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charlies-gillespie · 3 years

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private relationship | charlie gillespie (part 1)

PART TWO

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader and Charlie have been in a very private relationship. none of their fans know that they’re together, until a slip up at a very public event changes everything for the pair

requested: no

length: long

rating: PG (borderline PG-13 tho for some nsfw jokes)

warnings: a dirty joke or two, a few sexual innuendos throughout, drinking

!! MY GIF - give creds if used !!

authors note: “mon amour” means “my love” in french. it’ll probably be used a lot throughout the imagine

another author’s note: would y’all want a part two, but with smut?

MASTERLIST

“Charlie!” you call. Your voice echoes through your apartment. “Can you come here for a second?”

You need help zipping your dress. Charlie was the first to get to your apartment. He’s been waiting for Owen, Madison, Jeremy, Jadah, and Savannah, and Sacha to get here so your group can go to the release party together. It’s a formal event so you had to wear a dress and heels. It wasn’t your first choice, especially the heels part.

Charlie appears in the doorway and says, “Yea- woah.” You see him in your mirror. His eyes are on you. He looks good in his suit that he’s wearing. His jacket and pants are black, his button-up beneath the jacket is white, but he wears a silver tie to compliment the color of your pale pink dress since he can’t match your dress.

A smile forms on your lips and you ask, “Can you come zip up my dress, please?” Charlie nods and walks into your bedroom. You watch him as he slowly zips up your dress.

The dress is a long, baby pink dress with satin fabric. The skirt is a little poofy from the waist down. The top hugs your chest, pushing your breasts up a little bit so they look a little bigger than they actually are. A sparkly silver belt sits on your waist to add some sparkle to the dress. The sleeves are off your shoulders, and there are hidden pockets in the skirt.

Your boyfriend admires you in the mirror. You’re fully dressed now. Your hair is loosely curled and you have a natural makeup look painted on your face. The light color of the dress compliments your tan skin.

“You look stunning, mon amour,” Charlie sighs. “Absolutely stunning.”

You lean your head back a bit, resting it against Charlie’s shoulder. “You clean up very nicely, Charlie,” you say. “I like that you matched me without actually matching me.”

He laughs and says, “I might’ve had Mads and Jadah help me with that little detail. I wanted to match you but it would draw suspicion to us.”

When you and Charlie started dating almost nine months ago, both of you agreed to keep it on the very low. No social media posts unless hanging out in a group setting, no tagging each other in stories if you were alone together, and only going as far as following each other on social media since you’ve worked on the same show together. The fans don’t even know that you’re friends with each other at this point. Only your closest friends that are going with you to the event tonight know that you and Charlie are together.

Kenny Ortega also knows since he’s technically your boss and you’re both co-workers. He also might have found you making out with Charlie after the two of you got carried away when cuddling on Julie’s bed after a few hours of shooting scenes. You couldn’t lie to him after that.

Tonight is a very public event. Pictures will be taken, journalists will be wanting every juicy detail, and fans have been invited to the event so if there’s even a little be of suspicion, it won’t take very long to go public. It’s the release night party for Julie and the Phantoms season two. Everyone’s been invited to watch the first few episodes of the new season.

You feel Charlie kiss your bare shoulder and you giggle softly. “I’m sure everyone will be getting here soon so we should go wait out in the living room,” you tell your boyfriend.

“I wish I was able to touch you tonight,” he says. “It’s your big Netflix debut, Y/N. I wish I was able to hug you and show you how proud I am of you.”

A little sigh leaves your body and you say, “You can hug me. I’m sure a friendly hug won’t hurt, as long as you hug other people too. As for showing me that you’re proud of me, you can do that later when we’re alone.” You send him a playful wink so he gets what you mean.

Charlie’s jaw drops and he blinks at you. “I-you, um,” your boyfriend stammers. “Okay, yeah. I’m going to show you just how proud I am of you later, baby.”

You turn and face Charlie. “I look forward to it, Charlie,” you tell him, leaning up. He smiles and lightly pecks your lips.

Someone knocks on the door and you click out of the room in your silver heels to answer the door. Owen and Jeremy stand at the door. Jer’s wife, Carolynn, stands beside him.

“Hi, Y/N,” Owen greets you. “You look very pretty. I saw Charlie’s car in the parking garage so where is that loser?”

You laugh and say, “Probably still in my bedroom. Go get him. I think I shocked him or something with my words.” Owen pushes past you. Jeremy follows him, leaving you and Carolynn alone.

Carolynn smiles and says, “I love that color on you, Y/N. It suits you.”

“Thank you,” you say, shooting her a little smile. You’ve grown close to Carolynn since she’s married to Jeremy and you’ve spent a lot of time hanging out with the guys in a group.

You let Carolynn walk in before closing the door behind her. Faintly, you hear Owen say, “Bro, what’s going on with you? Your face is red.”

Charlie responds with, “I am so having sex tonight, dude.”

Both you and Carolynn laugh in the living room as Carolynn asks, “I don’t want to know what that’s about, do I?”

As you sit, you say, “Charlie said he wishes he could touch me tonight at the party so he could show me how proud he was of me. I told him he can show me how proud he is of me later when we’re alone.”

Carolynn says, “Ah, okay. That makes sense. Congratulations, by the way. Making your big Netflix debut tonight. How’s it feel?”

“I’m excited, but very nervous,” you admit. “The first season did so well and won so many awards that I’m scared that I’m going to come in and ruin the whole show and that people won’t like my character.”

She says, “You play the nice daughter of the villain of the show. Everyone will probably love you when they realize that your character wants to help the Phantoms instead of siding with Caleb. Don’t tell Jer and the guys but I think you have one of the best songs of the season so I think the fans will definitely love that.”

You smile as there is another knock on the door. Charlie, Owen, and Jeremy come into the living room as you answer the door.

Savannah stands in the doorway with Mads, Sacha, and Jadah. “I had to pick up the kiddos,” Sav says. “Ooh, Y/N. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling. “We’re just waiting for the limo to get here. I think we have a half hour or so before it gets here.”

Kenny is sending a limo to your apartment for the nine of you. When you decided to go as a group so you and Charlie could go together, Kenny pitched in and helped like the wonderful human being he is.

Owen decides to go live with Jeremy on his Instagram account for a few minutes. Carolynn talks with Savannah, Sacha, and Jadah while you find yourself talking with Charlie and Madison.

Mads says, “Kenny is giving us the opportunity to sing on stage together tonight. He told me that we can pick whatever song from either season. He thinks the fans would want to hear Perfect Harmony or Stand Tall since those were massive after season one dropped.”

Charlie nods and says, “Stand Tall would be good since all of us can get in on that number. I can talk to Jeremy and Owen about it when they get off live.”

You smile at the two of them and say, “That’s exciting. The fans will be so excited for this little surprise.”

“We can thank Kenny when it goes really well,” Mads says with a laugh. “He’s always got these great ideas. I don’t know how he comes up with them.”

Both you and Charlie laugh as your phone rings. You answer it, speaking to the limo driver. After a moment, you hang up the phone and announce, “Limo is here. Let’s head on out.”

Everyone gets their things together, Owen gets off Instagram live, and you all head down two floors to pile into the limo.

The drive from your apartment to the Laglyan Complex on North Vine Street is close to forty minutes. It was close to six when you left and it’s almost seven when you arrive to the venue for tonight’s event.

There is a red carpet laid out across the front of the building to the door. There is a lot of press here and a lot of cameras flashing. Cheyenne Jackson and Booboo Stewart are together on the carpet. You spot Kenny with one of the assistant directors.

When the press spots the limo, they begin to mumble to each other as they try to figure out who is in the car. Owen and Jeremy get out first. The press begin to snap pictures of the guys. Madison gets out with Jadah. Carolynn, Sacha, and Savannah. Sacha pairs up with Savannah while Mads, Jadah and Carolynn walk the carpet together until Carolynn finds her way to her husband.

Charlie helps you out of the car. The journalists call Charlie’s name as you close the door behind you. “Go,” you order him. “I’ll be okay. You’re the star of the show.” He smiles and sends you a wink since his back is turned toward the cameras. He walks off and your eyes follow him. Cheyenne walks over.

“Look at you, Y/N,” he says. “You look wonderful.”

You smile and say, “Thank you, Cheyenne. You look nice tonight. I love the suit.” He wears a shirt similar to his Julie and the Phantoms character, Caleb Covington. You play his daughter on the show.

Cheyenne holds his arm out for you and you hook your elbow with his. The cameras snap away at you and Cheyenne since the two of you play a father-daughter duo. Booboo comes and joins you and Cheyenne as the ‘Hollywood Ghost Club Crew’, as Booboo dubbed the three of you. The band is getting pictures together. Savannah, Sacha, and Jadah are getting their pictures taken together. Carolynn is getting her pictures done.

The journalists call out questions to the cast. They ask Madi which season was her favorite, which she replies with, “Y’all really going to make me choose? I can’t do that.”

Owen is asked whether or not we’ll get a Willex kiss in the future, which Owen replies with, “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

All the journalists laugh. One of them calls out, “Y/N, what was it like joining a show that already had a pretty large fan base and a successful first season?”

“It was nerve wracking at first,” you admit. “But the cast welcomed me with open arms and I’ve made some very, very close friends.” You shoot a smile to the cameras.

A second journalist calls out to everyone, “Are there any secret romances on set that no one knows about?”

Most of the cast, including you and Charlie, laughs. Owen answers with, “Now it wouldn’t be a secret if we told everyone. But no, there aren’t any secret romances. That I know of at least.”

After a few more pictures and questions, we all head inside. The main room as a bunch of tables set up and a little stage with Madi’s piano, Charlie’s guitars, Jeremy’s bass, and Owen’s drums. There are a few fans that were exclusively invited that are scattered around. They start getting excited when they see you walk in with everyone.

You find your table. You’re sitting with Owen, Charlie, Jeremy, Carolynn, Cheyenne, Booboo, and Savannah. This is the “adult” table, you guess. Mads, Jadah, and Sacha sit with Kenny and a few of the younger cast members at another table.

You’re sitting between Charlie and Owen. Someone needs to sit between them or they’ll be at each other all night. That’s your argument if someone is suspicious of you and Charlie.

Suddenly, you feel someone’s fingers lace with yours under the cloth that’s on the table. You glance over at Charlie and he has a little smile on his face as he talks with Jeremy. You turn and say to Owen softly, “Did Charlie really say that he’s having sex tonight?”

Owen laughs a bit and nods. “He thinks he is anyway,” the blond says. “Is he?”

“If he can behave himself then yes,” you say. Owen chuckles.

You feel Charlie squeeze your hand. You know he heard so you smile.

After small conversation with everyone at the table, you get up and get a drink. You walk to the bar, asking for a martini. While you wait, you’re approached by a guy dressed in a nice button-up shirt and dress pants. His hair is in a neat bun behind his head. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Austin.”

“Y/N,” you say.

“I couldn’t notice you came over here alone,” he says.

The bartender gives you your drink and you say, “I just came over to grab a drink. I was going to go back to my table after I grabbed it.”

Austin pulls out his wallet and hands the bartender a twenty dollar bill. “Let me at least pay for it,” he says.

You smile a bit and say, “Thank you. I must be headed back to the table with my friends now. I appreciate the drink, though.”

He blocks your way and you look up at him. “How about a dance in return for the drink?” Austin suggests.

Feeling more and more uncomfortable, you say, “Maybe later. I need to get back to my friends.”

Austin asks, “What’s the rush? It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything. I follow your social media accounts and you never post a guy.”

You begin to say, “Actually, I-” before Charlie walks up. You let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Everything okay here?” Charlie asks. “You were taking a while to come get a drink so I thought that I’d come check.”

The stranger says, “All good here. I was just offering Y/N a dance here since I paid for her drink.”

Charlie looks down at you and blinks before you say, “I didn’t ask him to pay for it. He took out a twenty and offered.” Austin looks between you and your secret boyfriend.

Then Charlie says, “If you offered yourself then Y/N isn’t obligated to dance with you just because you paid for her drink.”

Austin says, “Well, I’ll just ask again later.” The man walks away and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Your boyfriend moves and stands in front of you. He asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod and say, “Yeah, thank you. It was just uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to get out of it.”

Charlie reaches up to cup your face in his hands but he stops before he can touch your face. You look up at him before you lean forward, putting your face in Charlie’s hands. Your eyes flutter closed and you smile.

“Y/N,” Charlie says. “People are looking.”

With a sigh, you say, “I just need you to touch me, Charlie. I want you.”

He runs his thumbs over your cheekbones and you can hear pictures being taken. You put your drink on the bar counter and step closer to Charlie.

Your eyes open and you find Charlie looking down at you. He says, “You know what this means for us, right?”

You nod and say, “Our on-the-low relationship isn’t as on the low now. I don’t mind that anymore because I’m tired of guys coming up and trying to flirt with me while I have a boyfriend.”

Charlie chuckles a bit as he says, “I hope that means I can kiss you now. It’s all I’ve wanted to do tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh.

With no hesitation, Charlie leans down and crashes his lips to yours. You press your body against his, grabbing his jacket and holding him close to you. You kiss Charlie back just as hard as he kissed you. Your eyes are closed again but you can see flashes behind your eyes. You pull back from the kiss and stare up at Charlie.

Both of you smile at each other as Charlie says, “You better be ready for what happens after this.”

You push Charlie’s hair away form his face and say, “What happens after this is you get on that stage tonight, you kill it, we go back to your place because it’s closer, and you get all the sex you want.”

Charlie’s face turns a little red and he says, “I will never get used to you saying something sexual to me. I hope you know that.”

“You better, Mr. Gillespie,” you tell him. “I’m not the innocent girl that you met a year and a half ago.”

He laughs and says, “Trust me. I know you’re not the innocent girl that I met last year. You’ve proven that several times at this point.”

With a smile on your face, you take Charlie’s hand in yours before grabbing your drink and walking back to the table with your friends. When you get back to the table, you scoot closer to Charlie and rest your head on his shoulder. Owen looks over and says, “Woah, being affectionate in public. This isn’t the best idea.”

You say, “It’s okay, Owen. Everything is okay.”

Owen looks confused as you look up at Charlie. Charlie looks at his best friend and says, “I kissed her. At the the bar when I went to check on her. Cameras saw so that’s going to be a huge thing in the morning.”

Jeremy says, “Well, congratulations on making your relationship public, I guess.”

The table laughs. Owen looks at you, Charlie, Jeremy, and Carolynn before he says, “I need a relationship. I feel so single right now.��

Charlie says, “You’d actually have to talk to people to get a girlfriend, Owen.”

“Haha,” Owen says, sticking his tongue out at Charlie. You laugh.

***

At nine, Madi, Charlie, Owen, and Jeremy all leave to get ready. They decided on Stand Tall for the number they’re going to perform. It’s almost 9:30 when Kenny gets on the mic on stage. “Hello, everyone,” he says. “Today, Netflix released season two of Julie and the Phantoms. To celebrate, I offered our band the chance to perform a song of their choice. So, let’s all welcome Madison Reyes, Charlie Gillespie, Jeremy Shada, and Owen Patrick Joyner to the stage for their performance of whatever song they chose.”

The crowd cheers as everyone walks onto the stage, taking their place. You and Carolynn get a front row seat while you both watch your guys perform. You notice Charlie took off his jacket and his tie. He also cut off the sleeves, but that doesn’t surprise you. The top few buttons of his white button-up are unbuttoned, showing off his chest a bit.

Mads begins to play the first few keys to the song.

Don't blink No, I don't want to miss it One thing, and it’s back to the beginning Cause everything is rushing in fast Keep going on, never look back

You smile and watch Madi sing. She’s insanely talented and you’re so glad that the world was able to hear her voice.

The guys nod their heads to the beat while they wait for their signal to begin playing. Once they get their cues, they begin to play one by one.

Right now, I'm loving every minute Hands down, can't let myself forgеt it, no Cause everything is rushing in fast Keep holding on, nеver look back

Charlie plays like he’s flickering on and off stage like he does on the show. You smile and admire your boyfriend. You know how talented he is, especially those fingers of his, but he never ceases to amaze you how talented he is.

And it’s one, two, three, four times That I'll try for one more night Light a fire in my eyes I'm going out of my mind

You smile wide when Charlie sings his line at the end of the pre-chorus. Then he begins to sing his part of the song and you dance with Carolynn. The crowd sings and dances behind you two.

The four of them finish the song and smile. The crowd cheers and you smile, looking at Charlie. He has the biggest smile on his face, which is covered in a layer of sweat. His hair is damp with sweat too. Charlie bows with his closest friends before putting his guitar on the stand. He jumps off the stage and comes over to you.

“I told you that you’d kill it,” you tell him when he gets to you.

Charlie laughs and says, “Oh, hush.” He pulls you into a soft kiss. You smile and kiss him back, making your relationship with him completely public. The people around you cheer a bit as Charlie pulls away.

You look up at him and say, “You’re going to have so much fun being able to hugs me and kiss me in public now, aren’t you?”

He smiles and stares down at you. Charlie says, “Maybe I’ll be having too much fun now.”

As you brush some of the hair away from Charlie’s eyes, you say, “Please try to keep the PDA to a minimum, Charlie. You do have a lot of younger fans. Save most of it for when we’re alone.”

“Like how we will be tonight?” Charlie asks, eyes hopeful.

You laugh and say, “Just like how we will be tonight.” Then an idea pops into your idea. “This dress is getting really hot. I might need to take it off soon.”

Charlie gets what you’re trying to say so he replies with, “Let’s go.”

He takes your hand and hops over the barricade. You smile as he leads you through the crowd of people. Charlie calls you an Uber so you can both go back to his place tonight.

#charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp imagines #jatp imagine #fluff imagines #imagines #imagine #fluff

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muertawrites · 3 years

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Fireside (Zuko x Reader)

Word Count: 1,775

Author’s Note: I am so deeply sorry this took so long to post. I don’t know what happened but after Thanksgiving the creative part of my brain completely shut down and all I could do was lay in bed and play video games. But it’s back now so 🎉🎉🎉 happy new year to all of us!

I got this request a WHILE ago and had written something else for it but after reconsidering, I totally hated it, so this is the rewrite for some cozy, wintery goodness. I also love this idea because I’m constantly cold - my feet and hands are always freezing and even in summer I’ll wear sweaters and hoodies because aircon can get pretty chilly when you have the body temp of your average vampire.

Now for a little update: in the new year, I’ll be focusing more on original works than fanfiction. I’m still going to finish Two Halves, and I’ll still write fanfiction (because it’s still super fun) but I have so many ideas for original works that are taking over my brain that it seems only fitting to shift that direction. If you’re on my subscriber list and would like to only receive alerts for fanfic, let me know and I’ll add you to a separate list.

I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday, taking time to relax and spend time with loved ones, and generally just glad to have survived this shithole of a year. Here’s hoping that 2021 goes better - 2020 set the bar pretty low so it shouldn’t be too hard. 🥂

Snow was a rare occurrence in the Fire Nation. Summers typically scorched, followed by peaceful autumns and mild winters; a little rainfall was all one typically expected during the colder months in the Imperial City.

This year, however, was much different. The mountains that bordered the villages and towns throughout the island were white capped under gray skies; streets were slickened by thick layers of ice that settled between cobblestones and creased the panes of windows; bracing breezes swept through landscapes unaccustomed to such unforgiving weather, carrying flurries of snow that bit at cheeks and cloaked the world in a dull ivory veil. Winter came to the Fire Nation seeking a cruel, unwarranted vengeance.

You woke in the middle of the night to find the fire beside your bed had died, leaving your borrowed room in a state of bitter, slicing cold. It wasn't the first time the Firelord’s palace had left you uncomfortably chilled since your arrival for his New Year’s celebrations, as the building was never meant to withstand this type of climate - sweeping ceilings, open breezeways, and tall windows with thin shutters ensured that the cold had its way. Being from the Northern Earth Kingdom, used to sturdy wooden lodges with massive fire pits that could burn an entire tree trunk with one lighting, this strange change of the typical season made you ache for home.

Knowing there were no matches beside the hearth (given the sheer amount of fire benders that resided in the palace), you gathered up your courage and begrudgingly rolled from your mattress, taking the blankets with and wrapping them tightly around yourself. The walls around you creaked, shifting under the push of moaning winds, as you slipped into the hallway in search of your host.

You were thankful that Zuko decided to keep his personal wing of the palace confined to a space that was mostly enclosed; the only breezeways in this part of the sprawling estate surrounded its courtyards and gardens, and were blocked by sets of heavy wood doors that shielded the inner parts of the building from being overcome by the elements. As you walked, traipsing through the corridor under your mound of blankets like some sort of shadowy, death-bringing phantom, you passed one of the windows that overlooked the gardens, and found it frosted under heavy white tufts of snow; puffy, clumped flakes whirled down from the sky, falling haphazardly as they escaped the grip of the whipping wind. Even in the relative warmth of the palace, your body shivered thinking of how frigid the air outside must be.

Because of the abnormal cold, Zuko moved his mattress out of his bedroom and into his sitting room, where a large, decorative fireplace stood nestled into the far wall. You approached his sleeping form with gentle, quiet steps, being careful not to startle him; you lay a hand on his shoulder and he jolted awake, drawing a sharp breath in as he twisted to face you, blinking blearily to make out your features in the dark.

“What are you doing?” he muttered.

“I'm cold,” you whispered in response. “My fire went out.”

Zuko sighed, fixing you with an irked, exhausted expression.

“Seriously?” he groaned. “This is the third time this week.”

“It's not my fault nobody has any friggin matches in this place,” you quipped. “And besides, why bring a servant all the way up here when I have one of the world’s greatest fire benders down the hall?”

Zuko huffed, then rolled back over in an attempt to shove you off.

“There should be more blankets in your closet,” he grumbled.

“I'm wearing all of them,” you retorted.

You stood above him, waiting, but got no response. Shivering, and with an exasperated sigh, you pulled back the blankets around him, shuffling between them and nestling into his back; he snapped his head around once more, eyeing you suspiciously.

“... Isn’t this a little uncomfortable?” he wondered.

“Not really,” you replied. “We used to do this all the time when we were teenagers.”

“We haven't done this since we were teenagers.”

You hummed, recalling your time together during the war. Even on the hottest days, your body was cold, your fingers always reasonably corpselike to anyone who happened to touch them - Zuko was one of those unfortunate people, and the lack of circulation in your limbs came as quite a worry to him. Throughout the day, he would take one of your hands in his, heating his palm until your skin took on a more lively temperature. When he noticed how much you layered at night when the air became cooler, he started sleeping nearer to you, eventually curling up around you to keep you warm. After the war, when he got into the habit of visiting you around the winter holidays, you still found yourself seeking him for warmth, tucking your hands into the sleeves of his robes or curling his palm around your icy fingers, finding sanctuary in the way he heated his skin to appease you. While it was true you hadn't slept together since you were younger, you hadn't ever needed to - desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I should have remembered that you get so grumpy when you're tired,” you teased him, rubbing your feet against his; he hissed, but didn't pull away.

“You're freezing,” he commented. “I should have remembered you're dead on the inside.”

You giggled, sighing happily as the familiar heat of his skin warming like a furnace chased the chill from your toes. You slid your feet up along his ankles, causing him to shiver; his body tensed for a moment, then eased into your touch, quickly finding comfort in its familiarity.

“Aang used to assume we were a couple because of this,” Zuko mumbled. “He still does.”

“You're just a good friend,” you replied. You nuzzled your face into the broad, solid expanse of his back, breathing in his scent of scorched wood and sea salt. He felt like home. “Good friends don't let their friends freeze to death.”

Zuko chuckled, taking hold of your hands that lay on his waist and cupping them within his own; he held your knuckles up to his mouth and huffed warm, smokey air onto them, heating them until they no longer felt cold. He tucked them beneath the fabric of his tunic, keeping them tepid between the fabric of his undershirt.

“Uncle says the same thing,” he mused. “He says we treat each other like lovers, whether we realize it or not.”

“My neighbors have asked me what my husband does that takes him away for so long out of the year...” you commented, eliciting another breathy laugh from your companion. “But I think I'd know if you were in love with me.”

Zuko rolled over, turning to face you; his arm latched at your waist, his chest almost pressed to you and your noses grazing each other in the small space of his mattress. You blushed, the color blending with the soft, balmy glow of the low hearth behind him.

“What makes you think I'm not in love with you?” he wondered.

You paused, watching the flames flicker over the angular features of his face. Though he was silhouetted, and so close he seemed to envelop all of you, you could make out a tender gleam in his eye; could feel the flutter in his chest as he split it open, tentatively revealing his heart to you.

“... I'd like to think you would have mentioned it,” you answered after a moment, “but I know you better than that.”

Zuko grinned; you watched the curve of his cheek as it swelled with the action.

“I might have mentioned it,” he murmured, his voice lilting with a gentle mirth. “Just not to you.”

“Of course not,” you teased. You mirrored his smile, easing into him as his foot began to stroke against your ankle once more. “Either way, I know you don't love me.”

“And why is that?” Zuko whispered.

“Well… you never write to me about anything exciting,” you replied. “You always seem so content to write to me about your thoughts, or what plays you've seen recently, or your conversations with Iroh. You never tell me about the impressive, world-altering Firelord stuff or your incredible exploits as a warrior.”

Zuko smirked, raising a hand to brush some hair away from your face. His fingers were calloused and lukewarm, tracing over your temple with consideration and care.

“Why else?”

“You've never tried to kiss me,” you noted, “or touch me like a lover. You never try to push our boundaries past anything that's comfortable for us. Even right now - I'm laying in your bed, but you refuse to touch me in a way you're unsure of.”

“Then you don't love me, either,” Zuko added. His body had gravitated flush to yours, your legs braided together under the pile of blankets you'd buried him in. “You only want to sleep with me when you're cold. You could just as easily call a servant for help.”

“And you only want to keep me warm out of obligation,” you agreed. “It wouldn’t make you look very good if I died of hypothermia on your watch.”

For a long moment, Zuko gazed at you. You basked in his silence, the easiness of his form so close to yours, the native feeling of his arm around your waist and his breath tickling your cheeks. The fire snapped quietly in its hearth, its flames rising and falling in time with his inhales and exhales.

“I’ve missed this,” Zuko admitted in a whisper. “Laying with you. I wish we could do it more often.”

“I’ve missed it, too,” you affirm. “I always used to sleep better with you.”

“And that’s it?” Zuko teased.

“That’s it,” you giggled back.

He chanced a kiss to your forehead, pressing his lips between your brows and letting them linger there, savoring the coolness of your skin. You shut your eyes, giving yourself entirely to his touch.

“In the new year… do you think we could be lovers?” he asked as he pulled away.

“... I think your uncle is right,” you murmured. “I think we already are.”

With a faint, bashful smile, Zuko pulled you closer (if the act were even possible), hugging you tightly to him; you held him close, pressing the whole of your body to his and soaking in his steady, comforting warmth. As the wind howled outside, shaking the flimsy wooden eaves of the feeble shelter around you, you fell asleep in the heat of his fireside, safe in the knowledge that his arms held you.

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vivifrage · 3 years

Text

(This one is a Siriks Lives He Just Got Captured AU because @shadowtriad endeared me to him and now this catboy lives rent-free in my brain. I hope I got him right.)

4: Taken Hostage

The days stretched on, indiscriminate, in the cell.

They were interrupted sometimes, but he couldn’t say when in the day it was, or whether it was in the same day, another day after, a week after, what. The Exo had tried to bring a clock, show him the time once or twice at least, but the clock had been whisked away shortly after she left, and Earth timekeeping without the sun to double-check was a headache on top of his current, overarching, already massive headache.

How Eramis had withstood decades of this, he didn’t know. Whether she had recognized all the years passing, how much she missed, until she stepped outside into a changed world, he didn’t want to think about.

In comparison, he’d barely been in here (he knew that, at least), and he was already considering sneaking another one of the snacks the Exo had left him. The first had been good, but they’d been brought as some sort of… pity offering by the being who by all rights should have killed him, instead humiliating and dishonoring him like this. But his stomach was starting to ache, and he didn’t know when food would come next.

Maybe he would simply bite the next person to enter the cell.

The Exo was a relatively frequent visitor, so calm even when he growled and bared his teeth. (She’d laughed at that, once. Just a short burble of a noise. It was the first time he bit her, teeth scraping against her armored forearm. He hadn’t been able to open his left front eye for a while after she punched him for it.) She was likely, but biting her wasn’t even worth the revenge for capturing him.

Other Lightbearers stopped by sometimes. Usually they just hovered around the edges while someone else - staff, interrogators, what have you - worked, and put on their most threatening face. If he didn’t know what they were, he would have laughed at the little dolls trying to look scary. As it was, he kept his face hidden behind an arm when he snarled back.

Then, perhaps worst of all, was the House of Light. Usually one of their Splicers, gauntlet snap-snap-snapping over their arms, asking question after question. Or, at times, a Captain, much more blunt and to the point. Always accompanied by their Scribe. She rarely spoke, asking whoever she was with to clarify something or another, and listening to just that had made it plenty clear that she was young, hardly finished growing. But she scribbled note after note, hadn’t backed down at all after the first time he lunged for her, and when he’d looked her in the eyes, something uncomfortable settled in his stomach. He couldn’t place it, but it left him on edge until the Exo visited again.

...That would work. Bring the House’s meager nobility down a bit. Busy the Sacred Splicer, so-called Kell of Light, with worrying over his baby rather than getting in anyone’s way.

Said Kell hadn’t even bothered visiting his prisoner in person. Maybe he did have a more sadistic side, and was waiting for him to be thoroughly infuriated and ashamed with himself before coming in to dock him.

He didn’t know how much longer he sat there, seated on a bed sized for Humans, the couple of scruffy blankets he had piled in a poor excuse for a nest at his feet. He toyed with one of the snacks, listening to the wrapper crinkle, and ignored the hunger building in his gut.

But eventually, the door clicked and his head snapped up, fixated on it. He shoved the snack back into its hiding spot, crossing his hands over his lap. Watching, waiting, to see who came in the door this time.

It opened a crack, enough for him to hear Eliksni voices. So the House of Light again. Bringing question after question, no doubt, or maybe some new trick to dig into his memories and see what he knew. He growled, low in his throat.

He was definitely biting the Scribe. At this point, just for the grim glee of seeing her and whoever she came with squeal.

It opened more, just enough to admit, yep, the Scribe, as bundled up as she always was, like she’d spent so much time among Humans and their ilk that she was trying to hide what she was. Poorly, considering her secondary arms and the glow of her eyes, but still.

“It’s fine. It’s just to talk-” She turned to him and dipped her head. “Hello, Siriks- We’ll see how things go.”

A much deeper voice rumbled behind her, and a new hand replaced hers on the door, pushing it wide open. In the doorway stood a taller Eliksni wearing a purple mask, glowing lines tracing around his form. He kept two hands on the Scribe’s shoulders, kneading away. “If you need me for anything, I am right here.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll see you.” The Scribe gently pried his hands off her, turning so her back was to him, and stepped into the room. Nervous confidence filled her short form, keeping her head high and chest puffed but her limbs close to her chest, clutching her tablet like a weapon.

With a hand wielding a Splicer’s gauntlet, the other Eliksni tapped under his eyes, shooting Siriks a sharp glare.

The door closed, leaving him alone with the Scribe and a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Shit. Shit. Fuck him.

That was her father, wasn’t it? Standing right outside the door, ready to rush in if anything went awry.

And he knew, he had been told, the Scribe of House Light’s father was its Kell.

Oh, he was fucked every which way.

If he did so much as make her shout a little too loud, sound a little too angry or afraid, he was dead. No chance to appeal, no chance to argue that he still knew things they didn’t (not that he would give them up, but it would buy him time to try and escape), no chance to even apologize for upsetting her. The Kell didn’t have to answer to any authority save perhaps the Vanguard, and he could lie to them. Whatever he wanted to justify killing him on the spot.

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself.” The Scribe startled him, suddenly just out of arm’s reach. Close enough to be caught if he lunged, but her father was right there. She didn’t even seem to care, instead picking around at her thick, woolly cowl. “I am Eido. I’m sure you gathered that I am the Scribe of the House of Light.”

Perhaps it was for the best she already knew his name. It was like someone had tied a knot in his throat, and the only thing that could escape would be a growl.

She sighed; she wasn't even looking at him any more, too busy fiddling with the tie keeping her cowl and hood in shape. "I hope you don't mind if I take this off. It's warm, but if I didn't know better I'd swear someone wove prickles into it."

She met his eye, and said, deadpan, "To be honest, if you do have an opinion on it, that's your problem, not mine."

He managed to chuff. Oh, the Scribe thought she had some backbone to her, didn't she? Speaking like that to a Devils Baron. No wonder. She looked like she might be getting a Captain's Ether rations, when by all rights, at her age she would just be getting promoted to a Vandal. Provided she had the skill and tenacity to back up that overinflated ego.

"Anyways," she said, finally undoing the tie. The cowl slackened, the hood slipping back enough to reveal a lock of coarse, dark brown hair. She continued to unwind the length of fabric, folding it over her arm as she worked. "I do not plan to interrogate you as the others did. I'm here in my duty as House Scribe, not a notetaker. Which means understanding all involved points of view. Yours included."

The fabric fell away, and she stared back at him, barefaced. "If you will work with me, that is."

He couldn't answer. He couldn't breathe.

There was no mistaking it. The eyes alone were easy enough to dismiss; a greyish blue was nothing spectacular. But the shape of her brow, her nose, jawline, mandibles, it all flowed together into a face he swore he saw in old pictures. The color of her skin and shell were almost an exact match, too. And her hair, wrangled into a thick braid - he could almost feel the coarse, ridiculously voluminous texture under his hands, hear ghosts of conversations marked with banter and dramatic stories. Not to mention her stature, the sound of her voice - now that he saw, it all added up.

He had seen one of her siblings, when he'd been able to search the wreckage. Trapped under dented metal, lower body crushed.

Late one night, decades later, Eramis had whispered to him about the other two, the ones they had never found and who must have died long ago. Including a little girl who looked just like her, and had a patch of thick, dark hair, trying to be fluffy even while egg-damp.

And she was standing right there, alive and well. Still the spitting image of her mother.

He had grieved for her and her siblings. He knew all too well the ways of war, he knew they were at risk. But that didn't change how his heart had sung seeing the eggs in their nest on the Sepiks-Fel. It didn't change how he had cradled them while he sat in the dark, shining a light through their shells to illuminate the dark, growing forms within. It didn't change how he had cheered them on when they wriggled and kicked while he watched, and traced a knuckle along the eggshell to see when they started responding. One had reached out once, when he did that. Had it been her? Was she the one who had pawed at the inside of her shell with a scrawny, underdeveloped hand, her egg the only thing between her and his palm cupped around where she patted?

Maybe it was. It was a one in three chance, after all, that it was her. Two in three that it had been one of her siblings, killed in the crash.

And she stared at him, unknowing. Stepped closer, close enough he could catch her scent and erase any lingering doubts in his mind.

It was her.

He was supposed to be her father.

He choked back a raging storm of conflicting feelings. Deep, white-hot rage that she had been taken from him, that he had gone all these years with her, her siblings, and her mother ripped away all at once. She should have grown up cradled in his arms, raised to be a proud Devil. He should have sung her to sleep, taught her everything he knew, taken her onto his crew.

But at the same time, she was alive and well. Cared for, educated, given such a notable rank. If she had ever suffered for anything, he didn't see any sign of it. And, all right, he doubted Misraaks would have taught her any sort of unpleasant biting tricks.

She was still the Scribe of House Light. She had still stood there, watched, and taken her notes through interrogation after interrogation.

But now she stood within arms reach, painfully familiar, the father who raised her waiting just outside while the father-who-could-have-been, the father-who-should-have-been, sat before her, imprisoned.

He swallowed down the keen rising in his throat. He couldn't even tell her.

#whumptober2021 #No.4 #taken hostage #Destiny 2 #Infant death tw #Jaxx writes

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mnictasbcl · 3 years

Text

I’ll be forever young (with you)

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 13th: Forever young @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Sumo

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson, Connor & Hank Anderson & Sumo

Additional Tags: Fluff, Birthday, First birthday, Presents, Detroit bridge, Swearing, Hank is the best dad

Summary: August 15th, 2039. Connor’s first birthday.

He doesn’t think Hank will do anything that big for his birthday…

And is proven very wrong.

(The final prompt for this event! I’ve enjoyed it very much :) )

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

AUGUST 15th, 2039

TIME AM 07:40:02

Connor awoke to a ball of brown and white fur catapulting itself onto his bed.

Opening his eyes and fully coming out of the stasis, he realised that this was Sumo.

He ran his hands over his soft fur, receiving the wet slobbery kisses over his face, smiling. The Saint Bernard seemed particularly affectionate and excitable, the reason why eluding him as he was distracted by the fluffy cuddles.

But then, finally pulling himself away from the great dog and scanning his surroundings, he found out the reason pretty quickly.

Loosely strapped upon Sumo’s head was a colourful party hat, the words ‘Happy Birthday!’ printed on it in bold letters. Deducing that it wasn’t Hank’s birthday, it wasn’t Sumo’s…

The only other person in the house was him.

He chuckled, moving to pull the hat off the dog but he grumbled and jumped off the bed before he could do so.

“I didn’t think you’d find that comfortable, Sumo.”

The only reply he was given was a snort as the dog sniffed at the floor, nosing slowly out of his bedroom.

Connor shrugged. It made sense. It was a year since his activation day. Strangely… he did recall Hank paying extra attention and asking questions when he had mentioned he was almost a year old since being activated.

But he hadn’t viewed it as a birthday. Merely the day after his testing was complete and he was finally activated and shipped out on the same day for his first mission.

Of course, with the development of android rights, birthdays had been allowed for androids, even encouraged. Markus had celebrated his, he remembered, as he’d created a painting for him as a gift. So had various other members of Jericho.

Still, it felt… different to view this as a human celebration, of him turning a year old. The body he was in was technically not even a year old because he’d fallen off the rooftop on his first mission. He shuddered. It hadn’t been a brilliant day of birth, if humans called it that, that was for sure.

However, with help from people like Hank and Markus, he was beginning to accept his new humanity. Perhaps embracing his birthday would allow him to really move into the next stage of his life.

Besides, it wasn’t like Hank would do anything massive for the day, right?

He walked out of his room and was met with balloons tied to the curtain poles, a banner proclaiming ‘Happy birthday/activation day, Connor!’, presents piled up on the living room table and Hank standing at the kitchen counter, a birthday hat askew on his head.

“Here comes the birthday boy.” Hank chuckled as he walked in, taking in his bewildered expression. “I know I probably went a bit… a lot extreme on this, but it’s your first birthday. You got to have a nice first birthday.”

Connor continued to scan over the room. “It’s…”

“I know.” He took a step towards him. “I know you’re still getting used to all your new-fangled emotions. But this doesn’t have to be big and stressful. Just a nice day where you can open some gifts and eat cake.”

He quirked a brow. “Did someone buy me a biological stomach, Lieutenant?”

“Smartass. Fine, I’ll eat cake. You can watch and drink a thirium pouch.”

Connor nodded. That didn’t sound too different. He followed Hank into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch.

“Alright…” Hank hummed as he looked over the gifts. “We’ve got a few things- a lot of things- from your friends at Jericho. One or two from the guys at the DPD… and me and Sumo piled some stuff together.”

Connor looked over it all with confusion, hands reaching out before pausing, reassessing. Eventually, he looked over to Hank for help.

“What… exactly do I do?”

Hank smiled. “They’re for you. Open whichever you want, but make sure Sumo doesn’t eat the wrapping paper.” He threw a slightly dirty look at the dog who was laying in front of the table, waiting. Sumo glared back at him.

Connor nodded. That sounded reasonable. Picking up the first gift, which was from Markus, he found even the tingle of excitement building in his chest, wondering with gratitude what his loved ones had chosen for him.

Markus had gotten him a book about fish, along with a selection of classical piano sheet music for him to play. Seeing the care put in, the thought about what he was interested in… was touching.

Tearing through the next few gifts elicited the same feeling. Everything was so thoughtful, even the Saint Bernard plush Sumo had ‘bought’ for him.

“Full of himself.” Hank jerked a thumb fondly at the dog when he opened the gift.

“It is very sweet, Sumo. Perhaps not as good as the real deal…” He bent down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “But very cute, thank you.”

After everything was placed neatly back on the table, he thought they were finished. But Hank looked to him and proclaimed:

“Okay. I have one last gift for you…”

Connor tilted his head. “But I appreciated the things you have already gotten for me, Lieutenant. They were very generous.”

“This isn’t a thing.” He replied, getting up off the chair. “Come on, follow me.”

The android was intrigued as he was led out to the car. Sumo was put in the back, so he assumed it couldn’t be another vacation or they would have left him with the neighbours.

Still, it seemed like Hank wished this to be a surprise, so he looked down at the mini Sumo plush he had brought with him, stroking his fingers over the soft fabric. He chuckled to hear Sumo whining with jealousy from the back.

Connor managed to distract himself as such until the car pulled to a stop. Looking up, he found they were in the park.

Hank strode ahead of him once Sumo was on the leash, and he hurried to catch up. It didn’t seem like they were in the mood for sightseeing today, the scenery rushing by as Hank continued on.

But, just as Connor was about to inquire where they were going, he found himself at a familiar place. Looking out over the Detroit bridge.

Hank sat down on the bench, holding Sumo’s leash and patting the spot beside him for the dog to hop up.

“I remember this place.” Connor mused, standing beside the bench. Earlier in the day now, he didn’t look out at the stars twinkling overhead but instead the crisp summer sky. “You almost shot me here.”

Hank laughed. “If that’s what you’re asking; no, I’m not going to shoot you. That would be a shit birthday present.”

“It would indeed be rather unpleasant.”

“And illegal.” Hank added. “But… that is partly the reason I brought you here. Not the almost shooting thing. Maybe just the… almost.” He sighed.

“I wasn’t even gonna think about it; you were getting on my nerves, there was too much going on in my head… I was just going to shoot you. But then- you didn’t kill those tracis. And you stood there and told me you were afraid to die. This was the first place I realised that you were actually alive… and all the better for it, otherwise, where would we be now?”

Connor mulled it over. If Hank had shot him, it would have… well, severely halted the growth of their relationship.

“But I don’t want to think about that.” Hank continued on. “I didn’t shoot you. You had a heart. And now it’s your first birthday. In that year, you helped the leader of the android revolution… You pulled me out of whatever rut I’d fallen into. And honestly? I couldn’t see my life without you right now, son.”

Connor glanced to Hank as he paused. He didn’t comment on the way his voice had choked up, instead placing a hand gently on his shoulder, a sign of comfort.

“It’s really helped me, living not on my own again—no offense, Sumo. But just having someone in the house, you… Even if you are a pain in my ass sometimes.” He chuckled.

“What I’m trying to say is… Well, I know you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. A long life. A life where you’ll always look like that, where you’ll be forever young- and a while from now, you’ll be living a new life, without—” he looked up to Connor. “But right now, where we are? I like that. I don’t want it to go away. So that’s why…”

It appeared Hank had hit his quota for sappiness, as he simply held out a piece of paper to Connor wordlessly.

Connor took it off him, quickly scanning over it. It was a form. Official looking, with Hank’s signature at the bottom, and room for his…

“An adoption form?”

“If it’s too much, just tell me. I don’t want you thinking I’m some clingy old man but—”

He handed it back to Hank, his signature printed on it. “Thank you… dad.” The word was strange. It wasn’t likely he’d always use it- but the meaning then, the feeling it brought… it was the best birthday present he could have asked for.

Hank smiled back to him. “Great. Now, what about we get out of here? The view’s pretty, but it’s gonna get hot as hell later in the day and that cake back at home isn’t going to eat itself.”

Connor followed after him, back to the car. “Of course. I have heard, however, about this new android update which can install human mechanics such as eating…”

“I’m not saving you any fuckin’ cake, Connor. It’ll go old.”

“Like you?”

Connor wouldn’t have it any other way. The small moments of genuine affection and feelings let out into the air… The regular day-to-day life of working at the DPD and bantering with Hank… Being forever young, one day, that all might end. But for now, he would live in the moment, and he would embrace it. All the emotions that would come with deviancy, whether good or bad, or even a mixture of both… He couldn’t ask for a better Lieutenant turned father-figure to help him through it.

#dbhcolorsofdeviancy #dbh #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh hank #dbh connor and hank #dbh fanfic #fanfic

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

Spoopy! Spoopy! Spoopy!

OTP Challenge 10/01/2020

Pairing: daddy!Thor x Reader Word Count: 1,273

Warnings: fluff, lots of fluff, tooth rotting fluff

A/N: This is for @thefanficfaerie ‘s OTP Spooktacular Halloween Challenge. I’m gonna have so much fun coming back to this couple. They’re one of my favorites and I know some of you have asked for more of their day to day stuff so that’s what this will hopefully be. I’m going to seriously try and do this every day. Like Nanowrimo but for Halloween! Thanks for reading and if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Making decisions will be the death of you. Especially decisions this important.

Okay, maybe this isn’t vital in the grand scheme of things but for you, this is of the utmost importance because soon you’ll be sharing your very first Halloween with Thor.

Ben has not been able to stop talking about what he calls, spoopies.

A cute melding of spooky festivities that he created when you’d explained Halloween to him as he got bigger.

You want to make this year special. More special than it will already be with Thor here to celebrate with you.

“My love?” He calls you, voice deep and smooth like warm velvet.

Your heart stutters when your eyes find him, his hands wrapped around the handle of a bright red shopping cart laden with an array of spoopy decorations, as Ben would say.

He sits between Thor’s arms in the cart, swinging his little feet as he fidget with the smooth bleached plastic of a decorative skull. His brow furrowed as his five year old mind memorizes every dip and divot.

On his chest, harnessed to him so that she faces outward is your five-month-old little Roslyn. Heads and shoulders above her milestones, she sits confidently against Thor’s chest, her little legs kicking wildly as she spots you, her little lips puckered as she breathes in and out quickly. She’s hyperventilating it looks like with the excitement she feels at the sight of you.

She releases a fierce and high pitched battle cry to get your attention which she already mostly has save for the part of your brain that is highly focused on the irresistible image of Thor pushing a cart with your little girl strapped to his chest and your son relaxed between his protective hold.

Even though it looks normal, Thor is on alert. Always when the four of you are out and about. He’s been a wreck with worry since the two of you got married and the media got a hold of the photos.

Benny’s face had been plastered across every paper, magazine, and internet article along with your own and Thor had been livid.

It took the entirety of the Avengers to calm him and even then, Tony had Steve keep a pair of arc reactor powered handcuffs nearby. Just in case.

“Wanna borrow them later?” Tony had teased you, wiggling his eyebrows at you while Thor fumed at the other side of the common room in the compound.

Idiot.

So even if he’s learned to pretend that he’s relaxed in public, his defense is always up. His vigilance heightened. A feral daddy for his precious little ones who now everyone knows thanks to the nature of a media driven world.

“What’s that?” You frown, moving closer to him to reach for a spot on his shoulder. The strange shape of an oblong wet spot stains the soft fabric of his charcoal pea coat. Underneath, his white shirt stands bright in contrast.

“What?” He searches the spot you touch before sweeping his hand underneath yours to grab and pull to his lips where he presses a soft kiss to the base of your palm. “It’s a little bit of spittle.”

“That doesn’t look like drool, Thor.” You frown, looking to Rosie who grabs at your shirt now that you’re within reach.

“Rosie threw up a little. She’s alright.” He promises, pulling your hand up to his lips again.

There’s a flurry of gasps and murmurings from behind you and you make to pull your hand away to avoid getting caught on camera in a display of tooth-rotting affection but Thor holds on tighter, keeping his lips pressed to your hand.

With a sigh, you relent and let him do as he pleases, frowning at him instead because you know exactly what’s happening here.

“Thor, did you throw her up in the air again?”

Thor drops your hand and throws his arms out to the sides, a look of getting caught contorting his handsome features into the goof you’ve come to know and love.

“She likes it!” He explains.

With a growl you move back towards the shelf you’d been pondering.

“I won’t do it again.” Thor lies. “I promise.”

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep Thor. Or I’ll start making you pay for them.” You threaten and you gasp as his head is beside you suddenly, lips close but not too close as he’s only slightly bent down towards you as he whispers.

“Punishment?” He whispers and the heat of his breath makes your skin pimple. “I like a good spanking.”

“Shut up!” You push his face away and he erupts into hearty chuckles as Rosie coos and giggles with her daddy.

“Why have you been standing here for hours on end?” Thor asks, his focus on Rosie however as she reaches towards the shelf to grab at a pair of cute light up pumpkins. Not exactly spooky but the color changes from yellow to green, purple, blue, red, orange, and back to yellow.

“I can’t decide what to get.” You confess, adjusting the baby bag on your shoulder.

Thor contemplates the decorations brow furrowed as he also blindly reaches for the bag on your shoulder, taking it from you to place on his own massive shoulders.

“Well, Rosie likes the pumpkins, get those.” He points at them, reaching with his other hand to take hold of Rosie’s little hand.

She wraps her fingers around his tightly, squeezing with surprising strength. Their Asgardian blood is strong and have clearly overtaken your own human genes.

“Daddy?” Ben’s voice interjects, thoughtful and low.

When the two of you turn to look at him, you find him pouting.

“Which ones shall we get, my son? Which would you prefer?” Thor wonders, looking down at his little boy.

“I wan’ the spoopy ones, daddy. Spoopy. Wike vampiewos o’ woofs, ‘o monstuss.” Ben explains, his speech still a little bit of a worry for you but Doctor Cho assures you he’s fine and will grow out of it.

“But then you’ll be up at night, sweet pea. I don’t want you to be scared.” You reach over to stroke his cheek and he shakes his head firmly.

“Nooo, mommy. I’m bwave!” He declares. “Get the spoopy ones.”

“Why not jus get both?” Thor suggest and reaches over you to grab a set of the light up pumpkins and adds them to the pile of other more homely decorations you’d picked out earlier. Pillows and throws with pumpkins and ghosts and witches. Garlands and lights, small mini pumpkins and brooms and candy buckets to put in your kitchen.

“Both?” You gasp, a little surprise but also because you didn’t think of it first.

“Yes.” Thor smiles amused by your shock but then grabs the set of scary faces in mirrors that disappear and reappear. “We can make both our children happy.”

“Yay!” Ben cheers, clapping his hands and abandoning the fake skull you’d picked out for the living room side table among the other decorations. “Spoopy! Spoopy! Spoopy!”

His chanting draws a chuckle from Thor, a fond caress from you, and giggles from the others watching from the end of the aisle made too scared by those videos of Thor threatening strangers who’d gotten too close to you or the babies to move closer.

The world loves Ben and Rosie, and though the exposure has made you wary of the possible threats that might come from being so out in the open about your lives together, you relish in the fact that they seem to love your sweet little peas just as much as you do.

#otp challenge #spooktacular halloween #thor x reader #to be seen #daddy!thor x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #thor odinson x reader #thor fluff #shreddedparchment #to be seen otp #pt.01

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whumpeeblog · 3 years

Text

TW: WHUMP, SLAVERY, TORTURE, VIOLENCE, BLOOD

Credit: this is not my original idea. Characters and writing is mine, but I was inspired by a prompt. I don’t remember the original author of the prompt but credit to them anyway.

The mangled figure mopped the floor with her tangled hair and silent tears. She scrubbed at the white tiles with what little might she had and the torn rag she had been provided with. Trembles and shivers racked her body whenever she heard the clanking of a pot, or chopping of a knife in the kitchen next to her. S’s master, K, prepared a meal for himself while his slave toiled away, attempting to turn herself invisible.

Although S attempted to avoid K’s burning gaze, she found it nearly impossible. K pounded towards the table, and set down a steaming plate, clanking it heavily on the wood to extract a startled flinch from his prisoner.

“Put the bucket in the closet,” K commanded.

With severe struggle, S clamored up from the floor, gripping the ledge of the island as leverage. Pain exploded throughout her muscles and skin with every move, but she knew better than to disobey. He could make it much worse than it already was. She limped to the utility closet behind the kitchen, and dumped the bucket, setting it down with the rag inside.

“Hurry up!” The accented voice crashed from the dining room.

Oh god I’ve upset him. He’s gonna hurt me.

S scurried messily to the dining room, then dropped to her knees with a wince and small groan. She had the drill memorized well. Keeping her eyes to the ground and kneeling to face her master, she patiently, yet painfully, waited for him to finish his meal. S was prepared to retrieve whatever he wanted at a moments notice, whether that be something as simple as a napkin, or his favorite jagged whip for his own gruesome amusement. The results of silent submission proved themselves less painful than defiance.

K unsheathed his dagger, then brandished it before slicing off a piece of easily tearable turkey breast.

“Open,” he demanded. He lowered the small piece to the child’s mouth, and she obeyed, starving for an ounce of nourishment. The tender meat landed on her tongue, guided by K’s rough hands. His gesture of kindness tasted of bittersweet sadism. S was given a bit more food and bread; not a lot, but it was better than starving.

K’s rough fingers suddenly twisted into S’s roots, and ripped her head back, exposing her throat. A gasp dropped from her lips, and she lowered her eyelids, so as not to look her master in the eye. Harsh punishments came with unwanted eye contact. Hyperventilation raked through her lungs. K had been brandishing the knife before, and S was fairly confident that he was about to use it on her throat.

A cold shiver erupted when a trickling stream of chilly water dripped into S’s mouth and down her throat, as well as outside of her mouth and onto her neck. K allowed her to gurgle the water until he felt she had had enough.

“Clear the table.”

K’s chair scratched against the tile as he rose. His fingers snapped and pointed to the half consumed plate of food on the table. He was aware exactly of what he was doing. He left the food as a test, as well as a form of torment, after giving his slave a small amount of what she could have.

S eyed the food hungrily, her starving insides reminding her with painful stabs of malnourishment. She knew better than to even try to sneak a bit of food in. He always saw. He always knew, and his eyes pierced through her with every cruel glare.

K sank into the couch, and grabbed a remote next to him. S mentally noted his hawklike gaze from the corner of his eye. Hoarse moans of pain whined from her throat as S limped back and forth across the kitchen floor. Her back stung dully from the deep scars of the many whippings and beating she had received in the past five years. Cuts and bruises painted a picture of torment on her canvas of skin, and the burning soles of her feet were still slightly raw from being whipped. Most recently, she had been severely tortured for her assistance in an important prisoner’s escape. K had finally decided to break her after the defiant stunt, and was succeeding. For five years she had been a deviant, rebellious slave to him and her previous masters, and no one had taken the time to break her into the slave she should be. K’s last torture session had lasted a month, and had bent the girl into submission to his demands.

S picked up the dishes and washed them, her stomach aching in anger as she scraped each full dish into the trash; a waste of good food. She soon finished washing and drying the last dish, then set it inside the white cupboard. Tears ignited with each step she took towards her master. She would learn to live with the painful wounds Keith had burdened her with, but each limp made her want to cry out in agony and beg for her death.

A sadistic smirk etched itself on K’s lips. His stormy eyes observed the girl hobbling towards him. At least her feet were beginning to heal and she wouldn’t get much, if any, blood on the carpet.

S kept her eyes low and knelt at K’s feet, prepared to stay in that position until he decided it was time to chain her in the dungeons for the night. Her broken soul cherished the last bit of freedom she would get before being dragged to the dingy cells beneath the massive fortress. K stared at the tv for a few moments.

“Look at me.”

S’s gaze rose to meet his. Fear bolted though her blood, and a shiver drowned her in terror when K’s line of vision struck her own. She trembled, unsure as to what her king would do to her now.

K patted the couch next to him.

“Come here,” his accent commanded her.

S hesitated. She wasn’t allowed to even lean on the furniture. She was a prisoner, after all. Her place was in the dirt with the rest of the wretches that served K. Her eyes darted left and right, searching his face for a sign of sarcasm. His features were serious however. He had given her a direct order, and she must obey. Either way, he would most likely punish her for rule breaking, so may as well follow the order. S attempted to rise, nearly toppling back into a mangled pile on the floor. K then stood, lifting her up by her arms. A soft blanket draped itself over her bare shoulders, covering her scars, fresh wounds, and branding marks. The child flinched when the fabric blanketed her body. The only touch she was accustomed to was pain.

Why is he doing this?

“Sit.”

S cautiously leaned against the edge of the white couch. K sat to her left, then pulled the chain on the lamp to his left, clothing the room in darkness.

“Come closer.”

The captive slid back against the couch, and skidded towards K. Terrified pupils stared into nothingness, and a brainless body leaned against its captor.

K slid his arm around S, a taunting act of false care and security. He turned on the television, flipping to a channel playing an unknown movie.

Intrigued thoughts clouded S’s mind. She didn’t know what to make off K’s sudden kindness. Then she realized that it wasn’t a kindness at all and that he was torturing her again. On the screen, a movie containing a man being tortured flickered.

The mans body was being ripped apart, by bit. The screams of the man were almost unbearable as the first method of torture was removing the mans fingernails. They were torn off, one by one.

The oxygen in S’s lungs caught in her throat, and she whimpered, unable to breath. K snickered.

“Do you know why you are watching this?” He questioned cruelly.

S shook her head in misery, tears splattering the couch beneath her.

“That’s what I’m gonna do to you.” K pointed to the screen, and S let out another soft groan of anguish.

Her breaths became rapid and hyperventilation began to take over her body. The shrieks of the man, who was now having his fingers slowly cut off, pierced through her skull, leaving her shivering. The little bit of food that K had blessed her with rose, and she swallowed it back, leaving a burning trail of fear in her throat. Pressure pounded her brain, and her thoughts became dark, foggy clouds. She couldn’t think or speak. Whimpers sounded from the trembling figure as she hid her face in her master’s chest. It was all she knew to do.

K shook the girls shoulders, chuckling under his breath.

“I want you to watch.”

The wails of the man on the screen stopped S’s brain and heart, and the room spun in a dizzy craze. Her eyes raised to watch the man being flayed and cut into pieces, blood soaking the wooden torture table he was chained to. The man flailed in utmost agony and torment.

K looked on without a second thought. The torture didn’t bother him. He had done the exact process to prisoners countless times.

“I’m gonna do that to you, but I’m gonna make it a thousand times worse,” K bragged, rubbing the sobbing figure’s bare, shredded back. Sensory overload. K’s gentle touches seared the wounds on her spine. The horrifying soundtrack from the screen froze her heart in pure dread. A putrid ache filled her stomach and rose into her throat as she watched the gory movie.

Although aware of the rules that forbid her from speaking without permission, her tongue could only roll off the words “Please.” The words were whispered under her wavering breath, and each intake of air wheezed in panic.

K broke out into laughter, then tethered S closer to his chest with his arms, securing her at his mercy. He wouldn’t force her to watch any longer. He allowed her to sob into his chest, soaking his white shirt. He wrapped the blanket tighter around her, covering her half naked body. His brawny arms shifted, and his hands sunk into her bloody, matted hair.

Was that pity he was feeling for her? He disdained the thought of himself being kind to her like he used to be. He had always been cruel to her, but there were a few times that he had allowed her to live freely in his home, and treated her like a human. The most recent was before she set one of his prisoners free. He had almost gained a friendly relationship with his captive, although she was openly intimidated by his presence. Over the past five years, she had seen his mercy and his wrath, and she feared what he could easily do to her.

A sorrow drenched him as S’s tears finally silenced and she fell into an unconscious state of sleep in his arms. He ran his fingers through her roots, not bothered in the least about the bloody trail she left on his fingers.

Pity is weakness.

Sandpaper fingers stretched down to wipe drying tears from a tormented face. S slept, whimpering and trembling with each breath she took. K only latched on to her tighter, then rose, carrying her bridal style to the cell where she spent most of her nights.

He wove through the underground tunnel and dungeon system to one of the torture chambers, which was where the executioner, A, resided.

The choice between throwing her in a cell or chaining her down to the torture table bounced around in his brain. She had seen enough kindness for one night. K laid S’s bare spine on the splintered wood. He tied her hands outstretched above each side of her head using rope, then transferred to her ankles. Several months back, she had been fitted with permanent shackles. These contained thorn like spikes on the inside of them that were driven into her ankle bones when secured. They couldn’t be removed by simple lock and key, and freeing her from them would prove painful. K latched a strand of chain to the shackles, securing her ankles to both sides of the table.

#lady whump #whump things #whump fic #restrained #fear #whump drabble #whump ideas #whump tropes #whump oc #torture #prisoner #whumper #whumpee #whump community #whump writing #whump trope #whumpblr #whump scenario

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chaoticallysapphic · 3 years

Text

the great trial part four

summary: This was meant to be the easy part. The part filled with brightness and love. The war was over and you had the love of your life all to yourself. No more Baatar, no more secrecy and no more lies. But with the calm comes the realization as all the adrenaline finally leaves you. Now you know, this is the hard part.

a/n: lol I just realized part four of tgd is where it got smutty. What a pattern like I didn’t even try. Thank you @medeliadracon and @ladyxffandoms !

word count: 5k

You pick up reading again and sometimes Kuvira joins you, the both of you sit with your back resting against an armrest as your legs are tangled together.

Lily is asleep on the armchair and jazz music softly plays from the radio as the newly repaired domes shut for the evening. Kuvira is humming as you turn the page of your novel and dog ear the corner before snapping it shut, she looks up from her book with a quirked brow.

“I’m bored,” you groan out, tilting your head back in annoyance as you let the book slide onto your lap. “How are we gonna spend the rest of winter like this.”

“We’ll manage,” she replies, wedging a bookmark between the pages and softly shutting the book. “We should probably make dinner.”

Resting your head against the back of the couch you eye the kitchen with a sigh. “We could make bean curd puffs, those are fun.”

And so the both of you end up in the kitchen with Kuvira making the mixture as you roll the dough into a thick stick, the countertops and even the floors are covered in flour as you begin to cut the roll into twelve pieces. You don’t notice the way Kuvira watches you, a small smile that's reserved only for you as she watches you begin to spread the pieces out with the palm of your hand.

By now you're the one humming the song. Kuvira’s noticed how much you like this new song that plays on the radio, how you hum or softly sing the lyrics when it comes on. You catch her staring and raise a brow, a slight flush dusting your cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “You just look so beautiful.” You stop your movements, your mouth open in surprise. Neither of you has gone as far as complimenting the other, for the most part, an outsider might just think you’re roommates with how the two of you have been acting these last few months.

Abandoning the dough you try to fill your head with confident words as you turn to your soulmate and take the step to be closer to her. Kuvira’s grip on the spoon loosens as she watches you step closer and slowly bring your flour-covered hands to rest on her cheeks. “You look... Really pretty.”

And she does, she’s started to wear her hair down for you and she’s dressed in a white tank top and light green sweatpants which might not be appealing to some but it shows off her muscles and curves in a way that she knows you like.

Taking the chance you lean forward and gently press your lips against hers. You haven’t kissed since the hospital which was midsummer, the months have gone by so slowly and with it, your anger has dissipated into a dull flame within you.

Hesitantly she kisses you back, one of her hands goes to rest on your hip but she doesn’t hold it in fear of you pulling away. She’s had dreams of you finally kissing her again, none involve standing in the middle of the kitchen with flour covering one of you but she doesn’t care.

She just wants you. Slowly you pull your lips away from hers but don’t move an inch away from her body.

“I’ve missed this,” she admits, “I’m sorry.” She doesn’t say what she’s sorry about but you know, there’s honestly too much for her to apologize for her to fit it into one simple sentence.

And you know you’ll need quite a few more I’m sorry‘s before you reach that next step but right now you won’t ask for more. Right now you wrap your arms around her neck and begin to sway to the song on the radio. It’s one of your favorites.

Kuvira slowly wraps her arms around your waist and tucks her face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in like she hasn’t seen you in years. To be fair it’s felt like that to her.

A part of her wants to shower you in I love you’s but she doesn’t think it’s time for that just yet. Dr. Hanika said it’s best to let you make the first move this time around, to give you the control and decision making she originally took from you all those years ago. So instead she pulls you just a fraction closer to help keep her mouth shut.

You take the soft barrier of pillows down, neither of you moves to touch the other but it’s comforting to know that you won’t push her off the bed if her arm brushes against your own.

Your parents come over for the winter solstice with presents aplenty and grins on their faces. They pull you into their arms and press loving kisses on your cheek, your dad does the same to Kuvira whilst your mom simply sends a forced smile her way before going to love on Lily. She understands your mother's hatred towards her, she just hopes one day they can talk it out for you.

The two of you had spent the day making cookies and homemade hot chocolate to prepare for your parents, the house smells of cinnamon and sugar as plates upon plates of cookies are set at the counter waiting to be eaten. Your father replaces the wilting bouquet with one filled with red, white, and gold and your mother sets the presents down in front of the window.

You both felt bad for not being able to get them presents, but your father had assured both of you that they understood. Besides, they just wanted to make up for the lost time. So you all sit around the table eating the feast the two of you had prepared and drinking wine, your dad is regaling Kuvira with a story of your tenth winter solstice where you had accidentally drunk your mother's wine.

Your mom places her head in her hands and groans “I felt like the worst mother in the world.”

“Hey, you're not,” you say with a grin. “You held my hair back a few hours later and the worst mother in the world wouldn’t do that.” The table erupts into boisterous laughter as she playfully glares at you. Kuvira takes a sip of her wine as she chuckles, her cheeks hurt from smiling.

She turns a blind eye when she notices your dad slipping Lily a chunk of meat, knowing you're trying to train her to not beg. He pats the hound’s head as the conversation continues, this time your mom is telling everyone about some of her weirdest experiences with drunk people in Zaofu.

The night continues much the same until finally, you all decide to retire to the living room. Kuvira decides to sit on the armchair so the three of you can snuggle up on the couch. You surprise her by walking over and sitting on her lap, laying your back against her chest. She rests her chin on your shoulder and wraps her arms around your waist, a smile of contentment gracing her lips.

Your mother ignores the display and hands you the first present on the pile, explaining that it’s for Lily. You quirk a brow at that before ripping the paper off and opening the box up.

Inside is a knitted dark green sweater with the words “I’m the favorite” stitched across the chest in white. You snort, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth and even Kuvira laughs at the sight. The I in favorite has been replaced by a middle finger, this is 100% your mothers doing, it has her humor plus your dad can’t knit.

“Thank you,” you say as you begin to calm down. “I think she’ll love this.” Your dad takes it from you to put it on Lily who wags her tail back and forth in excitement at the attention. It fits her perfectly and the words can be seen from your seat on Kuvira’s lap.

Next, is a cranberry sweater made for you that is super comfortable, a few pairs of thick socks for the both of you to share. New books and a new pair of gardening gloves. At some point during the unwrapping, you hear the shudder of a camera a few times, your father holding it up to capture memories for the two of you.

There’s only two presents left in the pile and this time your dad hands this one specifically to Kuvira, who pinches her brows together in confusion. You shift a bit on her lap to give her more room to open it up, watching with bated breath to see what it could possibly be.

Inside is a new sketchbook that’s leather-bound with a sleek metal clasp that locks. It’s wider and thicker than her current one which is running out of space and beneath the book is more charcoal pencils to add to her depleting collection.

She thickly swallows as her hand runs over the beautifully engraved leather that has her initials in swirly letters at the bottom. It’s simple and it’s hers.

With the Beifong’s it was usually things for sparring or extravagant gifts that anyone but Kuvira would prefer like fancy tunics and those massive metal necklaces they all wore. She’d sit in the back of the group staring at the gifts that felt like they didn’t really belong to her with a heavy heart.

But this is 100% hers. You brush a pesky strand of hair out of her face for her before turning to give your dad a thankful smile.

You knew he’d get her something but you worried about what it might be. Seeing her reaction is enough to know that your father's streak of perfect gift giving has not been broken. Carefully, as if worried she may break it, Kuvira places it back inside its box for now and looks up, offering your father the faintest of grateful smiles. He understands though and beams at her appreciation.

The last gift is also for Kuvira, it’s a heavy box that she slowly rips open, taking her time unlike you with your gifts. When she lifts the lid she’s met with soft emerald green fabric, slowly pulling it out you help her by taking the empty box, setting it on the floor. It’s a knitted sweater like yours. It looks like it’s a size too big for her but you once told her that’s how your mom knits, the bigger the better.

She doesn’t know what to say or do, you mentioned offhandedly how your mom makes everyone in the family sweaters for Winter Solstice, but she didn’t expect to get one as well. Not only is she not a family member, but she’s not even a friend. That nagging voice in her brain tells her that she probably didn’t make this. Maybe your mom bought it from a store or maybe you guilted her into making one.

But it’s soft and it’s beautiful and it’s hers. Nothing extravagant (although at times Kuvira does miss the finer things in life) or flashy. The emerald goes great with your cranberry, and she wonders if your mother thought of that or if it's just a coincidence.

Kuvira grips the fabric and looks up to see your mom watching with a pensive look. She takes a sip of her wine as Kuvira softly says “Thank you, for the gifts.” It’s directed at the both of them but her eyes stay on your mother who simply nods.

Shortly after, your parents call it a night and leave and you carefully extract yourself from her hold to hug them both. When you pull your mother into a hug you whisper softly “thank you, mom. It means a lot.” She nods, she doesn’t hug Kuvira, not ready for that, and offers her a nod of the head before leaving with your father.

As you're cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper and half-empty wine glasses, Kuvira shyly slips the sweater on to see if it fits and is surprised by how comfortable it is. The sleeves go past her wrist and graze at her knuckles and the sweater stops at the tops of her thighs. She looks down at the sweater, so many emotions that she can’t keep track of race through her mind and it’s so loud that she accidentally tunes you out.

Your back is facing her as you begin to wash the dishes, you're talking to her about what you’ll do with all these leftover cookies. When she doesn’t reply to your joke about having a cookie eating contest you look over your shoulder and stop scrubbing the dish in your hands.

The color makes her hair look slightly darker and brings out her eyes. She’s running her fingers over the fabric with a blank face and you wish to know what’s going on in that head of hers. She looks softer, less harsh with it on.

For so long you’ve seen her dressed ready to fight with a hardened look on her features, but right now she looks warm and cozy. She looks like safety and comfort personified, like if she wraps her arms around you a cocoon of soft blankets and loving whispers will encase the two of you.

You stop with the dishes and wipe your hands dry before walking up to Kuvira, when your hands go to gently touch hers it brings her out of her thoughts. Her eyes are clouded with emotion as you pull her into your arms. She wraps her arms around your waist and tightly grips at your shirt as she begins to cry.

To her, this is the first step in repairing a relationship she deeply misses, Kuvira and your mother were once close when she was in the guard. She sometimes brought her lunches which she now knows must have been made by your dad and always had her back. She cheered the loudest at her ceremony and even offered to have her come over for dinner to which Kuvira declined, not wanting to impose.

When she left those years ago she didn’t realize what she was severing, what she was destroying, and she knows she can’t change it, but she wishes she had stayed in Zaofu. They could have had three winter solstices together by now if she had just stayed put.

You wouldn’t be in the process of forgiving her because she would have left Baatar for you and you’d probably already be married or on your way to it. She knows that such a thing has been put on the back burner and won’t happen for a long time now, but she hates herself for destroying all those possibilities.

But you don’t seem to mind the past as you pull her closer and soothingly rub her back. Your embrace reminds her of the present and what will hopefully be the future. At this moment she’s realized how far the two of you have come within the past few months. It reminds her that Dr. Hanika said not to let the past consume you and that when Kuvira smiles you look so happy to witness such a thing. That despite all her wrongdoings you're still here which is more than she ever expected.

That night Kuvira falls asleep in that sweater with your arms wrapped around her. She dreams of a future where she’s gained your mother’s respect and your forgiveness.

Spring comes like a force to be reckoned with. Your garden is teeming with the buds of the seeds you planted last fall as you happily spend your days back outside. The sessions with Dr. Hanika have proceeded and all gone smoothly, today was meant to be your first couples session since last summer. Both of you are nervous about what might happen during it so you throw yourselves into separate activities to pass the time.

Lily is lying by your side, leisurely eating grass as you pull at the weeds that have attacked your precious garden. While you're doing that Kuvira is inside drawing with a cup of tea by her side, she’s gotten better but is by no means a professional, she hasn’t even shown you any of her work due to the insecurities she has regarding her skill. You understand thankfully, never once have you asked to look inside or pressured her.

When the doorbell rings, the both of you freeze, your nerves amplifying at the realization that there is no going back. Kuvira snaps her sketchbook shut, locking it with her bending before going to open the door. She’s been dreading this day the most. In her dreams last night she envisioned a session far worse than the last. In it, you verbally decimated her before saying it was over, that you could never love someone so monstrous.

To bring her comfort she’s wearing your mother's green sweater with a pair of your leggings. When she asked this morning if she could borrow them you didn’t seem to mind which eased her nerves a bit. You wouldn’t be willing to share clothes with her if you were planning to end it today. At least that’s what she told herself.

While Dr. Hanika is getting situated in the armchair you finally come inside and place your gloves on your herb shelves. Your pants have dirt-stains on them and you know it’d probably be best to change but you want to get this over with so you take a seat on the couch, next to Kuvira.

“Well, I can already tell you guys have been doing better,” she smiles. You tuck your hands under your legs as she begins to talk. She asks you both questions about your day like what does that consist of? How do you guys communicate now? Are you happy? You both take turns answering those questions and when you get to the last you answer honestly and say “Yes, I am.”

Kuvira doesn’t show it but inside she’s doing cartwheels at your words. She looks over at you and replies after you “I’m happy.”

“And what does your sex life look like right now?” That question stuns both of you. Kuvira just stares at the coffee table with wide eyes, not knowing how to reply as you flush a deep red.

“Uhm we haven’t…” You shake your head. “Not since before.” Before the end of my empire, Kuvira thinks. Not since that night almost a year ago where she thought you had finally left her, the night before it all went to shit. Not since your dream that finally made you snap, not that she blames you.

Not since “I can’t look at you right now!” and the crack in her heart that followed those words.

“Y/n, what is holding you back from taking that next step?” Dr. Hanika readies her pen as she patiently waits for your reply. Honestly, you’ve wanted to for the last couple of weeks but then you go to sleep and dream of her with him. Your mind keeps reminding you of her betrayal despite desperately wanting to move forward.

Nervously you wring your hands and let out a deep sigh. “Uhm, I just keep picturing him.” You try to keep your voice neutral, try to not spit out that last word even though every part of you wants to. Kuvira stiffens beside you and coughs. “I want to but every time I close my eyes it’s images of them together.”

“How does that make you feel, Kuvira?”

“Honestly? Awful…” Kuvira quickly adds “but not angry or anything. I just feel awful because I’ve done this to her and us.” She has to add that she’s not angry. In the past, she was almost always angry, and she needs you to know she’s not mad at you. This is her fault, and she’s aware of that now.

“From my understanding, your sex life was a bit complicated in the past. Kuvira you’ve told me that you’d withhold yourself as a form of punishment, is that correct?” She nods. “It seems like you used sex as a reward which is an unhealthy way to look at such an intimate activity. I think the two of you shouldn’t rush this and only do it once you fully trust Kuvira again.”

You nod, not being able to look at either of them at the moment. You want to trust her and for the two of you to be happy and in love but no matter how hard you try you can’t step over that line. It’s terrifying and you're worried that once you finally do trust her again this peacefulness will disappear and be replaced with the animosity that once used to rule your relationship.

“Okay…” You say. Kuvira nods in agreement. The session continues much as it did before that question was asked. It’s a bit tense now and the hour passes on with forced replies up until the end.

“I have some trust exercises. I want the two of you to practice for the next couple of weeks, maybe even months. You both need to be patient and understand that trust is a very hard thing to earn back and give to someone who’s deeply hurt you. The fact that both of you are still trying just shows how much you want to make this work.”

She begins to write a list of things on her notepad before ripping off the page and handing it to you. Both of you lean forward to read over the list together as Dr. Hanika packs up for the day.

Talk about your fears, be open, and accepting of what your partner has to say.

Look into each other's eyes for thirty seconds, try to work yourself up to three minutes.

Tell your partner why you love them.

Ask for what you need to do in order to gain Y/n’s trust again.

Have a calm conversation where you ask each other questions

Compliment each other

“Next week I’d like to do one on one sessions and the week after that we’ll do another couple's session. I’d like for the two of you to work on these until then. Remember to not rush this, it’s okay to take your time.” She shows herself out, softly shutting the door behind her. Silence falls as the two of you anxiously re-read the words.

“Should we do one now?” Kuvira asks. You shrug and softly set the piece of paper on the coffee table.

“I guess? But I don’t know which one to start with. I mean there’s so many.” Kuvira rakes a hand through her hair and sighs. She looks over it again, that top one scares Kuvira, she doesn’t know if she wants to hear your fears or tell you hers.

“Number two looks easy, we could try that?” And so you do. The both of you twist around on the couch until you are directly facing each other, knees touching as you mentally psych yourself up. “Thirty seconds isn’t too long.”

You nod and take a deep breath before looking up and locking eyes with Kuvira. The first few seconds it seems easy and you feel silly for getting worked up at the prospect but as time ticks on you start to see why she listed it in the first place.

Prolonged eye contact is intimate. Staring into Kuvira’s eyes for this long makes you feel bare and you quickly realize how much you don’t like that. Ripping your eyes away at the 25 seconds mark, you tense up.

“I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine, it’s okay.” Kuvira hesitates before placing a hand on your shoulder and offering a comforting squeeze. “It’s gonna take some time, I understand.” She wishes it didn’t, she wishes it didn’t pain you to simply look at her for only thirty seconds. But she swallows that down and offers you a reassuring smile.

“Thank you,” you say, you don’t even realize the iron grip you had on your ankles during the attempt and release them with a shaky sigh. “We’ll get there, right?”

“Right.”

You mess up four days later. Continuing with the eye contact exercises you work your way up to thirty-five seconds which feels like such a victory. You try to compliment her cooking, and she compliments the way your garden is coming along. It’s going so well and you're so tired of this that you go too fast too soon and you have no one else to blame but yourself.

Both of you have a glass of wine with dinner which leaves you slightly buzzed but not tipsy. When you're getting ready for bed your eyes follow Kuvira’s legs that are starting to lose some of their definition.

She’s wearing a pair of shorts due to the recent heat with a tank top and suddenly that desire you’ve tried to ignore these past few weeks comes rearing up with no control. And so you sit on the bed with your knees tucked underneath you and grab Kuvira’s hand as she goes to grab the covers to pull back. She looks at you with furrowed brows as you pull her closer until she’s sitting on the bed as well.

In her mind, she thinks that maybe you want to practice eye contact again but is left in a state of shock when you place your lips against her own. Her breath hitches when your hands go to cradle her face as you shuffle closer. Kuvira desperately wants to kiss you back but knows she can’t, so she gently pushes you away, you reluctantly let her.

Panting, you ask “don’t you want to?”

“Of course I do but Y/n are you ready? Dr. Ha-”

“I’m ready, I promise,” you place a gentle kiss on her jaw, a place you know she loves. She lets out a shaky sigh. “I want you Kuvira, please.” And fuck, who’s she to deny you when you say please? So Kuvira gently grips your chin and presses her lips against your own. She doesn’t push you and leads like she used to so you thread your fingers through her hair and tug, eliciting a moan from your lover.

You climb onto her lap as you begin to pick up the pace and gently tug on her lower lip with your teeth. Kuvira wraps her arms around your waist, her hands resting on your ass to keep you close. That heat that you’ve missed begins to pool within you, your whole body feels like it’s been lit with desire and you don’t want that feeling to ever leave.

When Kuvira squeezes your ass, ripping a moan out of you it gives her the perfect opportunity to prod her tongue in your mouth. Your tongues meld together in a way that shoots right down to your core, it feels so right, so hot and maybe your therapist was wrong about waiting.

When Kuvira goes to pull away she sucks on your tongue and slowly lets go of it. You both look into each other's eyes as you pant before Kuvira attaches her lips to your neck. Tilting your head to the side you breathe out her name as she bites down on that spot that drives you up the wall.

The moan that leaves your lips is sure to wake the neighbors. Kuvira feels smug about it. Let them all know how good she can make you feel. When she pulls away she stops to admire her handiwork and smirks at the big purple hickey that could be seen from across a room. She leaves open mouth kisses up your neck and your jaw, before pulling you back into a bruising kiss.

You both make out for who knows how long, you just know that you want to feel every part of her after such a long time. The kiss is fiery and full of long contained passion that’s bursting at the seams. You only pull away for a moment to breathe before pulling her back in, not being able to take a second away from her lips. At some point, you push Kuvira down onto the bed and lay your body against hers.

You make sure not to fully put all your weight on her, placing a hand down above her head as neither of you pulls away from the other. Her hands trace up and down your sides, fingertips skimming the tops of your breasts in a teasing manner that has you grinding down for any type of friction.

You make yourself pull away from her, wanting to finally feel her body like you dreamed of. The sight before you has you groaning, her hair is a mess, spread out across the pillows and her cheeks are flushed. Kuvira’s lips are bruised, and she stares at you with eyes so dark with lust it feels like they're swallowing you whole.

“Beautiful…” You whisper, Kuvira continues to pant as she watches you. Your hands slide down her body, feeling at the muscles that are just barely there before reaching the hem of her tank top. You slide a hand underneath, your fingers running across her stomach.

Kuvira leans her hips up and glares. “Take it off,” she growls out impatiently. You grin as your fingers grip the ends of her shirt and pull it off, she leans up to help you and you toss it somewhere behind you. She’s not wearing any wrappings and spirits, she looks so beautiful.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.”

Her words seem to snap something into place that was askew this whole time. Suddenly painful images flash through your mind, ones you’ve tried so hard to bury.

Baatar’s above her as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth with that sickening grin. She moans out his name as a hand reaches up to grip his stupid hair. Kuvira arches her back in pleasure as his other hand trails down to her clothed sex.

Next thing you know you’re jumping off of her and scrambling off the bed as a pained whimper escapes your lips. Kuvira bolts up, confusion written on her face before she sees tears begin to fall. Her face drops at the sight. “Y/n…”

You shake your head, not being able to talk for fear of letting out some kind of ugly sound before rushing off to the bathroom where you empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You stay seated on the floor with the bathroom door locked as you cry into your hands.

The next morning you can only maintain eye contact for ten seconds.

One step forward, two steps back.

#kuvira #tgt #kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira fanfic #lok #lok fanfic #legend of korra

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illyrian-lover-flower · 3 years

Text

My little mischievous partner ~ part 2

It felt all too slow. How Cassian opened his door, how he ran over to Rhys room on a mushy ground - where normaly cold,even marble should have met his naked feet.

With cold sweat cloaking his forehead and chest, he flung open the dooble door to Rhys and Feyres bedroom - locked it shut and jumped under the heavy blanket his brother slept under.

To Cassians luck was Feyre still out together with Mor and Amren. Just great, now they had to fight off Bryaxis on their own.

Cass would rather wait for Nesta than do this now. No hundred Illyrians could get him out there to this horrible creature.

Rhysand stired slowly awake by the constant shivering of his blanket. At first he had turned to his side and had hugged the round bundle, nuzzling into it as he mumbled “Oh, Feyre darling, you don’t need to purr for me.”

If the thing waiting outside the door wouldn’t have been Cassians worst nightmare he would have perhaps laughed, or thrown the blanket, over his together rolled form back. Making it obvious that he isn’t Feyre - but he was motionless. The shivers that wrecked through him already too much movement for him.

And so he wasn’t able to do anything as his brother pulled the heavy blanket aside. Rhys sleepy face was enlightened by the soft hue of moonlight as he looked down at him with a lust stretched smile and something dark welling in his violet eyes.

But all that was gone as he suddenly noticed the form of his shivering brother. A yelp escaping him as he hurriedly skidded back to his side of the bed.

The soft midnight blue blanket between them a strained bundle, as both gripped onto one side of it.

“What in the mothers name are you doing here Cass!” The commander swallowed hard, not answering as he only asked “Can I please stay here? Feyre won’t be here before sunrise anyway. Like that you won’t be lonely.”

Rhys only glared at him before heaving a sigh, dragging a hand through his already sleep mussed hair “Fine. Just don’t tell Feyre of this - you know just as much as I do that she will not let us live this one down.”

Cassian only nodded - fine with whatever his brother wanted from him, if it prevented him from having to step out of the room.

For a long time there was only heared the rustling of the blanket, that shifted back and forth between the two of them until they settled. Both their naked backs turned at each other.

While Rhys closed his eyes again and his breathing started to even. Cassian was far away from finding sleep again. His heart still beating like a thunderstorm in his chest, his wings slowly closing in around him. Every movement outside, the sway of one of the trees, a bird or a bat fluttering past the window -every motion that caused the shadows to move made him shift. His nerves strained to the point of snapping at any moment.

The ticking of the grandfarther clock in the cornor had him wince with every tick. Still he managed to calm down, thinking that all the things he had seen in his room were probably just an imagination because of his drunken state.

Maybe it was just that.

Still with an unerving feeling in his guts, did he close his eyes. An exhaused sigh leaving his bloodless lips as he nuzzeled into the pillows.

The dancing shadows in the room, that had danced around his vision and had frightened him, were now a soothing black blanket behind his closed eyelids.

Sleep soon wanting to drag him down into its cloudy world - that was until he heared it again. That meatallic sound of a laugh.

“Hihihihihi!”

His body moved on its own accord as it sat up straight. The sweat that had once vanished returned as his gaze hurried around the room. His brother was snorring beside him and everything seemed normal, that means almost normal.

There was a dark shadow, just by the door.

A pitch black clawing fog that swirled around aimlessly on the wooden double door.

His heart beat spedup at the sight, the metallic laugh a screech in his ears he did never want to hear again. Cassians breathes came uneven as he shook his brother awake - this time not taking his plate wide eyes off of the shadow, that slowly started to take form.

Rhys growled as he was once again dragged out of sleep, but as his grumpy glare saw Cass ,almost porcelain white skin - he did not question his brother -that looked straight ahead.

With a tired puzzeled gaze did the High Lord follow the view of his Commander, after he sat up. His thick black eyebrow furrowed as the question was written all over his face. The clawing fog that now formed into the stature of two persons was not at all familiar with him. Wait a clawing fog?!

Rhys violet eyes slowly widened as he came to the realization - still he breathed to his brother “I’m pretty sure there is a reasonable reason behind this.”

And it would most likely not the reason of a company searching Bryaxis, that had killed off dozens the last time they saw them.

Cassian only stared further at the fog, as the metallic laugh was heared again.

And the black mist started to lift. Strand for strand it unwrapped two persons. At the sight of those two pairs of legs, was Cassian glad - knowing it was not his worst nightmare, but who were then the intruders?

Rhys slowly scooched closer to his brother as he ,too, saw the two pairs of leggs. One pair, the more delicate and smaller one, covered in a pair of shiny grey harem’s pants. The tiny feet covered with a pair of silver ballerinas. While the other one seemed more masculine, a long turquoise sheet of fabric dangling over a pair of white pants.

And soon the two frightened brothers were greeted by their little angry, ancient friend. Amrens silver eyes swimming with an emotion both did not want to know what it promissed, while her blood red mouth formed into a twisted smirk as she looked up at Varian.

Varian beside her, was quiet as always. His face seeming a bit more grimm, but also lighter as a smirk, too, layed on his lips and he picked up the tiny female.

Her short legs wrapping around his middle imedeatly as his lips found purchase on her red painted ones. One of his large hands wound around her behind, to keep her steddy beside him - while the other tangeled and ruffeled her silky short black hair.

A growl escaping the two of them, while they did not seem as if they noticed the confused and quiet disturbed gazes of the two brothers, that were frightened for their life at the view.

They both were happy to call someone like Amren their family and that she found herself Varian, but both did never want to find out these specific things. Seeing how their chests pressed into one another, her hips grinding into his. There would have not even fit a sheet of paper between them. It seemed like as if the two wanted to become one right infront of Rhys and Cassian.

And it might have been that the two accted like little boys, that just had cought their parents in the middle of something, but they did not want to watch this unfold even more. A shiver running down both of their spines as they thought about it. And so Rhys took the bravery to clear his throat - loudly.

But the pants of the two were louder as they broke appart. Amrens arms wound thightly in Varians hair, their eyes only snapping away from each other as they heared Cass massive frame coliding with the floor.

The commander did not want to see this unfold any longer, but the blanket had cought his legs at the attempt to flee. All pairs of eyes on his form on the cold floor. Annoyed by the reason for his fall he snapped “You two having your fun?!”

Amren only smirked, as her whole body stayed wrapped against Varians. Her blood red lips one devils smirk as she answered: “Thank you very much Cassian, it is actually quiet fun for the both of us, yes.”

Varian had the decency to turn a bit red as he nudged his dark nose against her almost white cheek. But the smirk that formed on his lips as well, had the two brothers shaking.

Rhys slowly crawled to Cassian as to not caugh the attention of the two smirking lovers and leaned down to him. Freeing his brother all too slowly from the silky fetters around his ankels. “We run at three, got that?” Cassian only nodded. Bracing himself on his forearms as to slowly get up.

But before Rhys had even got the chance to say one, went Amrens attention back to them. That words that left her smirking mouth had them flying for the door behind them. “Would you like to join us?”

They both moved fast as lightning for the door. The heavy wood flinging wide open at the force Cass used to open it up with. This was worse than Bryaxis! decided Cassian for himself as he bolted down the hallway to the living room.

There was no way in hell he would open up that cursed chamber of his. Afterall they both had already been in his room. Oh gods he did not even want to think about that!

And while both, Cass and Rhys, ran down the stairs to sleep on the couch. They did not hear the metallic laugh that left Rhys and Feyres bedroom.

None of the two carred about the sound, as they both ran to get their eyes as far away, from the two, as possible. Rhys not carring at all that his bedroom was used for their fun.

There were plenty of rooms in the riverestate. He and Feyre could simply move into one of them, though the explanation might be a bit difficult.

Even though both Illyrians did not know why Amren showed up in the middle of Rhys bedroom - they were horrified. The few pictures that they had seen in the dimm hue of moonlight, enough for the rest of eternity.

The fire in the fireplace to source of warmth as they , both, layed under a pile of blankets on the couch. Sleep without a nightmare hard to find for the two of them.

*****

As the two drunken and sleepy Illyrians stumbeled out the room, was the seer in need of biting her bottom lip -hard- to prevent herself from bursting out laughing.

And it seemed that even the stoic shadowsinger beside her, had to pull hard on his leash of restraint to not burst out lauging too.A light snicker escaping him.

Elain nudged his, brown painted, arm with hers. A smile on her lips as she gazed up at him. Him and his turquoise eyes.

She pounted.

Bold in her drunken state did words leave her mouth, she would have never said if she was sober - but that whole plan of hers was something she would have never done in a sober state.

“I like your hazel eyes better.” was all she mumbled

Azriel grew stiff for a moment at the comment, before he lifted his scarred hand and pulled the two contact lenses out. Revealing his hazel eyes onse again. The emotions inside of them, that made the green and brown appear like one swirl of color - as if they had been painted by Feyre herself with her oil paint, a true master piece. Making the seer lose her breath.

And so did the Shadowsinger as he heaved a sigh once the two foreign bodys were out of his eyes.

The kind smile he offered his friend was something breathtaking, but Elains breath was knocked out of her lungs for another reason.

Her still silver eyes widening at the red smeared lipstick on his sinfull lips.Those lips that had touched and caressed hers like a real lover, wrapping her soft cold lips into the warm blanket of his.

Even though the act, they just had put up, seemed wild and full of passion and like something that was clearly created by Amren and her lover.

But it wasn’t.

It was a song that was sung by the uniting bodys of the Shadowsinger and the seer. A symphony that only their soul and body could create, but that was something that could only be felt by the two of them.

Two drunken ones not even able to notice the difference between those who played infront of them and those which were the real ones.

The hight difference between ‘Amren’ and ‘Varian’ , that stood in the middle of Rhys and Feyres bedroom, gazing at each other with such warmth and intensity that could melt ice, was a lot lesser than the original one.

Something the make up skills of Elain could not make up for.

As well as the bulkier stature of ‘Varian’ and since it was dark, it was also not noticed that his entire backside was covered in shadows.

The black swirling whisps little snakes around Azriels wings, covering everything up like a cloak. Something he had already done many times - mostly durning spies and visits to the mortal lands after the war.

And Elain needed to admit, her eyes taking in every inch of Azriels disguised form, that she would never want anyone else besides the shadowsinger.

His tan, but not ebony skin. His hazel eyes - not quiet brown but also not grey or green either. His touseled soft black hair, instead of white flowing one.

Elain realized with shock, as she lifted her hand to cup the Shadowsingers brown cheek, that there would never be anyone as beautiful as Azriel for her.

Body and Soul. Of course did he have cracks and weired habits of his. Scars covering his body, his hands mostly, but also his heart. His kind heart that seemed for most cold, but was in truth the hearth of a fire to which, at least, sweet Elain wanted to come home forever.

Her pale hand that rested on his dark cheek and tried to smear away a bit of the color on his gods crafted face, did nothing. She only caressed his cheek. And the Shadowsinger could do nothing more than close his eyes - leaning in to the soft touch of hers.

A chuckle escaping his relaxed face as he realized what the intensing swipes with her thumb attemted to do. “You do remember, El, that you yourself had put smearproof make up all over my skin, right?”

Elains eyes widened slowly “Oh.”

Azriel burst out full laughing at her short memory, that usualy remembered everything from the start of her fae life, her tipsy state having clearly infected her a bit too much.

Both probably too tipsy at this point that they did not care at all, that they were laughing like maniacs in the middle of darkness. Bold words leaving their mouthes as a fire ignited between the two.

Elain innocent smile, seeming all weired and twisted in Amrens form. But Amrens looks fit her wicked tongue just right.

A gleam in the silver contact lenses of hers. “Well I guess that I have to remove it all again then.”

Azriel did not know how he would have reacted if he had been sober, but all he remembered in his tipsy state, was that he closed the little distance between them. One of his scarred hands holding his lenses as the other lifted to the seers soft cheek.

The distance between them, the distance that was barely there - was unbearable as Azriels already red smeared lips were only milimiters away from hers. A soft whisper of them and his words everything against them.

A few little words, a touch all it needed for Elain to shiver from delight. Gosepumps appearing all over her body.

“You would not be capable of what you unleash, little seer.”

Elains breath was cought in her lungs. There were only a few times were he called her with such names. She mostly knew in which situation he used which nickname for her, but with these she never knew.

His gaze always holding, in such moments, a stronger intensity.

“I think you’re underestimating me, Spymaster.”

And just before she closed the milimeter between them, breathless words left her lungs.

“Because I know I could handle you, Azriel. Forever.”

Those were the words that unleashed the Shadowsinger. Never in his life had he heared such sweet words and for the first time of his life did he want to taste these sweet words on her lips.

Every mother damned syllable of them.

A dance of soft lips fighting against each other, erupting in the soft hue of moon light before they were gone in a shadowy breeze.

_______________________________________________________________

Taglist (please contact me if you want to be added or removed from the list):

@heirofthrnightcourt004

#mischivous elriel #elriel #mentions of Vamren smut #Amren #Varian #two disturbed Illyrians #rhys #cass #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #azriel #elain #elriel fluff #tipsy elain #tipsy elriel #acotar #tipsy az

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a-spectacle-in-the-morning · 4 years

Text

“Off the Playground” -- Sonny Carisi

Notes: Part 2 for this as promised, though I think it works as a standalone as well.

Summary: Sonny comes over to help you unpack. He notices something he gave you when you were younger that he didn’t think you’d have kept.

“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” Sonny sighs as he takes in the state of your apartment.

“Hey, I told you you didn’t have to help if you didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, sure. You know I don’t have a choice with those puppy dog eyes.”

You give Sonny a wink as you shut the front door behind you. You’re making your way further into the kitchen and living room area when you hear him exaggeratedly clear his throat.

“Forgettin’ somethin’?” he asks, facing you but pointing his thumb back at the chain lock left dangling on your door.

Begrudgingly, you head back to the entryway. “You know I actually did live in this borough for eighteen whole years, right?” Sonny hasn’t moved from his spot by the door so you’re forced to push him a bit to get full access to the lock.

“You’re not actin’ like it.”

“Well,” you slide the bolt into place, “excuse me for being distracted by the big, strong man that I thought would protect me if a burglar got in.”

“I would,” Sonny leans into you, “but I’d prefer not to on my day off.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning as you once again make your way into the living room. As Sonny follows you he notices an odd organization to your collection of moving boxes. A majority of them are scattered around the space and tucked in corners. One large one is acting as a sort of coffee table in front of your loveseat. What caught his interest, though, is the pile set semi-neatly against the wall to his left.

As if picking up on what he’d just noticed you point to the pile of boxes and say, “You can start over there. I tried to get all the boxes with my bookshelf together, but it’s in about five thousand pieces so some parts might be missing. There’s a toolbox by the window.”

“I’m gonna need tools?”

You grab the toolbox and set it at his feet. As you straighten back up you get close enough to kiss him, but instead you whisper, “The Allen wrench’ll be near the bottom.” Then you leave his space to sit in front of your own pile.

After half an hour of sifting through boxes you’d un-helpfully labeled just ‘junk’ you stand to stretch out your legs. The sound of fabric being wiped across something then hitting the ground catches your attention. You dare a glance over your shoulder and see that Sonny has removed the unbuttoned flannel he’d arrived in. Just the sight of him in a white t-shirt and jeans has your stomach twisting. The bookshelf is nearly finished with just one box still unopened.

“You, um.” So, all it takes is a sweaty Sonny in a tight shirt for you to drop the flirtatious act? “You hot?”

He gives you a look, one eyebrow raised at your sudden lack of words. Your eyes involuntarily flicker to his chest a couple times. He notices, of course. With a little lop-sided grin he just replies, “I hot.”

There’s something caught in your throat so you just nod your head and shuffle over to the window. It’s already open, but you pound on the side jambs and make enough space to heft the nearest box fan into the opening.

“Wait is this…” Sonny trails off and you turn around to see what’s up.

The second you recognize what’s in his hand you rush over and try to snatch it. But Sonny pulls his arms up and away, just out of your reach.

“Sonny I swear to God-”

“Ay! Don’t make me tell your ma that you took the Lord’s name in vain.” Sonny tries to sound serious, but his massive grin exposes the fun he’s having.

Jerk.

You step back and slump your shoulders. “Go ahead and ask.”

“Is this the troll doll that I won for you?”

You can’t help the deep sigh of embarrassment that escapes you. “Yes.”

On a similarly hot day in the late nineties your family and the Carisis had driven forty-five minutes out of town to go to a fair. It started out as one of the worst days of your life. The sun was unrelenting, you kept getting static shocks from the rides, and everyone kept asking Sonny about college. It was the summer before he left. He was abandoning you and everyone was so happy and the air smelled like cotton candy and sweat. It was torture.

You spent half the day wandering by yourself as far from Sonny as you could get. Every once in a while you would stop to waste some money on something. You were stuck at a duck hunt-esque game when you realized someone was watching your shots.

“You’ve gotta aim a bit ahead of the target or you’re not gonna get it in time.”

Sonny’s words bang around in your head as you miss your last shot. “You messed me up.”

You turn to face Sonny, squinting in the sun. He’s all long legs and bright blond hair.

“Oh sorry. Didn’t realize my good advice would ruin your incredible score of two.”

“If you think you’re such a good shot, prove it,” you challenged.

He does. For a lanky kid Sonny had great aim. He beat your score in a couple seconds and did well enough, much to your chagrin, to earn a prize. As you kept your gaze directed at the bumper cars you noticed Sonny holding something out for you.

“I don’t want your pity prize, Sonny.”

“It reminded me of you.”

You hadn’t actually looked to see what he was offering until that moment. His sweet tone had you imagining a teddy bear or some other stuffed object, but when you saw what it actually was you had to stop yourself from punching him.

“Seriously? A troll doll? Nice, Sonny. Thanks,” you snapped. But before you had stomped off you had aggressively snatched the toy from his hands. You were pissed, but it was like a going away present from Sonny and you had cherished it dearly after he left.

“You know I’m terrible with throwing things out.”

He nods but gets quiet. The troll doll is still in his right hand and it's making you nervous.

“You know that whole summer I kept tryin’ to work up the nerve to tell you how I felt. This day, when I gave you this,” he shakes the doll a little, “I was holdin’ my breath the whole afternoon. You wore this little olive green sundress that made you look warm and bright. Made me lose my damn mind watchin’ you walkin’ around in it. But you were also wearin’ black sneakers with sharpie all over ‘em and your knees were scuffed up. Like you’d just skipped off the playground or somethin’. You looked so young I felt wrong for just thinkin’ of you that way.”

The revelation is bittersweet. You love knowing that he had also liked you long ago, but it tears you up to think of how complicated you had made things for him.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sonny sets the troll doll down on a completed level of your bookshelf. “For bein’ born a couple years too late?”

You shake your head and step forward to lessen the distance between you and him. Your eyes stay focused on his hands and arms, unable to make eye contact. Without thinking you reach out and rest your fingertips on one of his elbows. “But it’s not too late for us now, right? This isn’t too weird after knowing each other so long?”

Sonny very lightly grabs your chin and directs your gaze back up to his face. “I think we’ve finally got it right.”

The sunlight sets half of him aglow and you feel like your heart has stopped beating. He reaches across his body to grab your hand still idling by his elbow and gently places your palm on his chest. Oh, there it is, you think. That pounding heartbeat beneath your touch gets your own drumming again.

You lift up onto your tiptoes and brush a kiss on Sonny’s lips. He smiles against you at first, but then presses your hand more securely against his chest and kisses you fully. Everything gets heated quickly: the sun on your shoulders, the feeling of only cotton separating your hand from his skin, the way his mouth opens to deepen the kiss. By the time you’ve stopped a new, thin layer of sweat sits on your bodies.

Sonny breaks the silence first. “Maybe I can finish helpin’ you unpack another day?”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, pulling him back towards the couch a few feet away. As you step backwards Sonny stumbles over something. His brow creases and he reaches down to pick up whatever tripped him.

“Yoga to Relax the Mind and Body? Why on Earth is this unpacked, but not your toaster?”

You grin and snatch the DVD from his hands, tossing it back to the floor. “Don’t ask.”

You guys I apologize if this was more of a mess than usual. I have an unholy amount of papers to write for finals and I am overwhelmed. I’m hoping to get my groove back in a couple weeks when the semester is over.

#sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi fanfiction #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi fanfic #sonny carisi #law and order: svu #Law and Order: Special Victims Unit #law and order: svu imagine #law and order: special victims unit imagine #law and order: svu fanfic

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luffles424 · 4 years

Text

Lucidity (5)

☼ Pairing: BTS x reader (no pairing this chapter)

☼ Genre: vampire!BTS, succubus!reader, smut, fluff, angst

☼ Count: 3.3K

☼ Warnings: referenced smut (between Jikook and MC)

☼ Summary: You’ve spent years jumping from country to country, starting countless new lives. Crafting new lives is as easy as breathing for you, lies flowing easily and people are charmed with a simple bat of your eyes. When you meet a witch who offers the idea of opening a supernatural club, using your powers combined with hers to ensure safety to those who enter, you decide to join her in an adventure that is entirely new to you. But your new life in Seoul is drastically changed when you’re forced to face something you’ve spent centuries hiding from. But just because you might be running for your life again doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun along the way, right?

☼ a/n: I’m sorry, I did say the angst was coming though. Promise it’ll get better though. Next chapter will be back to some good ol smut with someone new 👀👀 As always, let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous

You stare at your laundry basket, the clothes inside it taunting you. You’ve washed your clothes more times than you could possibly count. You’ve never been surprised, even when technology made the whole process easier. Puzzled or confused sure, understandable when things changed. But you adapt, you always do. But you’ve never been surprised, at least until now. When your laundry basket sits here half full of clothes that are definitely not yours. You tug them out, sorting the entire basket into yours and not yours. There’s actually more here that aren’t yours.

You feel a little beside yourself as you start looking through the clothes, noting the large, plain white and black tshirts and massively oversized sweaters ranging from black to pastel. Pieces of clothing that are actually very familiar to you now that you’re looking closely at them. Familiar because you remember taking them off of their owners. But that doesn’t explain why they’re still here. Why didn’t they take their clothes with them?

You sit heavily on your bed, one of Jungkook’s shirts still clutched in your hands, mind racing. You never had people over to your house, especially not often enough to be able to have their own clothes here. Jungkook had been an anomaly. Something about him made you not even think before you brought him back here. Maybe that had been a mistake. You went to other people's houses or to a hotel. Your apartment was your safe space. It feels so bizarrely domestic, having others in your space so casually. Something you haven’t really experienced in this capacity since-

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. Nothing good will come from thinking about that now. It’s in the past and it’ll stay there. It’s stayed there for this long and you don’t need to think about it anymore. You were fine. You look back to the shirt, a fond smile coming unbidden to your lips. This was actually one of his favorites, he claimed that it was the coziest and he liked wearing it to the airport because it helped with long flights. You told him how you doubted it was that comfortable and he proved you very wrong when he immediately stripped it off to put on you instead. After, he’d fucked you while you wore it and only it. It might be your favorite now too, just for a very different reason than his.

You still doubt the validity of his statement about it being the coziest, you have much softer sweaters sitting in your closest. At least that’s the reason you give as you glance around your empty room before slipping your tank top off and putting his sweater on. It’s merely to test how it feels without the distraction of Jungkook. The sweater still smells faintly of him, and maybe a little of sex, but it’s mostly him and it makes you feel warm and safe. Happy in a way you choose not to look too deeply at.

You grab your phone off your dresser, taking a picture of the pile of clothes sat on your bed and send it to the newest group chat with the boys, Jimin now added.

You: *1 image attachment*

You: Do I look like your maid?

A glance at the time tells you that they’re in practice right now and so you set your phone down and go back to laundry, sorting your clothes, and only your clothes, that need to be washed. You get the first load going, stopping by the kitchen on the way back to grab yourself a glass of wine. You take a long sip when you return, picking up your phone to see you have a few texts waiting for you.

Kookie: NO! that’s not why we left them :(

Jin: what he means is

Jin: we were going to wash them sometime when we were over

Jin: but I can see that you found a much better use for them 😏😏

Kookie: what are you talking about???

Minie: You mean you don’t see it?

Kookie: see what?? what am I missing??

Kookie: guys?

Kookie: I can SEE you guys reading these and laughing!

Kookie: tell me!

Minie: say please baby boy 😘

Kookie: only noona can call me that!

Kookie: please 🥺

Jin: look in the mirror

The chat stops there, but you are also confused by what they’re talking about. You scroll back up to look at your picture, looking in the mirror like Jin said to. Embarrassment warms your face as you realize that you’re completely visible in the image, wearing nothing but Jungkook’s sweater.

You drop your phone to the bed, covering your face in embarrassment even though no one is around to see you. They’ll never let you live this down. Your phone buzzes, startling you and you stare at it as it continues to buzz, meaning you’re getting a call, not a text. You hesitantly pick it up, looking to see that you’re getting a Facetime call from Jungkook. You contemplate not answering, but you know he’ll just keep calling until you pick up, despite the fact that he has practice.

You sit on your bed, taking a deep breath and chugging the rest of your wine before swiping to answer the call. After a moment your screen is filled with not just Jungkook, but Jimin and Jin’s faces squished into frame as well. You immediately laugh at the way they continually try to push each other out of frame, seeming to have not noticed that you answered yet.

“So did you call just to make me laugh?”

All three freeze, glancing at Jungkook’s phone to see your amused smile staring back at them. Jin grins back.

“Did you need a laugh? Cause if so I’ve got a joke-” Jin’s cut off by Jungkook slapping a hand over his mouth.

“This is my call.” He pouts. “No one wants to hear that. Go away.” His attention turns back to you and you see the way his eyes drop like he’s trying to see more of you and if he just moves the right way he can. Well you assume he wants to more so see more of what you’re wearing, not necessarily you at the moment. “You look good noona.” He murmurs with a small pleased smile.

You huff. Who knew he could be so possessive of someone who wasn’t his to have? “I only have this on because I need to do laundry and have nothing else to wear.”

Jimin perks up then, eyes screaming mischief as he smiles oh so sweetly. It sets you on edge. “I’ve seen your closet and I know that’s not true.”

You pause. You had no idea when he had seen your closet. He’s only been in your bedroom once and there wasn’t exactly time for him to peruse your closet enough to know you’re lying and that you’ve got more than enough of your own clothes to wear.

You scoff. “When have you ever been in my closet?” All three smirk at you. “What?”

“You’re awfully defensive about this.” Jin comments casually and you tense up.

You glare at them. “You know what,” you grin evilly, if they’re going to be this way then fine. Two can play that game. “I actually have someone here, so I’ve got to go. Bye.” You coo, hanging up on them before they can get another word in.

Your phone immediately starts ringing again, but you drop it to your bed with a sigh. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror across from you and your eyes drag over your frame, at Jungkook’s sweater and the way hangs from you. It’s warm, but not the warmth you crave, his scent still clings to the fabric and you’d rather bury your nose in his neck where it’s most potent. You’d rather have one of them here.

You blink, sitting up straight as panic seizes your heart. It’s been centuries since you’ve actually wanted a specific person around you. Especially in such a setting, you realize that the thought that had crossed your mind had nothing to do with sex. You wanted one (or honestly all of them) over just to be together in the same space. No expectations, just companionship. Your mind races, trying to pin down when this happened. When had they gotten so under your skin? Glancing at the pile of clothes next to you then back to yourself in the mirror, you practically rip Jungkook’s shirt off your body like it burned you. It lands on top of the pile and you take a few steps away like it’s going to attack you. It lies there and it feels like you’ve been slapped in the face. How could something so innocuous mean something so dangerous.

You wrap your arms around your middle, feeling sick. The pile represents something terrifying, you can’t afford to let them get this close to you. The fleeting thought of they should’ve listened to Joon crosses your mind. You grab one of your own shirts before leaving the room in search of a box. You have to fix this before it’s too late, put a stop to it. Something in you feels like it’s already past that point. You shouldn’t have started it to begin with.

It takes you a few minutes of searching but you manage to find one tucked into the corner of your office. Box in hand, you go back to your bedroom and set it on the floor by the bed. You stare at the pile of clothes, unable to bring yourself to do what you need to do. Your vision blurs and you blink rapidly to clear them of the sudden tears, letting out a slightly hysterical laugh at the ridiculousness of crying over some clothes. You try not to think about how it has more to do with the boys who own those clothes than the clothes themselves.

You take a deep breath, this is what’s best for them. You repeat that mantra as you methodically fold and place each item of theirs into the box until your bed is cleared of the boys’ clothing. You kneel beside the box, gently touching the sweater on top, it’s the one you’d been wearing just a little bit ago. You feel your resolve start to crumble but you shake your head, repeat your mantra again. You’ve been alone this long, you’ll be fine. You always are.

But you just can’t tear your gaze from the sweater, and in a moment of weakness, the only one you’ll allow yourself, you snatch it back out of the box and stuff it under your pillow. Your rational mind questions who you’re hiding it from.

You move to your closet and get dressed for your quick errand. You gather the box, tucking your phone into your pocket, carefully ignoring the multitude of notifications you’ve received since you hung up and consequently had your epiphany. As you go to leave your apartment, you pause at the lock.

Nothing you do will work if they can still get into your apartment. And you don’t want to move, you like this apartment and moving is a hassle. Those are the reasons you allow yourself, only those. Logical ones, not something rooted in dangerous thoughts and feelings. You double back into your apartment, depositing the box on the couch as you make your way back into your office to dig through the drawers in search of the instructions on how to reset your lock.

Once you finish, staring at the flashing blue light signaling that your fingerprint has successfully been programmed, you feel regret churn in your belly. Their faces the first time they try to enter only to be denied access flashing through your mind. But you can’t think about that, you can’t afford to because you know you’ll cave if you think about that. What’s done is done. You grab your box and leave, heading for your club.

Ari is in the office when you get there and she’s surprised by your sudden appearance. Her gaze drops to the box, frown marring her features.

“What’s going on?”

You set the box on the ground by the door, nudging it a little with your foot. “Jin, Jungkook, or Jimin will be by sometime soon for this. Can you make sure they get it please?” You studiously ignore the questioning look she’s giving you.

“I mean, yeah of course. But is everything okay?”

You nod. “Yeah, for sure. I just need to get this to them and this is the easiest way.”

Ari looks completely unconvinced. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Guilt claws at your throat. She’s always been so understanding, even when you try to keep her at a distance. “I know.” You mutter quietly. The words feel like ash on your tongue.

Ari doesn’t press though. She just turns back to her computer. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

You stand there a moment longer. Should you? Maybe telling someone else would help. But then you think of Namjoon, the look of utter disgust and hatred he gave you. You couldn’t have Ari or the other’s do that too. It hurt enough that Namjoon did it, you’re positive you wouldn’t be able to handle that from more people. No, this would be something you have to carry yourself.

You murmur a quiet thanks to her and leave. In your car, you send them a text.

You: There’s something for you at the club. Ari’s got it. Just let her know and she’ll get it for you.

After that, you shut your phone off and drive home, struggling to hold back tears. You don’t want to see what they have to say. You didn’t even bother to read the texts that you had missed. Just sent your message and closed the chat.

In the elevator, you see your reflection and laugh at yourself, you look like you’re going through a breakup. You tell yourself that you’re definitely not. None of you were ever together. You don’t do that. You can do casual. Casual is safe. You won’t stop seeing them, they’re still fun to be around. It’s just not going to be dinners and movie nights and surprises. Just sex and feeding. Maybe dancing at the club but that will just be foreplay. You won’t let them come to your apartment either, not anymore. Hotels or their place only. You can’t let them into your space again.

You sit heavily on your couch, staring at the blank TV screen, lost in your thoughts for a long while until there’s a pounding at your door. You know who it is even without supernatural hearing. You knew they’d come once they saw the box. You had just wished they’d given you more time. You hear them try the lock and the resounding denial the lock gives them when it no longer recognizes their fingers to grant access is somehow worse than the silence.

It’s deafeningly quiet for a long moment before they’re all talking over each other. Begging you to let them in, they don’t understand what’s wrong, just talk to them. You wish you could tell them that it’s not that easy.

You remain silent, hand coming up to stifle your sobs when their calls get to be too much. They don’t stay too long after that, you assume that your attempts to stifle yourself were useless. Jin is the voice of reason. You hear him tell them that it’ll be okay. That you just need some time and they should respect you. Everyone needs some time alone sometimes. He ushers the other two out of the building. It just makes you sob harder.

You get a blissful week of peace from the boys. You assume that’s all Jin was able to manage because Jimin and Jungkook sandwich you on the dance floor a week after the clothing incident, effectively scaring off the man you had been dancing with. Not that it was really any loss, he didn’t have a good rhythm, more interested in grinding against you than dancing with you.

They don’t say anything, something which you’re grateful for, instead the three of you move to the music together. Their hands move over you like you’re something precious, like if they move wrong you’ll disappear in a puff of smoke. You tug them closer, Jungkook in front and Jimin behind, letting just a little lust slip out. Not enough for them to fully notice, but enough for them to stop handling you like that. You can’t handle them when they touch you so softly. Their hands grow bolder, far rougher and you let a groan out which only seems to encourage the way their hips and bodies move against you.

Jungkook’s lips ghost along your neck and Jimin’s brush the shell of your ear. “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, leading them from the dance floor, taking a deep breath of fresh air once your outside. You’re reminded of the first time Jungkook sought you out. You steel yourself to not let this end the same way. You hail a cab, giving the address for the nearby hotel that you have a permanent room at. You ignore their looks of confusion when you arrive, bypassing the desk and getting onto the elevator. Once inside, you tug Jungkook in for a kiss to distract from the questions that you know are on the tip of their tongues. You release him to do the same to Jimin and Jungkook plasters himself to your back to mouth at your neck while you kiss Jimin. You quickly herd them to the room, intent on keeping the distraction going. Lucky for you, they’re very easy to distract.

It’s still dark out as you slip from between them. Neither stirs from their sleep and you silently dress yourself. You try not to think about their reactions when they wake up in the morning and you’re not there.

Another week later and Jin finds you at your favorite cafe. He looks mad when he finally spots you and you’re tempted to bolt. His eyes narrow at you like he can read your thoughts and you reluctantly stay put. He’s probably faster than you anyway. He sits across from you and the silence is tense. You hate that it’s your fault that it’s like this. You miss when it was easy silence between you. But it’s for the best.

Finally he sighs. “Can you at least give me something to tell them? Did we do something wrong?” He doesn’t look at you. He looks afraid of your answer.

You fidget with your coffee cup. What could you say? That you saw how close you were getting and that absolutely terrified you? That you don’t do relationships? That Namjoon was right and they should’ve listened? Nothing sounds adequate enough. You stare at your coffee like it will give you the answers you want.

Jin sighs again. “They’re still young. They don’t understand the shit that you can go through over centuries. If you just need time, tell me. I can come up with something to tell them that isn’t the truth… If that’s what it is.” He glances over at you and you want to cry at the kindness and understanding you see in his eyes.

You swallow. You hope you can lie to him. “Yeah… I’m sorry. I just panicked a little. I just need a little time to be more comfortable. We can still have sex and feed. Just…” You trail off.

“Just not more?” He finishes for you and you nod. “That’s fine. I’ll get them to cool it. We’ll just come by the club if we need you then. But feel free to call us if you need us too. We’ll be there.”

He gives you a small smile as he rises and leaves. You hate yourself for lying. You hate how understanding he is. How he’s still willing to do so much for you when you’ve tried to shut them out. Most of all, you hate how much your heart aches as he walks away like this is the last time you’ll see him.

#magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #thebtstown #btsguild #kwritersworldnet #bts smut #bts vampire au #bts angst #vampire bts #bts au #bts fanfic #lucidity au

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brianc521 · 4 years

Text

Meet the Brothers | Nap Date 3

Now that things were official. Now that Ember Mills was officially Shawn Mendes’ girlfriend. Now that Shawn Mendes was officially Ember Mills’ boyfriend. The next big thing to do was to officially, and formerly, have her meet the brothers.

Ember had met Raul in passing. It wasn’t something that they could avoid, sharing Juniper in common. Ember and Juniper have known each other since high school.

Juniper was a quiet shy person until she met Raul. She kept her nose hidden in books, she only ever spoke if spoken too, and she absolutely hated when the attention was on her. Ember? Ember was the opposite in high school. She was outspoken, she was the girl in the halls that everyone was intimidated by. Not that she did anything but speak the truth to deserve that description. If you were being an ass she’d tell you, if you were in her way she’d let you know by pushing you out of it.

They are polar opposites, and the best friends you could ever see.

Juniper is Ember’s Brian to Shawn.

So when Juniper started dating Raul 2 years ago every now and then they’d cross paths. It was nothing more than a;

“Hey.”

To say Ember was nervous would be an understatement. Raul and Peter were everything to Shawn. She doesn’t know what she’d do if they don’t like her. All she can think about is, what would Shawn do if they don’t like her?

“Emi?” Shawn calls as he pokes his head into her apartment.

She knew he was coming over, so she left the door unlocked and told him to just come on in. Shawn planned to pick her up and take her over his place where the boys were currently playing fifa. Shawn is anxious to tell her it would be more than Raul and Peter she would be meeting. When Brian and Matt caught wind that his brothers were meeting his girlfriend they requested to be there as well. Before he could even speak up to say no fifa tournaments were already being planned, and the next thing he knew it was suddenly a lowkey party at his place. Connor was even able to fly out to join.

“Bedroom!” She called, throwing yet another shirt into the massive pile on her bed. They are all her rejects.

“Hey Gorgeous.” Shawn smiled as he walked into her room. His eyes went wide at the sight in front of him.

Not only was his girlfriends room completely destroyed but she was standing in front of her closet in nothing but her bra and panties with her hair wrapped in a towel on the top of her head.

“I said 2 right?” He looks at his watch, double checking he had the time right.

“Yes,” She huffs. “I just don’t like anything.”

“Baby.” He grins, taking her hand and tugging her to stand between his legs as he sits on the corner of her messy bed. “It’s just the boys.”

“But I don’t want to look like a complete slob, and at the same time I don’t want to look like a slut either.”

Shawn squeezed the back of her thigh at the choice of her words. “You’re not a slob, nor are you a slut. So stop speaking like that please. You’re beautiful and pretty in everything you wear.”

“You think I’m pretty?” She pouts at him.

“I think you’re the prettiest.”

She sighs and leans into him. “You make everything better.” She wraps her arms around his neck.

“Please keep that in mind when I tell you what I’m about to.”

“What?” She looks at him, eyeing him suspiciously.

“It’s not just Raul and Peter you’re meeting today.”

“What?” She steps back from him.

“No come back.” He reaches for her hand.

“Who else am I meeting today Shawn?”

“Brian, Matt and Connor.” He cringes.

Her eyes go wide and she turns around with her face in her hands. “Oh my god.” She freaks. “Oh my god. Might as well have your parents and sister there too. Holy fucking shit.” She rambles digging through her closet with more force now. “No-” She throws a shirt behind her.

“What’s wrong with this one?” Shawn asks as he catches the thrown fabric. “I like this one a lot.”

“No red translates to sexy, the v line is to deep, and if you’re brothers and friends think I’m a slut then they won’t like me because then I’ll be seen as some user. If they don’t like me you’ll break up with me and then-”

“Whoa.” Shawn stands, grabbing a frantic Ember. “Who said anything about breaking up?”

“I just-”

“If they don’t like you then they’re dumber than I think they are. But I can promise you Baby, they’re gonna like you. Raul knows you a little, and keeps going on and on about how good of a friend you are, and how he can’t wait to meet you.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Why?” He cups her cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth under her eye.

“Because what if they don’t like me?”

“They will.”

“You aren’t hearing me Shawn.” She shakes her head, looking up at him with the slightest hint of tears in her eyes. “What if they don’t? What happens if they don’t?”

His eyes go wide before softening, he’s finally understanding what her worries are. “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “I’m with you.” He gives her a pointed look. “No matter what anyone else has to say. You’re mine, I’m yours, and it’s gonna stay that way.”

“Promise?”

“If I have it my way Baby it’s gonna stay that way for the rest of our time.”

She gasps as she looks at him in shock. “What?”

He quickly clears his throat and goes to her closet, pulling out her blue NY Giants shirt that’s a little tight and hugs her body well. “Wear this with your skinny jeans. It’s so cute, and the guys will be impressed.”

“Okay.”

“And you look really good in this shirt, so I’m getting a treat as well.” He wiggles his eyebrows. She slaps his chest in a playful way as she takes the shirt from his hands.

On the drive to his condo she can’t stop bouncing her leg. It’s her nervous habit and Shawn keeps glancing down at her leg. He reaches over and plants a hand on her thigh to stop the movement.

“Baby don’t be nervous. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I just-”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I told you, they can’t wait to meet you. I promise you once we get there you’re gonna go ‘wow I was overreacting’. To be honest I doubt they’ll put their remote controllers down long enough to even realize you’re there.”

“What?” She asks, threading her fingers through his on her lap.

“They’re having a fifa tournament right now.”

“No! Shawn!” She throws her head back. “I don’t want to be that girlfriend who interrupts guy time.”

“Excuse me?” Shawn chuckles.

“You know what I’m talking about,” She looks at him. “The girlfriend who is always around, never letting her boyfriend have a moment with his friends. The one who’s clingy and attached to his hip. The joykill?”

“Okay,” He parks in this gated parking lot. “I’m trying to be understanding because you’re nervous.” He turns to look at her. “But I’m getting a little mad about the way you’re talking about yourself. So I’ll reiterate. You are not a slob. You are not a slut. You are not ‘that’ girlfriend. You are not clingy. You are not attached to my hip. You are going to be loved by the five boys upstairs. You hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“So take a deep breath.” She does as he says. “Now, we’re going to go upstairs. I’m going to introduce you to my brothers and friends. I’m going to make you a drink,” He winks at her. “And then you and I are gonna team up and kick their fucking asses at fifa. Okay?”

“Okay.” She nods.

“Okay.” He nods, leaning forward to kiss her. “Let’s go.”

They climb out of his jeep and head for the elevator that will take them up to his floor.

“Can you hold my hand?” She asks softly as the doors close. “It calms me down and-”

“You don’t have to ask.” He smiles at her, taking her hand in his. “Literally just grab my hand, I’m not gonna complain. I wanna hold your hand all the time.”

“Okay.”

“It’s gonna be okay Baby. I’m gonna be with you the whole time. Like you said, I make everything better right?”

“Right.”

“So let me make it better.” He gives her hand a squeeze as a reassurance that he’s there with her and that she doesn’t need to be worried about anything.

She’s staring up at him, arms wrapped around his as they walk into his apartment. It’s loud, you can clearly hear Raul and Brian shouting at each other. Shawn rolls his eyes, tugging her a little closer as they round the corner from the hallway to the living room.

When they walk in it goes silent. Shawn’s never seen a game paused. Ever. Not even when him and Ruel were playing after a show and the whole couch flipped. This is the first time a fifa game has ever been paused in Mendes history.

Raul and Brian turn, faces red but lips shut. Connor and Matt sit up, and Peter waves a little from the corner of the couch he was sitting in.

“Okay,” Shawn says eerily when all eyes go to him. “Boys this is Ember.” He smiles as he looks down to his girl on his arm. “Emi,” He squeezes her hand. “This is Raul, Peter, Brian, Matt and Connor.” He points to each one, as if she doesn’t already know who each boy is.

All the boys pile over to hug her, as if they’ve known her for years. They suck her into their conversations, arguing over who gets to sit next to her and who gets to tell the most embarrassing stories of Shawn there are.

Shawn takes that as a moment to pour her a glass of her favorite white wine, and lets out a sigh of relief in the kitchen when he’s alone. He had to be the rock when he picked her up, show that he wasn’t worried at all. But truth be told, he was freaking out too. He’s starting to come to terms with the idea of Ember being the rest of his life, and the thought of his brothers and friends not agreeing was terrifying, but everything is going just the way he said, and he couldn’t be any more glad.

He returns to Brian and Raul arguing again, this time over who gets to be on her team for the next tournament.

“You both lose.” He chimes in from behind her. He leans over the back of the couch, handing her the glass of wine.

“Oh, thank you.” She smiles up at him.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“You could get me a jack and coke.” Brian holds his hand out expecting Shawn to place a glass in it.

“Look, I see two legs on your body. Why don’t you go get it yourself.” He remarks, slapping Brian’s hand away.

“Oh I see how it is. Get a pretty girl and all of the sudden we’re chopped liver.”

Ember looks up at Shawn with wide eyes and Shawn could strangle Brian for the slightest of moments. “Oh don’t go feeling special, you’ve always been chopped liver, when have I ever doted on your needs?”

“Touche.” Brian laughs, standing and freeing up the spot next to Ember. Shawn plants a hand on the back of his couch, hopping over the back and landing perfectly next to Ember in Brian’s spot.

“Oh what the hell? Move Shawn.” Raul grumps when he goes to move into that free spot. “Ember and I are fifa partners.”

“No, you’re not.” Shawn shakes his head, grabbing Raul’s controller. “I’m her partner.”

“What? No!”

Ember just watches with wide eyes, confused with why everyone wants to be her partner.

“It’s okay, I’m not really that good.” She says to clear some of the tension.

She only gets scoffs from every single boy in return.

“Shawn’s shown us videos, we know you’re good.” Peter mumbles, selecting a team.

“What?” She looks to Shawn.

“Um,” Shawn scratches the back of his neck, blushing a light pink. “You’re really good?” He tries to save himself.

“I can’t believe you took videos of me playing.”

“He’s just showing you off.” Matt shrugs.

They all play it off as if it’s no big deal, but to Ember it is. She would have never thought that she had qualities that Shawn would want to show off.

“We’ve probably seen every picture from your instagram like three times.” Brian pipes up as he walks back into the room with a glass in his hands. “‘Look guys, she’s so pretty.’’” He imitates Shawn.

“Don’t forget ‘Look how cute! That’s my girl!’” Connor points to Brian.

“Or ‘I just wanna go play with her hair and tell her she’s pretty.’” Raul punches Shawn’s shoulder.

“What the hell!” Shawn lunges for Raul. “How’d you know about that!”

“You’re not alone all the time.” Raul shrugs Shawn off.

Ember smiles, blushing as she looks at a nervous Shawn. He won’t make eye contact with her, no matter how many times he tries to get his attention. It’s not until she slips a hand up into his curls and leans into him the way she does when they’re alone.

“Can I help you?” He hums looking over at her.

“You’re cute too.” She smiles at him. “Really cute. And my boy.” She whispers into his ear. “And I like to play with your hair and call you pretty too.”

He blushes, looking down into his lap. “See I told you tonight would be a success.” He grins looking back up at her. She giggles and pecks his lips quickly before looking back at the screen getting ready to beat Raul and Brian’s ass.

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jojinx · 4 years

Text

Heaven is Hell with Baby Blues Ch. 5

Chris Evans x OC Olivia Ransom

Words: 3k

Warnings: 18+, aggressive Chris, light DD/lg, mature content, daddy kink, alcohol consumption

**Warnings of insinuation of mature content**

Want to see more of Chris and Olivia?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

A/N: I know I didn’t post for a few days, but I was feeling a bit anxious about my writing if I’m being honest. I have so much fun doing it but sometimes it just feels like I get lost in my own head and forget to be okay with it not being perfect, which I’m sure is very common with anything you feel love towards. Regardless, here is chapter 5 and I’m excited for you all to read it :) I hope you enjoy it and as always suggestions welcome!

Series Summary: Olivia is a career driven woman who works for a big shot movie studio as a writer, she indulges in life’s pleasures and takes great pride in doing whatever and whoever she likes. Living with her best friend Poppy, Olivia is ambitious and has an appetite for the unconventional. She is living the high life until there is a shift in the dynamic of her friend trio. This pushes Olivia to find comfort in the only way that she knows how; in the arms of a tall bearded stranger with some killer baby blues. The only thing wrong is that she can't seem to shake the feeling that she knows him from somewhere...

Chapter 5

I slowly woke up out of what could be considered the absolute best nap I had ever had. I languidly stretched, pointing my toes; hands reaching for the sky trying to get my body to wake up. It wasn’t until I went to scrub my eyes with my hand that I realized I was still wearing what was left of my black eye makeup…and that it was still dark in the room where I was currently laying completely naked. The events of the night hit me like a train careening off the tracks. I fell asleep. Fuck. I passed out. How could this have happened?

I slowly reached my left hand over to the other side of the monstrous bed, half expecting it to be empty. No such luck. My hand hit a huge, hard, and warm bicep, and my brain immediately started firing on all cylinders. I had to get out of here. I had to go before he woke up. Something that would’ve been a hell of a lot easier had I not passed out. Fuck.

I slowly turned my head to the gorgeous, bearded, brunette man beside me who took up the majority of what could only be a California king sized bed. He lay there sprawled out, sleeping peacefully, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, pouty pink lips slightly parted, huge arm stretched off the side of the bed, letting out a soft snore. I had to go. Now. This man lying next to me was dangerous to say the least. Tall, dark, handsome and nothing but raw power. Men like this were the men I avoided, not for lack of fun – believe me, there was plenty of fun to be had- but because of the chaotic nature of these types of dynamics.

I sat up, realizing that my leg was laying on top of his, and pulled it off him as slowly as I could. I brought my legs up to my chest to swing them over the bed, when I felt a sweet ache and tenderness in my lady bits. Flashbacks immediately hit me, being tied up, him spanking me until I was putty in his hands, being made to… oh god, I had to go.

I slowly lowered my feet one at a time to the soft rug that stretched out from under the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. Looking back at him, I tiptoed to the front of the bed crouching down to grab my heels and jeans, when my legs spasmed not being able to hold my weight. I went down with a soft thud and a squeak onto a pile of black which I could only assume was his dress shirt from the night before. I glanced up at my mystery stranger, making sure he hadn’t moved and got up onto my knees to make my way to the door.

“Hmmm, and where might you be off to in such a rush?” said a husky voice, gravelly with sleep.

I froze. Completely naked, heels and jeans in my hands, looking like a crazy person I was sure. I stood up straight on shaky legs, something he found quite funny.

“Now, what I don’t understand is why you’re leaving without giving me a proper goodbye.” He chuckled. “Those legs of yours don’t look to be up to the challenge of walking you all the way to the door.”

I turned slowly on my wobbly legs, hoping he didn’t see just how unsteady I truly was. I straightened my back and stood up as straight as the ach in between my legs would allow.

“I just figured I’d make it easier for the both of us. I mean we had a great time, don’t get me wrong, but the alcohols’ gone, my nap rejuvenated me and inspired me to take my ass home.” I said, trying to sound matter of fact, and direct, ignoring the tremor in my voice.

“And all without saying goodbye to me.” He tsked, sitting up in bed. He slowly moved his legs off the side to stand letting the white sheet fall off him, revealing first his strong thighs and then his firm ass. God, I could bounce a quarter off that behind. Once he was at his full height, the sheet dropped completely from his hips, showcasing his breathtaking…assets. I was embarrassed to admit that even with the ache prominently reminding me that I should head home, I felt myself clench for him. My body remembering all the wicked things he knew how to do with that mouth, with those hands…. That co- No! Oh my god, I was like a horny teenager.

He walked toward me, body on full display. He stood directly in front of me, and without breaking eye contact slowly grabbed both my heels and jeans from my hands placing them on a chair near the corner of the room. I couldn’t move. Did he want to have sex again? Did I want to have sex again? Jesus.

Once my shoes and jeans were safely on the chair, he leaned down and reached behind me coming up with a pile of black fabric in his hands. He held it out, making sense of the bundle and once organized he held it open up to my back.

“Put this on.” It was a command, not a request. Normally, I am not the type of woman anyone commands, not without some well-established rules first at the very least, but for some reason his tone held a finality to it. Like arguing would only waste time because he was the one in charge in this room. I obediently slipped my arms into the much too large black dress shirt pulling it closed over my naked body, enjoying the scent of cologne that lingered on the fabric. He came around and moved my arms from their crossed position over my chest, taking each button between his large fingers and securing them. Once he was satisfied with the number of buttons that were done up, he looked up at me. Baby blue meeting chocolate brown.

“Come back to bed.” He said softly, not an order this time; a request. Something in his eyes told me to listen, something pushed me to want to stay, all my earlier escape plans forgotten.

“Okay.” I replied softly, looking up at him through my lashes, my nerves coming through my trembling reply. I didn’t know what to make of what he’d asked of me; all I knew was that one look into those liquid blue eyes and I wanted nothing more than to give him anything and everything he wanted. This is where the danger lay in these dynamics. This is where I had to be careful, guarded. If I wasn’t careful, tall, dark, and horny would chew me up and spit me right back out again leaving me to pick up all my broken pieces.

I awoke to sunlight beaming in through a sliver between the dark curtains, slowly getting my bearings; squinting my eyes open. I went to roll over and get the sun out of my eye when I realized that I was caged in my two massive arms. The more I became aware of my body, the more I realized that I was pressed against what could only be the blue-eyed stranger form the night before. His face was pressed against my hair, letting me hear soft snores as he breathed. I know I should leave, take advantage of him being out cold and sneak off, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I found my curiosity peaked, and I wanted to get a feel for the man who was able to fuck me into oblivion and also cuddle me this tightly.

I attempted to turn over in his arms to look at his face, when I felt him stir behind me. With a deep groan he turned over onto his back, pulling me with him. Before I could react, a loud squeal left my lips, effectively causing a low chuckle from under me. I lay there, a little taken aback by his easy reaction.

“Good morning to you too, Bambi.” I said in a deep baritone voice. “I was wondering if you’d be here when I woke up.”

“Well it’s kind of difficult to escape when you’re being held hostage by a giant.” I grumbled, trying to push his arms from around me to get up.

I was rewarded with a deep laugh from the giant himself. I couldn’t help but smile as I pushed against his arms. I managed to get free and hop up onto my feet turning to face him in the process, when I wobbled on my still unsteady legs, only causing him to laugh all the more. I was beginning to get annoyed. It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t stand properly, something that I was pretty happy about, albeit a little annoyed.

Reaching out to steady myself on the big bed, I finally looked up at him in the morning light. My heart stopped.

“Are you fucking KIDDING me?!” I all but screeched at his face, pulling the white sheet that had been covering us off the bed to hide my bare breasts from him.

“What?” He quickly asked, alarm laced in his tone as he reached for me. “Are you okay, what is it?”

I pulled back, stumbling over the sheet, like he was made of lava. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. The beard, the eyes, the biceps, the pecs… Captain FUCKING America was currently lying naked in bed. Naked. Captain America. Bed. I frantically looked around, anxiety gripping my heart. Was I on some hidden camera show?

“You-you’re-but-Evans-Chris-FUCK!” I finally managed to sputter in between heaving breaths looking into his worried blue eyes.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back as an almost hysterical laugh broke from his chest. It looked like he was struggling to breath when his right hand came up and grabbed his chest. I could see tears streaming down his temples as he fell backwards onto the bed, clearly amused by my reaction to our situation.

“If you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to come over there and smother you!” I fumed. I couldn’t believe this jackass. I couldn’t believe that I was too drunk to realize I dragged Chris fucking Evans out of a club. I was embarrassed, and I have to say a little proud. Drunk me kicked ass.

“Holy shit…” He said, attempting to catch his breath. “I can’t believe it took you this long to notice!” Again, he broke down into a fit of laughter. “We had sex for like 4 hours!”

I stood there with my lips pressed tightly together, wanting to be furious but failing miserably. His laugh was contagious; I felt a bubble of laughter sneak its way up my throat. The more I thought about it, the harder I laughed. The harder I laughed, the more my legs shook. I fell onto the bed in a fit of giggles as the night’s events flashed in my mind. I had to stop drinking with Poppy.

We both managed to calm down enough to catch our breath. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I looked over at him only to find him already staring at me with a grin on his face.

“I just can’t believe I was so out of it that I didn’t realize I took home Captain America.” I said, shaking my head, as a few laughs spilled from me.

“Yeah well, tequila will do that to you.” He laughed with twinkle in his eye. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that happen to me before, though. So, you’re definitely a first for me.”

“I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or to be concerned.” I half groaned into my hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever woken up next to a celebrity before, so you’re definitely a first for me, too.”

I realized that I didn’t even know what time it was, I sat up looking around at the disaster that was at the foot of the bed. His cllothes strewn everywhere, shoes scattered around, and what looked like a dark tie laying at the top the chaos. My cheeks burned with the memories of the night before. Attempting to not look like an obsessive crazy person, I avoided eye contact so he couldn’t see the embarrassment on my face.

“Are you all right?” Chris asked from his side of the bed, leaning up on his elbows to get a view of my face.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” I replied with a nervous chuckle. “I’m just trying to make sense of the chaos on the floor so I can find my clothes.” I popped onto my knees and leaned over the end of the bed, mindlessly pushing my bare ass in the air.

“Hmm, well yes you are.” Came a low reply as I felt a large hand on my ass. I was caught so off guard that I jumped forward, nearly falling off the bed causing him to lean forward and catch me just in time to stop me from toppling headfirst off the edge.

“Might wanna be more careful there, short stuff.” He laughed, pulling me back into a sitting position. “Your jeans and shoes are on the chair over there.” He gestured to the corner of the room.

I quickly slid out of his grasp, managing to find my jeans and heels just where he’d said, and what was left of my panties buried under his clothes. Bummer, I liked those.

“Have you seen my top?” I asked without turning around. I didn’t trust myself to look at him. I ran the risk of either reacting like a crazy person or getting pulled into bed again, and it was time to go. I had never stayed this long with a one-night stand. Not that this was just any one-night stand, but still. I was always out before morning, mainly because this part was always awkward and him being who he was just made it all the more nerve wracking.

“I think we dropped it somewhere by the front door. Here, let me go look.” He got up out of bed and made his very naked way out the bedroom door. All I could do was stare at his perfectly formed ass as he walked away not giving a second thought to being completely naked. Incredible how he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, and how when he walked the only thing that moved was his… package. I quickly snapped out of it, slipping into my jeans and heels. The night before rearing its head as I managed to stand up straight. All the dancing and after party antics really took a toll on my poor feet and I couldn’t wait to get out of these heels and into some fuzzy socks.

Thinking of fuzzy socks reminded me of home and that reminded me of Poppy, I didn’t even know where to begin looking for my clutch. I walked out of the bedroom and into the massive living room, arms covering my bare breasts. Chris was nowhere to be found when I heard him yell from what I could only be the kitchen.

“Found it!” He triumphantly cried holding my sparkly top in his hand. “Somehow it landed by the entrance of the kitchen.” He said with a smirk when he caught sight of me walking over to him.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the grin on his face. This was by far the weirdest day of my entire life. I felt like I was in the twilight zone. Here I was, topless in the penthouse suite of an undoubtedly expensive hotel, standing in front of Captain America himself, topless while he was completely naked holding my top from the night prior.

“I’d say you were my hero, but you’re the reason I lost it to begin with.” I laughed as I grabbed my top back. I made sense of the fabric and then slid it on, tying the strings behind my neck and back, finally covering my top half. I turned to walk to the couch where somehow my clutch had landed and started to go through it in the hopes that my phone still had charge.

“So, since you’re dressed, I’m assuming you plan on leaving.” Chris said. “I was actually going to ask if you wanted breakfast before you left. I’m starving and I was kind of hoping you wanted to stick around for some after breakfast fun.”

I was in the middle of unlocking my phone when I finally registered what he’d said to me. I looked up with raised eyebrows, wondering if I’d heard him correctly.

“You want me to have breakfast with you?” I asked in a questioning tone.

“I want you to have breakfast with me.” He nodded. “And then maybe be desert.” He finished with a panty dropping smirk. “Only if you want to of course. We had fun yesterday and I figured we should take advantage since we’re both here anyway.” He finished, crossing his large arms across his chest accentuating his muscled upper body, reminding me that he still had no clothes on.

I couldn’t believe my ears. He wanted to have breakfast. And then more sex. I was at a loss, I knew I should be jumping for joy, but I was suspicious to say the least. But I was a woman, and I had needs. Something that I knew Mr. Evans could take care of for me, which clouded my judgement to say the least.

“Fine, I’ll stay for breakfast…” I started, trailing off.

“I sense an ‘if’ coming.” He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down at me.

“IF,” I confirmed, “you agree to that including an Oreo milkshake… and you let me be on top.” I replied with a raised eyebrow. Both his eyebrows shot up at my requests, his right hand coming up to his mouth and tapping as if in consideration.

“The Oreo milkshake I can do… but you’ll have to be an extra good girl if you want to be on top.” He pinned me with his steel blue gaze and I knew today was about to get a little more interesting.

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I hope you enjoyed chapter 5! This story is kind of taking on a life of its own, and it's getting exciting to see these two interact.

As always, suggestions and feedback is always welcome!

See you in chapter 6 :)

#chris evans #daddy chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #beardedchrisevans #cevans #chris evans x oc #original writing #original character #smut #chance encounter #unexpected #amercias ass #feedback welcome

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

Wish I Wasn’t - Bragi x Reader Part 2/2

I don’t know if the people reading this will be as affected as I was while writing this. But I cried. I wouldn’t blame anyone if they want to just take the last part as it is and not read this part. This is your warning.

I don’t really consider this a trigger warning, but there is blood in this fic.

~~~~~

Part 2: Right

Anxiety gets the better of me—the shop closes early. It’s not like I was going to have many more customers on a…Wait. I’ve done this before; I’m still doing this—and it never gets any easier.

Despite my begging, Bragi’s still a keyblade wielder and still running off on this mission to find the upperclassmen. While he hasn’t come back to me in the same state he did the night he frightened me, I continue to fret over him. I’m pretty sure that’s the reason he’s always around when he’s home. Originally, we saw each other nearly every day but he only crashed here on occasion; now he’s here every minute he gets. That doesn’t really make up for anything: he’s gone for weeks on end and only back for a couple days. This is turning into a long-distance relationship and those never work out; yet I’m still clinging to every second I get knowing he’s safe when he’s here.

Picking a shirt from the pile he’s accumulated in his visits, I pull it on and take a moment to collect myself. I’m filled with as much fear as the first time but I’ve learned to function with it. That’s kind of a terrible thing when I think about it but there’s no other option for me. All I can do is pray for his safe return every time.

I force myself to be productive and clean up a little. As always, I make sure I’ve got a fully-stocked first-aid kit and something ready to eat on the off-chance he’ll show back up in the middle of the night. Still, I can’t make myself stay awake forever waiting on him and fall asleep with my nose in his shirt.

~~~~~

I sit up before I can even pry my eyes open; I’d recognize that knock anywhere. Flipping the light on, I scurry to the door and pull it open.

Immediately, I tense up. A suit of armor stands in the doorway, battered and broken. Through a chipped section, I can just see the unmistakable white fur and blue fabric.

“Bragi?!”

He pushes his way past me into my home. I close the door and follow after him, but only a few steps in his knees hit the floor and the fractured armor vanishes. This is definitely my boyfriend and this must’ve been a grueling day.

Kneeling beside him, I reach out only for my heart to seize. Blood is pooling on the floor around him; there’s a massive gash in his chest.

Thankfully, my common sense doesn’t abandon me. “We have to get you to the healers!”

Before I can stand, his fingers catch the hem of my shirt—even that take so much effort his fist shakes. “Whoa, slow down for a second.” Then he says the words that instantly bring tears to my eyes: “It’s too late.”

“Don’t say that! Gods, I have to stop the bleeding!”

His grip doesn’t fall even though he’s struggling. “Stop. Listen to me.” Through the pain, Bragi shows me pity. “It’s too late.”

“No!” I scream back. I don’t want to accept this but if the blood loss on my floor is any indication, I can’t deny it. “No...”

He might as well be physically crushing my heart with that smile. “Sorry. I guess you were right: it got harder. We weren’t ready for it at all.” What skin I can see beneath the dirt is drained of color and his cheeks are chilled beneath my fingers. My heart skips when his eyes flutter shut but he hums, “Gods, you’re warm.”

My body follows his weak gesture and I lean into his embrace. The feeling of his blood soaking through my shirt makes my skin crawl, slowly cementing in the idea that these are our last moments together. The scent that I’d become addicted to is smothered by iron and dirt.

“It’s kinda gross but you can put up with it. I just…I really needed this,” he whispers into my shoulder. I hold him tightly, desperately wishing for this to be a nightmare or some sick joke. “You know I love you right?”

I can barely get the word out. “Yes.”

“Good.” His arms fall away. “Don’t you ever forget: I love you.”

Fists clench feverishly at his coat. “I love you too. I love you, Bragi. I love you. I love you.” There’s no point even trying to hold back the sobbing but the murmurs of ‘I love you’ keep pouring from my mouth; I don’t want him to forget—until his very last breath, I want him to know I love him.

I don’t know how long I sat there uttering my love to him or at exactly what point he stopped listening, but it was the rising sun that finally made it all sink in. I was right—this profession would kill him. And just as I predicted, I don’t know what to do other than cry while still holding onto him.

~~~~~

Trudging down the street towards the wielders’ citadel I’m sure there’s a lot of staring—I didn’t bother to change clothes or even put on shoes—but I’m not paying attention; I’m still drowning in my little world of misery.

Inside the castle, I glance around, not sure where to go, until I hear a couple people walking past. “We brought back Urd, Vor, and Hermod, but we still haven’t found Bragi.”

“I have him.” My voice doesn’t come out strong but they hear it all the same.

The tall man in the pointed hat I recognize as Master Odin, Bragi’s teacher. The younger man in white, looking worn out and defeated, I don’t know. Both stare in shock at the state of me but the Master steps closer.

“Are you injured?” That tingle in my nose just as my eyes water cuts my words, so I can only answer with a shake of my head. “What happened?”

My placid mask crumbles as another wave of anguish washes over me. The Master takes me away to a private room where I somehow manage to tell him about Bragi.

People are dispatched to my home immediately while women usher me away to get me cleaned up and I’m offered a room in the castle for the next few days. Funeral arrangements are made for the following day.

~~~~~

There’s not a single sign of what happened here: the people that came here did a damn good job cleaning up. I could almost convince myself that it never happened and that he’ll come knocking at my door any moment—except I need to get ready for the funeral.

An empty doll tottering around my apartment, I wash up and get dressed but after, when I have nothing to work towards, I stare at the room that feels empty. There’s a pile of clothes in the laundry basket, including one of his shirts. It doesn’t take a second thought for me to take it and bury my face in the fabric. No use—it’s clean laundry and this is a shirt I’d been holding onto for a while.

Thankfully, I don’t get to wallow for much longer when someone arrives to knock on the door. A guy I’ve never met is waiting for me. While he looks well put together, there’s a deep sorrow in his expression and it looks as if he’s been crying too.

“Hi. My name’s Xehanort. I’m here to escort you to…to the funeral.” His voice comes out in a rasp that nearly breaks at the end.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

“Um.” The filler catches my attention but he hesitates, fists clenching tightly at his side. “Can I talk to you?”

“Now?”

Water wells in his silver eyes. “Please?”

I step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. My guest walks across the room, standing before a framed picture on the wall. Again, his hands ball into fists while he stares at the pictured red-head.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

His shoulders shudder. “It’s my fault they’re gone. I’m sorry.” His hands try futilely to clear his face when he looks back at me. The look of sheer remorse tells me that he honestly thinks this is his fault. “Bragi died because of me.”

I didn’t expect to find out the exact cause of Bragi’s death; I was simply going to live with the fact that his occupation was dangerous and he was gravely injured because of it—so I’m not really prepared for this kid and his blaming.

“I was the one who suggested we see the new world.”

“Stop,” I say. Anger is not an emotion I would’ve guessed as my first response to this.

“They all followed me.”

“Stop!” I repeat louder.

“But when we got there-”

My hands snatch up the front of his jacket and, while shaking him, I scream, “SHUT UP!” His mouth trembles but he doesn’t say another word. “Don’t you say another fucking word! Bragi fought every day even though he was scared because he believed it was the right thing to do! So if they followed you it’s because they believed in you! Don’t you dare tell me it was a mistake! Don’t you fucking dare tell me he died for nothing!” Afraid that I might actually hurt this poor guy, I shove him away from me.

We stand in silence, trying to pull ourselves together and deal with the emotions we dredged up.

Sniffling, he breaks the quiet, “I think I would’ve felt better if you just hit me.” I don’t have a response. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for me, you’re the one with the life-threatening job,” the bitter reply comes.

Ending that conversation, we head towards the castle grounds for the funeral.

I get a front row seat to the proceedings, right next to my escort and the boy in white. Speeches are given, blessings and gratitude expressed, but I just kind of drown it all out as I stare into the motionless amber eyes of his portrait. I think I’ve finally hit the point where I can’t cry anymore—I’ve given all the tears I can.

The classmates and I are given opportunities to say some words but they’re declined—I don’t know what I’d say. Maybe I would curse Bragi for ignoring my wishes for him to quit or maybe I would just say vague words about how much I’ll miss him; regardless, it’s not going to make me feel any better.

The clearing crowd leaves me standing in front of the freshly-upturned pile of dirt. Fearing that my legs won’t hold, I sit down, resting my hand on the cold stone that now represents the person I loved.

“Um, excuse me.” A voice barely manages to break through to me. It’s the other classmate, Eraqus I think. He looks just as terrible as the rest of us with his eyes rubbed raw. “You’re…You’re the one Bragi was dating, right?”

“Yes,” I mumble, letting my gaze turn back to the monument.

Suddenly, there’s a weight around my shoulders. The white fur softly rustles against my skin and the scent of cinnamon and spice envelopes me. It completely shatters the fragile footing I had keeping me from breaking down again.

“I think he would’ve wanted you to have it.”

Clearly, there are still tears to be shed.

#bragi #khdr bragi #kh bragi #bragi x reader #kh dr #khdr #kh dark road #smarmy fluffcoat #novas requests #gender neutral reader

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Note

May I request A current in-character canon-compliant, soft, angsty, romantic soowon x yona endgame fic please 🙏 thank you very much!!

Hello, dear! Very sorry it took a while to get this request to you; I’ve had a lot going on with the semester and my 200-follower event and such. However, at long last, here it is! ^.^ Enjoy!

Mad World

The wooden floor of her palace room groaned and moaned with her feverish footfalls as Yona paced back and forth, back and forth, back and back and forth and forth and back again. That was all Yona could do, was pace and think and think while pacing and pace while thinking. Back and forth, think think think, riddle on what the hell she was supposed to do basically imprisoned in her bedroom like this. No dragons, no Yoon, no Hak, just Yona. Yona, alone and pacing and thinking.

It was maddening.

With a sudden, deranged screech of lunacy, she whirled on her heel to tear into the curtains framing the large window overlooking the palace courtyard. Her fingernails ripped into the silken fabric, reaming into the threads and pulling them asunder as she yanked on the curtain with all her might. Little, angry screeches spilled from her mouth while she tugged and tugged, rattling the curtain rod mounted into the stone wall. The linear metal piece desperately tried to cling to the rough surface, but with Yona’s continuous and manic assault, dust began to rain down as the brackets began to wrench loose. Yona wasn’t sure why the poor curtain was the object of her ire, but nevertheless she tore into it like a mangy feral cat, dropping shreds of torn fabric around her slippered feet. Very soon the screws could bear no more and jumped from the wall; the heavy, decorative metal ball welded to the main body made the rod’s plummet all the hastier. Yona jumped violently as it collided into the wooden floor with a massive thunk! and the curtain slipped from her hands to puddle like white milk at her feet. She stared dully at the half-destroyed, dismounted curtains with burning red eyes. It was not satisfying at all; her fingers still itched to maim, to tear into everything in this room and leave it a maelstrom of silk and cotton and splinters.

“Princess! Are you all right?” Of course the noise would attract whoever happened to be nearby. Yona hadn’t much cared of the consequences of her actions at the moment; she was boiling with boredom and anxiety and frustration, and desperately needed an outlet. Normal people might cry, but Yona had elected that tears wouldn’t do. She was beyond tears now, or so she told herself. But…

Why did it have to be Soo-Won?

The young king stared with wide eyes at the curtain rod hanging at a diagonal angle from the wall, the one set of brackets struggling to support its weight, and the tatters of silk curtain surrounding the hem of Yona’s pink kimono. Her eyes were lidded and cold as she just watched him gawk. This was all his fault, really. Sure, Yona had decided to entire an alliance and come to the palace, but if Soo-Won hadn’t set off the chain of events that resulted in that alliance, this wouldn’t be happening.

Yona immediately regretted the thought. She knew better now. If none of this had happened, her people would still be struggling and Yona would be living in blissful ignorance. Sometimes, however, she just couldn’t help but crave that ignorance… Especially when the lingering flames of her love for Soo-Won decided to rear their ugly heads.

Yona’s mouth curled in on itself as her heart lurched in her chest just at the sight of him. It was maddening, the way her desire to dig her fingernails into his cheek mixed with her longing to softly caress it, the way her desire to rip every one of those flax-golden hairs out of his head mixed with her longing to run her hands through him, the way her desire to scream and yell and curse him in a thousand tongues mixed with her longing to throw herself at him and sob and beg and surrender. Maddening, yes it was. It was driving Yona to near insanity, and as she stood there, she was wide-eyed and teetering on an abyss from which there was no return.

“Yona.” His voice was soft and full of concern as he uttered her name. His eyes, still huge with the sight of Yona’s shredded prey, finally flickered up to meet her own fiery ones like dawn. To his credit, he did not flinch away at the inferno there; he just stared, measuring, waiting for her response. “Are you… displeased?” he said finally when she refused to respond. Really, Yona was still so embroiled with her own feelings that she couldn’t formulate a response. His question returned some sense of normalcy to her mind. The fire died in her eyes, cooled by the sheer incredulity at his question.

“‘Displeased,’” she echoed. Slowly, like water trickling from within rocks piled high, her wits returned to her. Her head dropped to do as Soo-Won had, stare numbly at the carnage she had wrought on the poor, innocent drapery. Her hands began to sting terribly with the weight of the own violence she had wrought, as if they were coated in hot, sticky, burning blood and insides. They were just curtains; it wasn’t like she had killed someone. Still, Yona’s stomach flopped about with the unsettling possibility that if someone had stumbled upon her in her mania, she might very well have unleashed on them like a woman possessed. It made the bitter acid of shame flood her tongue. Yona had never been so violent before. Sure, she had done violent things, but always with good reason. This was wanton destruction, and the fact that it was borne of her own hands rattled her to her core.

Well, it wasn’t entirely without reason, she rationalized. “Displeased,” she repeated in a hoarse voice. “Displeased” didn’t even scratch the surface of what she was feeling right now. She didn’t have a word for what she was feeling right now. Silent, teeth clenched, she just stared at the mangled curtains and lamented her own sorry state of being. How had it come to this? Cool, calm, collected, and strong to manic, deranged and mad?

“Yona.” His voice called her with maddening power. Of its own accord, Yona’s head rose to obediently meet his beckoning gaze. She hadn’t heard his footsteps, but he had closed the distance and was standing in front of her. She compulsively swallowed. His eyes were the one burning now, pulsing with a soft yet furious heat that made her tremble. It wasn’t anger, or disappointment, or disdain; it was something else entirely, and it both frightened and excited her. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he smiled that gentle reassuring smile that she missed so dearly but wanted to slap off his face. “Tell me what happened.”

She wanted to lie. She did not want to admit that she had just had a psychotic fit and wrenched the curtain rod off the wall and destroyed the curtains like some kind of beast. Yona, however, felt the pitiful attempts at falsehoods dissolving on her tongue under Soo-Won’s gentle yet critical stare. There was no point in lying and he knew well enough what she had just done. “This alliance isn’t working out the way you wanted it to, is it?” he asked her with a degree of amusement in his voice that made her skin itch with fury.

“No. No, it is not, Soo-Won.” The steel in her voice was sharper than the finest-crafted blade. At the iron on her tongue, the king exhaled deeply and his body sagged sadly. The reaction disquieted her; was he acting for her benefit or truly displeased that she was going crazy cordoned off in this bedroom? His eyes shut for a second, and when they opened, Yona felt electric shocks pulse over every single one of her nerves. The way he was staring at her, apologetic and guilty, was a look she had imagined every day since she witnessed him drawing a bloody sword from her father’s limp body.

It was not satisfying, not at all. Somehow, she wanted more. The madness began to scratch and howl in her ringing skull again.

“How dare you. How dare you look all sad and guilty when I’m stuck here with nothing to do but pace and think and fret all day!” she screamed at him suddenly. She lunged at him, fingers clawing into his kingly robes like they had done the curtains, but rather than shredding them, she only clutched onto them with an iron grip. Her red eyes burned as they bore into his, as if a glare alone could make his combust. “How dare you. You want to know what happened? I am losing my mind! I can’t take it anymore!” A dam erupted inside of her, releasing long-held feelings and tears. They were like rivers of ice and fire as they flooded down her cheeks, and her voice cracked as she hissed again, “I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what is up and what is down. My mind is reeling. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know what you’re doing, and the one single comfort I could be afforded while I’m all but your prisoner in here is barred from me!” Her head dropped, chin banging against her chest. Her quivering hands held onto his clothes like the were the lifeline preventing her from being washed out to sea. She hated herself right now, admitted all this to him. But if she didn’t release it to anyone, even if it has to be Soo-Won, she really was going to go insane. What was her country? What was her fate? What was Soo-Won’s plan and how should she respond? These questions plagued her, maddeningly so.

With the weight of her on psyche mounting on her frail body, her knees finally buckled. Soo-Won reflexively caught her under her elbows as her legs folded in on themselves. Sobbing and groaning, she just cried pathetically while he held her up. “And you know… you know what the worst part is?” she choked out between sobs. “I hate you, but I love you. I despise you for what you did but I love you still. I thought I had grown so much, but I came back here, and it all has come crashing down upon me. I’m still that naïve, foolish little girl who wasn’t worth killing.”

“Yona!” She did not expect such harsh bite from his voice. It made her head snap up to look at him with wide and watery eyes. His lips were drawn into a taut line and his eyes were their fieriest yet. “I did not let you go because you were ‘not worth killing.’”

“Then why?” she demanded in an agonized cry. Her fingers dug further into his clothes, probably bruising the skin underneath. “Why, Soo-Won, I don’t under-”

The rest of her words came out as a surprised squeak muffled by his lips crashing into hers. It was not at all kingly, the way he kissed it her; it was passionate, carnal, desperate and mad. If Yona’s legs had been able to support her then, her kneecaps would’ve been obliterated to dust the instant their mouths smashed together. Her eyes fluttered shut with a low, needy whine; as if responding, Soo-Won’s tongue pushed into her mouth and tangled feverishly with her own. She didn’t object. She got drunk off him like she was partaking in the finest wine in the world, her tongue savoring every little bit of his essence. She could vaguely feel his fingers in her dawn-colored hair, caressing and twisting, but most of her senses were dominated by the explosion of feeling fireworking over her body. Oh, oh, how she had wanted this, and how much she hated herself for it.

She lamented the loss of his warmth and touch as he pulled away, and despite herself, her lips involuntarily chased him. She wanted to spend forever in that kiss. In that hazy fog, she didn’t have to think about the circumstances or how wrong it was; she just had to think about him, her mouth on hers and his hands on her body. It was simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. He permitted her pursuit for a moment, giving her another softer kiss with more feeling, but pulled back again after a few seconds. He said her name and it pulled her out of the fog, back to her confusing and complicated and maddening reality.

“Does that answer your question?” His voice was breathy and laced with a fair bit of irritation. Maybe with himself, maybe with Yona- maybe both. She swallowed and licked her lips, mouth suddenly drying up. Was she supposed to be satisfied with that? A kiss that seals the deal and makes everything all right? The trouble was that she was one hundred percent satisfied with that.

She stepped away from him, trying to hide the tremor in her still-recuperating jellified legs. She felt that her hands needed to be doing something so she smoothed out nonexistent creases in her kimono. Her brain whirled desperately trying to make sense of everything, but nothing made sense anymore. That was her problem to begin with. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’” He sounded amused, like he had expected it.

“What do you expect?” she huffed. The fight was dying from her voice and spirit, replaced with indescribable weariness. She was so tired. She was so tired of fighting whatever this fight was, but that was the only thing Yona could think to do was fight. Surrender simply was not in the meek, naïve, ignorant princess’ blood, apparently. Her hands continued to fix her perfectly fine kimono while she refused to look at him. “I just… I can’t…” God, she couldn’t even explain herself. This is not how she wanted to look in front of him, flustered and stupid. It was like her previous self had been taken captive and replaced with a bungling imposter, and she was trying so desperately to get it back with little luck. Her hand began stringing through her hair, which was crimping uncomfortably with sweat. All the while, Soo-Won watched her, thankfully without pity. “I hate you,” she grumbled finally, because it was the only thing that sort of made sense.

“I know.” Oh, hell, no, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t get that sad look on his face and think that it made it all okay. But it did. In Yona’s stupid, manic, mad mind, it made it okay. Defeated, she kicked the curtain rod aside and sank down on the cushioned seat that sat below the windowsill.

“I love you,” she simpered as she put her flushing face in her hands. She didn’t have to look at him to know he had that other look on his face, that soft, gentle smile that made her heart sing and wail simultaneously. That smile that carried a hint of sadness that never faded.

“I know that, too.” A period of silence settled between them. She peered through her fingers to see his own twitching, like he was trying to figure out how to comfort her but arriving at no conclusions. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t know what to do with herself, either. As she sat there, the moonlight cool on her back as it flood through the unshielded window behind her, Yona finally began to feel a sense of normalcy returning to her. She partitioned off the confusing kiss and focused instead on her situation and what she ought to do about it, and was beginning to feel that clear-headed determination return to her. I just have to keep fighting. That is all I can do. I will resist as long as I have to and find out what Soo-Won wants…

She felt the cushioning dip beside her and heard the slight ringing of the metal as it rolled over the wooden floor when Soo-Won seated himself beside her. “I wish things were simple.”

“You’re the one who made it complicated.” She kept her face buried in her hands because she didn’t know what would happen if she looked at him.

“I suppose that’s true.” His laugh was hollow and mirthless. “I wish I could explain it all to you. I really do. But if I did, I didn’t know if you would believe me.”

“Can’t fault you for that.” Another hollow, joyless laugh that rang through the quiet bedroom, followed by a slight sigh. “I’m not giving up, you know. Don’t think this changes things. I just needed to get it out of my system.”

“No, I expect you won’t.” She finally lifted her head to look up at him, finding him smiling as he looked at her out of his peripheral vision. “You wouldn’t be the girl I loved if that happened.”

Surprisingly, her body garnered no reaction from that bombshell of a statement. It felt more like she had known it all along and she was vindicated now. It made a funny taste tingle on her tongue, one she couldn’t quite place; possibly a mixture of things. He smiled more as he pushed himself up from the seat and began heading for the door. “I’ll send someone to fix that in the morning,” he said with a lazy gesture to the destroyed curtains. Yona watched him go with confliction and a heavy heart.

“Yeah. Sure.” Once the frame of the sliding door clacked against the threshold, she exhaled loudly and flopped onto her side; the cushion embraced her, sinking her down into its fluffy softness. With the adrenaline no longer pumping in her system, her muscles now felt the strain of torturing the curtains. Dully, she stared down at its wispy corpse spread out over the wood floor.

The Celestial Dragons. The usurper King Soo-Won. The displaced princess. The Thunder Beast. The unknown battle for the world as they knew it.

Maddening, it all was to Yona. Somehow, though, the one thing that should be the most maddening was no longer maddening at all. She smiled thinly to herself and rolled onto her back, the moonlight washing over her like enclosing her in a blanket.

You drive me mad, Soo-Won… But still, I love you so.

Enjoy this story? Here’s Part II! Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#yonawon #soowon x yona #soowonxyona #yona x soowon #yonaxsoowon #yona x soo-won #soo-won x yona #yonaxsoo-won #soo-wonxyona #yona of the dawn #yotd #akatsuki no yona #yotd yona #yotd soo-won #yotd soowon #yotd fanfiction #yotd fanfic #akayona #sooyona

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alphagthewriter · 4 years

Text

Day 1: Snuggles (Febufluff) - MCU

@febufluff-whump

Summary: A memory of when Grace and Peter, 12-year-old twins, have a movie night with their Aunt May and Uncle Ben. With their pillows and blankets ready they build a pillow fort and settle down to watch Star Wars IV: A New Hope.

“Come on, Grace!” Called 12-year-old Peter, my brother, to me, his twin sister Grace. I pranced from my room to the living room where Peter was sitting on the floor in front of the large TV screen. Aunt May and Uncle Ben were laying on the couch watching as I scurried in, almost slipping on the smooth hardwood floor.

The living room was small, but quaint. The rug on the floor was soft and off-white from the amount of times we have stepped on it with dirty shoes on, contrasting greatly with the deep red couch. Not blood or anything, why would there ever be blood inside the house, or at least of that amount. The TV was on a hard oak stand with cabinets full of movies under and surrounding it. The walls were a pale peach color with occasional smeared grey stains from when Pete and I would draw on the walls when we were five, or slightly older.

The only difference to what the place normally looked like was that there was a massive pile of blankets and pillows lined up against the wall behind the couch. Every blanket and pillow in the house, except for the ones Aunt May and Uncle Ben had taken, was in that pile. It was monthly movie night and like, almost-always, we decided we wanted to build a gigantic pillow fort to curl up and fall asleep in. The moon would be appearing in the sky when the sun disappeared in only an hour, which only gave us more of a reason to get started.

Peter gave me a look that resembled everything of ‘let’s get started’. We leaped into the pile of pillows and set out the floor of the den. Chairs were moved to the sides so they could be used as stable walls. Pillows and cushions were piled up on the walls to make everything comfortable. Blankets were thrown across the top for a roof and were curled around inside so we had places to curl up inside when we wanted to sleep. The fort was almost done and made up of many many different color blankets and pillows.

I had already curled up inside when Peter came in to join me and the opening credits of Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope started to play on the screen. Peter came over and sat next to me. He had always been one to crave physical affection. Even something as simple as a hair tousle or a hug always improved his mood and stance. He pulled a blanket over our laps and we settled down. He rested his head on my shoulder with his normal puppy-dog look mixed with the peace of just being with us. For being siblings, I think we have an amazing bond. Though, that might have something to do with the fact that we are twins. Twin telepathy, or whatever the silly YouTube challenge is. I wrapped my arms around Peter and adjusted myself so I could grab another blanket without disturbing Peter. I wrapped the blanket around just me then did the same for Peter. I adjusted the pillows surrounding us so I could lean on them gently. I lowered myself onto the pile I stacked up and sat back to enjoy the movie. I quoted occasional lines which got a quiet shush from Aunt May, though I could clearly hear her talking to Uncle Ben at times during the movie. Peter laid down next to me as the movie passed on. He was extremely quickly fading into a hopefully restful sleep. The inside of the fort was incredibly warm, a little too warm for me, but Peter liked it, and me being my selfless self would leave it for him. I unwrapped some of the blanket that I had wrapped myself and passed them over to Peter. My brother’s extremely soft snores were soothing to my ears and I ran my fingers through his messy knotted hair in the familiar pattern. Untangling the knots and twists in my his hair. I curled up next to him laying my head on his chest so I could hear his steady heartbeat. I felt his subconsciously move his hand so was resting on my back. I felt my eyes start to close. I wanted to finish the movie, but I could already tell that wasn’t going to happen. Sounds of the movie were muted through the many different fabrics of the fort. I felt my breath steady and my eyelids drooped even more. “G’night Pete.” I said in a hushed whisper. I could almost swear I heard something in the back of my mind telling me goodnight as well. It sounded like Pete too. Must be my tired mind tricking me. Heh. I allowed my eyes to close and drifted off into a peaceful sleep. This is how the nights normally ended. Peter and I snuggled up, nice and warm inside our blanket and pillow fort. Sometimes, if we made the fort large enough Aunt May or Uncle Ben would join us making an even bigger snuggle party. That happened more when we were younger and didn’t take up as much space though. It was comforting and peaceful to be surrounded by my family. Warm, comfortable, perfectly happy. It stayed that way for a long time. From when we started the movie nights a year after May and Ben had taken us in when our parents died, to the week before their own deaths. It was perfect. Something to definitely remember for as long as I could contain the memory. Even when we weren’t with someone, aka the orphanage, I still held onto the memory like it was my only lifeline to how things used to be. Even now, when I’m with the Starks and the Avengers I hold onto that memory. Yes, I know I shouldn’t cling to the past… but, it's almost impossible to help with what has happened in my lifetime. I sighed and closed my diary before hiding it back in my drawer where no one could find it. I should ask Peter to have a movie night with just me and him. For old times sake... By - AlphaGtheWriter

#mcu #marvel #fluf #oc #peter parker #peter parker fluff

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