled at his breath hitting the back of your neck, but when he slipped his rough fingers through the layers of your shimmering feathers you couldn’t contain the shiver that shot through your body. His own black ones ruffled when his skin touched his creation.

“So beautiful,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you’re proud of your work.”

August let out a puff of air, a weak laugh. “My work? Angel, this was all you. I knew they would be beautiful if they were going to be a part of you, but you really outdid yourself.”

Twisting your body fast, you met him chest to chest, your eyes burning with a heat to match the devil. “I outdid myself? You forced this on me. You injected me with that—that poison without my permission.”

“And you survived. Not many can say the same. You’ve come out stronger.” Fingers trailed through your feathers again and you ignored the heat it sent to your core.

“I’ve come out of this wanting to kill you more than I did before,” You said, shifting the wing back and away from his reach.

Without a moment to pass, August gently grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger as his gaze landed on your lips. “That will fade with time,” he whispered, then inched his face closer. You shoved him away just before his lips could meet yours, and August stumbled back with a chuckle. “Certainly stronger.”

“I’m not going to let you kiss me,” you snapped.

“Not today, it would seem.”

“Not ever again!” Somehow the words felt wrong, each one more sour than the last. Wrong, as if your lips called to his and a portion of your mind was so disappointed at the fight you were going to force it through by trying to keep yourself away from him. But it was a small portion, and the rest of you was much stronger.

“We will see, Angel,” He crossed his arms. “You and I have eternity. One day you will wake up and realize I am all you have, I am all you want, and this memory will be lost. All you will know is me and my touch and our world.”

As he spoke, his eyes held a gentle sincerity that you wished wasn’t there. You wished the blue of them wasn’t so calm and casual and certain of the way he was feeling. Shaking your head, you matched his stance. “You’re a monster,” you said. “You really are, and here I thought I’d seen the worst of monsters, but clearly not.”

August slowly stepped back into your space again, catching you off guard with a flush to your cheeks as he loomed over you. But you kept his stare, even with your back against the wall, wings spread against the stone. “You may breathe your sweet words all you’d like, Angel, but it changes nothing,” He said, running a knuckle down your cheek. “If I am a monster, I am your monster, and I’m not going anywhere.” Smiling, his eyes glanced at your lips again. “Luckily for me…neither are you.”

Tags:

@agniavateira @tumblnewby @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss @the-problem-of-leisure @amberlokabrenna @a-dlv @writing-about-current-obsessions @weallhaveadestiny @coffeebreathy @madbaddic7ed @petitefirecracker10

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

A Ruined Otaku

Warnings: Dom, Degradation (light), Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: i wanna make Levi cry (also just one oro for him!! I forgot to add the second:(()

Leviathan is many things. The third born. The Avatar of Envy. An angel turned demon. A Grand Admiral. He can summon an old creature, scales embedded with everything lost to the sea and kill with a simple squeeze of his hand. He’s something old and powerful, a minimalist body to hold the power and horror that resides. Leviathan, is an old demon, scales and teeth, thirsty for blood and poisonous to the mind, and yet, with all the power and title that he carries, he still lays beneath you, legs spread and cock oozing with semen, a gag shoved in his mouth- a simple makeshift of your underwear that was stained with arousal- soaked with his own drool as tears form in his eyes like dew that forms under the bright moon of Devildom. His hands are clawed into the cheap fabric of the small bed- a futon, if he was to be more specific- the fabric ripped and stuffing fluffing out of the sheet.

“You’re drooling,” you muse, the heels of your shoes clicking against the tile of his room. “You know how expensive those were, right?” He can only nod his head, feeling a thick sliver of drool slip down his chin. “Here I am, wasting money on you, getting all dolled up, and there you go. Drooling over my underwear like some fucking creep.” Your voice raises into a lilt at the end, a cruel smile stretching against your lips, your eyes narrowing as the fat of your cheeks push upwards. “Who’s going to get me a new outfit? Hm? Are you?” He remains silent, sniffling through the fabric, cock jerking, the spiraled head dotted with pearly white semen that drips down onto the bottom of his stomach, the scales that adorn him are coated in a slimy substance, glistening and heavy, lubricated due to his nature, aching and ready to be put to use. He can only nod his head at your question, he doesn’t do more than that, nodding until his purple hair is ruffled. You’re not stronger than him- you could never beat him in an actual fight, but he is at your mercy right now and with a slight work of spell, he can feel the pressure of your nails against his tight. “Answer me, Levi.”

His words are muffled against the cloth. He’s heard you say his name plenty of times, but each and every time, it still stirs something within him. “Yes,” he says, the word muffled, a harsh “sh” sound at the end of the word and he wants you to pierce his skin; he’d give you his strength just to feel blood prick at his skin, to feel you have all the power and to put him at your mercy. He thinks with a bit more practice, you should be able to leave him bruises in the shape of your hands. He salivates at the thought of feeling an actual sensation coming from you and not from some type of toy.

His stomach aches, his erection almost painful, skin tingling and running over his body with pricks. He can’t seem to find his breath. He tries to peer at you, so desperate to call you by name and ask you to touch him just once more, to give pity to him.

“And how are you going to do that? You waste every single grimm that you earn on figures and anything else you can get your hands on.” His legs are spread and he can feel your knee against the inside of his thigh. “So reckless and horrible. You’re a pathetic excuse for a demon.” His chest aches and his hands tighten around the sheets. “Worrying about standing in line, having me do all your dirty work just so you can jerk off to plastic.” He moans against the fabric when your hand wraps around his cock; you don’t cover him entirely but it’s more than enough for him to at least derive some pleasure. “Is that what gets you off? Fisting your cock over plastic, thinking about how the new waifu-” he can hear the distaste in your voice and he’s pleading in his mind for you to just hurry and jerk him off- “would bend over and ask you to fuck them.” Your laugh is harsh, piercing into his fragile self-esteem and he’s whining, a high-pitched and pathetic noise that makes you glower at him. “What do you think of when you jerk off over plastic?”

He refuses to answer. He’s a yucky otaku, something gross and perverted, a title given to him only because he had fallen along with his brothers. He is powerful but weak, cracking under pressure and having to beg for things. It’s already mortifying enough that you know of his perverted secret, humiliating, knowing that you’re using it against him in such a private and intimate moment. But he couldn’t help himself- he couldn’t ask you to help him, he was too nervous, shaking at the thought of telling you that he was aroused and none of the videos or hentai were doing it for him. It was his fault- he’s the one that bought the scantily clad figure, an ahegao expression printed onto it that was soon painted white.

The bed creaks, the metal groaning under the weight of both of you, the front of the bed knocking against the wall and his face burns. He knows that whatever happens will be echoed through the house, that he’ll be forced to endure even more teasing and having to go back to you and beg for you to take care of him.

Your hands dance on his abdomen, fluttering hands that graze his sides and rest where a rib cage would be, curving over his breasts and the heel of your palm nudges against his pebbled nipples. He is still, breath hitched in his throat and eyes fluttering to a close. It’s the softest touch he’ll get from you right now, something so comforting that it sends the muscle in his chest beating harsh against the skin of his body. He wants something harsher, he wants to feel you grip on him and never let go, to be gasping for breath simply because you gave him what he wanted. He’d lie on the ground and bleed for you, choke against his own blood, grovel at your feet and kiss the ground you walk on if it meant that you would touch him in the way he wanted to be touched.

Your hands are curved against his chest, the pads of your fingertips pressed into him and he stares at amazement above you. His cock, a spiraled tip with bumps and ridges, the shaft is a soft curve is a heavy, dark color. It’s hard, the scales that etch onto him below the head are rigid and bumped, the arousal and state of mind that he is in makes him lose focus. He’s spilling, drenched in his own arousal. You sit bare on his thighs. He can smell your sex, aroused and leaking. He’d give up an entire season of anime if it meant he could see how pretty your cunt looked.

“You’re a filthy, fucking whore, Levi.” With every inch that you sink onto his cock, he screams against your underwear. “A quick and easy fuck.” You’re so warm and soft, the puffiness of your walls enveloping in a sweet hug. “You should be lucky that even a human would want to touch you.” You spit the words out and his sobs against the cloth, jaw twitching and tear tearing through the fabric. Your hands grip at his face, turning him towards you and he looks at you with heavy eyes filled with tears. “Tell me your perverted fantasies, Leviathan.” The fabric spills from his mouth, dragging across his skin, leaving his lower half of the face in a thin layer of his own drool. You sneer at him and yank your hand away from his face, shaking it beside you as if to flick off any of his own secretion.

Where could he even start? He’s breathless, shaking in his position, trembling bones as he raises his arms and covers his face with clammy hands. He can feel your gaze on him, his face burning and chest heaving with every intake of air, pressing his heels into his face. His body reacts, knees bending, trying to curl up in a ball, meeting your ack instead and he can hear the soft puff of air.

He peeks between slender fingers, staring up at you and he can only lay and watch as you tilt your head. You raise your brows at him expectantly, and there’s a falling pit in his stomach. “I-” his voice cracks and his neck burns- “I think of you,” he says in a rushed voice. “I think of how good your mouth feels, how you always leave me pleased and completely drained.” He yelps when fingers twist at his nipple, the skin blooming in red and back arching, hands leaving his face to grasp at the bed. “I- I think of you- It’s always you. How you let such a poor excuse of a demon touch you.” His voice is steadily growing louder, choking through the words and staring up at you. “I’m gross and I’m touching you, a filthy, yucky otaku-” with each word his voice grows louder until it’s booming against the walls, the glass of his aquarium shaking, making the poor fish swim around anxiously- “who thinks of fucking you when I jerk off.”

He’s pitiful. Messy, purple hair that sticks to his forehead with sweat, orange eyes tinted with blue shine under tears that have yet to be shed, few tear streaks wet at his face, falling down to the pillow under him, the dark gray pillowcase darkens under him. Your hand cradles his face and for the first time in the night, his chest feels light, he can breathe, staring at your parted lips and wanting to kiss them. He purses his lips and jerks his head towards your, eyes closing slowly- just one kiss, something so simple and innocent that he wants.

He’s pulled back with a soft click of your tongue, your head shaking in a denial that you give him. “Tsk, tsk.” Your hand is still gentle and it’s intoxicating to have you touch him. His cock warms your insides, pulsing and aching, his entire control kept in check in order to not disobey and let himself ravage your weaker body. There’s a horrible thought in his head as you lay limp in his arms as he pushes inside your body, kissing at your wet lips and meeting the dazed look in your eyes. “Only good boys get to kiss me.” Your lips are so close to his and your free hand rests on the curve of his breast. “Are you a good boy, Levi?” The tip of your nose grazes at his and he’s never been so weak in his entire life, never so full of want and hunger to force himself to move so he can kiss your lips.

“No,” he breathes out. His tongue peeks out, the soft, pink tip lapping at his lips. “I’m horrible.” He thinks he’d kill for just a simple kiss. “Make me a good boy, please.” He calls your name, he dares to utter the breath of his love in such a hopeless voice, wanting to reach above with curling hands.

He gasps when your lips are pressed against his- slipping past, slick with something sour, tongue slipping past and entering his mouth. If it were any other day, he’d slip his tongue in your mouth and have you choke, but for now, he remains unable to, completely at your will. He’s certain now- he really would kill for just a simple kiss from you.

It’s shameful and he won’t live it down for the next odd years, but the kiss is enough to send him over the edge. He keeps his lips pressed to yours, bruising almost as he pushes himself against you, cock twitching and a soft rut of his hips as he spills his seed inside of you. It’s a thick, heavy flow, filling you and his hands are moving, flat against your back and curing against the back of your head, pushing you closer to him. His mouth opens and he whines, salivating as you let out a stifled moan. Filthy and wet, his slick sliding out of you, coating his cock with semen, the scales that line around him are lost under him.

He’s delirious, humping you, his face dazed and eyes rolled to the back of his head, a heavy blush across his face as you let him do all the work. While endurance was never his strongest suit, he absolutely loses himself over you, his thrusts becoming sloppier- a lewd, wet shucking sound fills the room, your breasts bouncing and it’s humiliating at how riled he becomes. He pants like a bitch in heat, and he can hear just how pathetic he sounds, croaking and gasping for breath.

You’re slick, your walls molded around him, the soft walls that envelop him in a warm hug, make him twitch. He’s whining, chest vibrating against yours, his stiff nipples pressed against your soft chest. Every pull of your body makes him murmur a slurred version of your name, mind hazy as he continues to rut inside of you, feeling the burning heat in his lower stomach return, aching and tightening, having him kick out his legs as his body starts to grow rigid and antsy.

“Such a whore, Levi.” Your lips brush against the shell of his ear, lowering yourself on his cock, the base of it stretching your wet sex. The curve of his cock pushes against a spot, eliciting a strangled moan from you. You clench tighter around him, your plush walls squishing around him- silky and plush, against his cock. “Acting like you’ve never fucked a cunt before.” Your words low, lowering your head to kiss at his neck, wet spots that glisten against his skin.

“Not-” he’s interrupted by a moan, hands clawing against you, pressing you close to his flush body- “not as good as yours.” His hands release you and you immediately rise. Your smile is breathless and coy, chest rising and dropping as you stare down at him. Your eyes soften for just a moment, and his own hands come to pinch at his nipples, the soft tissue of his breast squished under his hands. He must look pitiful- a look akin to that of a hurt animal if your gaze on him is anything to go by. He knows how he must look. A flushed face tinted in a rosy red, eyes that shine with tears, lashes that catch the fallen drops and a tear-stained face, puffy, reddened lips that part with each gasp of air. He must look wretched.

Your hand curves around his cheek and he leans into your touch. “How sweet-” your smile returns into a more stretched version, teeth hidden behind your lips- “my dear Leviathan.” He wonders if you can hear the way that his heart beats. His mouth parts and there’s a sick perversion where he wants you to spit on him, to treat him like the disgusting pervert that he truly is. “Are you close?” Your nails drag along his skin and he can only nod, eyes flickering to where your skin slaps against his. “You know that you’re only allowed to because of me, correct?” Your eyes glint with something that he cannot place. “No matter what anyone says,” your voice lowers and it’s erotic to him, something like a drug that he’s never taken and makes him all more weak to you, “you’re nothing more than a living toy.” He jerks inside of you and his stomach begins to ache. “A pretty, little demon that I get to fuck.” He so desperately wants to touch you. “You’re nothing more than a filthy, yucky otaku.” His nails pierce into the skin of his breasts, blood dotting along him. Your eyes dart to his chest before returning to his eyes, lowering until the tip of your nose brushes against his. “Don’t ruin yourself Levi, save that for me.” Your lips meet his and he does as he is told.

His hands leave his chest and he pushes you onto him, spilling his seed into your cunt, feeling the way that your walls tighten and pulse, the heavy beating of your body and the heat that floods out. He’s moaning into you, muffled and drowning out your gasped version of his name that escapes your lips.

His cock is wet as he lays beside you. He’s curled against your side, a softening cock that sticks against your thigh, body curved so his head rests on your chest. He lays above you, eyes wet as you pet his hair. “You had such a lovely look on you, Levi.” He can feel your lips kiss at the crown of his head. “It made you look so handsome.” He lets out a weak cry, nodding as tears slip past his closed eyes, nuzzling closer to your chest as your hand lowers to soothe against his back. You shush him gently as he begins to rut against your thigh.

#obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me levi x mc #obey me leviathan headcanons #leviathan x reader

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hobidreams · 4 years

Text

august 1868.

the gilded throne is, above all, lonely.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama words: 1.1k contains: historical au, political talk

moonlit throne index. this is drabble six. start from the beginning?

“No.”

Alone atop his throne, King Yoongi does his best to stare down the almost two-dozen court officials that avert their eyes from him, standing from their proper place below the raised platform. His fingers, spread over the wooden armrests, tighten furtively.

“But jeonha! We believe it is the right decree, if we are to have any chance of quelling the rebellions.” The men beside the speaking advisor, Minister Choi, nod enthusiastically along.

“I do not believe it will be as effective as you think.”

Another advisor pipes up, his grey beard trembling. “If we execute the leaders, the rest of the uprising will lose their morale and cease their protests and ransacking. It will be the best method of control.”

“Please consider it, jeonha!” The rest of the men chime in a chorus, like birds that keep on fucking twittering in the morning when Yoongi just wants to sleep.

When he doesn’t respond immediately, Minister Choi interjects yet again. “Be assured that I only say this out of loyalty for your family,” even though his smarmy tone implies otherwise, “but this strategy has worked in the past for your father.”

Yoongi’s downturned mouth twitches then, betraying his deepening irritation. He despises that phrase. It’s true, his time on the throne doesn’t add up to two years. Most of the advisors here have been working in the palace for more than ten times that length, and they haven’t been afraid to challenge him at every turn. But he is the one on the throne, plagued with uncertainty or not. The decisions are his to be made, no matter how much he questions if they are correct.

Exhaustion pulls at his brain, wanting petulantly to dismiss all of the men for some temporary relief. It’s out of habit that he casts a glance to his right and his chest aches at the empty spot where his mother used to sit, offering him guidance or at the very least, comfort.

Wrong decision.

That one look starts up the murmuring, the not-so-subtle glances amongst the men, his psyche no doubt their concern. The blame all falls on him, he knows. Two months was too long to spend distraught. Without a strong leadership watching over the land, he’d been the one to give the rebels time to rally and flourish. His fault. His fault. His fault, and the skepticism towards his reign seems to spread faster than anything else.

“Jeonha—”

“They are peasants!” Shit. His harsh voice cracks through the space, temper lost when it needed to be kept most. He’s horrifyingly aware that he sounds like a kid, throwing a tantrum when things don’t go his way. He hates those stares that seem to be mocking his authority, questioning it at every turn. What he wants to say is that the rebels are only lashing out because they’re hungry, because there’s not enough grain in the land to feed their families, but so what if he does? He doesn’t know how to fix that either. He doesn’t know what to do, when all these officials are looking to him for answers and he has nothing and every decision feels like it’s damning him or his people further. His people. All those people. If he can’t even control his court, how is he meant to rule the country?

“Peasant or not, they are breaking the law. Your laws, jeonha.”

Yoongi sets his jaw. Clenches his teeth so hard they hurt as tension fills his mind, shoving against his skull itself until the pressure is all he knows. The ache demands his attention, just like everything else, as if he isn’t just one man. But the reality is, he isn’t any longer. He is the king and he needs to do better. He needs to be stronger than this. He’ll lose control soon completely if nothing changes.

“Do it.” He forces his tongue to move. Tells himself it’ll be easier the next time. “Schedule the execution.” If this is what it takes, he’ll do it again and again and again until it’s enough.

The relief that sweeps through the room is instantly tangible. “Yes! We shall!” The men cry, dropping into a row of bows.

Yoongi’s already standing before they rise. He takes hurried, barely-controlled strides towards the door, issuing a firm “dismissed!” right before he bursts into the heat of the afternoon. The bright, sunny weather only feels stifling with all his robes dragging behind him. He kicks up dust clouds as he turns, not quite knowing where to go from here but craving something else, anything different to distract him.

“Jeonha!” Eunuch Kim’s voice rings out and Yoongi can hear the man’s steps trying to catch up but even the presence of his oldest companion irritates him right now.

“Leave me be,” he growls, and keeps going.

Stooped at the corner of the private palace gardens, you smile as you tend to the small collection of herbs your mother was allowed to plant here by the former king. They’re growing well these days, enjoying the bright sunshine that summer always brings. “It’ll be time to harvest you soon,” you murmur in-between your humming of a folk tune. You don’t get to check on these plants often since you live near the other uinyeo on the other side of the palace grounds, and well, being in such close proximity to the king’s quarters these days is… You’re just grateful he let you stay in the palace at all.

“Jeonha!”

There’s a sudden clamor at the exact entrance you were trying to avoid.

Trepidation bursts in your heart as you look up, squinting in the sunlight to see the king entering the grounds at a startling pace. Despite your instincts telling you to flee, you don’t dare make any sudden movements for fear of drawing his attention. But you can’t seem to look away either, sleeves dragging in the dirt as you follow his rush to the pavilion, unconsciously holding your breath until he slams down onto the seat so furiously that you can hear it even across the pond.

Then, and only then, when he is half-shielded by the pavilion’s low walls, does he huddle into himself. Cradles his head in his own arms, shoulders heaving with the strain of deep, quivering breaths you are too far away to hear. But this time, you know that he doesn’t need you. He’d said it himself, and not a word more has he spoken to you in all these months, as if that awful point needed proving.

So you force yourself to stay exactly where you are, despite your wanting. You keep your distance, even when he’s crumbling before your eyes.

#ficswithluv #bts angst #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #daechwita #historical au #min yoongi #bts scenarios #rain writes #moonlit throne

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morosemagick · 3 years

Text

Listen, Before I Go | Finan x Reader One Shot

Welcome to my first one shot/first Reader!Fic.

Be gentle, I'm trash.

Warning: Major Character Death, (its sad, okay, idk what else to say.)

Words: 3847

Tagged:

@solinarimoon @lauwrite1225

You had seen many things in your life as a traveling healer. Wounds and illnesses alike, taking you from place to place wherever people may need you. Taking care of people was in your blood. Both your parents were healers, and you planned on using all they taught you to care for people around the world. And yet, when you met Uhtred of Bebbanburg and his crew of accident-prone warriors in the aftermath of the battle at Tettenhall, something inside you told you to stay. A feeling in your heart, telling you that no one will ever need you more than they would. Over the months that passed, that feeling proved true. You healed every cut, bruise, and battle wound they would come to acquire. Each wound healed was a bond growing stronger with each man in Uhtred’s service, including your lord himself.

Osferth, the first of the Coccham boys you healed. His kindness was always warming to the heart. Sihtric, who spoke often of his wife and joked about his desire to return to her in one piece. And of course, Finan, whose laugh made your heart skip a beat and smile did things to you that was certainly ungodly. They were your family, and you loved them all dearly.

And you would do whatever it took to save their lives.

Especially now, when they needed you most.

“Sihtric!” You scream out at the sight of him, bloody and broken. The snow falls thick and heavy around you, stained red with the Danish man’s blood and Osferth and Finan work together to lift him from the ground.

“We got him, Y/N, just go!” Finan yells out, and you nod okay. The storm is picking up and though the raiders that ambushed you are dead, none of you are out of the woods yet.

Up ahead is a cave. It’s cold and dark but it’s dry, and getting Sihtric out of the storm is your main priority.

“This way, to the cave!” You call out as you lead the men forward, being sure to check for any unfriendly creatures that might be hiding out from the storm inside. When the coast is clear, you wave the others on.

As carefully as they can, Osferth and Finan lower Sihtric to the ground. The injured warrior groaned as he touched the ground, “We need to make a fire.” Finan tells the rest of you.

“Did anyone see Lord Uhtred?” Osferth questions, making you and Finan glance at each other.

You shake your head no, and then Finan looks back to Osferth, “He must be with Lady Aethelflaed.”

“Should we look for them-”

“We can’t,” Finan cuts him off, sighing, “We must stick together, make a fire, and take care of Sihtric.”

“I will tend to Sihtric,” You tell them, “Go get what you need for a fire but please stay close, this storm is only getting worse, and finding your way back might get harder.”

Finan nods okay, and the two men leave as you bend down to check up on Sihtric. He’s breathing heavy but he’s still alert so that has you at ease. Checking his wound on his side, it doesn’t seem bad but it will definitely need stitching. His skin, however, is freezing to the touch and that makes you nervous, “That bad?” Sihtric chuckles the best he can, his eyes looking so very tired.

“Not at all, you needed stitches. That’s all,” You tell him as you look through the pouch tied to your belt.

“You are a bad liar, Y/N,” He huffs, looking up to the ceiling of the cave, “Tell me, please.”

Biting your lip, you sigh and glance away, “You're freezing, you need fire or you may get sick.”

“I could have told you that,” He laughs but the motion makes his side hurt and his laughter turns to a wince.

“You must rest, Sihtric, please,” You tell him as you find your needle and thread, “Eahlswith will not forgive you if you do not make it home in one piece, remember?”

“Ealhswith,” He smiles slightly, and then grunts as you start to clean the wound, “I miss her.”

“And you will see her soon, I promise,” Glancing up, you can see fear in Sihtrics eyes, and it breaks your heart, “I swear it, Sihtric.”

He only nods, and you continue to care for him in silence.

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

Time has passed, and the fire has been made, but it’s small and just barely enough to keep you all comfortable so to make up for the lack of heat you all huddle close to each other. You are to Sihtric’s left, Finan is to yours, and Osferth is on the other side of Sihtric. Sihtric’s wound was cleaned well but he is still very cold and you’re trying your best not to show how worried you are. As you take a deep breath, you let out a shiver and it shakes your whole body.

Noticing how cold you are, Finan scoots closer and wraps his arms around yours and holding it tight, “You alright, Y/N?”

You glance momentarily at Sihtric, who's currently half awake with his head on your shoulder and his eyes on the fire ahead of them, and then look back at Finan, “I am.”

It’s a lie. You’re terrified.

Terrified of losing your friends, of dying to the cold, but mostly you’re terrified of not being able to keep the oath you made to Lord Uhtred and yourself to keep them all safe. It’s killing you inside.

Sihtric is shivering to your right, his cold body against yours sending chills down your spine.

“Alright there, Sihtric?” You ask him, though you know the answer. Instead of staying strong, you can feel him shake his head no. His fear brings a tear to your eyes, “It’ll be okay.”

“It will not,” Sihtric whispers, making everyone else suddenly alert to how beaten he’s feeling.

“It will be, Sihtric, we will get out of this mess like we have every other mess Uhtred has gotten us into,” Finan tries to joke in an attempt to keep everyone’s spirit up.

“Uhtred isn’t even here,” Sihtric tells him, his head still rested on your shoulder, “We might never see him again. I might not-”

“We are getting out of here,” Osferth adds, “God will see us through this.”

“He is not my God, Osferth, he does not care if I live or die,” Sihtric argues.

None of you have seen him so defeated before.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” You tell Sihtric as you turn your body to face him, forcing him to lift his head up. You can tell it’s a struggle for him to hold himself up, and it’s hard for you to keep a calm expression. You grab Sihtric by his face and put on your best smile, but your eyes are still watering and the wind outside has made it so unbearably cold; so at this point, you don’t know if you have it in your heart to lie to him. So you don’t, “I know you are cold, and you hurt, but I will do whatever it takes to make sure you get home to Coccham. To your wife, and to your son.”

Sihtric nods okay, but his eyes tell another story as he starts to cry.

Past his shoulder, you can see Osferth is also looking mighty defeated as his own eyes start to get red, and behind you, Finan’s hand has gripped your cloak and tight.

And then, to make matters worse, the fire dies.

“Fucking bastard fire!” Finan growls loudly as he kicks the still hot wood with his foot, making soot spread, “Fuck!” His scream echoes throughout the cave as he gets up and stomps around in anger, and you look away from Sihtric as you start to cry, biting your lip in hopes of keeping your fear to yourself.

On the tips of your fingers, you feel Sihtric’s tears falling down.

“Finan, sit... please,” Osferth calls out, and you can hear his voice cracking, “Being angry will solve nothing.”

Sihtrics’ crying has worsened, and now they can all hear him.

You pull him closer to you, cuddling him like a child in your arms, trying your best to keep him warm. His sobbing is enough to shake you both, but you keep your grip on him strong. Osferth scoots his body closer to Sihtrics, putting his arm around his brother, and to your left, you can hear Finan return to his seat. After a moment or two, you can feel his arms wrap around your waist and hold you tight.

At least if you die, it will be next to those you love the most.

The four of you sit this way in silence for some time, the only things you can hear are Sihtric crying and the strong snowy winds blowing outside the cave. You have never been a very religious person, but at that moment you find yourself praying to every god you can think of to save the ones you love.

A moment later you hear Sihtric sniffle, and shuffle a bit in your arms before he sighs and speaks, “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Can you sing for us?” He asks, and you nod yes.

If you can bring him comfort now, in what very well might be his final hours, you will do whatever he wishes.

“Take me to the rooftop. I wanna see the world when I stop breathing. Turning blue,” You rest your cheek on top of Sihtric’s head, and your eyes glance away as you continue, “Tell me, love is endless, don't be so pretentious. Leave me, like you do. If you need me, wanna see me, better hurry 'Cause I'm leaving soon,” There's sniffling in the air as you sing, you can hear Osferth shuffling, probably to get closer to Sihtric, and you can feel Finan’s arms grip you tighter. “Sorry, can't save me now. Sorry, I don't know how. Sorry, there's no way out but down, mm down.”

You move your left hand down to where Finan is holding you tight, and he moves to grab it, squeezing it as best he can. His hand is lacking a glove, and yet you can feel his warmth.

You hold on to that feeling as you continue singing, “Taste me, the salty tears on my cheek. That's what a year-long headache does to you. I'm not okay, I feel so scattered, don't say I'm all that matters. Leave me. Deja vu. If you need me, wanna see me, you better hurry. I'm leaving soon,” Finan’s head is on your shoulder, you can feel his breath on your neck. It makes you think of all the times you should’ve kissed him. You should have told him. Probably too late for that now, though, “Sorry, can't save me now. Sorry, I don't know how. Sorry, there's no way out, but down, mm down. Write my friends and tell them that I love them. And I'll miss them... but I'm not sorry. Write my friends and tell them that I love them, and I'll miss them…”

Sorry.

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

The men have been asleep for some now, but you’re still awake. You have been staring at Sihtric all night, watching his chest rise and fall. Making sure his chest still rises and falls. A couple of times you’ve even put your fingers to his lips to make certain that he’s still breathing. Anything to make sure he’ll survive through the night. On the other side of him, Osferth is sound asleep, you can hear the man snore just slightly, and see him cuddled against Sihtric’s side.

The inside of this cave is freezing but you know it’s better than being out in the storm.

“Y/N?” You hear Finan whisper, “Are you up?”

“I am,” You whisper back, your fingers hovering just above Sihtric’s lips. Still breathing, good. You roll over slowly to not wake him, and when you are facing Finan, you sigh, “He is still alive, thank God.”

“Do you think he’ll make it?” Finan asks quietly, his eyes a red mess.

You shrug, not wanting to lie right now, “I do not know, Finan,” You shake your head, and the tears are building in your eyes again and your next words barely make it out, “I fear the worst.”

The tears fall down your cheeks and you try your best to not cry too loudly because you fear waking them more than you do crying in front of the man who’s stolen your heart. Finan reaches out to hold you by your cheeks and you can feel how warm he is still, it’s not much but enough to feel wonderful against your cold face as you cry. He shuffles his body closer to you, and you can feel his breath on your face as you open your eyes.

You don’t want to die without him knowing how he makes you feel. How he makes your heart flutter. How he fills you with so much life.

How loved he makes you feel.

“Finan- I need to tell you something,” You get yourself ready to say the words, but he stops you with his finger on your lips.

“Tell me in the morning, Y/N,” He’s smiling, but his eyes are red and full of tears.

“But what if we don’t make it to morning?” Your voice cracks, and instead of answering Finan leans in and kisses you. It’s warm and delicious, and you want to kick yourself that it’s only happening now when you might not live to see another day because your body is cold but kissing Finan now fills your soul with so much warmth.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be a terrible way to die.

The two of you stay like that for a while, and you're trying your best to etch every inch of him into your mind as he pulls you in closer by the way to deepen the kiss. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s like coming home, and when you finally break apart the content smile on his face says he feels the same.

Finan leans back in, kissing your face over and over again. Making sure to kiss away all the tears that have stained your cheeks and then finding his way to your neck, “If I didn’t fear waking them, I’d pull my cock from my trousers and warm you with that.”

You try to bite your lip to contain your laughter, but a snicker comes out anyway, “I’m sure that is that last thing either of them would like to see now.”

“Aye, but what a sight it would be,” He smirks, leaning in for another kiss, “But If I’m going to bed you, Y/N, it will be properly I swear it.”

“I will hold you to that,” You tell him with another kiss, and as you move to separate you can see the expression on his face shift and the mood become more somber, "We should try to sleep. We need our energy."

"You sleep, I'll keep watch," Finan tells you, kissing your forehead.

"Nothing is going to hurt us here but the cold," You try to tell him, "Please try to sleep, Finan."

"I will, Y/N, let me just hold you for a while," Finan nods for you to turn around and you comply, and a moment later his arms are around your waist again and he's kissing behind your ear. Then, barely a whisper and more like wind, you can hear him say something in your ear, "Tá grá agam duit."

It's the last thing you hear before you fall asleep.

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

You wake from your sleep in a cold sweat, your heart racing as you rise quickly from the ground. The first thing you do is turn your body to your right to check on Sihtric, and to your surprise you find him sitting up and wide awake.

It brings tears to your eyes.

"Oh thank God," You can't help but say at the sight of him.

Sihtric smiles slightly. He looks tired, but he's alive and that's all the matters, "Good morning, Y/N."

"How are you feeling?" You ask as you lean over to put the back of your hand on his forehead. He's warmer than he was last night, which is a good sign, "Warmer? Is your wound okay?"

"Looks like you did it again, Y/N," Osferth calls out as he enters the cave with firewood in his hand, "Told you you’d be okay." Osferth drops the wood where the original fire once sat and then walks over to Sihtric and ruffles his hair, "Lord Uhtred will be pleased."

You chuckle, wiping your face of tears, and then suddenly you remember last night and Finan.

With a smile still on your face you turn to your left, where you can see his body still lying there, "Finan, it's morning-" the moment you put your hand on him your smile fades and your heart drops as you notice something very important. His fur cloak isn't on his body, but on yours and Finan is cold, "Finan?" You shake his shoulder as you call his name, the frantic sound of your voice getting the other’s attention, "Finan!"

Osferth rushes to your side just as you turn him on his back, and you place your fingers to his lips and can barely feel a thing. Osferth, however, has his hand on Finan’s forehead, "He's burning up."

"I cannot feel his breath," You tell Osferth as the tears hit you quick, and your breathing is all over the place, "Finan, come on, please-" you start to pump at his chest to get his heart moving, breathing into his mouth to help him get air. You do both this over and over again, trying not to let the sobbing stop you, "Come on, Finan, please!"

"Y/N?" You can hear Sihtric's voice question you from where he sits, the sound of fear clear.

You keep going, refusing to give up on him. Thinking about the other night.

You still haven't told him-

"Y/N," Osferth calls to you, but you do not stop, "Y/N," He tries pulling you away, but you keep going, and going, but now Osferth is pulling a little harder, "Y/N, please-"

And just as Osferth is about to tell you to stop, Finan starts to gasp for air and your heart can beat again, "God, thank you," you cry as you pull Finan close to you, taking off the cloak he gave you in the night and putting it back around his body. He's breathing lightly, but he's breathing so that's good enough for now, "You're okay, Finan, you're okay." He lifts his hand up to grab yours and you place a kiss on the top of his head.

“It seems your God is with us, Osferth,” Sihtric chuckles from behind them, making you and Osferth look back at him with a smile.

“We need to get out of this cave,” Osferth smiles, patting your shoulder as he rises to his feet.

“Why, when you’ve seemed to have made it home?” The voice from behind you has you all turning heads, a shocked and pleased look on your faces when you see Lord Uhtred has found you, “Y/N, what have you done to my men? They look awful.”

You laugh in relief at the sight of him. It seems all the Gods have heard your prayer.

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

You all get home to Coccham in one piece, and you’ve never been happier to see your little home in your whole life. They leave Finan with you so you can watch him recover, and you do not mind giving the Irishman your bed. It’ll take him a few days to heal, and after everything that has happened, you’d prefer to keep a close watch on him. Sihtric and Ealhswith stop by to visit, partially so you check on Sihtric and partially so Ealthswith can thank you with meals for bringing her husband home.

Osferth and Lord Uhtred stop by as well. Finan isn’t always awake so they usually sit by his side for a while. Osferth prays and you think Uhtred might too.

You are cooking dinner one evening when you hear movement in your bedroom, and the sound of something falling over. You immediately rush to the other room to find that Finan is trying to sit up, and has knocked a cup of water to the floor.

“What do you think you're doing?” You giggle as he leans back down, feeling grateful to see him awake.

“If you wanted me in your bed, Y/N, you only needed to ask,” Finan jokes as you walk closer to him, sitting at the edge of the bed, “What happened?”

“You’re a fool, that’s what happened,” You tell him as you put your hand to his forehead and he is no longer burning, which is good, “You had a fever, almost froze to death,” Your smile fades as you take a deep breath, “I thought I lost you for a moment…”

“A fever?” He questioned, looking generally lost, “I don’t remember a fever,” He reaches out and takes your hand, gently rubbing your knuckles, “But I do remember some things. You were going to tell me something, were you not?”

You smile and lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’ll tell you when you're out of this bed.”

Finan laughs, using his other hand to reach out and hold you close from your neck, “Will you now?”

“You have promises you have to make good on first,” Your smirk as you lean in closer.

“Oh and I plan on making good of them, Y/N,” Finan tells you in a low voice that makes you squirm.

You chuckle as you lean in even closer, “God is good.”

“Aye,” He smirks as he hovers over your lips, “Praise him.”

Oh, you do. You thank him later that night in bed as you ride him and Finan makes good on his promise to warm you. A bed that Finan ends up never leaving and now you share together. You praise him on your wedding day, and multiple times on your wedding night. You praise him a few months later when you find yourself pregnant with your firstborn, and again when you give birth to your first son. You thank God for every child you have after, and every moment with this family of yours; made and found, that you decided to stay in Coccham and make it your home.

You thank God, all the Gods, for every moment they bless you with.

Even once your husband passes on.

And one day, when you're old, tired, and lying in the grass surrounded by the ones you love most you thank him one last time; before you go, for blessing you with such a life.

Grateful to go out under the heat sun, taking in the world one last time.

#finan x reader #one shot #angst #we here to get sad kids #character death #the last kingdom #tlk #finan the agile #tlk finan #fanfic #fanfiction #mcloveproductions

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britishassistant · 3 years

Text

Eurydice and Izanami Didn’t Complain Half As Much

The human won’t take the bed.

Beel’s honestly begun measuring his interactions with the human by what it won’t do more than what it will.

It won’t eat or drink anything other than bottled water, even when its movements are growing so slow and sluggish that it makes Beel’s belly rumble both in commiseration and with the promise of easy (if unsatisfyingly stringy) prey. It’s been nearly two weeks already— it frightens him how easily it can deny itself, even when Lucifer forces it to sit with them at breakfast, lunch and dinner, scowling down at the table full of food but not eating any of it.

It won’t stop trying to escape the Devildom, slowly driving up Lucifer’s blood pressure with every attempt to slip out of the House of Lamentation, to scale the fences at R.A.D., to run away when escorted into town. It even tried to escape when he threw the fridge at Mammon for his pudding and it missed and went through its room, using the confusion of the fight to jump out of the now broken window, only for his eldest brother to materialize outside and use it as a projectile to knock him and Mammon out of their brawl.

And now it won’t take the bed.

Instead, it’s trying to curl up on the floor under the couch, without even a pillow.

“I can take the couch.” He tries again. “You have the bed.”

The human snorted. “Did you not hear me the first time? I don’t want the bed or the couch. I want to sleep here.”

“On the ground.” Beel says doubtfully.

”Yes.”

“In your uniform.” Beel eyes the wrinkled skirt and shoe’d feet of the human.

“Yes.”

”Without a pillow.”

”...Well I won’t say no if you have one to spare.” The human admits grudgingly. “But I’m sleeping here, and that’s final.”

Beel puzzles over this statement. “Are you going to try to escape during the night if you sleep there?”

There’s a suspiciously long silence. The human won’t look him in the eye.

”...no.” It says, unconvincingly.

He thinks he’s starting to understand the twitch that’s been forming in Lucifer’s left eye. Does this human not know the meaning of taking a break? It’s like dealing with Belphie’s stubbornness when it comes to waking up or getting out of bed, but in reverse.

”Fine.”

The human’s face brightens for the first time since he’s met it. “Finally, at least one of you lot is sen—“

Beel sweeps all the sheets and pillows off his bed onto the floor, and goes to the cupboard and pulls out the extra bedding to add to the pile.

”Whaaaat are you doing?” The human asks.

”Sleeping here.” Beel says innocently, trying to get comfortable on the padding he’s laid down, creating a sort of nest for himself between the couch and the door. One that the human won’t be able to pass without risking stepping on him if they try to sneak out. “And that’s final.”

The human looks almost comically offended, staring at him in open-mouthed indignation.

It huffs and snatches a pillow from his pile for itself, turning it’s back on him with purpose, like Asmo in a snit. “Whatever. You get the lights then. I can’t sleep unless it’s dark.”

”Sure.” He replies agreeably, standing to flick them off and grinning where the human can’t see him. It’s kind of fun messing with them, maybe even more fun than teasing Mammon or the angel chihuahua. The absent-minded thought wanders through his brain, wondering if this would’ve been what Lilith would’ve been like, if she’d survived the fall with them. She always got pouty when she was teased too.

Then Beel realizes what he’s thinking, and the gaping maw of guilt in the pit of his stomach becomes unbearable. The smile drops from his lips as he flicks the lights off.

He rummages in his drawer until he finds what he’s looking for. He munches on his sandwich as he fumbles his way back to his bed for the night.

”Are—are you seriously eating again?” The human’s tone is incredulous.

”I’m hungry.” He mutters darkly, polishing off the last few bites and ripping open the packet of chips as his stomach gurgles again.

The gurgling continues even after the pangs in his stomach have stopped.

Beel’s lived a long time. Long enough to be able to distinguish and recognize each of his stomach noises telling him what he’s hungry for.

That was not his stomach noise.

”...”

”...You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

The human shifts in the dark, little more than a shapeless mass under the couch. “I’m fine. I’ve dealt with worse for longer than this.”

Beel...doesn’t know if he likes the sound of that. “If you’re hungry, you should eat.”

That provokes a bitter laugh. “Ha! Words of an adult who’s never gone without.”

He scowls at its shape in the dark. “I’m always going without. Nothing keeps me full. Nothing makes me full. I can eat and eat and eat, and I’ll still be as hungry as I was when I started. But even eating a little when I can is better than not eating anything at all.”

He can smell it, the human’s scent almost choking at this proximity. It’s odd, a spicy, rich scent like cardamom studded pork with an undercurrent of something...not quite right to it. Almost curdled, somehow.

Beel’s mouth salivates, no matter how many chips he tries to fill it with. His stomach and tastebuds can handle any food, no matter how long it’s been left out to sour. In some cases, he finds it improves the flavor of his meal. He’s never eaten a living human that’s smelled spoiled before though.

He wonders what it tastes like.

”Well if you can find me some human food that I know won’t trap me here for all eternity, then I’ll eat.” The human growls back. “Or, even better idea! Just stop wasting everyone’s time and send me home altogether! Then you and your brothers and me and mine can all live happily ever after the way we were meant to. Out of each other’s hair.”

Oh.

“You have brothers?” He tries to keep the tremble in his voice under control.

Tries not to picture Belphie, miserable and alone and lost in the human world, fighting with all the impotent ferocity of this human to get out, get out, get away, get back to him.

He misses Belphie. He misses Belphie.

The human shifts again in the dark. If the light under the door from the corridor could pass Beel’s bulk, he thinks he’d see it glisten off it’s wet eyes peering at him. “Well. One biological one. And an adopted one, and an adopted sister who’s his biological sister, but it’s. Complicated.”

Beel contemplates this. “Siblings are siblings. We’re not all related by blood.”

“I know that.” The human snaps, sounding oddly irritated. “It’s just...are they your adopted siblings if you and your best friend kinda adopted them together? Like, Shio and Asahi call us all ‘big brother’ and ‘big sister’, but who do we say has custody, really? Cause they love him and he really loves them, and they’re so good for each other, and I don’t wanna take that away from him, but...”

Beel doesn’t quite understand the thread of this complaint. Not in the least because his best friends have always been his brothers and sister, no matter how much they drive each other up the wall.

“Is your best friend not your brother too?”

There’s a sharp crack.

“FUCK!”

Beel’s salivating gets worse at the sudden iron tang of blood.

“Are you okay?” He asks, as he desperately tries to swallow it back down, standing to go grab some more food and maybe a towel for the human.

There’s a pained groan. “Y-yeah. Just...tried to sit up. Forgot about the couch.”

“You can still take the bed.” Beel points out, warring between trying not to breathe in through his nose and get ambushed by more of that delicious scent and keeping his mouth shut enough not to drool all over himself.

“No, I’m sleeping here, fuck off.” The human grumbles petulantly. It yelps a little when he throws the handtowel at it.

Beel inhales gratefully as the scent is finally muffled somewhat.

“And no. He’s not. My brother, that is. He’s my best friend.” The human said, as if the distinction was somehow important.

“…What’s the difference?” Beel asks, confused.

The human sighs explosively, as if this is a monumental chore he’s forced on it. “I-I don’t kn—! You’re related to one and not the other?! I just—! Are your brothers seriously all you have, because if so, you need to get out more, you know that?! Find people who won’t belittle you every damn second of the day. Get more healthy relationships, or all that jazz. Fuck, I don’t know, I’m not a therapist!”

Beel chews on the first mouthful of his second bag of chips as he digests this tirade. Apart from the insults towards his brothers, the meat of their argument about the difference between “best friend” and “adopted sibling” seems to be centered around the idea of the relations between both? But technically, one wouldn’t be any more related by blood to an adopted sibling than they would be to a best friend (a fact that Levi has tried to impress upon him many times when trying to explain the ‘ships’ in some cartoon or another), so what’s the distinction…?

Something clicks in Beel’s head, as he momentarily halts in chewing his ninth serving of chips.

“Oh.” He says, swallowing his mouthful. “Are you in love with your best friend romantically or something?”

There’s a moment of silence.

Then the human explodes into a flurry of noise, sputtering and swearing and near-shrieking unintelligibly, it’s scent growing stronger as blood and adrenaline pumps through it on what smells like double-time.

Beel has no idea what the big deal is, as the human lobs the pillow he gave them in his general direction and misses by a mile, but that certainly explains a few things.

He tilts the end of the bag up towards his mouth as he reflects on how whiny Asmo will be once he learns the real reason this human has been ignoring him so throughly. It almost makes him want to hold off on telling his brothers, but the idea of all the colors that Lucifer could turn, knowing precisely why the human won’t play his and Diavolo’s game, makes it far too good an opportunity to pass up.

Lilith would’ve loved something like this, a story of “true love” and “star-crossed romance”. Belphie will find it hilarious when he gets back, a human trying to defy the forces much greater than it for something so fickle and fleeting.

In the moment, Beel just tries to tune out the human’s shouting as he rolls over to get some sleep.

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pilothusband · 3 years

Text

Abducted Amphora

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (not to an excess), food mention (they eat pizza), non-explicit tension, mentions of stealing shit, hints at a boss/employee relationship so there’s a slight power balance there, age gap that isn’t mentioned (he has years of service and she’s almost brand new)

Word count: 1,972

Author’s note: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! Lightly edited, unbeta’d. This one is pretty tame compared to my other works. Thinking about turning it into a snapshot series. Let me know what you think!

A smattering of footsteps clatter throughout the courtyard, echoing off the old walls that surround you. Sprawling greens adorn almost every inch of the balcony, reaching out to an impossibly blue pool situated in the middle. You can’t help but gawk as you walk through the museum, trailing your boss by a few paces who is currently following the curator, a middle-aged woman with bouncy curls and a wardrobe to die for.

A few minutes prior, she had introduced herself as Vanessa Harrington, given a firm handshake to the two of you, and hastily made her way to the exhibit where an expensive piece of artwork was stolen.

“What’s weird is, this isn’t even the most expensive piece the museum owns,” she says, glancing backwards and waving her hands. How she manages to walk briskly in stiletto heels without looking forwards is a mystery to you.

The stolen piece is a Panathenaic amphora from Hellenistic era Greece. It was most likely used to fill with olive oil to give to Olympic champions. Not to say it isn’t valuable, but it had sat nondescript amongst bright and flashy paintings that were incredibly rare and sought after.

“And the security cameras were disabled prior to the theft?” Your boss, Marcus Pike asks, scribbling in his notepad. Vanessa nods in confirmation. “Then they were enabled right after, as if the thieves knew how to hack into the system.”

“Either they knew how to hack into the security system or they had enough insider knowledge to disable it,” you voice your thoughts, not even aware that you were speaking out loud.

Marcus looks over to you, his warm brown eyes flicking over your face in acknowledgement.

Every time his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself freeze up for a moment. No matter that you’ve been working with him for nearly a year, it’s as if time stops every time you look at him. His jaw, square and strong, along with his soft brown eyes that give away to his emotions at any moment. His broad shoulders always manage to get your pulse going, along with his small waist, showcased by the form-fitting button downs he wore under his suit coat.

“We’re going to need all information regarding museum personnel, as well as any vendors that drop by regularly,” Marcus shifts his attention over to Vanessa, who nods decisively.

“Absolutely. I have that all on my office desktop and can get that to you ASAP.”

Vanessa doles out more details for a few minutes and Marcus jots them down– in his unreadable handwriting no doubt– and then Vanessa bids you adieu and spins on her heel to her office, giving you two free rein over the museum.

There isn’t anymore DNA evidence to go over. The local police already had their personnel collect it days prior and the scene was spotless once you arrived. The thieves had been meticulous in leaving as little evidence as possible. The only fingerprints found were already processed and pending a match. They were most likely from an employee, and there’s a good chance it was just normal prints left behind from dusting priceless artwork.

Once Vanessa is out of the room, Marcus turns and places a big hand on your bicep.

“Good job back there, agent.” He flashes an easy grin. Marcus is an incredible boss. He’s driven, observant, kind, and knows when he has to make the tough calls. He’s a natural-born leader. You haven’t been with the bureau for long, being a junior agent among a team of seasoned professionals, but comparing him to other supervisory agents you have met, he’s warm and kind, always making sure his team is in good shape. He’s the kind of guy who’s prepared for anything, whether it be backup for a shootout with an unsub or someone in the room needs a pen before a staff meeting.

You can’t help but feel flushed at his praise. Despite Marcus’ easygoing nature and his openness with the team, he always seems to keep you at an arms’ length. It was getting to the point where you were wondering if he was regretting hiring you in the first place. Marcus often rotates the team when it comes to working directly with him on cases, and you have only worked directly with him once– your first ever case.

Initially you’re convinced you fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to pair up with you afterwards, but then the case report made its way back to your desk and your evaluation was normal, good even.

“Thank you,” you reply, ducking your face down to hide the growing heat licking its way up your face.

“Let’s grab some lunch, get those files from Mrs. Harringon and start digging.”

You nod in agreement and turn, walking towards the exit. You don’t notice the subtle movement, but Marcus trails you, arm raised as if he’s about to touch your waist, but pauses halfway through and scratches at his chin.

Later on that night, you’re holed up in Marcus’ hotel room, hunched over your laptop reading up on all of the museum employees. Marcus took on the task of reading over vendor files, his shoulders set much straighter.

Your back is screaming at you and your eyes are sapped of all moisture as you blink rapidly, trying to will your tear ducts into submission. It’s too early in the night to fall asleep with the amount of work you have to look forward to, and the longer it takes you to crack the case, the more likely the thieves are to get away with the crime.

“I think we could use a break,” Marcus says from across the room. You look up blearily, noting the look of concern he’s giving you, brow furrowed. He must have caught you in your tired state somehow, between poring over files and jiggling his leg absent-mindedly.

“Can’t argue with that,” you chuckle, rubbing at your eyes.

“I’ll order room service, compliments of the bureau,” he says, smiling sideways. “I’m feeling pizza, what do you think?”

“Pizza sounds heavenly,” you groan.

“What do you want to drink?” Marcus asks, his eyes scanning over the menu unfolded next to his laptop.

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate, trying to decide on caffeine or something healthier. “I think the room has plenty of water.”

“I was thinking something a little stronger,” he says, a small grin making its way over his features. “Nothing too crazy, since we still have work to do.”

“What’s your opinion on red wine?” You ask, wanting to select something you both can agree on.

“I love it,” he says, giving you a toothy smile. “Pinot Noir?”

“Sounds perfect.”

An hour later, you’re both seated on the floor, pizza box spread open between your bodies, munching away at the slices of pepperoni you both decided on and sharing the bottle of wine Marcus ordered.

“Turns out it’s bad optics for the boss to drunkenly sing 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton off-key, and I still get teased for it to this day, which is why I refuse to join the team on karaoke nights,” Marcus finishes. You’re clutching your stomach as you laugh at his story, head thrown back as you giggle.

You’ve only had a glass and a half of wine at this point, but you can already feel a persistent buzzing in your brain, your head feeling much lighter and much heavier simultaneously. This is what you get for skipping breakfast and lunch, opting to replace them with an afternoon snack and a late dinner.

Marcus laughs along with you, shaking his head and looking down at his slice of pizza.

Your laughter dies down and there’s a moment where it’s quiet, the only noise in the room being Marcus chewing on the crust of his pizza slice, and you taking a sip from your glass.

“This is a nice change,” you blurt out, immediately regretting your outburst.

“Mmm,” Marcus hums around the bite in his mouth. He swallows and looks up at you in question.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your eyes meet after he speaks and you can feel your heartbeat accelerating in your chest. God, why did you have to open your big mouth?

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just…”

You don’t continue and Marcus shifts on his knees, leaning forwards to spur you on.

“It’s just what?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You say, studying the box of pizza below you, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Nothing you could ever say is stupid,” he says with conviction. His tone makes you look up at him in wonder.

“Tell me, please,” he adds softly.

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me. Or that you didn’t think I was a good agent.” You can feel your stomach plunging and your cheeks burning at the admission.

“Why would you think that?” Marcus almost looks hurt.

“God, it’s dumb,” you babble. “But I noticed you haven’t had me partner with you on a case in ages, and you seem to get on with the rest of the team so much easier.”

You risk another look into Marcus’ eyes and he looks absolutely crushed. He cards a hand through his locks and his eyes look far away for a moment. You physically deflate, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“Hey,” he says, scooting forward and moving the pizza box aside. “You’re an amazing agent. Everything I put in your evals are the truth.”

You don’t reply, but smile softly at him.

“I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel undervalued,” he puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. The look on his face, much closer to yours now, is absolutely putting you through the ringer.

Marcus looks disheveled, which is rare for him, as he always looks put-together in the office, not a hair or thread out of place in his tailored suits. His hair is sticking up and his tie is loosened. His brow is furrowed in concern and you have the overwhelming urge to soothe your thumb over it.

“I just–,” he starts and pauses, trying to come up with the right words. “I was so distracted during that case with you, and I never want to put you in that kind of danger again. Especially as a junior agent.”

Distracted?

“What do you mean?” You ask, blinking in confusion. What could have possibly distracted him from the case? This man, so motivated, so focused. He was diligent to a fault, at times.

“I–”

He’s cut off by his cell phone, ringing insistently in his pants pocket. He lifts a finger to pause the conversation and answers the phone.

His expression is focused as he listens to the other end of the line, murmuring affirmations as the call continues.

“Okay, sounds good. We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

He hangs up the phone, shifts his legs and stuffs it back in his pocket.

“We’ve got a lead on the suspects,” he tells you. “A bodega near the museum has a security camera that caught a large utility van parked in front, right around the time the amphora was stolen. The owner said they’re only available to talk before they open, so we have to be there by 5:30 AM.”

You scramble to your feet and shut your laptop while Marcus clears the pizza and wine. You watch him silently as he finishes the task, noting his stiff shoulders and the carefully neutral expression on his face.

You’ll have to ask Marcus about the conversation later, if you can work yourself up to it. For now, you’ll let your imagination run wild and hope someday you can get over this juvenile crush you have on your boss.

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#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #writer wednesday #marcus pike fanfiction

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kstewdeux · 3 years

Text

Tumblr Exclusive For No Raisins

Five Stages of Grief

Struggling to breathe, Inuyasha clutched Kagome’s battered body tightly against his chest - one hand pressing against the wound on her back while the other pressed her ever colder hand against his heart. This was his fault. Completely his fault. That attack had been thrown and he ducked without taking into account the miko’s position. By the time he realized where she was, there was no time to take the hit for her and...and...

“You’re okay” Inuyasha choked as tears streamed down his cheeks and he buried his face in Kagome’s blood soaked hair, “You’ll be fine. It’s just...it’s just a flesh wound. Nothing deep. Just...just stay with me, huh?”

A whine escaped him as the scent of death began creeping into her scent. With trembling hands, he had tended to her wounds as best as he could but it wasn’t enough. At a certain point, he could barely feel his own fingers and every clumsy attempt to stitch up the numerous wounds wound up hurting her more. It wasn’t like this was his first time tending an injury that way. He’d done it thousands of times on himself with even cruder implements than what his miko carried with her from the future but his hands wouldn’t cooperate just like everything else in his body. Amber eyes - usually able to see every blade of grass - could barely see what they were doing. His lungs were barely taking in air and it took everything he had left in him not to simply pass out.

So he stopped trying since all he was doing was making her worse. Oh, he applied bandages and ointments and forced her to swallow those fever pills but she was bleeding out before his very eyes. There was nothing he could do for her. He had failed her in every possible way and now all he could do was pray.

To add insult to injury, the smell of graveyard soil had been steadily growing stronger over the last agonizing hour. Kikyo knew. She knew Kagome was dying.

“You can’t have her,” Inuyasha spat hatefully as the last person he wanted to see came into view, “She’s going to be fine. You’ll see. So...so you can’t take her soul. I won’t...I won’t let you.”

Closing his eyes, Inuyasha tried to find the will to stand and fight but it simply wouldn’t come. With Kagome slipping through his fingers so too did his own desire to live to see another day. He didn’t want to go back to a world without his miko in it. He simply wouldn’t survive.

Squeezing Kagome’s hand as tightly as he dared, Inuyasha tried to muster up more strength from the simple touch to no avail. So he restorted to desperately clutching her to him with both hands like he could hold in her soul through that action alone. The motion aggravated her wounds but with as far gone as his miko was in that moment, she didn’t even react and that sent his panic to all new heights.

“How was she hurt?” came Kikyo’s softly spoken reply and Inuyasha shook his head - burying his nose into ebony locks as his own heart struggled to beat. The scent of Kagome’s impending death was suffocating.

“Inuyasha look at me,” the undead miko commanded in a gentler tone than he’d heard in quite some time. When he merely whined and more tears fell, Kikyo tried to cross the distance between them but stopped at the menacing growl he used to warn her.

“You can’t have her,” Inuyasha managed shakily as he clutched Kagome tighter still. Like the action itself would keep the soul inside its vessel, “She’s mine. She’s mine and I promised...I promised to protect her.”

His voice cracked on that last word and the undead miko felt her unbeating heart crack at the sound.

“She needs new bandages,” Kikyo sighed, “And you’re in no state to...”

“Don’t touch her!” Inuyasha barked as yet more tears fell - one clawed hand blindly swiping to maintain distance through intimidation, “Stay...stay back. I’m warning you!”

Kikyo took another step and Inuyasha’s face contorted in pure unbridled rage.

“Take one step closer and I’ll destroy you,” the hanyou snarled between clenched teeth as his eyes flashed red, “I said you can’t have her bitch so back the fuck up!”

Kikyo let out another sigh before glancing at her soul collectors who nodded subtly and began gliding towards the grieving half-demon who watched with somewhat panic stricken eyes as they moved closer.

“Get those things away from me!” Inuyasha snapped desperately as he tried to get to his feet but any strength he had had long since fled his body, “What...what about you can’t have her did you not understand?!”

“Inuyasha I’m not going to...”

It was becoming terrifyingly obvious that something was wrong with him. Despite his best efforts, his body wouldn’t cooperate and every attempt to scramble to his feet and run resulted in his crumpling to the ground. His worthless ass couldn’t protect her.

He already failed but....

“If...if you need to take someone take me,” Inuyasha bargained desperately as one soul collector gently wrapped around his elbow and his body suddenly wasn’t his own. His grip weakened and he watched with heartbroken eyes as another soul collector wrenched Kagome from his arms, “I’ll go with you. I swear I’ll go with you. You can kill me or...or do whatever. I don’t care. Just...just don’t...”

A soft cry escaped him as Kikyo knelt down beside the one person who made his life worth living and gently rested one hand on Kagome’s stomach.

“Kikyo please....please don’t hurt her,” Inuyasha begged miserably as the soul collector immobilizing him pinned both arms behind his back. Kikyo was going to make him watch?! Didn’t she see he was already broken enough already? Why...why destroy him completely? What would be the point?! Did she really hate him that much? He...he’d never done anything to her. Defended her even at the expense of his own happiness. Even though it killed him inside. Every time he returned he had to face the betrayal in Kagome’s eyes which was more painful than any injury he’d received. Ruined every chance he had to be loved for the sake of someone who wanted nothing more than to make him suffer. Hadn’t he done enough? Sacrificed enough?

Inuyasha closed his eyes and willed his heart to give out. He couldn’t watch this. Another tear slipped free.

“These wounds are deep,” he heard Kikyo hum in a worried voice, “The stitches are too loose. Do you have more thread?”

Letting out a shaky breath, watery amber eyes slowly opened to find Kikyo looking at him expectantly.

“I’m not going to hurt her. I want to help,” Kikyo informed him in a slightly chiding tone before adding quickly, “Kagome is essential to defeating Naraku.”

Exhaling slowly, Inuyasha bit back tears as he tried to find his voice but failed. Kikyo gave him a strangely sympathetic look before glancing at the yellow monstrosity Kagome called a backpack and nodding to one of her soul collectors who clumsily tugged it closer.

Inuyasha felt his soul curl up and die as Kikyo began rummaging through the bag. This was a trick. Make him think she was there to help and then do something awful when his guard was down. There would be no holding Kagome one last time. No ability to say goodbye. She’d leave this world never knowing....never knowing how much he loved her. Swallowing thickly, Inuyasha tried to find the courage to say what needed to say before it was too late but his fear that Kikyo would make Kagome’s death more painful stilled his tongue. Two more tears trailed down his cheeks as he tried to remember how to breathe. Kagome had made him believe, if only for a little while, that he could be something more. That he had worth in his ability to protect and care for others but everyone was right about him. He had failed the one person in the world who thought differently of him from the very start. He was every bit the worthless half-breed everyone had always told him he was. Maybe he should’ve been drowned at birth.

It didn’t even register with him that Kikyo was, in fact, helping. Years of sewn distrust blinded him to the possibility that things were not as dire as they appeared. Whether Kikyo was helping or not, though, the scent of death lingered.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Inuyasha tried to struggle against the invisible bonds as his hardwired instinct to protect Kagome finally kicked in. It had shriveled up and died for a brief moment out of a belief that it was too late to do anything but now that the world has shown him once and for all things could always be worse, the instinct came back full force.

“Stop moving so much,” Kikyo sighed as she continued stitching the unconscious miko’s wounds, “You’ll aggravate your wounds.”

Inuyasha, of course, didn’t even know he was injured so that comment went right over his head. It hadn’t even registered that he also had been the victim of a direct hit that had shredded his fire rat robes and that half the blood that drenched Kagome was his own. Inuyasha honestly placed absolutely no value on his own life and the undead miko sighed sadly at that realization as she finished her task before reaching for the bottle labeled disinfectant. Which by the smell of it would probably hurt quite a good bit once applied.

Kikyo flicked her gaze up at the utterly heartbroken and obviously struggling boy watching with agony riddled eyes for just a moment before deciding she could multi-task.

“Inuyasha fear not. I have no intention of letting her die,” the undead miko began softly before looking at the spray bottle with a confused, appraising eye, “You must calm yourself.”

Again, Kikyo underestimated how very far gone Inuyasha was in that moment. His mind filled with panic induced static that was only growing thicker by the moment. Inuyasha was incapable of hearing anything outside of his own heart pounding in his normally sensitive ears. Breathing had gone completely by the wayside for more reasons than one and kiss goodbye his sense of smell with how congested his nose had become. The slow trickle of blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth was flowing completely unnoticed as his vision blurred and his head lolled. The effort he was expending tried to break free was dimming and his body was refusing to cooperate.

“Set him down,” Kikyo ordered softly as she spritzed the sanitizer a few times and hummed in understanding, “But be careful. Don’t aggravate his wounds.”

Inuyasha felt his body being laid out as he continued watching Kikyo do whatever the hell she was doing. Kagome was so close. If he could move, he could almost reach out and touch her. The undead miko glanced up then followed his gaze with a sad little smile before reaching over, grasping his hand and pulling it a hair away from Kagome’s wrist. Taking the miko’s wrist then Kikyo placed it atop his palm before helping curl his fingers around the thin flesh so his thumb lay just over her vein.

“Can you feel her heartbeat?” Kikyo asked softly as Inuyasha looked up at her with unfocused amber eyes before those same eyes lowered to where his hand was curled around Kagome’s wrist. For a moment he didn’t react at all before a shuddering sigh of relief gave her the answer he couldn’t give out loud. The steady thrum under his fingertips brought him comfort that couldn’t be voiced with words. At least he’d be with her at the end. Small comfort though that was. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to die soon so they’d be born together in the next life. That would be alright. To find out that soul and him really did have a destiny. Just wrong time and place this go ‘round. Vision blurring Inuyasha closed his eyes and focused on Kagome’s weakening pulse.

“It’s okay ‘Gome,” Inuyasha mumbled tiredly as another tear snaked down his dirtied cheek, “Its okay...”

It had to be several hours later that Inuyasha slowly regained consciousness even though his eyes stubbornly refused to cooperate. He was cocooned in something warm and soft. There was a pleasant pressure running along the front of his body too that one arm seemed to be keeping in place. Kagome was nearby, though, which meant he was being protected and cared for. And...and...

Oh no. Ooooh no. Nope. Not good. Definitely bad.

With a painful sounding groan, Inuysha finally forced his eyes open and nearly died on the spot. A short distance away a calm, indifferent looking Kikyo sat petting her soul collector while her two weird child minions maintained a barrier that surrounded him. As for the pressure against his front, one glance down told him that it was a pajama clad Kagome spooned up against his bare chest while the warmth came from the sleeping bag they’d both been stuffed into.

The rest of that day crashed down onto him moments later.

“Shit,” Inuysha breathed as he suddenly buried his nose into Kagome’s hair and inhaled deeply before whining in relief when the scent of death couldn’t be found. A tear welled in the corner of his eye as he squeezed the miko to him as tightly as he dared. He could smell the somewhat fresh blood from her stomach wound even now and...and his own dried blood? Had he been hurt too? He hadn’t noticed...

“Once you were both stabilized, I had my soul collectors arrange you this way,” Kikyo explained impassively as she glanced over at him, “It seemed the logical thing to do.”

Inuyasha set his jaw - nose remaining in Kagome’s hair as amber eyes watched the undead miko wearily. Had Kikyo been trying to help him? That seemed so absurd he didn’t even know where to start.

For some reason, this was the moment he suddenly remembered that Kagome hadn’t been wearing pajamas. And it would appear his undergarments were gone. His eyes widened in horror for a moment before he pushed that thought as far back in his mind as it would go. W-who cared it Kikyo saw them both naked? That didn’t bother him. Nope. Didn’t bother him at all. It was...

This was fine. Fine. An absolutely fantastic turn of events that wouldn’t keep him awake at night due to the crushing awkwardness. The only solace he could find was that Kikyo may have done a mortifying thing but it was done in the course of a not shitty thing so...

The fact that she had done such a thing when both he and Kagome were unconscious did seem to be the thing that convinced him Kikyo didn’t actually mean them harm. She’d had ample opportunity to kill them. They’d both been so far gone the jostling that must have occurred didn’t even wake them.

That didn’t help the blush on his cheeks or the mortification he felt - although the utter relief he felt that Kagome was alive muted both negative emotions considerably.

“Why help her?” Inuyasha asked suspiciously as his hand slid up to pull Kagome’s torso more fully against him.

“Kagome is essential to defeating Naraku,” Kikyo explained before smiling faintly and running one hand across a nearby silver serpent, “And if something were to happen to her, someone I know would be very sad.”

“What?”

Kikyo subtly nodded to herself as she realized that statement went completely over his head. Of course he wouldn’t understand the significance of her repeating back those words Kagome had said to her. Her reincarnation sheltered him from the ugliness of the world and if he had known that he almost lost both of them....

It made all the sense in the world to keep what happened that day a secret. Inuyasha had always been an anxious creature and at that time, he was endlessly torn. Kikyo wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew Kagome hadn’t admitted what should have been obvious. That day that seemed so long ago, it had been Kikyo’s intention to kill the competition and yet her reincarnation refused to say as much. This strange girl made it her job to protect Inuyasha from threats real or imagined. To shelter him from ugly truths he was ill equipped to handle like how the woman he still adored was now a being of evil. Kagome loved him for the good man he was and made it her mission in life to convince him to love himself. A strange girl made for an equally strange boy.

“When I was dying, Kagome risked her life to save mine. On more than one occasion,” Kikyo interrupted vaguely as she looked up into the starry sky, “It seemed only right to repay the favor.”

Inuyasha considered this before relaxing somewhat and rearranging to rest his cheek on Kagome’s hair with his eyes partially closed. It was still insanely hard to focus and his head felt ridiculously heavy for no reason. Still, Kagome was alright and that’s really what mattered.

“I love her you know so...so thank you I guess,” Inuyasha mumbled cautiously as he inhaled deeply and relished in the knowledge that Kagome would live.

“I believe that has been made abundantly clear,” Kikyo admitted with a humorless laugh.

Inuyasha snorted softly but didn’t bother arguing. Whether or not Kagome loved him in return was a question he’d prefer to explore with literally anyone else. Hell, he’d even ask Naraku for his thoughts on the matter before he’d ever try to talk about that remote possibility with Kikyo.

“Thank you,” Inuyasha mumbled after a long period of awkward silence, “For saving her. I...I don’t know what I would’ve done if...if...”

The half-demon couldn’t even finish that statement as visions of him permanently turning into a full demon and wreaking havoc across the land entered his minds eye. In his heart of hearts, he knew what he would’ve done. He would’ve gone insane. Just would’ve lost his damn mind and ran around killing people for no...

“It was the least I could do,” Kikyo sighed as she glanced over at the injured pair, “I will protect you until dawn and then I must leave. I believe you will have healed enough by then to take Kagome to a second location.”

Inuyasha nodded against Kagome’s hair as he gave the living, breathing, not dying miko as light squeeze. Of all the things that had ever happened to him, not one had been as terrifying as that morning. He needed to be more careful in the future. Be more aware during battle. Or, alternatively, he could just throw Kagome down the well and destroy it so this would never happen again. That was definitely an attractive option.

“I know you are a man of few words,” Kikyo offered barely above a whisper, “But perhaps it is time you told her. I have no intention of dragging you away from her. You have done enough.”

Inuyasha wrinkled his nose at that comment but otherwise stayed silent and nodded. Truth be told, holding Kagome against him was rather nice even if his undead typically murderous ex-fiancé was watching. If he didn’t just say screw it and throw Kagome down the well, he might insist they do this more often. If, of course, Kagome woke up and discovered he was holding her. What he’d do if he managed to pull this off without her knowing was an issue for a different day.

“I love you,” Inuyasha whispered in Kagome’s ear as he settled into a somewhat more comfortable position and nuzzled the skin just above her jaw. The warmth and contentment flowing through his veins soon rocked him to sleep and for the first time in his life, Inuysha slept well.

Kikyo watched on with a melancholy sigh as Inuyasha subconsciously snuggled up against his miko in his sleep.Yes, she was a creature born of evil. Yes, she had made many, many mistakes since she’d been so rudely brought back to life. And yes, her feelings toward the injured half-demon consisted of a mixture of love and hate. But something about his scream this night had triggered something she didn’t know she still possessed. A part of herself all but forgotten. She’d literally flown most of the distance toward him and walked the rest. Cautiously, of course. There most certainly a risk he would strike her down and honestly, she wouldn’t blame him.

When she opened her eyes that fateful day, she’d been in denial over so many things. Mind bucking against his insistence that he had nothing to do with her demise. That she had been cursed into this half-life consisting of little more than pain and misery.

Naturally what followed was unbridled rage at the world. Of course, everyone with eyes knew where that path had led her.

After the anger had subsided, more or less, she’d began to plead with any god who would listen. Obsessed with the desire to return to the ground from whence she came, defeating Naraku became her number one priority. She promised to kill the wicked Onigumo - not out a warped sense of duty but rather because she hoped and prayed that by doing so, she would be freed from this hell. Maybe even gain the affection she once had and even be accepted by the people who once loved her. Inuyasha was a lost cause by that point but Kaede...

Kaede may forgive her yet.

It was the realization that it would be impossible to defeat Naraku on her own and thus not win any favors from the powers that be or forgiveness from her sister that brought her crashing back down to earth. Numb to the world around her, she no longer cared what happened to her or anyone else. No longer cared whether Naraku won or lost. Yes, she still wanted to be the one who killed that horrid beast but...but she knew...she knew that she would not be there to witness her former love’s victory of defeat. There would be no redemption for her. There was no point even trying to do more than just wander aimlessly and help on occasion if she was in the mood to do so. By and large, however, she didn’t do anything productive any longer.

That was, until today. Something about Inuyasha’s anguished cry made something in her snap. It was the sound of a heart breaking with such devastating force that the world itself stood still. Never, never should he be allowed to make such a sound. Bygones being bygones, Kikyo was determined to stop whatever was the source of his pain. It was unacceptable in her mind for whatever reason.

And with this action, she accepted that this was her fate. Such a bizarre thing to realize at the end of an era. There was no one still living who loved her any longer.

She was truly alone.

“Kikyo,” Inuyasha muttered in a concerned tone as his amber eyes blinked open, “I didn’t know you could cry anymore. What’s wrong?”

Or maybe not.

“You must be imagining things,” Kikyo lied smoothly as she stared into the distance, “Such a thing is impossible.”

“Yeah okay,” Inuyasha snorted softly as he settled back down. A few moments passed before he cleared his throat and offered something he hoped brought the undead miko some peace, “Kaede’s been asking about you.”

Kikyo subtly furrowed her brow and glanced in his direction.

“Why do you say such a thing?”

“There are people who still care about you,” he continued hesitantly, “Just because I don’t love you like that anymore doesn’t mean I still don’t love you as a friend. Kaede I know misses the hell outta ya. Go see her. Old bat’d love a visit.”

Kikyo’s lips twitched upwards as she nodded and sighed.

“That was unkind,” she chided gently, “You should not speak of your elders that way.”

“I knew her when she was a brat and I’m still older than her. I can call her whatever the hell I want,” Inuyasha laughed good-naturedly as he settled back down and gave Kagome’s still form a light squeeze before frowning suddenly and clearing his throat to make a peace offering, “Just...just so you know I’m sorry for what happened. Back then I mean. I should’ve known. I should’ve....”

“It was a very convincing plot,” Kikyo interrupted, “And exposed issues that were already present. I failed you more than you have ever failed me.”

“Is that why you helped Kagome?” Inuyasha asked hesitantly and the undead miko shrugged slightly.

“To be honest I do not know why I assisted,” she lied, “This existence is most strange.”

“I bet,” Inuyasha acknowledged wearily before furrowing his brow, “Does it hurt?”

“This form?”

Inuyasha nodded.

“Not any longer.”

#subtle futurama joke #if you get it you get it #trapped in a world of plot holes and spelling errors #leave earth for no raisins #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fandom #Kagome #Kikyo is not a bitch this time #inukag

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

Waters Brackish and Briny (four)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: the first of many strange and unusual occurrences to come in your new home. Previous Masterlist Next

Tags: 15+ | 2k words | hauntings, an argument, physical intimidation 😬, secrets, crying

AN: hey remember there were ghosts in Things Seen and Heard? Personally I hate angst so sorry y'all 😔 I will NOT leave it here for long

SECOND WEEK

Ralph went back to work and the house became empty once more. Empty except for yourself and the house. And possibly a rat or two. You set up traps and finished moving the furniture in the downstairs rooms into place. The previous owners left a decently conditioned upright piano behind when they moved. A few scuffs on the legs and a toy soldier in the strings, but perfectly playable and barely out of tune. Nothing a little warm up couldn't change.

You ate lunch on the piano bench, glaring at the unfinished archway leading to the solar room. Should you sweep first or measure the windows to be fitted for panes? Do you want regular clear glass or some stained glass? Get crazy with it?

You waste a couple hours playing basic melodies and manage to squeeze in time to do all the measurements for the windows before 3 pm. You take down the paper on the floor most window holes and sweep the dust and leaves and branches outside. You mop till the hardwood floor shines but you hate the white beech wood and add varnish to the To Do list.

You ring up the Vayle boys you met the day you unloaded your furniture. "Hey Eddie! I was planning on making something for you and Cole as a thank you but I need some supplies first."

It rained in the afternoon and Ralph came home with mud on his pants. "Baby what happened? Did you fall?"

Ralph looked supremely annoyed. "One of the kids took a tumble and grabbed me for support. We both went down."

You know he's in a sour mood but you can't stifle your laughter. You coo at him, looking over the damage to his suit. He's got mud caked on the seat of his pants and flecks of it as high as the back of his neck. You help him strip as much as appropriate with guests in the house.

Your husband sniffs the vanilla scent from the air and looks at you incredulously. "Did you make cookies?"

"Yeah," you said, "for Eddie and Cole."

The boys waved at your husband from the kitchen counter. He gives a lustless wave back and trudges upstairs in his under things. You tip the boys with the rest of the cookies in an old dish and send them on their way home.

You open your bedroom door to find Ralph butt ass naked and on his knees looking for something.

"We should do this more often," you tease.

Ralph looks up and raises an eyebrow at you then notices the position he's put himself in. "Now's not the time for jokes: do you know where the luffa is?"

You cross your arms. "Well it's not under the bed…"

"Helpful." Ralph climbs to his feet and his nose bumps yours. "Where. Is. The luffa."

"Behind the bathroom door on a hook."

"Why?" Ralph takes three steps towards the bathroom, then quickly retraces them and this time his forehead collides with you none too gently. "And not saving me a cookie? Uncool."

"Open your mouth." His eyes go dark for a second and you roll yours. "Do it."

You plant the last cookie in his mouth and flop onto the bedspread. "Go. Shower. I'll clean up the kitchen."

The house creaks at night. Sometimes the sounds make the hair on your neck stand on end, but you simply squeeze Ralph and drift back to sleep. In the haze of a dream you think you hear something small and glass break a few rooms over but you can't hold onto your memories for long like this.

Except tonight there is more than sounds. Beneath the smell of your body wash on Ralph's skin, something tickles the back of your throat. It's acrid and raw pulling you from the fringes of sleep into reality fast. You sniff the air and the scent seems to grow ten times stronger. It's like… it's like…

You shake Ralph by the shoulder. He doesn't stir an inch. The smell is so strong you're choking on it. You grab Ralph and shake him like a doll until he bursts into wakefulness.

"What? What?!"

"Do you smell that?"

"What?" His eyes are completely unfocused, face pinched in annoyance.

"It smells like…" you turn on the bedside lamp much to his dismay. "It's like gasoline or something."

Ralph growls and rubs at his eyes. "Exhaust fumes maybe. Ralph! We have to get up– we have to get out!"

Somehow you manage to drag him out of bed and down the stairs. The smell gets weaker but it's still there burning in your nostrils like actual fire. Your eyes search frantically for that yellow orange flicker in every room to no avail. It doesn't ease your fear.

"Come on." You push Ralph outside and the man almost falls off the wrap-around porch. His eyes are glued shut, legs shaking as he stands, and trapped in that sleep state.

You rack your brain for ideas. Is the car on fire? Should you check the garage? Do you have a working fire extinguisher? There's one in the garage by the door but you doubt it's up to date.

"Ralph baby please wake up, I need you…"

You cling to his arm and he manages to crack one eye open. "The fuck is going on?"

"Something's wrong," you stutter, "I think he's here."

Ralph opened his other eye and looked at you. His head swiveled to and fro over his shoulders, trying to peer out into the dark cover of night to find anyone lurking in the dark. His grip on your arm is tight, almost hurts. He looks back at you, puzzled.

"Where?"

You didn't know where, in fact you don't know why you said that. He had no idea where the two of you were. For all you know he might not even be a he at all. You've never met them but you're haunted by them.

You shake your head and focus on the danger of now. "Fumes. I woke up and it smelled like exhaust fumes in our room."

"I didn't smell anything," Ralph says.

You growl. "I did. We need to call someone, we can't go back in the house. What if it's filled with gas and there is an open flame somewhere?"

Ralph looks around then tries to walk past you towards the door. You catch him with a look of disbelief.

"Did you not just hear a single word I said?!"

Ralph sweeps your bruising grip from his arm. He keeps walking but he never breaks eye contact with you. He's definitely awake now.

"If there's fumes, it's coming from the garage. Lord knows you're not going to let me look knowing that," he says stepping past the threshold into the mud closet next to the kitchen, "so we need to call someone."

He picks up the phone from its cradle and dials 9-1-1. "Unless you have some secret satelite phone hidden in the barn, I'm all ears on how we call someone…"

He's right. He's being an asshole about it but he's right. You can smell the fumes as you step in, desperate not to be far from him no matter what happens. Ralph plucks the housecoat from the hook by the door and fits it around your shoulders. You didn't realize you were shivering.

The sheriff comes out tonight and it's half past 2 am. You and Ralph are waiting outside, a reasonable distance from the house in case an explosion was imminent but it never came. Sheriff Laughton brought a fire team and they searched the house.

Travis– as he asked them to call him– asked a few meandering questions. Ralph held your hand and answered as many as he dared, looking to you for the questions you could answer better. They both noticed your thousand yard stare but said nothing.

Travis came back with the fire team and a long, befuddled face. "They checked over every inch of that house and didn't find anything except a broken lightbulb in the laundry closet."

Ralphie did not return your gaze, instead he asked. "Nothing at all?"

Travis scratched his head. "If there was something, it's gone now. I might have your cars looked at just in case, there's a mechanic about 10 miles yonder I can give you directions to."

Ralph's hand smoothed over your shoulder to try warming you up. "No, no that's OK, I have a mechanic right here."

You slap his chest for teasing you but your weak smile falls not a moment later. How can that be? They found nothing? Had you imagined the whole thing? But it had felt so real…

By the time you brought your mind back to the present, you found Ralph had moved you to the kitchen and offered Travis a cup of coffee for his troubles. The fire team was packed up and driving off the property, leaving only the sheriff's cruiser out in that empty night.

"Ralph," you whispered over the sink. "I think we should call Reagan…"

"No."

You blinked. He hadn't even taken a second to consider it, just… dismissed you out of hand like you were an annoyance. You crossed your arms over your chest and glared.

"If you won't, I will."

Ralph beat you to the phone and blocked your path, you glimpsed Travis standing awkwardly in the door but paid him no more than a passing thought.

This was about to get ugly.

"I. Am not crazy." You keep your voice low but the quiver of anger still seeps through. "I know what I smelled. It was real. If you're not going to ask for help, then fine, but do not stand in my way because of your pride."

Ralph had that look in his eyes– the dangerous look. "Oh, honey, no… I told you– we are not calling Reagan."

He kept shaking his head minutely, like it was the only thing keeping him from screaming. "That's final. I mean it, baby. I will lock you in that fucking basement if you touch that phone. I will burn this fucking house down before I let you even look at that dial."

Your jaw hit the floor but before you could protest, Ralph had your arm in a death grip as he began to drag you out into the hallway. He was probably trying to push you to the bedroom but his out of character threat had rocked you.

"Let me go," you growled, "Ralph! Stop it!"

Travis called out to you two and you tried to wipe that innate look of fear from your face. Ralph seemed to snap out of it a bit when he realized you weren't alone and he finally released your arm. It didn't stop him from bending over you until his nose brushed yours and in a growl commanded you to go upstairs.

Now is not the time to cry. Crying right now feels like weakness. You're not sad– you're fucking furious with him right now. But you're not about to make a bigger scene in front of this cop, so you push past him and head for the stairs.

The blood racing in your veins is making your face hot and head pound. You can hear Ralph follow you up shortly, likely to continue the argument further but you are beyond listening at this point. You turn just in time to see him look at you funny– why are you mad?-- before slamming the door so hard you hear the wood around the lock almost splinter.

He doesn't try the door. The light of the hallway goes out and you listen to him sigh as he heads for the couch to sleep on. You throw yourself onto your bed alone and cry into your pillow until exhaustion takes you to a dreamless black sleep.

Tag list: @werwulfy @fundamentally-lazy @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @mimiscappinisideblog

#alex brightman #ralph lamont #ralph lamont x reader #angst #black reader insert #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒#things seen and heard au #ghost house au

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snorlaxlovesme · 4 years

Text

Walk Me Home

So I guess I wrote this fic for a SoMa week prompt last year and then didn’t post it??? I found it in my drafts and was really confused what a fully completed one-shot was doing staring back at me lmao

So. Here’s a fic for I think the “2am” prompt. Title a reference to the P!nk song, since I’m pretty sure I spammed it while writing this.

____________________

“Hey. Hey!”

Maka hears Soul’s voice call out from behind her, but she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t want to talk right now; she wants to leave.

“Jesus, why are you walking so fast? Slow down, fuck’s sake.”

The grit of the sidewalk digs painfully into the heels of her bare feet. It doesn’t slow her down, nor does it stop her. In fact, when she hears Soul’s panting from behind her, she petulantly picks up her speed until his hand is landing on her shoulder and pulling her to a stop. He tugs her around despite her best efforts to keep walking.

“Hey, you wanna tell me what the problem is? Why did you leave the party?” He doesn’t even look mad at her, just concerned, which somehow makes her just feel worse. Soul continues, “I went to go talk to Kid for a few minutes and when I came back everyone said you left. Did something happen?”

Clearly something must have happened. She knows he can see it all over her expression, in the way she bolted away from him. Hell, he can probably feel waves of it coming directly from her soul.

But she doesn’t want to talk, so she pulls her shoulder away from his grasp and keeps walking, marching towards the direction of home, probably. She’s still a little tipsy, even though she only had a couple drinks at the party. But whoever Kid hires to bartend at the Gallows Mansion has a heavy hand when it comes to mixing drinks. Either her cocktails were stronger than normal or Maka really is the lightweight every assumes she is. She keeps walking despite her protesting feet and the way the world is swaying around her.

“So you’re just not gonna talk to me?” Soul asks, still trailing behind her. She can feel his hand come to rest on her shoulders every now and again, steadying her when she tips a bit too far in one direction, but pulling away once she’s righted herself. Protecting her while also respecting her boundaries. It’s infuriating.

Soul keeps talking to her back. “Was it something it something Black Star said? You know how Star gets when he’s drunk. He’s got no fucking boundaries.”

It’s not Black Star. It’s not anyone specifically. It’s just everyone. It’s everything. It’s nothing. She doesn’t want to explain it, because that would just be another weakness to add to the ever-growing pile.

“I can kick his ass if you want,” Soul keeps trying, knowing full-well that he could never take Black Star in a fight. The pathetic offer almost makes her smile, but she gulps it down and tries not to cry.

Soul circles around in front of her. “Look, you don’t have to tell me, but could you please stop for a sec? You’re not wearing any shoes and your feet are gonna get all fucked up. There could be glass or something.” Maka, being Maka, doesn’t give a damn about potential dangers to herself, and continues marching forward, leaving Soul to roll his eyes and pick up his pace to catch up with her again. She’s trying not to look at him, but she can see the way his eyes widen in his ‘I have an idea’ face, and two seconds later he’s transformed into a scythe in front of her, hovering a few feet off the ground beside her. His wings flap quickly and silently to keep steady beside her.

“Please?” His voice comes his weapon form, tinny and desperate.

Now Maka is the one rolling her eyes. His winged-form only rubs salt in her emotional wounds, but her feet are admittedly in a lot of pain after almost a half mile of walking on cracked concrete. She concedes and throws a leg over his handle. She grabs onto him with both hands, expecting him to whisk her away to their apartment above the buildings of Death City. Soul surprises her by hovering another foot in the air, so her feet don’t drag on the cement, but flying at the same pace she was walking.

The quiet extends before them into the night. The farther they get from the Gallows, the harder it is to hear the booming bass of the music. Soul lets Maka direct them with her soul through the residential neighborhoods and away from crowded streets. She started this walk with the intention of being alone.

But, ten times out of ten she’d rather be with Soul.

She swallows. “Do you care what people think about you?”

On a normal day he’d snark at her for finally deeming him worthy of conversation, but today he’s quiet as he thinks of what response she might be looking for. She can feel he’s trying to pick apart the meaning of this starting question, but eventually just decides to answer honestly.

“Yeah. All the time.”

It’s the truth, Maka can feel in his soul that it is, but she still doesn’t believe it. In the time that Maka has known Soul, he’s grown so much. She’s always admired the way he just lets things roll off his shoulders, not giving a shit what others think about him. Maybe he’s just been faking it, but he does a damn good job playing the Cool Guy he’s always wanted to be as a kid. He makes Maka’s version of the same kind of make-believe feel like child’s play. No one believes in her flimsy brand of confidence.

“Do you care what people think about us?” she asks.

There’s always been something in the way people talk about the two of them. Soul, the powerful, confident demon weapon that took down Arachne and helped save the world from madness on the moon. Maka, the meister who just managed to hold on for the ride. Maybe that’s not exactly what they say, but it’s implied. In the way other students will look at him with admiration, with appreciation, and then how they look at her, like they’re surprised it was little unstable Maka Albarn who managed to produce a Death Scythe. She knows she’s weak, but do people have to throw it in her face all the time? Like she was the last person they expected to be helpful in the apocalypse?

Even at a freaking party there are people coming up to Soul and asking him for autographs while Maka stands right next to him. Like somehow they know the exact imbalance of strength between Soul and Maka and they’re disappointed in Maka the same way she is with herself.

Just thinking about it has her unconsciously pulling Soul forward down the street a little faster. She breathes deeply. Just a few more minutes and she’ll be home.

Soul finally speaks, breaking her out of her own internal pity party.

“No.”

Maka blinks.

No?

“Our partnership is no one’s business but ours. If people have something to say about it, whatever. I only care about one person’s opinion when it comes to our partnership. And that’s you.”

God, it’s such a simple yet complete answer. And he’s totally right, like always. She doesn’t know why she gives a shit what other people think about her and Soul. None of it matters in the end, but God, does Maka wish for once that when she thought of the word “strength” she could picture herself embodying that word instead of never measuring up. Instead of feeling guilty for somehow always thinking she’s holding Soul back.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”

Maka’s soul spikes so suddenly in surprise that Soul comes to a halt in the middle of the street.

“I’m serious. I know you wanna be the best meister you can be, but you’re too stuck in your own head to realize how fucked I would be without you as my partner.” He quiets in a way that means he’s gathering his words, and Maka listens with bated breath.

“You’re the smartest and bravest person I know, okay? And you’re also a reckless moron who pulls some of the craziest shit in battle that I’ve ever seen in my life. It sucks that I have to keep saying this to you, but I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it. The only reason I ever had a prayer of becoming of a Death Scythe was because you’ve been my meister. Stop thinking that you’re not good enough, because you’re better than every asshole at the party. You did something they never could and now never will be able to do.”

Maka closes her eyes for a few heartbeats, allowing this to sink in. Even now, at 2am with the sky pitch dark because of the blackened moon, it’s hard to imagine that she was involved in that fight. She helped save the world and she’s still convinced that she’s somehow not good enough. Maybe Soul’s right, and what they have could only be accomplished with the two of them together. Maybe no one else matters but her and Soul.

“Soul? Transform for me, will you?”

Without hesitation, Soul morphs back into human form, holding her now on piggyback instead of on his weapon form. The shift from being supported by his handle to hanging off his backside is so natural that Maka doesn’t even have to think about it, just adjusts her arms so they’re tighter across his shoulders. She presses her face into the side of his neck in gratitude.

“You always know what to say, you know that?”

Soul snorts and hops a little to scoot her higher up his back. “It’s easy when your soul is practically screaming at me what you’re upset about.” He starts walking again, refusing to put her down because of his stubborn insistence that she’ll hurt her feet. “So. Party sucked for you too, then?”

Now it’s Maka’s turn to snort. All of a sudden the night’s whole emo conclusion feels very overstated. She feels foolish for being so dramatic but remembers that Soul thinks she’s strong even when she’s a drama queen. Depends on her even when she gets caught up in her own head. The reminder calms her soul down considerably.

“Think I drank too much,” she says, nestling closer to his back and laying her arms heavily over his shoulders to remain balanced. “Ox said some dumb shit about me being the weaker partner and it made me sad.”

“Alcohol is a depressant,” Soul says, kind of snooty. He’s repeating what she’s told him on his Moody Drinking nights.

“Wait a minute,” Soul says. “Did you say Ox? Who the fuck is he to talk about being a weak partner?”

“I thought you said you don’t care what anyone thinks about us.”

“Yeah, but that was before I found out it was fucking Ox Ford who was talking down to you. I could totally take his ass in fight.”

Maka laughs for the first time all night. Soul continues ranting all the way home about how he’s going to beat Ox’s face in the next time he saw him (he won’t) and Maka thinks that maybe real strength is remembering that you always have someone on your side.

#soma #soul x maka #soul eater #soul eater evans #maka albarn #like its not the BEST thing ive ever written but damn kelly you could have at least POSTED IT #se fic #my writing

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eternalstann · 4 years

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hi could i request a smut where reader and tom are best friends and she’s living with him and all the boys during quarantine and they’re both basically oblivious to the fact that they’re both drooling over/pining after each other and all the boys wanna see how long it goes on for and she hears tom having a steamy dream ab her or smth idk take this wherever u want it to go ilysm boo

im a sucker for housemate & domestic Tom ughhh. i love you more thank you for sending this I got you babes 🥺🥰

———-

“TOMMMM!” You screamed.

He’d gotten water all over the bathroom floor again and you were about to take a shower. You listen to his quick footsteps grow closer before he burst in the door. Eyes frantic he scans the room, pausing when they reach your frame covered in nothing but a towel. He took in the way your hair fell, the annoyed look on your face. Then swell of your breasts, and the curve of your hips. He forces his eyes back to your face.

“Tom you got water all over the floor again!” You complain, gesturing to the puddles of h2o on the tile.

“Y/N seriously I thought you were hurt..” he rolls his eyes and you glare. “Yes Tom seriously! It’s so gross walking through all of this barefoot, or getting my slippers wet! And, you could cause mold to form. What’s so difficult about closing a fucking shower curtain!” You ask angrily and you didn’t mean to go off like this but you were frustrated.

“There’s three bathrooms in this house just use a different one if it’s such a big deal!” He yells.

You squint your eyes at him and take a deep breathe. “Whatever Tom, just get out” you snap and he turns around, closing the door harder than necessary.

As soon as the door is closed he adjust himselfs in his pants, he was mad... but you looked other worldly. Harrison walking by see’s him and his problem, laughing loudly at his hopeless friend.

“Why don’t you just tell her mate?” he asks, and Tom shushes him.

“Shut up you div she might hear you!” He warns, punching his arm.

“Ow! I’m just trying to help!” He frowns, but they both freeze when they hear the shower cut on through the door.

You don’t know why you went off on Tom like that. Maybe because your feelings for him were getting stronger every day and you were scared to show it? Or maybe because you were reaching critical levels of horniness and it was making you cranky. Probably both you shrug, stepping into the water. The hot pellets beating your skin instantly relax your tense muscles. You rub your neck, sighing, and let your hands wander downwards.

Between the valley of your breast and lower. You don’t stop until your hand is cupping your wet heat and pause, listening for sounds outside the door. You continue when nothing but silence can be heard, unaware of your audience.

Tom and Harrison are still as statues, only turning to look at each other when they hear soft moans echo through the small bathroom.

“This is super pervy, cmon Tom” Harrison drags him away.

“What was that all about?” Tuwaine asks, eyeing his friends coming down the stairs.

“Just a lovers quarrell between Tom and Y/N” Haz waves his hand nonchalantly and Tom denies it immediately.

“We are not lovers!” He clarifies and both his friends smack their teeth.

“No but you wanna be” Harry adds, walking in from the kitchen.

“Fuck off, I’m going to bed” Tom grumps. He trudges up the stairs to his room. He wishes sleep would take him as soon as he lays down but his mind is heavy with thoughts of you. His chest grew tight whenever he heard your name....which was a lot because you lived together. You were all he could think about. The way you looked in your towel, the way you sounded in the shower. The semi he sported earlier was now a full on boner and groaned, trying to ignore it.

Jerking off to the thought of you? How could he look you in the eye after doing something like that? But his brain wouldn’t let him rest. He let his mind wander. To what you’d taste like, or how you talked as you came. Tom didn’t even realize he’d started stroking himself until he heard something clatter in the living room.

‘That’s enough’ he tells himself firmly.

He tosses in his bed a few more times before finally falling asleep. But even in his sleep you wouldn’t leave him alone.

—

You run your fingers through your wet hair and stand at the top of the steps, peaking through to see if you saw Tom. You decided to put your pride aside and apologize.

“Hey guys where’s Tom? I wanted to say...sorry” you explain sheepishly and the boys all gasp.

“You! Say sorry?” Harry laughs and you glare. “I literally cannot remember the last time you apologized to any of us three...” he recalls and just turn on your heel to find Tom; ignoring all their snickering.

You stop in from of Toms room and take a deep breath. Go in, say sorry, get out. You tighten your towel and raise your hand to knock when you see the door is already cracked open. You call his name but hear no response.

You take a half step inside and can’t help the small smile when you see him sleeping peacefully. “Awww” you coo, watching him for a moment. He deserved some rest you think, you were about to turn and leave when you hear him murmur something in his sleep.

“Y/N”

It’s quiet, but you hear it. Your eyes widen, and watch his hips push up against nothing. His face tinted red and lips parted. You keep reeling your self to walk away but your legs won’t move. He was having a wet dream about you! Your hand clamps over your mouth, and you finally force yourself to take a step backwards.

But of course, you lose your footing and hit the ground with a thud. You scramble to get up, but you’re too slow. You hear the bed shift and in three seconds tops a disoriented Tom is pulling his door open and looking down at you.

You stare up at him, trying to ignore the bulge in his shorts and take the hand he offers to you. You both just stand, looking at each other for a moment before he gestures for you to come inside. You sit down on his bed, him beside you.

“I uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I talked to you earlier. It wasn’t that big of a deal and I shouldn’t have yelled” you apologize and e smiles.

“No you’re right, it is kind of gross. But I appreciate it” he laughs, and you do too.

You get quiet again, and try to work up the nerve to ask him, was he really dreaming about you?

“I heard you before I came in...Tom were you having a dream about me?” You rush through your words, nervousness encompassing you. You watch the color drain from his face.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what that was all about and I..” he speaks even faster than you did and you cut him off.

“I thought about you today while I was in the shower” you admit, and you don’t know where this sudden burst of courage came from but you hoped it would see you through.

“I thought about you fucking me from behind. What was your dream about?” You ask and Tom eyes are darker than usual, he was staring at you so intensely and with so much fire you could melt.

“I dreamt the same thing” he whispered. Your breathing quickened as he leaned closer to you. You let yourself fall backwards, and Tom climbs over you. His hands go to you towel, unwrapping it from your body. He’d seen you in close to nothing before, but never like this.

He eyes roam your now bare frame, and lets his hand rest on your cheek. “You’re so beautiful” he compliments before coming down to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your lips smack loudly and shamelessly together. You’d imagined this for so long and now it was reality.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, parting lips for second and you squeak out a yes, connecting your lips again. Toms hand runs down your torso, and parts your thighs. You gasp when he runs a finger through your folds and finds your clit.

“Right there baby?” He asks, and you nod; eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. He rubs you just right, like you’d done this together a million times. He kisses your collarbone, letting his tongue trace over the raised ridge.

“Tom..” you moan, back arching into his kisses. He goes lower, pulling a nipple between his lips and sucking. You moan again, and Tom quickens his fingers between your legs. Your toes curl into the sheets as you grow closer to your peak.

“Not loud enough” he growls, hand reaching up and wrapping around your throat. “Cum for me Y/N” hums, mouth next to your ear and he squeezes the sides of your throat. You grips his bicep as you cum, squirming while he works you through it.

He lets go of your neck and you pant, trying to catch your breath. You look up at him and watch as he kicks off his shorts. You can’t take take your eyes off his dick, much thicker than you’d expected and your pussy clenches at the thought of it stretching you open.

“Please fuck me Tom” your voice is wobbly, probably from literally being choked you think.

“Fuck, flip over” he instructs and you comply happily. Face down, ass up in Tom Holland’s bed. He slaps your ass and you whimper.

“Look so pretty” he whispers and you dig your nails into the bed when the head of his cock pushes inside of you.

“Jesus Y/N” he groans, pushing in all the way He pulls out slowly, then slides back in. You let out a shaky breath, you felt so full.

“Want you to scream my name like earlier” he chuckles, giving you an extra hard thrust. He keeps up the quick, hard thrusts and you bite your arm to keep from screaming. You feel his hands hands grip your hips tighter and pull you back onto him. You have to lift your head up to breathe before biting your arm again but Tom notices this time.

“Fuck that!” He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, pounding you even harder. “Tom I’m gonna cum again” you cry out, and he moans, “Me too, baby”

Tom shifts behind you, the bed creaking. He puts one foot on the mattress, and rails into you. The sound of skin clapping echoes through the room, and you know the boys can hear.

“Tom!” You scream, just like he wanted; and your legs shake as your high washes over you. Tom thrusts sloppily a few more times before cumming inside of you.

You both pant, and Tom lays down beside you. “Do you think they heard?”

“Oh, they definitely heard”

#major shoutout to the anon that told me to space my dialogue ily😭#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland preference #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland roommate #smut #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

As the World Caves in last pt.

Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested by @aventureisoutthere98

Summary- when you’re close to meeting your soulmate you begin to see flashes of shared actions. No matter where in the galaxy either of you are. The closer you are physically, it all gets stronger, you get their same injuries and at times hear what they hear. The only questions are who they are and how does it stop?

Warning- fluff, talks of violence and death, angst and FLUFF

———

*5 years later*

Where there was supposed endless darkness. Light reappeared in a matter of an instant.

Or at least for you. For those who had disappeared.

Once again your mind and perspective was taken over by the familiarity and flashes of someone else—of Bucky’s point of view as you both did the same actions; seeing the calm greenery that surrounded you and then each other. Knowing as the flashes disappeared that the same utter confusion began to seep within one another, while what happened before you were taken to darkness hit you. Thanos had done it. He had gotten the stones.

How are you here?

“What’s going on?” You gasp, your eyes scanning the area in search for an answer and for Natasha.

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

Sam’s voice answered from behind you, causing Bucky and you both to turn and face him. Noticing no Natasha yet.

“Where’s Steve?” Bucky asked, “I saw him and now he’s not here.”

“A lot of people aren’t.” Sam countered.

Something felt off, everything was too quiet. The tension from the fight you were fighting before was gone. The ground that was once destroyed was now restored, all you saw was more and more people returning in the distance and close by. The pain from your wounds and the exhaustion that had once annoyed you was gone too. You felt in some ways resorted, like you had just taken a long sleep.

You sigh and turn back to head towards where you had seen Steve last, spotting not far ahead in your started path, Wanda on the ground with her hands feeling the ground beneath her as her body appeared to shake. You glanced at the boys at your side before walking towards her, gently grabbing her shoulder to gain her attention.

“Wanda.” You muttered.

Said girl stopped and slowly up at you, showing her glossy eyes and tear stained face. It took her a moment to respond, but as she did she stood to her feet to speak with a crack in her voice. “He did it. Vision is gone.”

A deep frown appears on your lips and tears sting in your eyes at the sound of her voice and look on her face. “I’m so sorry, Wanda.”

Right before she could have a chance to reply suddenly a sparking gold circle began to open, growing larger and larger until from within it the scenery changed from trees and dirt to a rocky terrain, exiting out of it, a tall man with what appeared to be blue robes and a red cloak.

You ball your hands at your sides into tight fists and begin to let fire spark and just lightly engulf your fists.

“They need you.”

That’s what he started off with, nothing else, just that. It didn’t help, or make your guard drop whatsoever. In fact his presence just confused you more.

“Who’s they?” You question while you let the flames surrounding you grow more.

The strange man noticed and raised his hands, “I’m not a threat, I’m here to help….you’ve all been gone for five years.”

Your shoulders drop and your lips part in new found disbelief, your mind begins to run with different thoughts and wonder, tuning out what the man from the portal was explaining. How can anyone comprehend that right away? Or even believe it?

Even as you tuned back into the conversation, the situation was still hard to understand. The only tiny bit of sense cheesy enough was Bucky. His words fully pulled you back. “Are you okay?”

You nod, even if you didn’t mean it. “Yeah, it’s just…I’m trying to wrap my mind around what we just heard, that's all. But I’ll be alright. Are you?”

His lips formed into a straight line and he grips onto his gun tighter, “never better.”

After the man named Doctor Strange leaves, you all have to walk back to the field to walk through a portal...he was going to open. Leading yet to another fight.

“Another day. Another battle.” You say with feigned enthusiasm as you cross your arms over your chest, “you know you’d think after coming back from disappearing for five years that one would at least rest, but no.”

“We’re far too important.” Sam adds trying to ease the tension that had built after the news. “We don’t rest.”

A groan escapes your lips and as your eyes spot a portal opening in the field you also see the hundreds of people that began to gather around again, looking like they did in the past, ready for battle. It was a chilling sight. It made you grow stiff and feel a hundred times more unready than the time before, like it all relied on you to once and for all get rid of the invasive threat—Even if it didn’t rely on just you.

And somehow in all this upcoming calamity, Bucky knew what to say to help your jumping nerves.

Perhaps he had felt in the connection you shared, or it was just painfully obvious, but he helped.

“We’re going to finish this. We are.” He assured you, making you look to him and meet his warm gaze.

You smile softly, “is your offer still up about the date? If we make it out of this battle I mean?”

Bucky nods and his lips pull into a half smile, “of course.”

“Good,” you sigh before you look back to the portal and see people beginning to enter it, doubling your nerves; “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Nothing else is muttered, you’re left hesitantly heading towards the portal, with each step bringing closer to what was contained past them. All the thousands of different kinds of strange people and a lot you recognized. And the moment you stepped past the portals you saw the huge army Thanos had behind him, all as menacing as the first time you fought what to you seemed only hours ago.

Every portal open brought more people and left you awe-struck—even if the scene in front of you was all destruction.

Overall it was fascinating and something that made you feel chills scatter all over your body, just like all the shouting and war chants.

Yet nothing else brought you more confidence than seeing Steve in the front of it all, shouting a war cry that set everyone off. “Avengers!” You were ready. You had to be. “Assemble.”

Not even wasting a second you alongside Bucky and the rest of the people behind you and beside you ran ahead towards the army, all breaking off as the enemy headed towards you too. With one of them directly sprinting towards you, lifting their blade and swinging down, but missing as you rose your hand and lifted a piece of the ground to throw it at them and send them flying back. Having to repeat the process with fire and earth as more terrifying aliens ran towards you. All set to want to kill you. All failing.

Leaving you to wonder as you fought, albeit that amongst the sea of people fighting you've yet to see one person in particular.

With that in mind as you spot Steve, you run towards him, manueving past the approaching enemy and blasting fire at one of those alien dogs to stop it from sneaking up on Steve.

Said man turns back and his distinguishable blue eyes study you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “You’re back.”

You nod and smile, “yeah, apparently it’s been five years. Hopefully you haven’t missed me too much.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, his smile just widens. Finally letting you question your only wander.

“Steve, where’s Nat?”

Steve's smile falls completely and his shoulders stiffen once again. His blue eyes seem to lose their light and drop to examine the ground as if his answer was contained within the dirt.

His now long features make you frown too, feel your heart begin to panic in your chest while you hesitantly follow up on your still unanswered question. “Steve?”

——

“You know, I wish there was a way that I could let her know. That we won.” Clint says gloomily as he looks away from the calm soothing lake to look at Wanda and then you, “we did it.”

Your turn away from the water and meet his glossy gaze, “she knows.”

“They both do.” Wanda interjects softly

Clint moves his arms to wrap one around your shoulders while he wraps the other around Wandas. Letting you wrap your arm around his waist and also hold onto Wanda's arm as the three of you stay watching the lake in silence, remembering each in your way those who you had lost. Feeling the grief and pain that came with remembering. Trying to grasp that there was no way to bring them back, they were only going to be kept alive in your memories.

Natasha was a great and the best friend you had. Now she was gone. Forever.

——

“Take care, y/n.” Steve said to you with a faint smile, “take care of each other.”

Your lips twitch and before you could reply you blink. Really trying to understand Steve’s odd words. Ultimately not questioning them, instead leading with something else. “Come back in one piece, Steve. I can’t afford to lose someone else.”

“I will. I promise.”

With nothing else to say he turns and walks onto the machine, clicking on something that made a suit just suddenly appear on him and let Sam question Bruce...hulk—it doesn’t matter. Sam questioned him. “How long is this gonna take?”

“For him, as long as he needs. For us, five seconds.”

Steve turns to face the three of you one last time, putting his helmet on and only taking three seconds before he just vanished. Setting the count down again.

Only not returning.

Making Sam and Bruce begin to panic and Steve’s oldest friend to remain silent until he spotted something. “Sam.”

The panicked man joins Bucky's side like you do too. Noticing that on the bench was...Steve. Old Steve. Which oddly enough didn’t surprise you.

His “until later” was actually a goodbye.

Bucky turns to a baffled Sam and urges him to join the old man on the bench, which Sam doesn’t hesitate to do so. Leaving Bucky and you behind to watch their interaction.

Which you actually didn’t pay much attention to as you broke your silence with a question to Bucky. “So, I know it maybe too soon, but I’m actually up for that date whenever you want...I just think life is crazy and takes unexpected turns. Anything could happen. I want to enjoy the good things. As small as they are.”

Bucky turns to meet your gaze and smiles softly whilst he answers, “you’re right...yeah. I want to do that too...with you.”

Your breath hitches and your smile turns goofy. “Good.”

“But I was thinking...how about we go dancing?” He suggests almost shyly, “I think it would be more fun,” his eyebrows furrow, “people still do that right? Go dancing?”

You nod with a grin decorating your lips. “yes they do.”

“Then what do you say? Are you up for it?”

You take a step closer towards him and nod while you also try to keep your cheeks from burning up too much and keep your words from rambling. “I’d love to go dance.” You take another step closer and briefly glance to the ground before you muster up the courage to lean in and press a soft kiss on his lips. Feeling his surprise at your unexpected gesture for only a couple of seconds before he regained his composure and pulled his hand out of his pocket to cup your face. Pulling you closer to deepen the kiss.

To get the feeling that everything fell into place. That sparks flew and it was solely just him and you even if the kiss wasn’t long.

Even if lately life has darkened and took too much. Bucky was the light to bring you peace in a crazy world.

“For such an old man,” you begin to tease as you pull away, “you’re actually a good kisser.”

Bucky chuckles, “I’m glad you think so, I thought I’d lost that part of myself.”

You chuckle and completely pull away to see Sam and Steve turned to face you. Both with smiles on their faces. Albeit Steve’s looked more genuine. A complete contrast to Sam and his teasing words.

“So where are we going to go guys? Drink a coffee at a nice cafe? Or watch a movie? I’m down for anything.”

“Sam.” You warn. “Don’t.”

Said man chuckles, “Natasha may be gone, but I’m still here to provide the fun. So really where are we going?”

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