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sometimesrosy · 1 year

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The 100 2023 rewatch ep 1.4

Murphy's Law

Man I wish Wells had survived. I wish we could have seen who he became. :(

The wall has been built. Good for them. Clarke is outside it in the growing graveyard, mourning Wells. Finn sneaks up on her telling her what to do. (shouldn't be out here) says the guy who spent another night exploring out in the woods. Oh he got her something did he?

And she's charmed by the art supplies. It makes her remember Wells who was trading his own stuff to give her supplies. NOW she starts blaming her mother. I mean, fine it's her mother's fault, but oh she realizes what she can do to make her "feel it." Vengeful child. And feel it she does. The first terminated signal in over a week. She is freaking out over Clarke maybe dying.

Meanwhile, Monty needed a working wristband for the comm signals. "Well be talking to the Ark by nightfall." Monty's such a sweety and so competent.

Look at those delinquents working hard building walls. Look at Murphy being a dick to the kid who stumbles. Look at Bellamy being dad bellamy and teasing little Charlotte. OMG WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU MURPHY??

I forgot he peed on that poor kid who wanted a water break. WHAT A DICK. How in the world did they redeem him. But they did.

O is leading Jasper out into the woods. And she gets grabbed. By one of the Johns. Then he trips and sees Wells' severed fingers. Hello Trauma capital T.

Dick Kane is tracking Abby and wanting to know why he's going to Mecha. She lies and says someone has strep. "We don't want another outbreak." And he backs off. She lies again saying she'll keep him informed. Mecha has Raven fixing the tincan. No pressure regulator and they can't ride in the shuttle.

The metal knife from the drop ship. The grounders didn't kill Wells, it was one of us. Bellamy points out there's more than one murderer in the camp. Ooooh. Bellamy and Clarke conflict. he wants the news quiet. Keep people afraid and they'll work for him. Fear of the grounders is building the wall. Don't even know who's knife that is.

OH really? JM. John Murphy. The people have a right to know. SHe goes RIGHT to Murphy and blames her for killing him. He of course denies it because he didn't. AND BELLAMY believes her. "I don't have to answer to anyone!"

Come again? Asks bellamy. And he says the knife and fingers were found together. Poor murphy. He really didn't do it. The kid he peed on wants him floated. "It's justice." She says revenge isn't justice. WOW that's a lot of delinquents jumping Murphy. O wanted to stop it. She was a lot less blood thirsty in season 1. I wish we coulda stuck with that.

Clarke is saying they can't string him up

Oooh. this is graphic. Clarke says Bellamy can stop this and the peed boy says Bellamy should do it. They start chanting his name. And Clarke says she saw him in the woods and she knows he's not a killer.

OMG they actually drop him. THat is awful. Awful. WOW>

HOLY SHIT. I forgot how HORRIBLE that was in the immediate reveal that Charlotte did it.

Horror on top of horror on top of horror. That's how this show dragged us in. We never had a chance to recover or even process one horror before finding another.

Meanwhile Bellamy REALLY does not want to do this, but he's going with the crowd. He's NOT in control, but he's afraid that if he stands against them he'll lose control.

Nigel's "little bird" needs a pressure regulator. What for? Regulating pressure. She says she has her mother's sense of humor. And she doesn't move machine parts. How bout some moonshine and herb. She tries to pimp Raven out to the chief of electrical. Her mother would have taken that deal. In fact, she did, many times. We forgot about Raven's history, didn't we.

"I was just trying to slay my demons, like you told me."

Little girl never learned about metaphors and symbolism. What that little girl could have used was a good ENGLISH TEACHER!!! That's right, an english teacher could have saved Wells. lol

Bellamy blames Clarke. If she didn't tell then those idiots would still be building the wall. Meanwhile he wants to save Charlotte the actual murderer. "Giving the people what they wanted."

Now Murphy is trying to get the delinquents to string up Charlotte. "It's okay to string me up for nothing but when this little bitch confesses, you wanna let her walk." And Murphy slams Bellamy and tries to get the girl. This is jam packed.

Clarke and Finn run off with Charlotte into the woods.

UH OH. The arc medical unit. There's a lot of kids not doing so well. Oxygen deprivation. Raven can't get the part. Nygel has the part, and Abby is going to take care of it. I actually always wanted to see Nygel on earth. She would have been GREAT as a villain. Trading morphine for a pressure regulator.

Charlotte tries to hold Clarke's hand and Clarke is MAD. "Clarke she's just a kid." "She's a killer. Look at me, you can't just kill someone to make yourself feel better."

Finn found a bunker for hiding.Art supply store. "I can't believe you kept this place quiet." Clarke agrees with me. Repurposing and sharing with the group. He bribes her with colored pencils. Jerk. They're using a shit ton of candles. Wasteful.

She thinks if she hadn't told none of this would've happened. Finn says she couldn't have known. "Bellamy knew."

Kane's mom Vera. It's funny whose names i remember. The magic earth tree. It's just a bonsai. Nygel tells Kane about Abby. She sucks. Great villain. He calls her a plague on the ship.Oops theres the morphine.

Clarke fell asleep on Finn's shoulder and she grins, she's got a crush on the worthless jackass. And Charlotte's gone.

Bellamy has found her. It's Charlotte hunting season. Bellamy is trying to help her. "I'm not your sister." She's got your number B.

"Listen to me Charlotte. I. Won't. Leave. You."

She calls for Murphy.

Raven and Abby fixing the shuttle as we wait for Kane to come. She finds out that Kane knows the morphine is gone. They're gonna be here in five and Raven needs 20. "Only one of us needs to get to the ground. 300 people will die if you don't." "They'll float you." "Then they'll float me."

Bellamy is carrying Charlotte over her shoulder before running into the cliff. Here comes murphy. He's ready to take a few of them with her. Clarke arrives. "This has gone too far."

Murphy grabs her and holds a knife to Clarke's throat. A trade for Charlotte. She wants to trade herself. She's feeling guilt. So she jumps over the cliff.

Bellarke's first lost child.

Now Murphy is like, "bellamy..." and bellamy is going to bet him to death. "he deserves to die."

"NO! We don't decide who lives or dies, not down here."

This is when they become partners. "We need rules."

"And who makes those rules? YOu?"

"For now WE make the rules. We banish him."

Bellamy is with her. Threatens him if he ever sees him in camp again. And says the other four can be with him or die with Murphy. THey choose Bellamy.

Finn is all emotional. And useless I might add.

Raven racing against the clock to regulate pressure. And Nygel gave her a bum part. Great villain. She sees a space suit. oh that will work.

Abby tells Kane that she's trying to save "all of us." He arrests her and continues the search for Raven Reyes WHO has just taken off in a rusted tincan. She floated HERSELF bitch.

Clarke and Bellamy speaking to the collected Delinquents and nodding to each other. Partners.

Monty has gotten the wristband working. Morse code. OH no. It fried every last wristband. Fried them all? Then how did they use the wristband in season 3??? Oh it might have been one of the ones the took off before.

Meanwhile O is rewarding "brave" Jasper with a kiss. He picked the wrong girl to have a crush on, I tell yah.

Oh UGH. Finn is destroying the bunker because "we're dead to them." we're not alone. YOURE Not alone. No it was Finn who kissed her not Clarke who kissed finn. Now they have their love scene. Meh. Short.

With his girlfriend Raven coming down AS they're doing it.

Rude. Honestly what a soapy mess. Clarke and Raven shoulda gotten together and left Finn out completely. Damn right.

Anyway. That's a jam packed episode. Very dramatic. High stakes. Life and death on the small scale with the delinquents and the large scale with the Ark.

The hanging scene was BRUTAL. Like it was really violent. And the Charlotte reveal was a gut punch. The acting has stepped up big time. (I still don't love O and Jasper, I never really did, but everyone else.)

Murphy is absolutely despicable in all conceivable ways. Clarke is desperate. Bellamy is floundering. Finn is just standing around doing nothing while Bellarke does it all... sorry, he's judging. He does that. Raven is a super star. Abby is determined. Kane has a stick up his butt but he honestly does think he's doing the right thing, although he's still a dick. Monty is a genius. Jasper is terrified. O is a lot kinder in this episode. She loses that later, too bad. We got a lot of worldbuilding for the Ark in this episode with the politics and blackmarket and health crises and Raven's backstory.

I'm actually really enjoying watching this show for story OUTSIDE of Bellarke. There's a lot that I've forgotten.

#the 100 rewatch 2023 #murphy's law #sorry i'm late with this i had a busy week and didn't get the chance to watch.#hopefully i'll get to watch the next episode today too

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thewordworrier · 2 years

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If We Can Find Where We Belong

Word Count: 4,141 words. Warnings: It’s a little flirty, there’s talk of pregnancy but nothing graphic. Notes: ~ Title is from “The Only Hope For Me Is You” by My Chemical Romance. ~ Female!OC ~ Established relationship ~ Yeah, Current!Era ~ Family!Fic. This is actually set after Live Forever In The Lights You Make so you might wanna read that first if you haven’t read it already.

----------- Set after “Live Forever In The Lights You Make” and before the Cardiff show - the night of “Lights.” Later that evening, Shelly and Gerard said goodnight to their kids. They normally said goodnight together, and always had done ever since they were babies, although she would always linger in the room a little longer than he did. Gerard guessed that it was just her being extra protective of the little humans she’d spent so long carrying before bringing into the world. He didn’t mind that, he didn’t blame her in the slightest. He used that extra time she spent with the children to make sure he was properly comfortable, because he knew exactly what would happen when she came back. When she closed the door to the adjoining room behind her, she quickly padded across the hotel room to join her husband on their own bed, giggling when he held his arms out to her. Shelly rested her head on Gerard’s chest and snuggled against him when he wrapped an arm around her. She sighed happily and smiled when Gerard chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you for doing that with the kids,” Shelly whispered, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “On stage, that is. I mean, they were behaving -” “Melody wasn’t, she was getting pouty,” Gerard said with a grin. “I could see that.” “Yeah, maybe a little. She was doing as she was told though; she just wasn’t happy about it.” Gerard laughed. “She gets that from you.” Shelly pouted up at him. “She does not!” “Oh, my love,” he kissed her pout. “Yes, she does. She even looks like you when she pouts.” Shelly frowned at him, but couldn’t even start to pretend to be mad at him. Especially not when he kissed her again. “But thank you,” she continued as he brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “They really appreciated it, and so do I. You’re right - you have to grab those moments. The audience didn’t seem to mind it either.” “I’m glad about that, I know a lot of them have been waiting for us for a long time. I wouldn’t want to waste their time…” Shelly shook her head. “I don’t think you’re wasting their time, I haven’t seen anything bad online yet.” Gerard nodded slowly and Shelly’s eyes widened as if she’d had a sudden thought. He noticed this and tilted his head at her in question. “Should we be worried about the kids being in photos that end up online though?” Gerard shook his head. “They always hide their faces against me when they cuddle against me anyway, and I know the others always try to turn them away from the crowd as much as they can.” Shelly thought about this. “True. I know Mercy will always double check with us, and I know she helps me get the other working photographers to sign contracts saying that they won’t share photos with any of the band’s collective kids in them without explicit, written permission.” “She’s good like that,” Gerard nodded. “She can get around the professional’s pit faster than I can, especially when I’m trying to wrangle the kids,” Shelly adjusted her position a little to be more comfortable. “That’s why she gets the Best Aunt Ever award.” Gerard laughed. “Every year, without fail.” “From both of them.” “Besides, I’m sure people will take things down if you ask them to,” Gerard continued. “I think a lot of the older fans will remember what happened with the photos of Frank’s kids that circulated and won’t do the same with any others that might pop up.” Shelly nodded. “Mm, I hope so. There’s still a lot of ‘elder emos’ in the fanbase and communities after all. And they’ll remember the incident with Frank’s babies. Hopefully. And they’ll want to respect and protect the little ones.” “If all else fails, we’ll set Mercy on them.” Shelly laughed and leant against him. “That’s a great plan. I don’t think she’d mind either… But no, anyway. Thank you for taking that moment with the kids.” “I love my kids, and I love my wife,” Gerard nodded, kissed the tip of her nose and smiled as she giggled. “I’m having the time of my life and I want the world to know how lucky I am.” Shelly beamed up at him. “The kids love seeing you perform you know. They love seeing all of you perform.” “Mm, though I think Zack prefers his Uncle Mikey to his father.” “Oh, come on, he loves his dad,” Shelly kissed Gerard’s cheek. “But Uncle Mikey is just so cool.” Gerard hummed but pouted a little at his wife. “I’m cool!” “I know you are, my love,” she cupped his cheek and stroked circles on his face with her thumb. “My own daughter doesn’t even think her dad is the coolest,” Gerard pretended to be sulky, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “She’s more interested in Uncle Frank.” “Oh nonsense!” Shelly snorted slightly and laughed. “Melody loves art, you know that. She loves Uncle Frank’s tattoos, because they’re art.” Gerard hummed. “But,” Shelly continued quietly. “Melody is very, very much a daddy’s girl. She’s taking after you so much.” “You think so?” “She’s artistic like you,” Shelly nodded before nuzzling against his cheek, feeling his arms tighten around her waist. “She’s creative like you.” “She’s beautiful like you though,” Gerard kissed the top of her head. “Oh, stop.” Shelly squeezed him a little and attempted to hide her face. “It’s true though,” Gerard tilted her face until she was looking up at him so he could kiss her. “Nonsense,” Shelly hummed and pecked his lips. “She gets that from you too.” Gerard snorted and held her tighter. “Flatterer.” “She may love Uncle Frank’s cool art,” Shelly began to run her fingers through Gerard’s hair. “But her daddy will always be her hero. She loves your art more than Frank’s. She just gets a bit shy about telling you, but she tells me all the time, exactly how cool she thinks your character design is and how much she likes the way you use colour. She tells me in her own way.” This seemed to placate Gerard, because Shelly felt him relax, and it made her smile. “You know,” she continued. “She remembers you singing to her when she was smaller.” “She… She does?” He watched as Shelly nodded. “It’s why she wants to be at as many shows as I let her, I think she misses it.” “Oh,” Gerard whispered. “I… Oh. Well, I guess I’ll have to start singing to her again.” Shelly beamed. “She’ll love that.” “Good,” Gerard nuzzled the side of her face before pressing little kisses onto the skin until he got to her lips. “I just want my family to be happy.” She kissed him and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close, smiling into their kiss as she hummed happily, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him harder. “Hey,” he whispered when he got the chance to breathe. “Ma’am… Ma’am!” Shelly grazed her teeth against his neck, and hummed as he moaned. “It’s ‘Miss’ to you.” “But,” he whined quietly. “But you’re a Mrs…” “Hmm,” she licked his throat. “Yes, yes I am.” “You’re a Mrs and a mama and a magnificent manager.” Shelly giggled and kissed up his jaw. “Mm hm.” “But more importantly,” he grabbed at her waist and pulled her properly into his lap. “You’re my Mrs, the mother of my children and the manager of my band.” “Oh,” she let him manhandle her into his lap, biting her bottom lip at his slightly possessive tone. “Yeah... Yeah, I am.” Gerard hummed against her throat, pressing open mouthed kisses to her skin, and he grinned when she sighed happily. “And believe me,” she continued, draping her arms around his neck to get her fingers back in his hair. “I am so, so proud of that.” “Oh?” Shelly giggled. “Like, yeah sure, call me Mrs. Gerard Way - I don’t care if you don’t use my name. That’s who I am and not everyone really knows my name anyway.” “They should,” Gerard grumbled. “You’ve been around long enough.” She just giggled. “Not everyone cares to learn it.” Gerard carried on kissing up her neck, his hands slowly making their way up her top. He didn’t quite get them up high enough to touch her chest before she put a hand over his, over the top of her shirt. She left her other hand in his hair though, which she knew he loved. “Behave,” she murmured. “Carry on?” He pouted at her a little as she gently scolded him, but did as he was told, dropping his arms to slide them around her waist again. “I mean, keep talking?” “I think some people would just be jealous anyway,” she kissed his forehead. “Sucks to be them, you’re mine now.” Gerard laughed and buried his face in her chest. Shelly ran her fingers through his hair and tilted her head as she felt him brush the tip of his nose against her neck. “Just now? I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve always been yours from the day I met you.” She smiled, kissed the top of his head and grinned. “Well, yeah. I don’t always like to point out how much you’re whipped though.” He laughed again and held her tight. “I don’t mind. I’m proud of it. Of being able to keep a hold of you for so long.” “I’m proud of being married to you, I’m proud of being the mother of your kids,” Shelly squirmed just a little bit. “I’m proud of my other job too! Really, I am -” “But you’re proud of being a mama the most,” Gerard nodded against her, shifting to nuzzle against her neck. “Maybe it’s not very… Feminist? Of me, to not mind being referred to just as ‘Gerard Way’s wife’ or whatever, but…” Shelly shrugged. “I am? I mean, I know I’m my own person, but it’s a media thing, you know? That’s just what they do.” “We’ve both worked in this industry long enough to know that,” he nodded again. “And you’ve dealt with the media more to know that too.” “Exactly.” Shelly ducked down enough to kiss his mouth for a little while before nipping his bottom lip as she pulled away. She smiled to herself and giggled when he whined. “Besides,” she continued quietly. “I like being yours. I’ve always been yours. I love that I have something,” she gestured to her wedding ring with a bright smile. “That literally shows that I’m taken and that I belong to and with someone else.” Gerard tugged at her until she was low enough for him to kiss, and she kissed him back more than willingly, her hands roaming over his chest as his hands ran up and down her thighs. He felt her hum happily into his mouth and his hands starting to slide up under her top. Feeling the skin of her stomach against his palms made a little bell ring in the back of his head. “Oh,” he whispered. “That reminds me, Mrs. Way.” Shelly giggled softly. “Reminds you of what, Mr. Way?” “I saw that gesture, when I was hugging the kids earlier.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Where you held your belly and held up a finger. Do you want to clarify that for me?” “I…” She bit her bottom lip and blushed, her eyes avoiding his. “No, I… It doesn't matter.” Gerard tutted and lifted her chin. “Yes it does. Yes, it really does. C’mon, you can tell me.” The blonde hummed for a moment, nibbling her bottom lip. She knew he was watching her because she could feel it. She wasn’t sure if that made her nervous or not. Maybe it did, a little bit, because she had been so certain that he would’ve known what she’d meant by that little physical action. The fact that he was asking for clarification though… Maybe she’d been wrong. On the other hand, he might be messing her around… Shelly sighed and looked up at her husband, relaxing when he smiled at her. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?” He said quietly, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand, his other arm still around her waist. “I hope you know that, we’ve been together for long enough.” “I… I know Gee,” she leant up to press her lips against his in what she hoped was a comforting and reassuring manner. “I know. It doesn’t stop me feeling nervous though." Gerard kissed her back, running his fingers lightly through her hair. “You don’t need to be nervous.” “I know,” she closed her eyes as he kissed her forehead. “I mean, when have I ever said no to you?” Shelly giggled. “About as often as you say no to our daughter.” “Yeah, well…” Gerard cleared his throat. “About as often as you say no to our son.” She went to protest before shaking her head. “Alright, I’m a soft touch for our kids, okay? So are you.” “No,” Gerard said. “I’m a soft touch for my kids and my wife.” Shelly tilted her head to see him with the biggest grin on his face. She sighed, shook her head and smiled. “Oh, for goodness sake…” “Look at your life, look at your choices,” Gerard said with a laugh. “I don’t regret a single thing.” “Are…” Gerard swallowed. “Are you trying to get me to jump you?” “I…” Shelly bit her bottom lip. “Well, it would help.” She looked up at him and put her hand on her stomach like she had earlier before speaking again. “This was… Me asking if we can have another baby.” Gerard blinked rapidly before cupping her face in both of his hands. He smiled when she blinked rapidly up at him, clearly confused. He kissed her. Gently at first, but harder and deeper when she nipped his bottom lip. That drove him crazy and he knew that she knew that. Which was probably why she was climbing into his lap again and winding her arms around his neck. “I knew that’s what you wanted,” he murmured. “Another baby. I just wanted to hear you say it.” Shelly whined softly. “That’s mean.” “I like hearing you say things like that though,” he admitted. “But I think you know that already.” “Mmhm,” she gently moved the neckline of his t-shirt a little to kiss at his neck. “Is that a yes, then?” “Yeah,” Gerard breathed as she grazed her teeth over his skin. “Yeah, I’ll give you whatever you want.” Shelly frowned and moved out of his lap, sitting beside him. “Are you just saying that? Or do you actually want another one?” He had pouted at her movement and had watched her reposition herself next to him. “I mean it. I really will give you whatever you want if I’m able to.” “That’s not…” Shelly shook her head. “That’s not what I asked. If you don’t want another baby, you have to tell me. I’m not going to do this unless we’re on the same page.” Gerard gently took a hold of her chin and kissed her mouth again. “I’m sure. Really Shell. If you want another baby, we’ll have another baby.” Shelly almost squealed before pouncing on him to kiss him. Just kiss him - the kids were next door after all. Although she found it really difficult to keep her hands to herself, and she knew that Gerard was struggling with that too as he kept slipping his hands up her shirt. They kissed for a little bit before she untangled herself from him and curled up beside him. He smiled, kissed the top of her head and cuddled her close. “Are you sure we’re not too old?” Shelly asked quietly after a moment, snuggling against his chest again. “Hmn? For another baby?” He felt her nod. “Do you feel old?” “I…” She frowned as she thought about it. “No, I don’t think so.” “Do you think you can take it?” “It?” She looked him up and down before looking up at his face with a raised eyebrow and a grin. “Hmn, well…” Gerard shook his head slowly at the look on her face, cutting her off quietly. “I meant, you minx, do you think your body can handle another pregnancy.” “Mm, I think I could, yeah,” she couldn’t help but giggle. “I think I could. I’d have to double check with a doctor, but I think I could handle another.” “You do take good care of us all,” Gerard kissed her forehead. “Me, the kids, the band, yourself. I think Frank’s called you a MILF before.” Shelly coughed. “Not in front of Jamia I hope.” “She agrees with him.” “I... What?” Shelly spluttered for a second before she remembered something. “Before I had Melody, Mercy and I were talking about…” Gerard looked at her as she frowned, trying to recall exactly what they’d been talking about. “Oh, something about my body confidence I think?” She shrugged a little and smiled shyly. ”I might’ve lamented on not being as confident after a baby.” Gerard snorted slightly, getting a raised eyebrow in response. “And,” Shelly continued. “She said that I’d get ‘milf status’ when and after I got pregnant.” “Oh really? You haven’t told me that before,” Gerard’s eyebrows met his hairline. “Wow, Miss Mercy, that’s… Wow.” The blonde shook her head before hiding her face against him. “I went several shades of red that day. I almost matched your hair at the time.” “The time?” Shelly moved to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, her voice almost sounding like a purr. “Just before the Danger Days tour.” “Ohhh,” he felt her settle closer. “Oh yes, you were particularly…” “Thirsty for you then?” She offered, giggling. “Yes, that’s the word.” His wife hummed and kissed near his ear before whispering into it. “I’m always thirsty for you. Always have been.” “Well!” Gerard coughed a little bit before he grinned at her. “Going back to the previous topic… I definitely think you are…” His wife gave him one of her Looks and he grinned even more. “More to the point,” he said. “You’re a mom that I do f-” “Gerard!” “Quite frequently, actually.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the look on her face. “Hey, I don’t hear you complaining!” “Shut up,” she mumbled, moving away from him and huffing a little. “Oh, Shelly honey -” There was a gentle tapping at the connecting door and Shelly moved off of the bed to go and investigate. While she was doing that, he shuffled around in bed and smoothed out some of the sheets. “Alright,” he heard Shelly say. “Alright honey, c’mon then.” He looked up to see their daughter clinging onto Shelly as his wife made her way over. “Hey, what’s goin’ on here?” He asked quietly. Melody looked up at the sound of her father’s voice. Her eyes widened a little as she looked up at her mother. “Someone,” Shelly petted the top of Melody’s head. “Wants her daddy.” Gerard beamed and held his arms out. “C’mon then sweetheart.” Shelly giggled as their daughter hurried over and scrambled onto the bed to snuggle up to Gerard. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her hair, only looking up when Shelly sat on the other side of Melody. “Baby,” Shelly said softly. “You wanna tell daddy what’s wrong?” Melody shook her head, hiding against her father. “You want mama to tell him?” “No mama,” Melody mumbled. “Darling,” Gerard gently moved her away from him so he could look at her face. “What’s wrong?” His daughter pouted at him as Shelly started to unbraid and recomb Melody’s hair; it was quite messy so it was obvious that she’d been tossing and turning. “You’re leaving soon aren’t you?” Melody frowned. “Mama too.” “Oh, oh honey...” Melody sighed and clung to him. “That means you are!” Shelly and Gerard shared a look before Shelly moved closer to her daughter to hug her from behind. “Sweetheart,” Shelly said quietly. “It’s not going to be for long. We spoke about this, remember?” “Why do you both have to go?” Melody whined. “Because daddy and Uncle Frank, and Uncle Ray and Uncle Mikey, need mama to look after them when they’re away,” Gerard said quietly. “Mama makes sure that we get everything done, that we stay safe, and then we can come home faster.” Shelly kissed the top of Melody’s head. “Mama is very important to daddy’s job, darling,” Gerard continued. “Daddy couldn’t do it without her.” Melody sniffed a little and looked up at her father. “Really?” Gerard nodded and smiled. “Your mama is the Boss, and daddy just does as he’s told.” Shelly snorted softly and giggled into her daughter’s hair. “Mm, that’s true.” Melody stayed quiet for a little while, being cuddled by both of her parents. After a few minutes, she leant back against Shelly, who hugged her tightly from behind, and looked up at her father. “Daddy?” “Yes, sweetheart?” Melody looked serious. Or as serious as a ten year old could look. “You really need mama to work?” Gerard matched her seriousness and nodded. “I do, honey.” The young girl nodded once before turning to her mother. “Mama?” “Yes baby?” Shelly was trying not to giggle at the serious tone her daughter had adopted. “Daddy doesn’t work without you?” Shelly glanced up at her husband. “Not very well, no.” Melody nodded again and turned back to her father. “Daddy, you best take mama with you.” “Yes, little one,” Gerard kissed Melody’s forehead. “And mama?” “Mm?” “Make sure daddy works hard, and Uncle Mikey, and Uncle Ray, and Uncle Frank!” Shelly giggled. “Yes, baby, I will.” “Especially Uncle Frank,” the girl nodded. “He’s naughty.” Gerard laughed and hugged his daughter tightly, listening to his wife giggling. “Yeah,” Shelly managed to get out before giggling a little more. “Yeah, he is.” “While we’re away,” Gerard leant over and gently poked his wife to stop her giggling. “We need you to look after your brother, yeah?” “Like mama? Be a boss like mama?” Shelly positively beamed. “Yeah baby,” Gerard continued. “We need you to be like mama and to look out for him, okay?” “Okay daddy.” Melody nodded before yawning a little. “I… I can do that.” “We know you can, sweetheart,” Shelly said, nuzzling her daughter a little. “Do you feel a bit better?” Gerard asked, feeling Melody snuggle into him. “Yes daddy,” the girl mumbled, clinging to his t-shirt. “It really won’t be for long sweetie,” Shelly kissed the top of her head. “And we’ll try and call as often as we can, okay?” Melody nodded. “Okay mama.” “Then we’re home for a bit before we have to go away again,” Gerard continued. “But by the time that happens, you’ll be in school, and you’ll hardly notice that we’re not there.” “We’ll be home as often as we can baby, promise.” “O… Okay,” Melody interrupted herself with a yawn. “I think it’s time to put someone back to bed,” Gerard looked over at his wife. “No, wanna stay.” Shelly and Gerard shared a look, and she smiled softly. “We have a later check out tomorrow,” she said quietly. “So we can sleep in a little bit. If you’re okay with it.” “I suppose one night won’t hurt,” Gerard glanced down at his daughter. “Lemme go and get Zack,” Shelly slipped out of bed. “If we’re gonna do it this way, we might as well do it properly.” “Like a sleepover?” Melody asked, watching her mother head over to the adjoining door. “Yeah, like a sleepover,” Gerard nodded. Shelly slipped through the door and returned not too long later with their son still pretty much asleep. She managed to get him into bed next to Melody without him completely waking up. He woke up a little more, realised he was next to his sister and then settled down again when Shelly curled up behind him. Gerard adjusted his position, made sure his family was covered up before he turned out the lights. “Everyone comfortable?” He asked, smiling when he got soft affirmative noises from his wife and daughter. “Shell?” “Mm?” She looked over the sleeping form of their son, who was snuggled up against his sister’s back. “Love you.” “Love you too Gee.” “Mama? Daddy?” Melody nestled closer to her father. “Yes baby?” Shelly lightly touched her daughter’s back so the young girl knew she was there. “Love you both.” Gerard hugged his family as much as he could. “We love you too sweetheart.” “Lots and lots,” Shelly added. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

#She Speaks #She Writes #Gerard Way x OC #my fan fic #my writing

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asm5129 · 1 year

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Flash thoughts 9x05

BATWOMAN IS BACK BITCHES

God it’s great to see Javicia back in the suit.

Red Death was fantastic this episode, though I’m actually a little upset we got so much of Red Death Ryan and so little of OUR Ryan. Don’t get me wrong it was amazing to see Javicia back in the Arrowverse at all, and she killed it as red death, but i just wish we got more of a Flash/Batwoman team-up. Kinda feel a little cheated on that.

Also didn’t Ryan literally DISAPPEAR ON PATROL? What the hell happened to that? she’s just back suddenly and we don’t know why she disappeared or where she was. She wasn’t captured by Red Death, she just disappeared for a few weeks then just...reappeared? And there’s no details on why or how or where she was? the hell?

Still, Red Death was super threatening--though they should have directed Javicia to stay calm more, i think she regularly came off far more threatening calm. And man, that goddamn voice changer. I don’t like that at all. To take away the voice AND face really hurts the actors ability to act. It’s worked for Thanwe and Zoom, and Savitar a little bit, but beyond that it’s lost all appeal for me.

Honestly I’m just kinda shocked the Red Death storyline seems to be over? I was kinda under the impression she’d be a season long Big Bad, due to how the Graphic Novel format--where the season is split into two or even three major arcs/threats, rather than a single one--was created to make sure over the course of 22 episode seasons they would avoid another Cicada situation, where a villain ends up feeling that their time as a threat has been artificially extended past the time it feels like Team flash should have a handle on things. It was a fantastic call for 22 episode seasons, but I’ll be honest I did not think they would continue that in a 13 episode season. Red Death was definitely great, and this was a great last episode that really sold her threat level, but it does feel like this whole thing happened awfully quick. Luckily she IS just over in Iron Heights, so her story probably isn’t COMPLETELY over.

My initial thoughts about the line “Justice will be served” line paid off pretty damn well though. shouldn’t have given her the I Am Vengeance line. I get that this is Ryan Wayne and that’s an iconic Batman line, but in her mind this is not about vengeance, and that’s a really interesting concept i wish was explored more. Ah well. C’est la vie.

I’m assuming Red Death’s telepathic powers were artificial like her speed, since she said she spent tons of time studying her enemies abilities and working to replicate them. Wish it was clarified though, cuz it was weird to see Red Death with powerful psychic abilities all of a sudden when they weren’t there before.

Or just make it all Grodd? Rather than giving Ryan psychic abilities he boosted, maybe just make him the source of the psychic stuff that she used in her plan. Regardless, not the worst thing ever, just a little weird.

Speaking of Grodd, he makes his grand return here, and i think it’s pretty solid! I don’t think forgetting about Grodd was his BIGGEST mistake--there’s a lot of contender' for that spot, this doesn’t even crack Top Five--so that was a weird line. BUT I do like how he’s used as a way to get Barry to reflect on his form of heroism, and have faith that Grodd is no longer who he used to be. Find it a little weird he questioned whether the Rogues were able to change? I dunno it just felt a little artificial for Barry to question his ability to bring out the good in people this far in, but i do like (most of) the talk he had with Joe. So happy these kinds of emotional, inspirational talks are so much rarer, two seasons ago they were happening every 5 minutes and they lost any impact because of it. This instead let both Barry and Joe reflect on their relationships to and impacts on one another, and it’s very sweet. And i do like the decision he comes to in order to raise Jenna safely, but not take away Cecile from her rise into heroism or abandon his family.

Regardless, it all works quite well, and Grodd giving Barry the speed back he gave him three years ago was a fun detail. Plus tying it into the continued fallout of Crisis was a nice touch.

Allegra and Chuck are FINALLY official so it’s nice to have that story done after building it up for so long, though there’s not much time to explore that so we’ll see what comes next for them.

And the weirdness with Khione kept up this week, which seemingly is going to lead directly into next week!

All in all, pretty solid episode. Some pretty large flaws, but not unforgivable ones.

I’d probably rate the Red Death Arc 5 out of 10 if i had to put a number on it, but that’s mainly because it was only 5 episodes and don't really have the time to do itself justice rather than the fact that it was actually mediocre.

oh yeah and Iris is pregnant early

#red death #flash thoughts #the flash #the flash season 9 #batwoman cw #batwoman is back #WestAllen #gorilla grodd #joe west #khione #ryan wilder

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blossom-hwa · 1 year

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I posted 1,737 times in 2022

566 posts created (33%)

1,171 posts reblogged (67%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@blossom-hwa

@thepixelelf

@seonghwaminho

@applejongho

@the-doodly-noodle

I tagged 1,592 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#nas - 1,142 posts

#lina talks - 373 posts

#ateez - 297 posts

#stray kids - 204 posts

#lina answers - 155 posts

#txt - 148 posts

#seonghwa - 117 posts

#san - 80 posts

#seventeen - 67 posts

#yeonjun - 66 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i use em dashes way too often but i’m not going to stop though they’re not technically em dashes since i just let autocorrect do its thing

My Top Posts in 2022:

these endless summer nights | c.yj

inspired by the song endless summer by cashae. you should give it a listen :) also I am experimenting w new fic layouts so sorry if everything’s a little different atm 💕

(note: this was originally posted for svt hoshi but I thought the concept fit yeonjun will enough with a few tweaks for character/personality - this is NOT plagiarism!)

Pairing: Yeonjun x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, university!au, summer romance!au

Triggers: allusions to sex (nothing graphic), drinking

Word Count: 7k

This summer feels endless, spent in each other’s arms.

Hoshi (SVT) Ver. | TXT Masterlist

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234 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

the words I say, and the words I mean | p.js

mai @wingkkun this one’s for you <3 happy birthday!!!!!!!!!

Pairing: Jay x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, a touch of angst, high school!au, childhood best friends to lovers!au

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 2.5k

On a cool golden afternoon on the cusp of winter, Jay falls for you again.

Enhypen Masterlist

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253 notes - Posted September 28, 2022

be my date | c.bg

don’t really know where this came from, but it happened. hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Beomgyu x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst (with a happy ending), model!au

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.9k

Beomgyu is everything you’ve ever wanted. It just takes him a little more time to realize he feels the same way about you.

TXT Masterlist

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254 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

if you’ll have me (i) | c.yj

here’s (finally) the first part of the monster yeonjun fic I wrote in august, right in time for his birthday! happy birthday to the terrible wonderful human being who has given me the worst brainrot I've experienced in a while (second only to the rot brought on by one kang taehyun), and I hope you all enjoy this <3

Pairing: Yeonjun x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, regency era!au, nobility!au

Warnings: mentions of past death, mentions of period-typical misogyny

Word Count: 11.3k

Yeonjun Choi, Duke of Hastings, is in want of a wife. Boxed in from all directions by the overbearing mamas of the ton, he begins his arduous search this season for not fortune, not love, but merely the perfect woman to succeed his mother's place. None of the daughters of high society manage to catch his eye, however, or fit his overwhelming list of standards—at least until he meets Miss Y/N L/N, the queen's diamond of the season, newly arrived in town from abroad and said to be one of the most accomplished women to grace the ton in a generation.

You, the eldest daughter and only child of the L/N family, just want stability. With your father dead and the estate passed to a cousin, leaving only your dowry and a small pittance from the inheritance left intact, you begin your search for a husband with money enough to keep you and your mother afloat. It seems like a miracle when, after being crowned the queen's diamond, the Duke of Hastings himself asks for your hand—but as you learn of his complete indifference to the concept of love, you begin to doubt yourself. Perhaps money is not enough to keep your hand—maybe you desired a true love match more than you thought.

Trapped in a marriage of convenience that everyone believes is a love story, you and Yeonjun find yourselves forced to reevaluate what you want out of this match. Between balls and promenades, dances and poetry, you begin to view each other beyond the pithy conversations allowed in the courting stages, learning to see one another not just as business partners, but perhaps friends as well. And as you begin to reconcile your needs and wants, your goals and desires, maybe, just maybe—

The ton's belief that you are a love match can find some truth, too.

Part 1 >> Part 2

TXT Masterlist

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266 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

these endless summer nights | k.sy

inspired by the song endless summer by cashae. you should give it a listen :) also I am experimenting w new fic layouts so sorry if everything’s a little different atm 💕

Pairing: Hoshi x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, university!au, summer romance!au

Triggers: allusions to sex (nothing graphic), drinking

Word Count: 7k

This summer feels endless, spent in each other’s arms.

Yeonjun (TXT) Ver. | Seventeen Masterlist

See the full post

321 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #feels kinda surreal that it's already december #and though I'm not super satisfied with my amount of output this year I'm pretty happy with the results I got from the stuff I posted :)#found some new groups and rediscovered some old ones... it was nice #been a wild year with a ton of downs but there were some really good ups #thank you everyone for the support you gave me and my fics <3 #nas

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rickbarooah · 6 months

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Thinking about the future

Most of the images on my Substack are made by AI. But for this one, I, myself, made the images. I would be glad to know if you like these, or should I go back to using an AI to generate the graphics?

There is also a short story, the young and the old at the end. You know about this if you are following me on Notes. You can skip to that if you don’t wanna read all this.

Start of the article

“I am nothing but I must be everything” — Critique of Hegel’s philosophy of right, Karl Marx

I’ve been working harder than ever on my work, but there is still a decrease in the posting frequency, and that’s because I’ve also been sending articles to many newspapers and ending up with rejection emails. Don’t quit reading, now that you know this.

Now, freelancing is the only visible option, working on getting started (Making sample articles, reading and taking courses on copywriting, figuring out how all this works). At times like this, everything seems elusive.

Also trying out graphics designing, the images in this post are the outcome of that, to open the possibility of earning something that way. I’m not good at it.

I made a serious projects section on Substack to put projects that I’ve spent days working on and cover important issues. Also getting some critiques on my writings on Critique Circle.

All this is happening when the open rate of my emails is hitting an all-time low. This feels like I’m making reverse progress while working hard.

Nothing in the world matters, if we think about the universe as a whole. I don’t know if you are religious, you might think it’s a part of a big plan. I don’t believe in any of that. Truth matters to me more than self-satisfaction. But, I’m not judging you if you differ.

Thinking about absurdism lately. I’m at least not a nihilist anymore. Thinking about the novel, The Stranger by Albert Camus. In the voice of Meursault, nothing matters. It’s resonating in my life.

But that doesn’t mean I’ll give up. In the previous post, the bitter phase of life was based on it. You may read it if you want to know more (It was updated after the email was sent).

A quick recap of the part we need today: The protagonist wants to live in a place of peace, away from the chaos of the urban world. His/her dreams have changed from achieving things to having a life he/she wants.

Important conclusions for this article: (changing perspective from the protagonist to me) I don’t want to make a lot of money. just enough to change the way I live now. I want more freedom, peace, calmness.

Nothing really matters, so we can give importance to things that we think matter to us. I have an article written on this. I’ll publish it soon, by the end of next week. It might make everything feel better.

This is all good and easy to say until you factor in that you are not the only one living in this world. There are many living piles of shit around who are constantly trying to ruin your day. Getting depressed is also a thing. I have feelings that no one understands. No one listens. Maybe because of all the superficial things I do which I don’t mean to.

I act in a way I don’t want to. The problems I have are unheard of by most and can drown me down in the dark thoughts of nihilism, meaninglessness, suicide, self-doubt, self-regret, shame, etc.

There are moments where everyone is wrong but no one acknowledges it. They talk with a bias filter on top of their vocal cords.

I get mad. Sometimes people don’t see the human inside the skin and treat others like a bunch of words moulded into a moving skeleton. I don’t like seeing that happen to others. I cry when it happens to me.

Freaking doesn’t help.

When I started, all my writings could be summarised into eighteen words, “a person freaking out on the internet like a child cause he/she doesn’t have anyone to talk to.” But that has changed. Maybe not enough; you can put this post in the same category if you wish to. I made the serious projects section to list projects that can truly add value to someone’s life. That’s part of the reason why this is not there even though I spend days working on it.

The truth is: no one wants to read you freaking out. They are my problems, nobody else gives a fuck about them.

No matter how many spicks of motivation I get, seeing the dashboard brings me down on my knees in an instant.

Nothing is driving me except an internal rebellion fueled by everything around me. It’s a rebellion against the world order, pre-determined paths of success, and the conventional definition of happiness. Making money doesn’t make you happy, but you need to have some to set free and find yourself out in the world.

Every day, all I end up saying is: I’ll try, what else can I do? Yet, a question always remains at the back of my mind: What’s the use of this all? — This question may not affect the way I’m going to live life, but it has certainly, changed the way I see life forever.

Ending here.

—

Something else

There are times when everyone is wrong in something, but instead of seeing that we make up our minds on who is right based on our biases. Below is a short story where an old man and a young boy are thinking while passing each other in an alley, neither is right but it’s still easy to decide who is right.

An old man walks with creases on his face, expanding and overlapping with each step. The creases expand to an extent that you can make out the shape of his face, this makes him look angry. Angry because none of those young souls can listen to what’s right.

A boy feeling no better than an ant stuck at a pond is walking in the same alley, opposite direction. Thinking of all the things that were off, cursing everyone in his mind, “There’s no use of regret once I’m a walking dead man.” He’s angry too, but there are no creases on his face.

Seeing through his thick eyelids, the man sees a spoiled kid - angry and doesn’t seem to give a fuck about him. He stops abruptly, his movements make the boy stop too. Looked into each other’s eyes for a second and moved on.

#phylosophy #writing #life #future

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avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

—you can pretend you don’t miss me; bucky barnes

pairing: tfatws!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4049

warnings: 18+ ONLY, knife kink, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, tiny bit of blood, attempted murder

challenge: @cockslut-padalecki a decade under the influence “what if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat”

request: bucky barnes + “i have a feeling i’m gonna get lucky tonight” + orgasm denial

author note: surprise! it didn’t take me two months to write something sjsksjs please enjoy fic #3 of my 5/5.5k follower celebration! also another quick congrats to lisa for hitting 10k!!

inspired by this art ; gif by @zacharylevis ; line divider by @firefly-graphics ; title inspired by billie eilish bitches broken hearts

The taste of bourbon and cigarettes is on his lips and tongue as he licks into your mouth. He moans into you, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh as he hooks your leg right around his waist. Your back is up against the heavy door of his apartment, fingers in soft brown hair, wet lips smacking and sucking, teeth nibbling on his swollen, red bottom lip. He laughs, relaxing into your kiss and lips and teeth as he anchors your weight in his metal hand, flesh hand rummaging in his almost too tight black jeans for his door key.

There’s a smirk on your face as you pull away from him. Your lips are still touching. Foreheads resting on one another's. Eyes a little shy, only connecting for fractions of seconds before they’re on the floor or a pair of lips. The jingle of keys fills the hallway, then the thunk of one as it pushes into the slot and stops hard against the rusted metal of the lock. The deadbolt slaps back into the door and with a push of his foot, and a little help from your weight being pinned against it, the swollen door scrapes against the frame as it pops open, swinging back into the wall.

Bucky slips his hands down your sides, grips your hips tight as he starts to back you inside. They stay there, those hands, as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours and dip down to your mouth where he licks his lips and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s fantasizing about wanting to feel them again. A metal hand cups your face, his palm warm as he sweeps his thumb along your cheek.

His tongue sneaks out just before your lips meet again to tease the roof of your mouth before he grabs your top lip between his. You both inhale deep, breathing each other in, a concoction of soft and sweet and smoke and warmth.

You’re not sure who moves first, whether Bucky is pushing or you’re pulling— probably a little of both— but you’re inside of his apartment before you know it. The door slams shut. Your leather jacket slips off your shoulders and hits the hardwood floor as you back further inside.

Fingers and hands are everywhere. Yanking at shirts, popping buttons, pulling zippers as lips get more desperate. You back into a set of bar stools, knocking them around just a little as you stumble and catch yourself, throwing your head back as laughter spills from you. Bucky pushes out a breath and a small laugh while he eyes you all hungry like as he pulls at his boots.

You tease him a little, putting those feminine wiles to good use— tilt your head, twist your hair around your fingers, push your tits forward. With your shirt crumpled on the floor, the titanium bars pushed through your nipples catch the soft pink, blue, and purple lights of the neon signs pouring in through the kitchen windows through the sheer mesh bralette covering your chest.

Bucky looks a mess. Hair all over his head, pants open— the band of his Hugo Boss boxers peeking out— plain black t-shirt now in a rumpled pile on the floor. His footsteps heavy as he stalks towards you. He stops short, wraps black and gold fingers around your wrist and yanks, collecting you again to crush your soft body against his hard one.

You tilt your head up towards him, eyes turning to slits, lips brushing against his as manicured fingertips push just inside his jeans. Soft tips sweep over a rigid cock, the size making a sly smile curl onto your face. This one is full of surprises.

“Well well,” you purr, kissing him quick, wet and loud, never taking your eyes off him, “I have a feeling I’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, a breath pushing out through his nose as a lopsided grin paints his handsome face, “Aren’t you a smart girl.”

You curl your fingers around his neck, digging the tips into his messy hair and draw him in— dragging the wet velvet of your tongue over his mouth real slow, watching as his eyes close, “You, bed,” you instruct, “Me, bathroom.”

Footsteps fill the quiet, surprisingly lived-in apartment, the clicks of your heels and his heavy thumps as he pulls you towards the bed. He just points off to his left as he falls onto the mattress, resting a leaden head on a wide palm as he settles in. Eyes blinking at you slow as you disappear behind a white door.

The bathroom is immaculate. White. Sterile. Nothing out of place— very military of him. You undress slowly, removing your shoes one by one before moving on to your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a see through bra, waist high panties— and a black leather ankle holster housing your six inch, hand crafted, butterfly knife.

You lift your foot, place it on the white countertop and slip the blade from the holster before carefully, quietly undoing the straps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up a little straighter, roll your neck and shoulders as you stare back at your reflection. The pony tail comes down, silky hair falling over your shoulders and down your back— best fifteen hundred bucks you’ve ever spent on yourself.

Gotta look good on the day you finally get to kill the Winter Soldier.

With a soft flick of your wrist, the blade flips out and you can’t help but run a manicured finger over the edge, pressing the sharp point into the pad. You find yourself in the mirror again and tilt your head a little as your brain goes a little empty— except for maybe one thought.

You wanna fuck him. You’ve earned it, and regrettably so, you find Bucky Barnes sort of interesting. Funny. Engaging when prodded a bit but still somehow deadpan and aloof.

His huge cock doesn’t help matters either.

You sigh, oh well.

The door clicks as you open it and pass through. You keep your hands behind your back as your body softens— sinks into itself a little. Hair falls in your face as you feign shyness, batting big, soft brown eyes and sinking your teeth into an ample bottom lip.

Bucky took the time to get completely naked. Hard cock gripped in his flesh palm, slow drags from the base to the glistening tip.

God, you really kinda wish you could fuck this man.

“Come ‘ere.”

An outstretched metal hand accompanies the gentle beckoning. You move soft, a small sound of your feet sinking into the carpet before you reach out with your empty hand and slide it into warm metal, using the sturdy grip to hoist yourself up and over his stomach.

His hands find your hips— big, warm, manly hands. They slip upwards just a bit to grip the soft of your sides. Move down again for thick fingers to graze over your ass and tickle the backs of your naked thighs. Still, you palm the handle of your knife tight and high, in the small of your back, as you use your free hand to push the dark strands of hair out of your face.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours when his fingers push between your parted legs, finding a wet spot in those mesh panties. You inhale deep, blinking back at him as his fingers keep a sweet little rhythm back and forth against your cunt. Hips defy your brain and push forward into those fingers— wanting just a little more.

Maybe you can wait… maybe until after...

You lean forward before your brain can finish stringing the words together— you have to or you’d lose all your nerve and give into that weak devil telling you to taste the sin. Let him spread you open until it hurts. Your mouth finds his hot and swollen and you kiss him hard, so hard he groans into it. You pull back just enough to lick his mouth again, eyes bouncing between his.

“What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart? You need more of an invitation than this?” Bucky asks low and slow, pushing his cock right into your ass as his fingers creep inside your panties.

You smile, real nice and sweet before swooping the arm from behind your back to push the knife into his neck, “Oh nothing, baby,” you purr, “Just waiting for the right time to kill you is all.”

You lean back a little to see his face, tipping your head to the side. He’s pretty calm for a guy who’s minutes away from bleeding out on his own bed— but he is an assassin. Not much can shake him— should shake him.

Bucky blinks slow at you, hands coming to rest by his sides. His eyes don’t widen, pupils don’t dilate. Steady breathing stays just the same— he doesn’t even shift uncomfortably. Just blinks back at you. Slow. Easy. Without a fucking care in the goddamn world.

An angry heat blooms across your skin at his nonchalance as the seconds tick by. Your chest starts to rise and fall a little harder. Your eyes start to bounce between his as you suck your teeth in indignation, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

A blink is all you get.

“Of course you don’t,” you hiss, “Why would you? I was just one of many in the wrong place at the wrong time, right?” Your grip on the handle of the knife tightens as you push it harder against his skin— this time he swallows, “Who cares how many innocent lives you’ve destroyed as long as you got what you wanted.”

He still doesn’t say a word, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react. Just stares up at you as you crack, laughing angrily as you take his silence mockingly, “Well, I couldn’t fuckin’ forget you. Eight years. Eight years of living in absolute terror that you’d come back for me.” You’re seething now, eyes wild, breath coming harder and faster than the one before it, “Constantly looking over my shoulder, jumping at every bark of a dog and clink of keys and slam of a car door outside my apartment— do you know how it feels to live like that? Huh? Expecting to die every second of every hour of every goddamn day?”

Another silence drops over the room and it’s just the two of you staring at each other. You’re not even sure why he isn’t fighting back— why he’s just lying there and then it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

Of course he knows what it’s like to live like this. He’s used to it.

A trickle of blood slips down the side of his neck, the singular plop staining the white sheets below, “I’ve never thought about after— once you’re dead. What if I can’t forget you? I’ve spent so long hating you— it’s, it’s like by killing you, I’ll burn your name into my throat, you know? You’ll always just,” you tilt your head, digging the knife in a little harder, “Be there. With me always.”

The funniest thing happens as soon as the words slip through your teeth. His lips start to twitch. Curl into a smile— one where those pearly whites are on display— and then he’s laughing. Like someone just told a fucking joke.

It makes you recoil. Makes you squint and has your face twist in confusion, lips separating as a heavy breath passes through.

“Well,” he finally purrs, the laughter rumbling through his chest dying down, “Go ‘head, honey.”

When you hesitate, he pushes his chin forward, arch’s his head back to put his neck on full display, “Come on, baby. Don’t get my hopes up and not follow through.”

“You’re insane.” You hiss.

He leans up a little, another smile curling onto his lips, “In this business, you gotta be.”

The words stick in air like glue as he settles back into the pillow below his head, blue eyes twinkling underneath the soft neon lights pouring in through the windows.

He’s fucking with you. Just do it. The words echo, knocking around your brain as you stare down at him, blade still shoved into the crease of his neck. Another drop of blood plops onto the sheets below. Your lip snarls slightly, eyes narrowing as heat flashes across your skin again. He’s mocking you. After everything he’s done, all the pain— the fear.

You inhale deep, grip the handle so hard your nails dig into your palm and instinct takes over. The hatred, the built up aggression and vitriol guiding your hand, about to slash that pretty thick neck wide open. You are more than ready to see a deep red stain white sheets and blue eyes lose all of the life he’s built into them and fade away into nothingness. Just when you’re about to make your eight year long dream come true, it all flashes before your eyes.

Within a blink— half of a blink— you're off his lap, slammed up against the wall opposite the bed, warm flesh hand around your throat. You gasp hard, nearly choking on the air you can’t grab as you start to struggle, slapping at his face before swinging the knife wildly.

Bucky catches your arm with ease, squeezing your hand until you’re grunting and hissing in pain, grip relaxing around the metal. You blink again, and your knife is now pressed against your throat as you growl, struggling to no avail.

“You’re lucky baby,” he mutters, “Nobody survives that long while holding a knife to my throat.” He kisses you hard, digging his teeth into your bottom lip to drag it back with him when he pulls away, “You’re a cutie tho, so, you get a little reprieve.”

He leans back in real close, eyes roaming along your face as his head tilts, breathing easy. Staring back at him, lip curling again as you huff hard, angry breaths beating out of your nose. But your hands have come to rest on his arms. You can feel the blood coursing through the vein that’s popped out right down the center of his bicep. Your fingers flex around metal and muscle, goosebumps rising on your skin as the cool air conditioning tickles hot skin.

“Of course I remember you,” he whispers after a long time— too long, “I remember each and every face of the last seventy years,” his eyes bounce between yours, “I knew exactly who you were as soon as you popped up on that stupid dating app.”

Another sharp influx of air squeezes out of your throat when he drags the tip of your knife underneath your chin, down the length of your throat, down your chest. Slips it along your stomach before pushing it into the mesh that covers your chest. A flick of his wrist and you’re bare, the thin material giving way to the blade.

Your chest heaves, eyes wide, lips parting as the tip of that blade scrapes along your skin— right between your tits. Brown eyes drop to his red, wet lips quick, then shoot back to focus on his piercing blues.

“I wasn’t sure at first what you wanted,” he whispers, flattening the blade over a piqued nipple, clinking against the metal bar piercing your thick flesh, “If you recognized me after all this time— I mean, with the new hair and everything.”

A hum sounds at the back of your throat, trembling and airy and Bucky picks it up right away— another smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The fingers around your throat peel away slowly but he watches you all the while, fire behind his eyes as he tests you.

“You’re a good little actress,” words still soft but full— maybe amazed that you were able to get as close as you did, “But you knew that already, huh?”

You swallow hard, eyes tipping down to watch his fingers drift down your arm. Light little touches, “You have to be when born— ah,” the edge of the knife catches your thick nipple as he slides it across your tit.

He kisses you again, real sweet this time though. Tongue sweeping along your bottom lip as both his encase it, “I’m sorry baby. You were saying?”

Flesh fingers dance along your stomach, sweeping from hip to hip. Just the tips. Feather light drags so you don’t forget about them. His large palm grips your hip, pushes his thumb into the meat of your side and you have to close your eyes— clear your throat to center yourself. To remember why you’re there in the first place.

Sweet breath washes over your face as Bucky rolls your left nipple now into the edge of the blade— kissing you again when you shriek at the quick, sharp pain just to eat the sound. You lose the fingers around your hip, only to find them again suddenly, jumping in slight surprise as calloused pads cup a soft, wet cunt.

Bucky’s still blinking slow, fingers pushing along a swollen clit, massaging. He’s real close now, prickly cheek rubbing against yours, teeth nibbling at your jawline.

Your own fingers dig into his biceps as your eyes flutter with the tightening of your stomach. A warmth starts to spread through your veins. Hips find a little rhythm against his hand. A sharp prick here and there as he circles that knife— your own damn knife— around your tits and back up to your throat again.

That’s when he sinks two long, thick fingers into you, not stopping until his palm is flush with your sticky folds. His thumb pressed against the sensitive little nub at the center of you.

His eyes are slits, head tilted up slightly as his mouth hangs, dragging in the air you expel. Only then does his fingers start to move, delving in and out, thumb still pushing along your clit.

“God,” you pant, pushing your head upwards against the wall, “Mmm, I can’t—” his fingers push deeper and the words are gone, like they never even existed in the first place, “Fuck.”

Bucky pushes the smooth blade against your throat just a little harder— the sharp edge forcing your chin upward a little more. He flattens his thumb against your lower stomach, starts to pull his fingers, not push them. The heel of his palm starts to slap against your skin as you buck into the motion.

Your hands slip up to his shoulders, both arms wrapping lazily around either side of his neck. The soft hum from earlier is replaced with high pitched whimpers and breathy little squeaks. Bitten off words fall from your lips as you squirm against the wall, wanting him deeper, faster, harder— which he delivers without you having to say a word.

He grabs your cheeks, pinching hard as the blade flattens across your pouty lips. A weak, desperate whimper sounds, all your resolve gone. Whatever leverage you thought you had completely wiped away— and it makes a wicked grin spread on Bucky’s lips.

“You close, baby? Hmm?” he hums, licking at your mouth again, “Oh sweet girl, you wanna come, huh? You gonna come for me?”

He strokes your clit with the tip of his thumb, your walls clenching around his fingers. The gentle encouragement continues, real soft and between sweet little kisses all over your face. A dull ache settles in your belly, a thick heat starting to stir within. Your heart leaps into your throat as your hips pump with Bucky’s hand, the release so close you can taste it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, “‘m gonna fuckin—”

“You want it? Huh? Want me to make you come honey?”

You squeak in response, nodding fast as you bite down into your lip, “Please. Please.”

Heat ripples through your body as you start to tremble, legs going shaky and weak. Muscles start to burn all over as you tense hard, coaxing the sweet agony swirling in your stomach. You cry out, his name hanging on your lips as the rush of it all pushes higher and higher.

Just as you start to unravel, just as the coil begins to snap, his fingers are gone. Pulled from your cunt and clit. You’re whipped around his body, forced back towards the bed. Your mind racing— maybe you’ll be getting some of that cock afterall.

Or not.

Metal slaps around your wrist, bites into the skin as it clamps down, the clink of teeth sliding into the lock housing ringing in your ears. You snap your head towards the sound when it all finally connects in your murky brain. The horror of realization floods into your veins— blood running cold as your stomach drops to your feet.

The handcuffs clink against the dark metal headboard as you fight against it, “You bastard! You fuckin’ piece of shit, let me go!” you shout, thrashing your arm back and forth, pulling as hard as you can, “Goddamn it— let me the fuck go! I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you bast—”

“Ooph,” Bucky jests, octave rising as he slips back into his jeans, “You got a filthy little mouth on you.”

“Fuck you!”

He scoffs, laughing gently as he pulls his black shirt back over his head. The bastard even starts to hum as he plops down on the edge of the bed, taking his time while he pushes his feet back into his boots and shrugs into his jacket.

You keep sharp eyes on him as he stands and turns to face you, dangling a pair of small silver keys next to his grinning face before he tosses them somewhere deep in the apartment. You swipe at him with your free hand as he approaches, just barely catching his chin as he kneals down, “I’m gonna kill you,” you smile, a blind rage engulfing every pore, every muscle, every ounce of your body.

Bucky shrugs, “Not tonight, sweets. Listen, tell Sam I’m sorry about the mess, hm?”

“Who the fuck is Sam?” you hiss.

He looks down at his watch, “Yeah, he should be home in about an hour. It’s not everyday you walk into your apartment to find a naked, wannabe assassin handcuffed to your bed, so, give him my apologies— wait, you know about Sam, right? The new Cap, they made it official a couple of weeks ago.”

Your jaw clenches as you stare back at his smiling face, more humiliation pouring through you as you realize he’s had you pegged the entire goddamn time.

“Oh baby,” he laughs again, “You didn’t honestly think I’d take you back to my place, did you? I don’t even know you— you kids today are so reckless.”

Blue eyes bounce between yours for a few seconds before he glances down at his hands, works them back into his black gloves. He pulls your butterfly knife from his back pocket and starts to play with it, flicking his wrist to close it, and then open it over and over again.

“I’m keeping this,” he offers as he locks it closed and slips it back into his pocket, “Maybe you’ll find the balls to try and take it from me.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head, “I’m taking it back.”

Bucky stands, the sound of his heavy boots sounding through the apartment as he moves towards the door, “I look forward to it kiddo.”

***

If there’s one thing you respect about Bucky Barnes, it’s his attention to detail.

Right on the dot, exactly one hour later, you snap your head towards the front door as keys start to jingle in the lock. With the bed sheet wrapped loosely around your torso, you straighten up against the wall, eyes wide as you watch an exhausted Samuel Thomas Wilson walk into his apartment.

“Oh, fuck!” he shouts, jumping slightly and dropping his bag to the floor when he locks eyes with you, “What in the fuck?”

“I can explain… sort of.” you start, holding up your hand.

You apparently don’t need to. Sam’s phone is to his ear within seconds as he starts to pace back and forth, “Bucky, this is not why I gave you a key to my mother fuckin’ apartment!”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #decadeundertheinfluencechallenge #5k...holy god

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

Note

Hiya~ Can I request quote 9) "Are you jealous?" for Lucifer in Obey Me! pretty please😊

This was so much fun to write! Luci know that he gets jealous but never wants to admit (his jealousy is worse than Mammon but you didn’t hear it from me 🤭) and sorry this got kinda long! Reader is gender neutral!

TW: suggestive/spicy themes, but nothing extremely graphic is mentioned

Prompt: “Are you jealous?” with Lucifer!

Lucifer is pissed.

He’s tapping his foot, and constantly checking his phone, waiting in his study for you to either walk in or call him. It’s late, and you’re still not home yet. He asked his brothers where exactly you are, and when Asmo told him that you’re out with the same “friend” you seem to blow all of them off for some time now, it just makes his mood turn even more sour, the scowl on his face deepening.

Now, Lucifer is not opposed to you making friends, as long as they aren’t a threat to you, his family, Lord Diavolo and the other exchange students. He understands that it’s very easy for you to connect with others, intentional or not, and he encourages it to a certain extent. However, this same “friend” that you’ve been increasingly been hanging out with for the past couple of weeks is starting to rub him the wrong way. Of course he’s met this “friend”, a classmate from your Seductive Speechcraft class (which just made him feel more unease with you being with them), and they seemed harmless enough (for a demon at least). Annoying, but harmless, at first.

Then began the constant need for your attention.

It started with the messages and calls under the guise of studying, the “innocent” demon begging you for help so that they can pass the class, and you being the naive nice human that you are of course obliged their request. Then it escalated from once a week, to three times a week, to almost staying after school every day just to “help”. He didn’t like that, as it’s him or his brothers that always walk you home every time, and this demon (who he found is Yuki, a demon who feeds off of sexual energy nonetheless), is messing with the routine, but he kept his cool and forced his brothers to do the same. He- They weren’t happy about this, but at the end of the day, you’re still coming home to him- them, and nothing is changing that. Not to mention how he made sure that someone had their eyes on you, whether it’s Mammon, Beel, or even himself (which he preferred).

Until Yuki decided that you need to hang out more, without him or his brothers.

That’s when he made it known of his dislike towards them, and dislike is putting it lightly.

You started to come home right at dinner, right before Beel devoured your plate. Mammon obviously voiced his displeasure aloud, with the others silently agreeing or making passing comments, but Lucifer would just shut the conversation down before anyone gets too upset, mainly for himself. He doesn’t want to lose control over something trivial like this, he can’t, he won’t- he’s well above some minuscule pest like them, and it would be a waste of time and energy to be worried about someone who is clearly below him!

He’s already irritated with Yuki integrating themselves into your everyday life, but he’s also trying to fight the increasing sinking feeling in his stomach the more you both bond.

The more you two become more than acquainted with one another, the more Lucifer tries to fight and hide this feeling. He buries himself in more paperwork, practically locks himself in his study, avoids anyone’s questions or concerns, and has become overall snappier than usual. He’s even snapped on Lord Diavolo, Lord Diavolo of all people!

(Granted Diavolo just thought it was overall stress, so he just simply laughed it off, but it didn’t go unnoticed by everyone, including you).

Now Lucifer is not stupid, he’s a very intelligent and powerful demon, and he doesn’t have to say it to be known. He made sure to do some research himself on Yuki, and didn’t put anything past them. You’re still surrounded by demons who wouldn’t hesitate to swallow you whole if allowed, and some are still desperate enough to try anything, so he’s very cautious with others being around you.

Which leads to now, you being out again with that demon at The Fall. Ever since, Lucifer retired to his study, constantly checking his phone for any updates. He refused to look distressed in front of everyone, and he knows that you’re smart and not so gullible, you’ll be okay, you had to be.

It’s well going on 1 in the morning, and you still haven’t answered any of his calls and texts? You swore that you would always answer him, so something had to happen. What exactly were you doing? What exactly were you two doing? We’re you okay? Are you safe? Has that Yuki tried anything with you?

Were you two doing anything now?

All of these questions swirling around in his head, his worry only adding on to his frustrations and building tension going through his body.

He already marched down to the door, coat forgotten and tie undone, flinging it open and scowl so deep that his fangs were bared. That Yuki better hope that you come home in one piece and spotless, or else he will make sure that they regret being alive-

He couldn’t wipe the surprised look on his face when he made eye contact with you, who was matching his own expression, hand frozen in the air mid knock.

“Lucifer? What are you still doing up? Are you about to go somewhere?” His expression quickly morphed to one of high distaste, the irritation displaying clearly on his face and his grip tightening on the door.

“I was still awake waiting for you. Have you forgotten how to use a phone, or are you too good for one now that you’re with your ‘friend’. And I remember specifically telling you to let me know when you leave, did I not?”

“Oh. Well...my phone kinda died, but I was already on the way home and-”

“By yourself?! Do you know how irresponsible that is? Do you forget that you’re a mere human?”

His irritation is rising to pure anger at this revelation. So that demon didn’t even have the decency to walk you home? To make sure that you arrive safe? And yet you still have the nerve to spend time with them and practically ignore him?!-

“Well- um, Lucifer? Lucifer!”

He snapped out of his murderous thoughts, and stepped aside to let you in.

“Come inside now, it’s late, and we have much to discuss.”

Your face scrunched up, showing confusion in how he’s acting. You know that’s he mad about your phone being dead, but he’s mad enough to leave the door barely hanging on its hinges? But you knew that arguing or pointing it out would just make things escalate, so you just stepped past and began to make your way up the stairs.

You can feel his eyes bore into the back of your head, but you just didn’t understand why. It’s about more than just your phone, it seemed like he’s been on edge for awhile now. You want to approach him, to ask him what’s wrong, to have him open up, but of course Lucifer being Lucifer, it was to no avail.

You racked your brain as he lead you to his room and began the “conversation” about how irresponsible you were being (really it’s just him getting whatever he needed off his chest and not you giving any input). Was it because of you going out so late? No, you didn’t drink, you and Yuki stayed together the whole night, and you let him know hours before. Was it Yuki? Now that you’re think about it, he has been frowning more it seemed like every time you brought up their name-

The pieces are starting to fit together now.

Oh my Diavolo.

You couldn’t stop the words escaping from your mouth before you could realize it.

“Lucifer, are you jealous?”

He choked in the middle of his sentence, and the room went quiet. You’re pretty sure that you can’t even hear him breathing, and his face just went entirely blank, no expression whatsoever.

Oh no, you broke him-

A gust of wind erupted, so strong that you had to shield your eyes for a second, and when you removed your arm, you were met with massive black wings and a very enraged demon.

“Excuse me?”

You stepped back until you stumbled onto the bed, as he stalks closer and closer to you.

“Care to repeat yourself?”

You knew better than to respond, and you felt frozen on the bed. You also know that Lucifer won’t attack or try to kill you, but it didn’t take away from the fact that he has moments where he’s very intimidating, one of those moments being now.

He’s looking down at you like a predator would to its captured prey, his ruby eyes glowing deviously in the dim room. He didn’t stop moving until he was on top of you, caging you in.

“Me? Jealous?” He scoffed. “I am the Avatar of Pride, the most powerful being in this house, yet you assume that I’m jealous of a demon that’s beneath me? You insult me, MC.”

He took hold of your chin, “Do you not remember what I said when we made the pact? You are mine and mine alone. Not anyone else’s, but mine.”

You felt like your nerves were getting the best of you, but you couldn’t force yourself to tear away as he leaned closer. He sealed his lips against yours in a heated kiss, one that you gladly accepted, not before uttering the words that made your heart race even faster.

“Maybe I should remind you of who you belong to, hm?”

—-

“Had a fun night, MC?”

“Yeah, it was”, you coughed in your hand. “Very nice, very fun. We had a great time.”

“Hmmmmm...you and Yuki or you and Lucifer?”

“Asmo!”

He giggled, “I’m just saying dear. I don’t sense the pent-up sexual frustration from Lucifer anymore, and he seems back to normal and even relaxed. Though I must say MC, I wish that you had spent the night in my bed instead.”

“Of course you do Asmo.”

“Besides, I would have covered your hickeys much better-”

“ASMO-”

“MC, are you ready?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear has never been more true than now, as Lucifer appeared behind you both, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, yes, sorry.”

“Eh? Where are you two going?”

“Out.”

“And without me?!”

“Yes. Now, leave us be”. Lucifer moved his hand from your shoulder to your own hand, leading you both out the door. You two had plans for the day after the...eye-opening talk from last night, and he didn’t want to waste anymore time than he already had.

Bonus:

Asmo waited until he heard the door click, and then quickly whipped out his D.D.D. to text Yuki. He knew that the plan was going to be a success! A tense Lucifer made things more difficult for everyone, and he has too much pride to open his mouth so he decided to step in and team up with Yuki, who already knew about the whole ordeal.

Lucifer was already on the edge of snapping and letting his primal instincts take over anyway, so Asmo just gave him a little push in the right direction.

Thank Diavolo the plan worked, or else it would be hell for them both. He did owe Yuki some exposure on his socials in exchange for this and backing off of you now, but it was well worth the trouble.

#obey me x reader #obey me reader insert #obey me Lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #Lucifer x reader #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me!#om! lucifer #OM! Lucifer x reader #dream’s 100 + 200 followers prompt special 💙

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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

Text

We found each other: Epilogue

*Credit to jensenandtheboys*

Pov: Dean

Chapter Summary: Happy endings are supposed to be awesome, but was this really a happy ending?

Pairings: Dean W. x Fem!Reader, Sam, OFC(Athena)

Chapter Tags: Pregnancy, fluff, smut, angst, mood swings, marriage.

A/n- @firefly-graphics Thank you for your amazing dividers. Also, this is the last part in the We Found Each Other Series

Word Count: 4.5k

We found each other Master List

Dean Winchester Master List

Main Master List

After learning that Y/n was pregnant and we were going to be parents. I set out to work longer hours, waking up earlier in the morning working later in the night. Packing away as much money as I could before our sweet child would arrive.

The morning sickness was still bad waking Y/n up at the ass crack of dawn and forcing her already growing body to stress even more. “You feeling any better? Now that you’ve pretty much thrown up last night’s dinner in its entirety.” I said to her, as she brushed her teeth in the early morning.

“I wouldn’t be such a dick to the women makin’ your baby.” She sassed back, as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was glowing, even under the fluorescent lights in the bathroom.

“Yeah, I should know better. I’ve got to get ready for work now baby, please be easy on yourself.” I said kissing her forehead and grabbing my jacket before leaving the house. The morning dew laid on the green lush yard, and hit my boots as I walked to my car.

Long days, and long nights. I hadn’t spent too much time with Y/n. The feeling of not being able to provide for her and our child stroke the wrong chord in my chest. The cherry on top was that we weren’t married. Not that it mattered to anyone else, but in my mind, It just felt wrong like we were doing life in the incorrect order.

When I got home that night, Y/n was half asleep on the couch. Her blue diners’ outfits still on. A bowl of chips and salsa with pickles sitting on the large coffee table in front of her. “Nasty concoction of food, but whatever,” I said under my breath, untying my laces, and throwing my jacket on a hook before walking over and gently moving the hair that had fallen in front of her face away.

She hummed, “De you’re home.” She said I smiled and looked at the clock that hung above the tv. “Just in time too baby,” I said watching as the arms in the clock moved still. ‘Thank the angels that tomorrow was Saturday.’ I thought to myself as I picked Y/n up, and like always she fit perfectly in my arms.

She hummed again, as we walked up the flight of stairs. Her arms swing around my neck and her nose nuzzling into my neck, as I felt her breath out a heavy sigh of almost relief. Kicking the bedroom open, I set Y/n down on her side. Going to work on her white tennis shoes, untying them, and throwing them into a soon-to-be-growing pile of dirty mess.

As I sat at the kitchen table the next morning looking over bills, and bank statements I realized just how much money in the past two months I had packed away. Stored for the baby, to make sure that they have a good life. A much better life than I ever had a chance at getting.

Not only was that money meant for the baby, but the idea of a wedding also popped into my head. With there not being many family members left behind for either of us I thought how simply a wedding could be for the two of us. I also thought just how much I’d enjoy it if Bobby, and maybe even Castiel could come a see us two get married.

Thought to go back and forth in my brain, much like a great game of ping pong. Always bouncing off the walls. Y/n came bounding down the stairs, hearing the sounds of creaks in the stairs alerting me to her glowing presence.

Covering my eyes with her hands, “Guess who?!” She whispered in my ear. Smiling, I thought for a moment, “I don’t know. Could it possibly be my splendid girlfriend?” I asked playing along with the ever-so-far-off game she was playing this morning.

“How’d you know.” She said sarcastically taking her hands away from my gaze, and taking a sip of my now-cold morning coffee. “Should you really be having coffee?” I asked. I had started reading a few baby books in my very little spare time.

My spare time was spent reading early in the mornings while I watched Y/n sleep blissfully. Her nightmares had stopped after learning that she a pregnant. An odd thing to happen, being told you’re pregnant and of all of a sudden your own body starts to protect itself from itself.

“Like I’ve already said I’ll do what I want when I want Winchester.” As she walked over to the fridge pulling out the contents of last night’s dinner. “You know my nausea is still rather bad. I wonder if it’s even worth it to eat if all I do is throw it back up.” She said making a rather understandable revelation.

“Well according to some of the baby books I’ve taken to. It’s rather very important for you to eat seeing as the baby takes the nutrients from not only you but the food your body receives.” I said I wished I had glasses at that moment. Because like an idiot I would have slide them up the bridge of my nose and looked rather studious I think.

She giggled, and closed the fridge door, coming over to sit in my open, and empty lap. “You know I was thinking.” She started I rolled my eyes, but she continued on. “We don’t have to get married like every other normal wedding. We don’t have a lot of people to come anyways. I know you’d like for your brother to... And you know there really isn’t anyone from my family.” She stated.

Her eyes slightly shining as the waterworks began. “Dear, why don’t we talk about it another time yeah?” I said bringing my hand up to her cheeks smooth my thumb over her soft and supple skin.

“Why don’t we go for a drive? We can get some morning bagels?” I said smiling as I tried to ease her ever-running mind. She hummed “Yeah bagels sound good.” She slipped from grasp skipping up the stairs. “I just have to change.” She yelled from the top of the stairs. I learned to not fight with her when it came to her getting ready for anything.

The drive was quiet, as I hummed and tapped my fingers to the quiet music playing in the background. I let my thoughts take over. Thinking about having a small child in the back seat, and them ruining the back seat, but their cute smile and huge eyes distracting me from the clear mess in the backseat.

After ordering bagels which I mind you fifteen isn’t the normal amount two people get. But according to Y/n our little one was already craving things and right now it was bagels. Y/n reached into the brown paper bag, pulling herself out a bagel, and a bagel for me.

We ate as I drove back home. Y/n finishing up her first bagel decided that she wanted the music on, but the song that was playing was a rather sad song. One minute Y/n was singing along to the lyrics, and the next she was balling her eyes out due to the lyrics. “That’s a really sad. So.. song.” She said hiccuping. “Oh baby, Let’s just turn the radio off then.” I cooed, but she swatted my hand away from my radio. “No, I’m listening to the song De.” She angrily said pouting in the passenger seat.

Four months into Y/n pregnancy, I could start to see her ever-growing belly. Her blue and white diners outfit still fits, but only barely. Even though I insist that Y/n doesn’t work, that I’ve got us financially. She doesn’t, she says it helps with the pain in her feet, and lower back to keep moving all day. “Dean I just wouldn’t know what to do at home all day,” Y/n said as she tied her white sneakers getting ready for the morning shift.

Another Friday passes, and Y/n forces me to take a daily picture of her. Her belly according to the picture as grown immensely. Round, but small is all I get from the picture, and as much as she forces me to do it. It’s become a part of our routine.

By now Y/n’s morning sickness had almost ceased, no more five in the morning wake-up calls, and the immediate sounds of /n hurling her food away. I drive out first, and I see Y/n back-up light shine in the dark setting of the early morning.

Today’s garage work isn’t bad. We’ve got a car that needs an oil change, one that has a horrible ticking noise that I’ve spent that past week trying to figure out, and of course, the owner’s wife’s car is in. Just a routine check-up on that one.

Speaking of check-ups Y/n’s fourth check-up of her pregnancy went pretty well at the start of the week. The doctor had told us that we could know the gender of our baby in the next few weeks if we wanted.

“Do you want to know that baby’s sex?” The doc asked as she did a rather thorough check-up on Y/n. Y/n was the first to speak, “No I’d like to wait. Have it be a surprise!” She said as the doc continued to touch Y/n bare belly. Then the doc looked up, looked me in my eyes. A raise in her brows “And you?” She asked. Thinking about knowing the gender of the baby was good and all, but again I wasn’t the one holding them, or even making them that all was Y/n.

“Whatever Y/n wants,” I said kissing her forehead. A blush fell over Y/n cheeks, and when I looked out of the corner of my eye the doc was smiling. As much as I loved to say that Y/n mood swings are any better they really aren’t. She cries during every movie we watch regardless of whether or not it’s a comedy or a romantic movie. She cries hard when I make dinner, “Ba.. baby you didn’t have to.” She cooed as I set a full plate of food down in front of her. I roll my eyes sitting down next to her, taking her hand in mine.

“Yes, I did sweetheart. You need food, and well I’m the best damn cook in this here town.” I said throwing a ridiculous southern voice on it. She laughs, and her face glows once again. Her tears dry on her cheeks and her big heart shines through just like always.

“Y/n L/n, will you marry me?” I ask on one knee. We are out for a normal dinner. At the diner, Y/n works at. She staring at the ring in the box. A three-stoned ring that has a gold band. “Yes!” Y/n sassed the crowd that had surrounded us was cheering. A huge slice of apple pie was placed in front of us. “It’s on us, dear.” The older waitress said pointing to the manager standing at the cashier station. She waved and Y/n waved back. I noticed as the ring shined under the diner’s lights.

“I probably should have proposed at the coffee shop,” I said laughing. Y/n looked down at her hand noticing the same glimmer of her ring. “Don’ get too nostalgic on me now.” She sassed. Picking up her fork and taking a huge bite from the pie. “This kid is definitely yours the urge to eat the pie has been huge since we walked in here,” Y/n said.

I smiled. But something stops the thoughts of happiness quickly, and as quickly as I’ve been taken over by the odd feeling at the pit of my stomach, it’s gone. Like a leaf in the wind during fall. That odd feeling, I felt like someone was watching me. Watching me from behind the lamp post.

“So I was thinking we could just go down to the courthouse, get married there,” Y/n said after shoving another spoon full of pie into her mouth. I laughed questioning her thought, “Are you sure, don’t you want a wedding that’s wild, and bold?” I asked. She turned her head slightly at my question.

“Any day with you regardless of where we are together. Dean that’s all I really need. No huge wedding, just a few special words something like ‘I do’.” Y/n said smiling at me. The same damn smile that I have fallen in love with so many years ago. The same smile that tortured me for those days I was gone, the same damn smile that had me climbing into my car, and drive beg at her door forgiveness.

“Why don’t we go right now!.” Y/n said already pulling out a few bills, and throwing them onto the table, before sliding out of the booth. I know better now than to argue with her, especially now that she’s growing a baby. So I nod in agreement, sliding from the booth and to my feet.

We stand in front of a justice of the peace in the court of law. Of course, if we were to ever say re-do our vows I’d love for them to be done in front of friends and family. But I digress. Our witness stands off the side, the owner of the garage which was very nice of him along with his wife. He came over to me before the justice of peace walked out “Son, you two are the most lovely couple. I’ve been tellin’ my wife all about you too.’ His wife waves from the distance, and he continues. “She says that you two remind her of us when we were much younger.” He said before patting my back and leaving.

Y/n giggles as I turn. Her jeans and sweater contrast nicely with her skin tone. Wearing normal clothes while getting married. Never in my life before her did I think I’d get married have a daughter or a son, or even get a chance at a normal life. There is something that Y/n will never understand. Just how much hope and love she really has brought into my life.

Within minutes our court wedding is over. My boss had signed on as our witness, and we walk out holding hands. A precious moment lay at our feet as we walk out of the courthouse and into the fall-like day.

Month 6 was good, time had passed leaving me with very few shirts left as Y/n decided all of them were hers for the keeping. Y/n’s belly had made it rather difficult to fit in her clothes, which caused a few fits, and stray tears to fall down her cheeks. “Baby, can you just let me borrow your clothes for a while?” She stressed as she combed her finger through her thick and wild untamed hair.

I shook my head and went to look for more comfortable clothes. “Can you please take off of work now?” I asked digging in through my draw. Finding a pair of old sweats and then going to search through my side of the closet. “I’m fine Dean, I just need. GOD,’ She yelled I turned around quickly searching her face for pain, or panic. Nothing. “I’m so fucking hot, what do you have in this house. HELL?” She yelled at me. I just stared and stayed quiet for a moment.

Just as quickly as the anger had passed the tears had rolled down her face. Hiccuping and apologizing profusely. “De... De I’m sorry. I didn’t mean.” I’m quick to cut her off in her fit of tears racing over to wipe away any stray tears. “Baby It’s okay I understand. Why don’t you put my old sweats on, and my shirt that you love so much yeah?” I said handing her the soft cotton material.

She snuffles and pulls the too-tight shirt over her breasts that have gotten bigger, and much sexier over her head and throwing it into the overbearing chair filled with clothes. “Here babe let me help,” I said brushing my calloused hands over her smooth and soft skin. I hear the long release of a sigh, Y/n has seemed to calm down.

I help her into the shirt and sweats before kissing her. “Do you have to leave? Right now?” Y/n says her hands resting on my chest. She’s giving me that look. That cat and mouse game with only her eyes. “Why do you ask sweetheart?” I ask, I know this game. This is the game that has us standing here right now.

“What else have you read in those baby books of your Mister?” She asks her fingers raising on my chest right to the top of my shirt. “I’ve read a few things. What do you wanna know baby doll?” I ask, my hands resting on her hips, pulling her close. But her bump forcing us to stay apart. “I want to know.” She said winking at me “I wanna know if you still can make me see stars?”

A sass lingers in the air. I take my time kissing her lips hard. Teeth hitting each other, moans bursting through each other’s mouths. Her hands grasping for my flesh under her nails, and hands stay firm on her hips, we barely make it to the bed. I push Y/n gently onto the bed letting the back of her knees hit the bed, and it lets her fall softly.

We stay like this for a few moments, just gazing into each other eyes. I’m hovering over her body, her belly is the most obvious thing. “Take me De.” Y/n breathes out. I slip my hands into my shirt pulling mine off and throwing it onto the floor. I do the same with Y/n’s shirt letting it hit the floor.

“So... Much for the shirt being clean,” I mutter as I kiss a line from her jaw to her breasts. She arches her back leaning her body closer into my lips. Gasping for that sweet release, to chase the thrill. “Do you want me to take these off?” I ask, I’m acting cocky because I know that I have ultimate control over this whole thing.

She begs me, I slip my hands into the waistband of the sweats. I slip them down her wide hips, and down her smooth legs. Before they pool and she kicks to get them off of her body. “Look at you,” I say grazing my hand over her belly bump, and up to gently squeeze her breast. She moans cursing my name.

“I haven’t even touched you.” It’s a bold statement, but she’s already trembling and I’ve barely made contact with that supple skin between her warm thighs. Her black bra matches her panties. “Goerguoes you know baby,” I say pointing out the lace fringe on the ends of both pieces. Unclipping her bra I let her breasts go free, she moans as I lick one nipple before giving the other breast the same treatment.

Another arch of her back, and she’s trying to get more of my touch. I let my hands slide down her sides, rubbing gentle circles into her bump, passing her heat, and letting my hands graze down her legs.

I pushed my two hands between her knees, pushing her legs open. I take a glance at the bedside clock. It’s blinking four red digits.

‘8:35’

“Please, De.” She whined. I take a deep breath. Letting Y/n’s whine seep into my brain. “Let me just.” I hesitate. Falling to my knees, blowing a slow puff of air between her soft thighs. She shivers goosebumps flood onto her skin.

“Jeez, De,” Y/n says, huffing as she pulls the cover over her sweaty body. Pulling my side of the sheets over my body we sat in silence with Y/n’s head resting on my chest. I pull her closer and take a quick look at the clock. Reads ‘10:00’. “We make good time,” I said petting her matted hair.

“What do you mean?” She asks her voice sounds sleepy. “I’m just sayin’ the last time I looked at the clock it’s was early morning.” Y/n swatted my chest. A laugh emitting from my chest and causing Y/n to fall into a laughing fit.

Month 8 of pregnancy was strong, and the most definitely difficult for Y/n. For Y/n she had been going through the last stages of pregnancy. Our sweet baby had officially shifted. Causing Y/n’s hips, and feet to swell as she figured she’d probably be better if she stayed in bed.

“Will you please take FMLA?” I pleaded. Y/n looked like she was going to pop. Looked like she had swallowed a whole watermelon. “Dean can you stop asking me that!” Y/n said frustrated with my constant nagging of her safety.

A pregnant pause, before I say anything. “Y/n sweetheart,” I say walking towards her on the couch. Her feet were propped up by way too many pillows. “Y/n, I’m not meaning to be so annoying. I just worry for you, and the baby’s safety is all.” I say as I crouch and rest my hand on her bump.

I was trying to be supportive of her. Of my wife I can say that now I forget it sometimes. “I know, I’m just tired all the time. I want this to be over, but at the same, I don’t wanna lose this feeling.” Heer hands resting over my much bigger ones. I smile, but the frown on Y/ns face is hard to take away.

“Look baby I know that you’ll miss this, but remember. In just a few weeks you’ll have our kiddo in your arms” I said in a supportive tone. She nods her head, tears brimming wanting to escape her eyes. She gives off a shaky breath, before finally smiling down at me.

By the end of month 8, we’d been to the hospital at least four times. According to Y/n’s doctor, the Braxton hicks contraction was only to get worse without the last month of her pregnancy. “They will get worse, but that’s since your child has already begun to shift, and is more than ready to meet her two loving parents.” The doctor said. Our cue that the appointment is over as the doctor gets up to leave.

Two days later there’s a knock at the front door. Nobody is known to come this far out of town, and nobody really needs us for anything. I’m in the kitchen, Y/n yells “I’ll get it De!” I see her struggle to get off the side of the couch and stand to her feet.

Her bump makes seeing her feet a rather difficult challenge every day. Y/n starts to waddle to the front door, I have a bad inkling and I go for a secret stash of weapons. My gun is and has been taped to the under of the kitchen table since I moved in the second time. When Y/n and I got married I figured that I’d have a few people lookin’ to cut my new family apart now.

Another knock, “Impatient damn people “ I hear Y/n huff, before hearing the click of the lock. A silence rings through the house. A voice, so familiar says something, but I don’t catch it. Another bit of silence. “Hey, Y/n.” It’s clear, strong and so fucking familiar.

A shriek and I’m rushing from the kitchen apron and all. “De.. calm down take a breath.” Y/n tries to reason with me. “Hey, Dean.” My mouth is left gaping, as I reach for my gun behind my back that was stuffed in the waist of my jeans.

“I’m me I promise. Here look!” He pleads with me, pulling out his switchblade knife. I tug Y/n by the arm and pull her behind me. “Listen to me whatever you are it isn’t my brother,” I yell. My gun stopping at his head. The bleed surfaces to the top of his cut, and he pulls out a bottle of holy water. Taking a long swig. Nothing was happening.

“Sammy?” I asked keeping my gun at the same level. “Dean? Do you mind lowering the gun?” He asked pointing at the barrel. I stumble, locking the gun, and throwing it onto the side table. I feel Y/n hand on my shoulder gripping a little too tight for comfort.

“Y/n sweetheart, you okay?” I ask. She hums and smiles. I turn my attention to my younger brother. All those days, weeks, and months. “I really did think you were dead,” I said hugging my brother for the first time since what seemed like years ago.

“I thought you made a deal,” Sam said patting my shoulder. “Y/n are you?” He asks, I can feel Y/n’s smile. “Yes, we are, due any day now.” She got out. Sometimes like magic things happen. I feel the grip of Y/n’s hand on my bicep.

I leave my embrace with Sam. I turn a look of concern tracing my features. “I think.. De, I think my water just broke.” It sends me into a panic, I rush to turn off the stove, grabbing bags. And when I’ve made it back the front door. Sam and Y/n are gone.

I rush outside Sam has her in his arms, carrying her and waiting for me. “Damn I missed havin’ you around,” I said locking the doors, and throwing him the keys. Too many coffees later, and a slue of curses thrown at me. Y/n has given birth to our beautiful daughter. Y/n had let Sammy stay in the room his hands grasped around her opposite hand.

“Birth names I don’t remember any of them,” Y/n said, looking at our daughter wrapped in a pink blanket in her arms. “Damn it... Dang, it. I don’t have anything.” Sam raises his hand like a student in a lecture class. I nod my head, Y/n looks over at him

“What about Athena?” He suggests. A curl in my brow, as I try to catch the drift. I can see the smile on Y/n’s face though. “You mean like Athena god of war and a protector?” Sam hums and smiles.

“Whatever you want honey,” I say kissing my wife’s head and kissing our newborn’s head. “Well, Athena it is then. Thank you, Uncle Sammy.” y/n says looking back down at her. Bright eyes stare at each other, and my world is complete. My brother is back healthy at least for now, my wife is safe and sound given birth to our wonderful child, and not to forget my beautiful daughter Athen is finally with us.

I love them all more than I can wrap my tiny brain around.

Completed on: 08/10/2021

Posted on: 08/16/2021

Deanie Beanie Tag list: @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl@hit-meup69 @fofisstilinski @doctorlilo @wonderfulworldofwinchester

We found each other Tag List: @samsgirl93 @stoneyggirl2 @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

dreams come true | yuta

"soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks." — ny

[ part of the my bloody valentine collection ]

tw. gore, blood, murder, death, killings, mentions of illegal organ trafficking, violence, mentions of stalking, minor character deaths, weapons (a knife and a gun), almost (??) suggestive content but nothing happened

disc. this is rlly fucked up and yuta is unredeemable. i dont condone such acts. this is all a work of fiction and meant to entertain.

wc. 5k

every time you sleep, the void is sickening. it was all you could see, lightyears and lightyears away of pitch black that made your head dizzy and your stomach dry heave. you've always wondered when you'll start dreaming about your soulmate's memories. they were like little secrets, another way for two people to be intimate without even being together. their days were flashing before their soulmate's eyes in the form of a dream. it's as if you spent the day with them!

you loved it, the whole concept of it. it sounded so wholesome and sweet and jesus fucking christ, you've always been such a hopeless romantic.

it was sweet until it turned sour. you loved it until you hated it. it was romantic until it turned downright terrifying.

you wake up covered in cold sweat, panting and gasping as if you've run a whole marathon.

moonlight seeps through your glass window, slightly left ajar for the midnight breeze to pass through – you walk up to it, pull it shut, and draw your thick curtains together. you exhaled, breath shaking as you tried to anchor yourself back to the ground.

with the only source of your light disappearing, darkness envelops you whole. for once, you craved the void. you want that void back if it meant never seeing something like that again – something straight out of your worst nightmare.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"uhm, i think… i think i just witnessed a massacre."

you reiterate everything you saw in the dream – the mahogany door, paint chipping off the drywalls. the doorknob was rusty, so were the hinges, and it made an ominous creak when pushed open. the light switches on, the first you see was a bunch of dirty ice coolers in what should've been the living room, it wasn't even the slightest bit organized. they were everywhere, and the floor looked grimy and disgusting, like there's a stain they can't seem to scrub off. only when your soulmate has stalked closer did you see the labels haphazardly taped on top of the ice coolers.

kidneys. livers. lungs. pancreas. intestines – you nearly vomited on the floor, trying to relay everything you saw to the operator on the other end of the call.

then came the gruesome parts.

their deaths.

they were five people in total. men clad in cheap t-shirts and pants, wearing all these similar leather jackets. some were well-built, ripped in the arms and thighs, but some were skinny, the jackets hanging on their small frames.

they never stood a chance against him.

your soulmate is agile, quick on his feet with outstanding eye-hand coordination. only equipped with a butcher's knife, but it was all he needed to take them down and send them knocking on inferno's gates. he was skilled, knowing when to pounce and where to slash his knife to maim but never to kill. by the time your soulmate was through with them, everything is bloody red. all the victims' eyes widened as they sputtered and choked on their blood – not dead, but dying...

because your soulmate wasn't done yet.

a killer should have a modus operandi, should they not? so he took out a desert eagle, stood before the bleeding bodies, and shot two bullets straight into their eyes. the finishing touch? carving a frown on their faces with his butcher's knife.

the operator only told you one thing after she's made you describe the place for them to track the crime scene down.

"double-check all your windows and doors."

because you couldn't be too sure, not when you have been granted a front seat to the sad face slayer's most recent endeavors.

the detective eyes you with a certain pity. maybe that's why you don't bother meeting his eyes. you sit still on a chair, camera blinking red behind him, the interrogation room is freezing even with the thick jacket you're wearing.

seven billion people in the world and you're soulmate's a ruthless serial killer who took it upon himself to purge the world of evildoers – he was playing god, no wonder the detective is looking at you like that.

"uhh…" he's awkward, fidgeting in his seat. "and you saw this all in a dream?"

"yes."

you've known him only minutes ago. mark lee was his name and he seems to be a subordinate of a higher, more experienced detective named kim doyoung. you don't know whether to feel offended or not for having a doe-eyed newbie taking care of the case, but you pushed it at the back of your mind, knowing his superior is watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"did you have, like, other past instances where you dreamt of him? of what he…" mark looked like he was going to throw up. "what he does to his other victims?"

you shook your head. no. "i've mostly just heard of him on the news. i don't think i have the stomach to find out in-depth what the killer does."

mark takes out a folder, features walking the fine white line between looking apologetic or wanting to say me too. "i'm, uhh, really sorry to hear that."

there's a sudden pregnant silence encapsulating the interrogation room. it felt like you were mourning for something, the chains of dread dragging your heart to the ground as it pounded against your ribcage. mark looked like he wanted to say something, but you swore his eyes darted towards the camera in the corner and decided otherwise.

"anyway…" he trails. flipping the folder open in one swift motion. "past sightings have given us the sad face slayer's name."

he slaps down a picture of a man, his hair raven and a permanent scowl etched on his face. the quality was shitty. it looked like it was a screenshot taken from zoomed-in cctv footage.

"nakamoto yuta, twenty-five, japanese, and has slipped one too many times past authorities that at this point, it's practically a talent."

and just like that, it made sense why you're here.

your lips pursed in contemplation, palms quaking as your fingers reach forward to inspect your soulmate's picture. "and… you want to use my soulmate connection –" you glowered. never had a sentence sounded so fucking cursed and utterly wrong. "– to catch him?"

mark can't look you in the eye. "yes. he's very elusive. his killings have been happening cross-country and, as you can see, have garnered national media attention. the police are hanging by a thread here. a month in his case and all we got is his MO, name, and that he has this weird god complex on him. if we can't catch him by the end of next month…" he shrugs. "the feds are going to interfere, sooner or later."

"so…" you trail, urging him to continue.

"so, we need as much information about him as we can get and your dreams about him will be able to provide that."

fucking great.

the much newer revelations of precisely who it was on the other end of the soulmate connection put a significant damper on your mood. you'd like to think your new little cop buddy who follows you around gives you the least bit sense of security, but alas, it doesn't. not when you've seen first hand how yuta took down five men all at once without breaking a fucking sweat – you absolutely refuse to call him your soulmate, you'd never accept a person with his nature as a soulmate.

you try to hide the bracelet mark handed you last two weeks ago, during your time spent in the precinct's interrogation room.

"please have this on you at all times until we catch him, okay? this is for extra measures, just in case something happens to the cop assigned to guard you. just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?"

considering you're now probably being hunted alive for snitching on a serial killer? mark lee, that was not funny at all.

"do you have to get inside the lecture with me?" you whine, shielding your face with your hair when you notice people shooting glances at the rather handsome cop they assigned to you. "it's not like he'll attack in broad daylight! and in a fucking classroom, for that matter."

jaehyun looks just about ready to hurl you out the window. "lower down your voice," he scolds. "serial killers don't pick a time and place, sweetheart. he kills when necessary and if it's fucking necessary to murder everyone in that classroom to get to you? he'll do it in a fucking heartbeat."

you sigh when the chair next to you screeches against the floor, the aforementioned male taking his seat right next to you. jaehyun felt more like a babysitter than a cop, who seems to have a habit of constantly inputting his not-even-needed opinions on the most superficial things.

are witness protection protocols like this?

it was a good thing that overgrown bat doesn't come hanging around in your apartment, but he does have the police car parked right across the building's entrance. judging by how meticulous and thorough he seems to be, he won't miss any face that comes in and out of the building.

you didn't forget exactly why you're under witness protection. for the cops to waste one good officer to follow you around, you needed to be valuable and being valuable meant sleeping through nightmare-induced dreams of what your soulmate does for a living. the scenes are so gruesome, so graphic and utterly gory, that you dart towards the bathroom first thing after waking up in cold sweat, draining all of dinner down the toilet bowl.

after dreaming of him in action a few times, you've now completely understood what detective lee had said regarding yuta's god complex. it was unsightly, yet there was a twisted sense of heroism to it. if there's one thing, he only gutted the bad guys – but that didn't make nakamoto yuta any less of a bad guy, himself.

i need to ask you a favor [sent 2:05am]

JJH: what? [received 2:10am]

often the nightmares were too much. too much that you thought of escaping its horrors by never getting a wink of sleep ever again – until you realized you're a witness and is probably the only chance for the seoul police department to catch that bastard.

buy me sleeping pills? [read 2:08am]

when you peep out of the window, you find an empty spot across the road where jaehyun usually parks the police car. twenty minutes later, you answer the knocking on your door. he used that little "code" he did for you to know it was him. jaehyun was glowering and muttering about how he wasn't some errand boy when he shoved the plastic bottle in your hand yet, you still thanked him nonetheless.

the pills worked like a charm. you managed to stay asleep throughout the whole night, ceasing those episodes of yours where you jolt awake in the middle of dreaming about the sad face slayer's memories.

life continued for you. it became a little bearable, but that didn't mean the horrific murders you see in your dreams are something you can get used to – you don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of him slashing his victims, the blood trickling like a goddamned waterfall.

today the dreams were different. anticlimactic, per se, if you compare it to the violence so utterly present in his memories.

the first you see were black gates, then it shifted to him ordering coffee in a café (amazing what a simple black mask can hide). it switched to him walking on a sidewalk, then he arrives at his destination, an apartment building – it wasn't too rundown, nor was it extravagant.

the serial killer takes the elevator and walks up to a mahogany door –

your room number is a blaring sight.

you couldn't be wrong, not when the 506 with the missing zero in the middle was a sight you saw every day, going and coming home from university.

that was your front door.

he was at your front door.

you jolt awake, ignoring the icky feel of sweat making your clothes cling onto your skin. ice creeps up your spine and freezes you over when you notice with a sinking realization.

those black gates are from the university you attended. that café is your favorite study nook. and that sidewalk is a route you take every day.

you clamp your hands on your mouth as tears roll down your cheeks in rivulets. you pull the comforters up above your head, fear gripping onto you with a vice-like grip as you sob.

it was in the dead of night, moonlight grazing the confines of your room and hours away from dusk. you finally utter those three words in a frightened whisper.

"he's stalking me."

as if having the overgrown bat jaehyun following and annoying you around wasn't enough, you now have another person keeping watch over you. mark lee, unlike jaehyun, may not be as ripped with muscle, but you heard from your cop buddy that the young detective has a few black belts under him. people at the precinct said that if they have to choose one person who can ever come close to the sad face slayer's agility, mark lee's your guy.

"you gotta be shitting me," you mutter, leaning close to jaehyun to whisper like high school girls talking about gossip. "he doesn't look the type!"

jaehyun, in turn, plays along and copies you. "yeah, true. he gets that a lot, i think,"

"guys, i'm literally in the back seat. i can hear everything."

the change hadn't been too drastic. at least mark was there when jaehyun proved to be difficult, pulling him towards the other way when the older male tried waltzing into your class again. "you don't need to sit next to her in her class! are you serious? there's one exit and entrance and we're on the fifth floor. breaking into that classroom will be the end of nakamoto's serial killer career!"

you shoot mark an appreciative smile, one he quickly returned before hauling jaehyun around the hallway. "we'll just be at the canteen, okay? press the 'lil button on your bracelet and we'll be right there!"

shaking your head with a slight smile on your face, you entered the classroom, sat in your usual spot, and did some of your readings from our other class to kill time. you hardly hear the screech of the chair next to you as it was pulled back. not like you cared much for whoever sat down next to you, but you can't deny there's that feeling of missing jaehyun when he used to force his way into the lecture.

"settle down! settle down, people!"

the professor enters and the class begins.

you were meticulous with your note-taking system. it's thorough, leaving no room for information to slip you. having already printed hard copies of the powerpoint presentation and simply jotting down some extra key points mentioned by your professor.

you were just about to raise your hand for a question when you feel something warm graze past your arm. you absentmindedly look down.

the breath is sucked right out of your lungs.

hi, soulmate

there, scribbled with an ominous red crayon on a small piece of paper. it was almost laughable how innocent it looked but when you follow the ring-clad hand, up the black hoodie he's wearing, and finally to his face—

"hi! i'm yuta."

his cheshire smile spikes up your heartbeat. it makes you want to throw up, makes you want to slam your head against the desk. the fight or flight hormone you have is making you restless, eyes pinned on the serial killer sitting next to you, scared that if you avert your gaze, he's going to take out that desert eagle and shoot you until your skull caves in and the bullets in his magazine empties.

"but judging by your reaction, i don't think introductions are needed, hm?" his tone is easy, conversational even and it shoots a freezing jolt of fear right up your spine. it makes you sweat profusely because you don't fucking know what to do, your thoughts in complete and utter disarray.

"just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?" you swallow, sneakily pressing the button without breaking eye contact with the serial killer sitting in front of you.

"look upfront. now." yuta orders and you nearly snap your neck as you turn your head with lightning speed.

"i thought i was above the soulmate rules, but here we are. my soul is either too tainted or too great to be tied to such trivial things, but oh well, we learn to work with what we have. surprisingly, i learned to like dreaming about how your day went."

you feel something sharp poking at your thigh and when you look down, he has a silver butterfly knife pointed against you. the precision of the angle he held it with doesn't slip your notice. one slice of that knife, no matter how small, and he'll be spilling your guts in this classroom.

a fat tear rolls down your face.

"can you imagine how much my heart broke when i learned you were spying on me? leaking information to that snobby detective? to those incompetent cops? bad baby, that was very bad of you."

"yuta—"

"you think the cops can save you from me?"

his other hand comes in contact with the nape of your neck, holding your head in place as he leaned down to invade your space. he scoffs, and you can picture that terrifying cheshire grin you've seen one too many times in your dreams.

the knife digs through your coat, the tip hardly poking your skin only because he doesn't want to drive it into you yet. how did he even manage to get inside the university? not to mention the weapons he possessed? shouldn't anyone be suspicious when they see a man dressed in all black, clad in jeans and a hoodie, into a university—

he even dressed the part. with that hood drawn up and carrying that one notebook, he looked fairly normal. someone who can easily blend in with the crowd.

you eye your professor, willing him to look at you but your soulmate is having none of that. you squirm when he drives the knife further, at the base of your stomach. with his other hand, he twirls a lock of hair around his finger. "now, now, soulmate. you don't want half the people here to get hurt, do you? unless... that can easily be arranged—"

"no!" you whisper, head jerking to the side to look at him humming in satisfaction. damn. out of all the faces he's seen contorted with fear, yours is his absolute favorite. with those pleading, glassy eyes and parted lips, yuta is tenting in his sweats.

"thought so," he chuckles. "let's get up. we're leaving. that old crook doesn't care if students just up and went in the middle of his lecture."

you don't want to think about how he even knew that because it implied attending the lectures a good amount of times. it's with sinking realization that jaehyun was right. if it weren't for him insisting to sit next to you, nakamoto yuta would've long gotten you in his claws.

you tried gathering your things until he purred into your ear.

"ah, ah, ah. you wouldn't be needing those with where we're going."

the hallways were empty, not that you had much time to scream for help when he had a knife pointed up your back, shoving you into the fire escape stairs. within the tranquil confines of the staircases, the sad face slayer couldn't fucking care less for your personal space.

he disgusts you greatly, he needn't do anything but stand there in front of you but you can already smell the long blood trail from his path. it reeks of rotting flesh and that infuriating god complex he had left a sour aftertaste.

"you know, i genuinely wanted to get to know you," yuta pouts, shaking the hoodie off his head. his hair raven, it's ends kissing the nape of his neck. he looked like he came right out of a shounen manga but the bloodlust in his eyes is something that can never be masked. "i detested the soulmate connection at first, i thought i should just kill you off because you could be my loose end."

his humorless smile is enough to give you nightmares.

"but seeing how sweetly normal and untainted you are made me hold back," the butterfly knife appears before your line of sight, yuta teasingly dragging the tip right down your cheek to trace your tears. "so, why did you snitch, baby?"

you shiver when he noses the side of your neck, inhaling your scent as his other hand hooks underneath your top, freezing fingers making you jolt. when you don't reply, his patience starts to dwindle. then again, he was never a patient man.

"answer me, you bitch. why did you rat me out?" gone is the playful lilt in his voice. the vibrations surge through you as his deep, demanding voice scares you shitless.

you feel, hear, and smell him everywhere. this wasn't like any nightmare. this is real, and you won't magically wake up on your bed, sighing in relief, knowing he isn't there, that it was all just in your head. no, this was very much real and there's absolutely no escape.

"i didn't," your voice cracks. "i didn't mean to—"

"bullshit!" he yells. you wail in pain when he slams you against the wall, head aching as it came in contact with concrete. "because of you betraying me, i nearly fucking got caught, and i never get caught!"

you were full out sobbing at this point, noisy and unsightly as the snot mixes with your tears. your only hope now is he gives you a quick, painless death and that he doesn't carve and mutilate your face like what he always does to his other poor victims. "i'm sorry! please... i'm so sorry. i was scared—"

he coos mockingly, tilting his head to the side as he inched his face closer. "aw, scared? my sweet little soulmate was scared?" he places the blade flat against your neck. as humiliating and degrading as it was, you almost peed on your clothes. "how about now? i'm sure as hell that you're fucking terrified for your useless life right now."

you cringe when his hand abandons the expanse of your stomach, no longer inching higher, finding its purchase on the hair sitting at the crown of your head. he holds you in place like that, forcing your head parallel against the wall, with his whole body pressing up to you that it's nearly suffocating.

"just one quick little slice," he taunts. you hiccuped when you feel the feathery light scrape of the blade moving against your skin. "you won't even have time to scream… but i'm sure we don't want that, do we?"

you forgot how to speak. forgot how to breathe. whenever your mind wanders, you've always thought about how you'll give this killer a piece of your mind, with the amount of fear and sorrow he inflicts upon other people. but you guess realities were a lot more different than expectations. the yuta you dreamed of meeting is in handcuffs, but fate is a fickle little thing.

"do we?" he repeats, slicing ever so slightly at your skin. enough to draw blood in droplets, never a waterfall.

"n – no."

he smiles. "you can make it up to me. do you want to make it up to me?"

the butterfly knife digs even further. a warning. and if you value your useless life, you should be smart enough to know what to answer. drawing a shaky breath, you tried forcing the ends of your lips up to a smile. "of course, yuta."

your voice breaks as your sobbing grips your body whole. the fear consuming your entire being like a parasite consuming the host. you would've shut down altogether if it weren't for the calloused hands gently gripping your face. "i know, i know. i see how regretful you are, baby. don't worry, i won't hurt you. you'll make it up to me."

anyone would be fucking stupid if you believe those words coming from a serial killer.

in your wrecked state, you barely register that he's pushing you down to your knees. skin coming in contact with the freezing linoleum floor as you refuse to look at what his hands are doing. yuta has pocketed his knife. the sound of a belt unbuckling in itself added insult to injury.

you stare blankly at his shoes as he shoves his bottoms down enough for his cock to show. if you squint hard enough, you'll see tiny splatters of blood in the shoelaces. whether or not he feels you're unresponsive, he doesn't show. maybe he doesn't care entirely. he takes one of your hands and used it to wrap around himself. he gasps, sharp, followed by a hiss.

you feel it throbbing and it strengthens the disgust you feel. no way you're going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact when you're already forced to blow this psycho.

"eyes up."

you sniffled, vulnerability present in the tone you speak. "i don't want to. please, don't make me."

if words alone aren't enough for you to follow orders, maybe you'll feel more motivated if held at gunpoint. it's unmistakable, the infamous desert eagle you've only seen in your nightmares. the last thing you ever expected is to be on the side where the bullet comes out.

the barrel is freezing as he digs it into the crown of your head. "soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks."

your eyes looked up then. glaring as the tears rolled down your face. "you're a monster," you mutter under your breath. where you got the confidence to fight back is unknown.

"i've heard that before, be more creative next time," he holds your hair tight in one grip, shoving you forward, eye-level to his throbbing dick. "now… suck, baby."

"freeze!"

you knew that voice, you've been hearing it for the last two weeks. "jaehyun–!"

yuta cuts you off, shoving the gun into your mouth. the safety clicking off resonating in the tranquil room. it's deafening, and it makes you immobile.

"hands up. step away from the civilian." whether or not mark is nervous as he points the gun at the serial killer, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

yuta sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. his raised arms came down to tuck himself back in his jeans, and the action made jaehyun's calm exterior crack. "i said, hands up, asshole!"

"chill out, motherfucker. i'm just trying to wear my pants." the serial killer hisses, glaring at jaehyun over his shoulder.

"mark, call back up already. what are you doing?" jaehyun mutters, side-eyeing the young detective whose gun shakes as he holds it up. the taller cop takes a step forward, eyes never leaving the notorious killer as he addresses you curtly. "(name), come here."

just as you plant your palms to the ground to push yourself up, one of yuta's hands shoves you down quick as lightning. "no. she stays here, with me."

jaehyun scowls, takes another step forward. "and what makes you think i'm going to let that happen?"

"i don't think. i know."

there's a constant ring in your ear as the gunshot temporarily renders you deaf. you've shut your eyes in utter fright, hands shooting up to cover your ears but it was too late. you refuse to open your eyes, you didn't want to see a dead body lying before you, even if it belonged to a heartless serial killer.

but when your eyes fluttered open, it's not yuta bleeding out on the ground.

"no, this can't be – jaehyun!"

it was a bullet straight to the head, no one could've survived a shot like that. his eyes are empty as he stares at you, unblinking, stoic. the color is yet to drown away from his milky complexion. but you can't even manipulate yourself into thinking that jaehyun's still alive. not when his eyes are empty, not when he just looks so lifeless.

it couldn't have been yuta who pulled the trigger.

his weapons were on the ground and the shot rang too fast. the sad face slayer couldn't have crouched down for his gun to shoot the cop, it would've taken too much time. and among the three men, there's only another person holding a weapon, and that was –

"great shot, mark."

the detective smiles, but with the blood splattered on his face, it looked cold. "told ya i've been practicing."

yuta hauls you up by the arms, addicted to how frail your body feels as it collapses against him. he's finally got his little soulmate in his arms. and he will never, ever let you go.

the cops lost – you've lost.

yuta, with a sense of victory coursing through his veins, took the liberty of trailing little pecks down your neck as he mutters, "mine, mine, mine!" but you couldn't care less about his display of mocked affection. not when the other person meant to protect you, turned out to be everything you think he wasn't.

mark must've felt the gravity of your stare as he crouches before jaehyun's bleeding body. grabbing the fallen cop's gun, he took it upon himself to empty the magazine. the lopsided grin he sends you broke your resolve more than yuta ever could.

"i'm sorry. it's nothing personal."

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shedobewritingalittle · 3 years

Text

Two Slow Dancers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve and the Reader have had feelings for each other for years now. The night before everything goes to shit, they decide to act on them.

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: R

Warnings: Angst, longing, the use of an amazing Mitski song, mentions of a graphic death, sadness, I’m so sorry

Her fingers danced on top of the various bottles of liquor. She hums softly to herself before grabbing the bottle of Asgardian mead she had taken from Thor earlier. The hero stood on her tippy toes in order to get a glass off of one of the higher shelves. Her hand reached for a second one when she heard someone walk into the room.

"Want a drink, Steve?" Y/N asks, not needing to turn around to know that he was there. The Captain chuckles, walking further into the room. She doesn't wait for him to answer as her hand picks up two glasses while the other holds the neck of the glass bottle. She turned on her heel, placing the glasses on the counter just as he sits down on one of the bar stools. He's dressed down, wearing a smile white t-shirt that's way too tight for his body and a pair of sweatpants. His hair is wet, freshly washed. The man's ready for bed yet he still is sitting across from her, as happy as a clam.

"I can never say no to you, Y/L/N." Steve replies, a smile on his face. A smile of her own appears on her face as she opens the bottle, immediately pouring them both a glass. How many times before a mission had they done this? Just the two of them sharing a drink while everyone else sleep. Dozens? Hell, maybe even a hundred. She hand him his glass, which he quickly takes, his fingers brushing against hers.

"Good, because drinking alone is depressing." Y/N grins at him, tapping her glass against his, ignoring the way her heart seemed to skip a beat, her fingertips burning from having touched his. Steve's grinning from ear to ear now as he holds his glass in his hand, shaking his head.

"Should we cheers to something? I feel like we should." He questions, looking at her. his eyes are twinkling in the low light, reminding her of the lake outside. Y/N bites her lip, thinking for a moment before she raises her glass in the air.

"To time travel." She announces, grinning at him. Steve rolls his eyes as he lifts his glass, tapping it against hers. It's tradition amongst friends. Nothing else.

"To time travel." Steve repeats before they both lift the glasses to their mouths, taking a long drink. It takes like honey as it goes down her throat, slightly easing the way her stomach has been twisting and turning all day. Its the only thing that'll get both of them drunk and with what is going to happen tomorrow-it's much needed. Y/N pulls the glass away from lips, trying to force herself to unwind.

"You wanna sit? Just for a bit?" She motions towards the living area. Steve follows her line of sight before nodding. She walks around the island, moving past him to go sit in one of the big love seats, pulling her knees into her chest. He sits down on the seat beside hers, looking far more relaxed than she does.

"Penny for you thoughts?" Steve asks, looking over at her. Y/N looks down at her glass, her thumb wiping away some of the spilled drink as she stays silent for a moment.

"I have a bad feeling about tomorrow, Steve." She murmurs to him, raising her glass to her lips. Y/N hopes that the alcohol will continue to calm her nerves, that it'll just take the edge off.

"You always have a bad feeling. We-We're going to be okay." He responds, offering her a smile that's as sweet as candy. Y/N swallows her drink and rolls her eyes.

"Have I ever told you how annoying your optimism is? Because it is." She teases, acting annoyed even though she loves his optimism. It balances out her pessimism, it reminds her that not everything is all doom and gloom.

"And here I was thinking that my optimism is exactly why you keep me around." Steve jokes right back, a shit-eating grin on his face. Y/N scoffs, trying to ignore the way blood rushed to her cheeks and the tip of her ears.

"You're such a dork." Y/N says, trying to ignore the way that he was making her feel, even as his chuckle makes a million butterflies fly around her stomach. She looks down at her glass, unable to stop herself from smiling. The weight on her shoulders had been lifted ever so slightly. That was just the effect Steve had on her.

They both have had feelings for each other for years now, although neither knew that it was mutual. For the others, it had just been this unspoken thing. Y/N and Steve really, really liked each other but they are both too chicken shit to do anything about it. It didn't matter that they had spent three years apart and it didn't matter that over the past five years they hadn't seen each other as much as they would've liked. Those feelings were still there and they had never left.

It was like something in the air had shifted.

Maybe Y/N's worries had settled into Steve or maybe he finally realized the gravity of the whole situation. Maybe the Star Spangled Man with a Plan was tired of waiting, tired of hoping the right time and right place would come to him, tired of wondering when he was going to work up the courage to say something. Steve didn't know how tomorrow was going to play out and because of that he finally felt that courage building up, felt his heart starting to beat faster in his chest.

"Dance with me." Steve says as he suddenly stands, the drink in his glass sloshing the sides, almost spilling. Her eyebrows knitting together as she looks up at him, a bit confused.

"I'm sorry-what?" Y/N questions as he quickly sets his drink aside and holds his hand out to her, his brows knitting together.

"Y/N, I've been waiting for the right partner and I just want to have a dance with you. I-We've waited too long for this and I can't wait anymore. So will you dance with me?" The Captain asks, his hand still outstretched towards her. Her bottom lip trembles, her eyes filling with tears as she starts to nod, feeling her heart swell in her chest. Y/N takes his hand and stands, putting her drink down.

"FRIDAY, play something slow and sweet from one of my playlists." She says softly, smiling up at Steve. He carefully (and awkwardly) wraps one hand around her waist, the other moving to hold her hand in his. Y/N's hand moves to rest on his chest, carefully, as if she moves too fast of isn't delicate enough this all might end.

"Of course, Miss Y/L/N." FRIDAY replies, a song immediately starting. It'a slow and it's sad, but there is just a tinge of sweetness to it.

"Does it smell like a school gymnasium in here? It's funny how they're all the same It's funny how you always remember And we've both done it all a hundred times before It's funny how I still forgot"

The two moved slowly side to side, their hands clutched together. They could both feel a sinking feeling in their stomachs as they moved, that initial happiness being replaced by anxiousness. Both heroes were terrified of tomorrow, of losing the other.

"It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again But as it is And it is We're just two slow dancers, last ones out We're two slow dancers, last ones out"a

Neither could voice those feelings or the feelings they have both had for each for years now. Y/N lets the tears roll down her cheeks as Steve slowly, cautiously leaned forward and placed his lips against the top of her forehead as he brings their hands close to their bodies.

"And the ground has been slowly pulling us back down You see it on both our skin We get a few years and then it wants us back"

Tomorrow they'd be sent on their separate journeys. Tomorrow they would have to worry about the other getting hurt. Tomorrow they would have the weight of the universe on their shoulders. But tonight they were right here, holding one another.

It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again But as it is And it is

Tomorrow, Steve would watch as she met her sudden and swift end, taking one of The Mad Titan's blades through her abdomen. He'd would run towards her, crying out her name as she stumbled and fell to the ground. By the time he'd get there, by the time he pulled her into his arms, she'd be bleeding out. Y/N will be unable to talk, sputtering and gasping for air, her blood covering her teeth and lips as the battle continued all around then. He'll start crying, practically sobbing as he told her over and over that he loved her and that she couldn't leave him, not yet. Her blood would get all over his hands and his suit and he would hold her as she struggled to take her final breath.

But tonight, they held each other and swayed from side to side. Steve rested his cheek against her forehead, both of them letting their eyes flutter shut. Tonight, all that mattered was that they were together and it seemed like things were looking up for them.

Tonight, they danced.

To think that we could stay the same To think that we could stay the same To think that we could stay the same But we're two slow dancers, last ones out We're two slow dancers, last ones out Two slow dancers, last ones out

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #marvel mcu

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forsakenoathkeeper · 3 years

Text

I Am Alive (chapter 30/?)

Chapter 30: Where the Skies End

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • 29 • 30 • more coming soon

[ You can also read on AO3 ]

Unsurprisingly, and much to your frustration, Connor had finished the move without you. There might not have been much left to move at that point; but, it was your stuff at a house that you rented, and not Connor's responsibility in the slightest.

But, there was no telling the android that, and you knew that he would have been well equipped with plenty of reasons as to why he could handle the rest of the move alone: you needed rest, he didn't require sleep, etc, etc.

When you stepped off the elevator into the android's - and now your - apartment, Connor had a look on his face, as if you had come home for the first time in years. You had only spent a week at Hank's place, and only a day and some odd hours at the hospital prior to that, and Connor had been nearly inseparable from you the entire time; yet, it felt like ages since you had been here.

It was only then that the weight of your near death experience became apparent. Before, your life, or the loss of it, wouldn't have impacted anyone else. It was just you in that little house, trying to make a living, picking up the pieces of a war and watching humanity change astronomically.

Now, there was a life that would be changed if you were gone. You let yourself imagine how Connor would cope, what would become of him, and struggled to keep the sorrow to yourself.

Perhaps, for the first time in your life, you knew what it was like to be needed.

Your wound healed remarkably in the weeks that followed. The scar left behind was star shaped and your skin was darkened around the sunken surface. But, you didn't find yourself hating it as much as you thought you would.

It wasn't something you looked at with pain or regret, but rather something prideful. Maybe there was something masochistic about it, not that you found yourself bothered by that realization.

Your coworkers thought it looked 'pretty cool' and declared that it made you 'quite the badass'. Now, you could wear the badge of 'I've been shot', with a bizarre story to tell. You didn't care if people thought it was strange, letting yourself get shot for an android.

Connor was much more than 'just' an android. He was the man you loved, who carried an astronomical burden you could barely understand. Sure, you could judge the weight, the pressure; but, you, an ordinary human, couldn't possibly understand what he felt as the target of a revolution that would change humanity forever.

The thoughts became clearer as you and Connor stepped into Haven for the last time, and you took in the emptiness, the quiet, and the cold.

"One moment," Connor advised you, stepping away and into the open space in the center of the room.

RK800, like all androids, had no true sense of temperature. Connor couldn't feel cold the way humans did. His artificial skin wasn't going to prickle with goosebumps and his muscles wouldn't shiver from the discomfort.

His HUD could report the weather if he enabled it and he had various feedback modules to inform him of how the temperature would affect a human, with the rightful assumption one would be in his presence.

Yet, despite this very well known limitation of his being, Connor couldn't explain how he managed to feel so cold as he stood there in the very abandoned Haven.

He was aware that warmth could be metaphorical, symbolic of belonging and comfort. His sense of cold was both literal and figurative in this sense. Without any machines running, all the lights turned off, Haven had become very cold. The halls, once busy with androids, were now empty, and the building was silent if not for the creaking walls.

-until someone walked through the distant corridor, their quiet footsteps rattling in Connor's acute hearing module.

There was an apology on the tip of Connor's tongue when he caught the sight of Markus. However, the RK200's stare wasn't cold or untrusting. There was something undeniably regretful on his face, conveying sympathy to the fellow android.

Markus' mismatched eyes caught the sight of you over Connor's shoulder, and spared a sad expression.

The two androids had agreed to meet here, for the last time in circumstances like this, hopefully. Once the final bill was passed, and androids would be proper citizens, there would be no need for this.

However, Connor had yet to obtain a definitive lead on Reaves' accomplices. This, at the very least, could provide some security for the androids that came before him.

"I know you didn't want me to," Markus began. "But, I will tell them it's from you. They should know."

"It's... your choice," Connor replied quietly, hoping to mask the uncertainty in his tone.

The two androids took each other's wrists, pushing the fabric of their jackets out of the way to touch skin to skin. Connor knew that Markus trusted him. He took the file without even bothering to scan it first. Only once it was already saved on his local system did he bother to analyze it.

The detective android had worked on that during your recovery week, while he laid beside you in low power mode. He reviewed the log files on his internal firewall over a thousand times, and crafted additional security protocols, specifically designed around write protection. Factory defaults, if he could help it, would be near impossible.

Markus could share this new code with other androids. If Connor failed to stop it in time, at the very least, their memory modules would be protected from brute force attacks, cyberlife certified or otherwise.

As their hands parted, Connor seemed to understand why he felt so cold. He had grown accustomed to how your skin felt - how human skin felt. Even when you weren't acutely aware of it, you were always warm.

"You're one of us," Markus declared, his hand dropping to his side. "We couldn't have done this without you. Your sacrifices need to be known."

"Sacrifices," Connor parroted quietly, doubtful.

He thought about Reaves' disbelief, at how he prioritized saving your life over securing the future of his kind. He could have killed you, carried on the mission, secured all of the chips and brought the android protestors to absolute surrender.

But, he didn't.

Before you, what had he gambled, if not his own life? A life that, by the very words of his creators, didn't exist, was meaningless, just programs executed in succession. He had questioned the very existence of his own life, but so had every android before him.

Still, the determined look on Markus' face didn't falter.

"Until we meet again," he offered, nodding at his fellow android. His eyes landed on yours before he turned away, and you offered him a sad, small wave.

As Connor passed, he took his hand in yours and guided you out of the building with careful steps. It was unnecessary to bring you here, but he understood the importance of goodbyes, and didn't want you to believe your efforts here had been in vain.

You expected to be driven home after that; however, as you climbed into the car, Connor asked, "would it be alright if we went to the park for some fresh air?"

"-'course," you replied softly, shifting your gaze from the android's face to look out the window.

Connor was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, his hands gripping the steering wheel in a death lock. You didn't pay much mind to it, figuring he was stressed after everything that had happened. You had been the one on death's door; yet, Connor was the one seemingly always on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

It was worrying; but, you knew he needed to work through it in his own way.

At the park, Connor had hoped you would head straight for the bridge, to a place you had cherished so much. If his research was accurate, this needed to be done at a special place. As he followed you slowly up the curve, feet tapping against the boards, a wave of doubt washed over him.

You looked stunning, standing upright for the first time in weeks, with pep in your step, the sun soaking up your hair. Could he really have this? Could he even think himself allowed for such a thing? Could an android truly understand the needs of a human?

"You alright?" you called out to him, pausing before you reached the apex of the bridge.

It snapped him out of his stupor, and Connor replied softly, "I'm fine."

You continued and he followed, counting the steps despite how unnecessary it was. The android knew he had never been this scared in his life. This type of sensation was really, really unpleasant. His processors were giving him ridiculous warnings that didn't pertain at all to the situation.

He shut off the alerts and met you at the top of the bridge. His hand slid over the railing, analyzed the material as a strong timber, coated with a lacquer color called 'cedar brown', manufactured by-

Connor quickly closed the analyzed results, realizing how pointless that was. He was distracting himself, busying his processor with his manufactured purpose to avoid something he was definitely not made for.

At the top of the bridge, you turned to the man standing beside you, just in time to see him deactivate his human skin. His gaze met yours, and you smiled at the sight of RK800, as he was made, without the imitation of human-likeness.

For a moment, he stood there and let the heat of the sunlight catch on his sensor processors. The human tone of his factory issued skin flickered back on briefly before shutting back off, as Connor mentally questioned if he should do it like this.

The sudden nervous expression on his face, and his flickering pallet, had you concerned. In the sunlight, you could catch the subtle flaws in the design of his optics: the faint glimmer of a camera lens hidden beneath the almost perfect human appearance.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, suddenly reaching for him. Your hand fell into the curve of his elbow.

"There's-" Connor began, stopping himself when a jogger passed the bridge. He was silent until they were gone.

"There's something important I need to ask you," Connor explained, his voice quiet and hoarse. "I'm sorry for not being more forthcoming. I was afraid."

Despite the obvious implications of what that question was, your head swarmed with the worst possibilities. The detective android, who had stormed a building of armed men to rescue you, who never hesitated to take a bullet for anyone, was afraid of something?

"Connor," you murmured, his name falling from your lips without purpose. The concern, however, was heavy in your tone.

"Before I ask, you need to know that you can refuse. There is no obligation, despite what we have been through. I won't hold any negative feelings towards you. From my research, this is premature, and I apologize for that," Connor babbled.

"What?" you blurted. "Connor, what are you - what's wrong?" you insisted, pitch rising as you started to panic.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied sharply.

He stepped back, just enough to create a few inches between you. You watched him reach into his coat pocket and pull out a small box. Mind hazy with the aftermath of Reaves' attack, you feared Connor was going to present you with evidence, that the case had taken a dangerous turn, or even inform you with the worst possible news.

But, then, Connor, cupping the small box in his palm, knelt down onto one knee. He looked up at you, brown eyes bright in the sunlight, android skin white as freshly fallen slow, failing to conceal the crease in his brow as worry sank in. The box opened, but you were too focused on his face to bother looking inside.

"Will you marry me?"

You could have laughed, at yourself, really, for thinking he was going to talk to you about Reaves, about factory-resetting computer chips, and the potential downfall of androids.

Instead, you let out a choked gasp. It was pathetically wet and embarrassingly loud. It all came pouring out before you could even think to stop it. Connor's nervous expression melted into panic when you started crying hysterically.

He was shifting to stand up, an apology hot on his tongue. He could feel his processors heating up, threatening to lock up at the sight of your tear-soaked face. It had his internal processes soaring, questioning if he had misinterpreted your relationship, your feelings for him.

You flung yourself into him before he could stand up, knocking the jewelry box right out of his hand. It clattered noisily on the bridge. If Connor was human, he would have followed; but, he was sturdy and, even unprepared, managed to stay upright as you crashed into him. His knees hit the bridge and his hands cautiously cupped your back.

"Yes!" you cried out, pressing your cheek into his coat, some odd centimeters from his thirium pump.

Your arms squeezed at his back, hands clawing into the thick fabric of his coat. Connor was unmoving, stiff where you clung to him. The artificial movements he made to appear more human had ceased, and you briefly feared he had powered down.

"Yes," you declared again, softer this time, squeezing him even tighter.

Finally, his systems relented and he properly relayed to his processor what you had just said. His arms wound around your back and, for the first time in weeks, Connor hugged you tightly, as if he wasn't afraid that he might hurt you. You could feel the tightening of his fingers tugging at your blouse, the thirium pump in perfect beats inside his chassis.

"Yes," you said again.

His cheek fell against your hairline and he closed his eyes. He wanted to dig his fingers past the fabric of your clothes, to feel your skin in a hopeless attempt to interface. Even if he could only reach your body, even if your mind was out of reach, that was good enough.

"Yes," again.

For now, the ring laid forgotten in its case, the jewelry box sitting some odd feet away, flipped on its side.

#rk800 x reader #connor x reader #deviant connor x reader

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holidaywishes · 3 years

Text

a bit of stress relief

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: Can you PLEASE write about Freddie coming to your work and having a quickie in your office

Warning: smut, fluff, whiny Freddie

Author’s Note: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED for a bit. I do have one more in my inbox right now so I’ll add it to my drafts but after I write that I won’t be taking requests for... a while. Maybe a month? I have a few series I want to finish up before I start having requests piling up. I always love seeing my inbox full of requests for different types of fics, so this isn’t forever, just until I’m able to finish my Gally series for sure and possibly my 9-1-1 series. This request was fun and I just couldn’t say no lol. Thanks in advance for your understanding and I hope I’ll be able to get back to requests sooner than later but I’ll keep y’all updated! Stay Golden, loves! <3

masterlist

the other masterlist

Your boss asked you to go into the office on a Saturday to finish an assignment that she had forgotten to mention earlier in the week. You would’ve argued that you had plans but your boss said it was for a presentation the next morning that they needed the information for

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” you whined to your boyfriend as he tried to convince you to stay at his apartment, “believe me, I’d much rather be here but I’m not about to get fired...”

“It’s not your assignment, it’s hers,” he argued, “she made the mistake. Why do you have to do it for her?”

“It’s my job” you admitted

“Except when it’s not...” he groaned

“Freddie,” you sighed, “I won’t be long I promise. I just need to go in and print up some stuff and make a couple calls. Nothing major...”

“So why can’t your boss do it?” he challenged, “it’s her mistake, so.. she should be responsible for fixing it”

“I know,” you repeated, wrapping your arms around his neck before kissing his cheek, “but I can’t lose this job. I have loans to pay off”

“You know I can help with that”

“No,” you scoffed, “no you absolutely cannot. I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything. That’s not the relationship we have... I’m not your sugar baby”

“But you could be”

“But I don’t wanna be”

“Alright...” he laughed, kissing your nose playfully

“I’ll call you when I’m finished okay. I give it one, two hours tops”

“If you’re not finished in two hours, I’m coming down there and taking you home” he teased

“Okay,” you scoffed, “I’ll see you later.” You got to the office and rushed into your boss’s office to find the information you needed to work on. The office was empty, as it should’ve been, but when you heard the door open and close, you popped your out of the door to see who was there, “Hello?” you called

“(Y/N)?” your co-worker asked

“Mason? What are you doing here?” you returned, noticing now that a bunch of your co-workers were walking in

“We could ask you the same thing” he chuckled

“Laura forgot to do stuff for the presentation tomorrow, so she asked me to come in and do it”

“For the conference?”

“Yup”

“Yeah,” he replied, “our team is having the same issue. Except they’re saying they ‘lost it’ or that it ‘must have gotten deleted somehow’ so now we have to be here all day trying to fix this”

“Why are any of this people in charge again?” you asked

“Maybe they slept their way to the top” he joked before waving you goodbye and heading to his station. You started at this company as an intern, mostly handing out mail and grabbing coffee for everyone, but they kept you around because you had a good eye for graphic design which was important in a marketing firm. However, your boss, Laura, had replaced Debra, the former Head of Marketing, a month before you were hired to be her assistant and she really wasn’t all that fond of you. She claimed that your degree should be in Business or Marketing not Graphic Design and that you’d only ever be an assistant in this industry so ‘don’t hope for more than that.’ You didn’t think too much of her comments though, at the end of the day, you had a job to you and you were going to do it well; even if it meant coming in on the weekend to do her forgotten assignments. When you finally found Laura’s papers, you groaned audibly, realizing this wasn’t going to be quick work

“Hey!” Freddie greeted you from the other end of the line when you called him to let him know what was happening

“Hey...” you sighed

“What?” he groaned, “what’s going on?”

“It looks like I’m gonna be here for a while. Laura underplayed how much work there was for me to do...”

“You can’t really be doing this?” he whined

“Babe, I have to. I told you, it’s my job. But,” you added, hoping it would make him feel better, “it’s not just me! Apparently, all the senior staff forgot to do these super important assignments for the conference. So, a bunch of us are here working until we finish them”

“You need to quit this job,” he grumbled, “clearly no one is good at what they were hired to do”

“I can’t quit unless I have something lined up,” you argued, “babe, I’m sorry. I know I promised that we’d lay in bed all weekend because this was the first time that you had free time but I have to do this. I promise, I’ll work as fast as I can but the longer I’m on the phone, the longer I’m at the office. So, I gotta go. I love you and I’ll see you as soon as I’m done okay?”

“Call me and I’ll pick you up,” he replied, “you shouldn’t have to take an Uber back here...”

“Okay,” you smiled, “that would be nice. Talk soon. Love you”

“Love you, too” he said before you ended the call. You took a deep breath and started getting to work. Organizing timelines and trying to understand doctors-note-handwriting from past meetings

“How can she possibly expect me to be able to understand this?” you thought to yourself. You signed onto her computer and were immediately left in shock at the jumbled mess of her desktop, “holy fuck!” you exclaimed silently, it’s no wonder she gets nothing done, “she’s the most unorganized person I’ve ever seen!” You spent the next 20 minutes opening files to find what you were looking for, closing what was not it immediately so you could legally say you didn’t see anything, and then you had to spend the next half an hour printing documents and running back and forth between Laura’s office and the copy room

“How’s it goin’?” Rob, one of the other team members who was forced to come in and work on a Saturday, asked when he noticed you rushing throughout the room

“Oh, you know, I’m sure I’ll have a panic attack in the next, oh, twenty or so minutes” you replied, sighing as you walked back to the printer one last time. You had managed to get most of the paper work done but you still had to make a few phone calls to get estimates on some of the ad spaces needed and whether or not there could be a discount involved for the company

“Hey!” Freddie said gleefully, walking into your boss’ office like he owned the place

“Freddie,” you gasped, a slight sneer on your tone, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you...” he replied, furrowing his brow at your response, “when you said you were gonna be longer than you thought, I thought I’d come down and surprise you. Maybe take the stress off a little?”

“That’s sweet, babe,” you smiled, noticing the look in his eyes and realizing what he was really there for, “but I have to make some calls so I can’t... do that”

“We can make it work” he teased, biting his bottom lip quickly before pulling you close to him

“Fred...” you whined, kissing him once before pushing him away from you and walking back to Laura’s desk, “I really do have to work. You can sit if you want but that’s it...” he slumped onto the plush couch against the window and frowned before scrolling through his phone as you started to call the businesses on your list. After about 10 minutes, you noticed Freddie peering up from his phone to look over at you, as if he was trying to get you to hang up the phone just from a look, choosing to walk over to you when you didn’t. “Yes, that’s right. I know you’ve been with us for quite some time and our relationship has helped both our businesses grow,” you spoke as Freddie swiveled you and your chair out from the desk, “we want that relationship to keep growing” you continued before noticing the smirk on Freddie’s face as he hovered over you, kissing your neck as you tried to pay attention to the call. “Mhmm,” you said to the person on the other end of the phone, distracted by Freddie’s lips pressing against the sensitive skin on your neck, his hot breath cascading down your neck, “mhm, sure. I understand” you said again, trying not to let on what was happening. “Laura is so sorry she couldn’t make this call to you herself,” you lied, Freddie kissing his way down to your core, pulling off your leggings quickly and kissing your inner thighs as you spoke, “however, she is excited to showcase your work to those at our conference tomorrow. We all just wanted to make sure the numbers were 100% accurate...” you had to bite your lip and move the receiver end of the phone from your mouth in case any sound escaped when you felt Freddie’s tongue finally press against your clit. “Oh that’s great!” you exclaimed when the partner on the phone added a discount to the quote you’d already been given, claiming that, had he known other businesses would be hearing of his services earlier, he would’ve offered it sooner. “Thank you so much,” you smiled, Freddie’s hands pulling your body closer to his him as his mouth brought you closer and closer to your orgasm, “I or Laura will let you know how everything goes. Thank you again” you said quickly before hanging up the phone. “Fuck,” you cursed breathlessly, “oh my god, Freddie!” your back was forced to arch, as you were pretty much falling out of your seat as Freddie continued to stimulate your clit, only now moving his finger to caress your folds before slowly inserted it inside of you and pumping until you whimpered, tugging at his hair. “Freddie,” you squeaked, trying not to be heard from outside the office, “fuck” you repeated quietly, your grip loosening from his hair as his ministrations slowed and your breathing steadied.

“How’s your stress now?” he smirked, wiping his mouth casually before standing up in front of you once more

“You can’t do that” you said, small pants escaping your lips, making Freddie believe you less than you intended

“I think I can” he teased

“I was on a business call, Fred!” you exclaimed, pulling your leggings back up, “what if they heard something?”

“They would only hear something if you let them” he countered and, ultimately, you knew he was right but you still shook your head

“You can’t do that” you repeated and he scoffed, hovering over you once more to taunt you with a kiss but stopped right in front of your lips

“We’ll see about that...” he smirked, taking his hands away from the chair and walking back to sit on the couch

“What’s goin’ on with you?” you asked

“I just want to be with you,” he whined, giving you puppy dog eyes and earning a scoff from you, “that’s what we were supposed to be doing anyway...”

“I told you we would when I got home...” you said

“Come here,” he said, patting his thigh, “come sit on my lap” you chuckled but obliged. You wrapped your arms around his neck after sitting on his thigh, playing with his hair and kissing his nose before he spoke again, “see, isn’t this better than making a few phone calls?” he asked, his hand beginning to rub your back lightly

“You know I would rather be doing this, or more than this, with you,” you admitted, leaning in and kissing him softly, letting your lips linger a moment before you pulled back, “but I have to do this stuff...”

“Just a quickie...” he whispered, “and then I’ll go. Then we can pick up at home”

“This is my boss’s office” you whined

“All the more reason to do it. We’re in a private spot, secluded from everyone else, it’s perfect” he replied, kissing your jaw before moving down to your neck and you let your head fall back to give him more room

“Mmmm,” you hummed, melting into his kiss, “I can’t”

“(Y/N)...“ he groaned

“Just a few more calls,” you argued, “I don’t have a lot left. Just like, five, maybe six”

“That’s a lot. How long are each of those calls? 10 minutes? 20?” he asked, “we could do a lot with that time...”

“Stop,” you smiled, standing up from his lap and walking back to the desk chair, “just a few more calls...” you repeated. He slunk into the couch and angrily unlocked his phone while you picked up Laura’s phone and began dialing. You were able to make three calls before Freddie began sighing loudly across the room and you had to glare at him, which is when the texts started

“I want you” he sent as you spoke to another advertising partner on the phone

“Like now” another came through

“I’m gonna come over there”

“And make you cum again” you glared up at him and he smiled

“And again” you shook your head, turning off your sound so the partner didn’t hear the constant dinging

“And again”

“Until you can’t cum anymore” you noticed him smile as he thought up more responses and you threw a pencil at him, still paying attention to the conversation on the phone before mouthing ‘stop’ to Freddie but he just shook his head with a teasing smile

“You won’t be able to walk”

“Your legs will be numb”

“Your chest will be heaving because you can’t catch your breath”

“You’re gonna crave my dick”

“Every time you move”

“You’ll have to physically stop yourself from jumping me in public”

“Because you’re still feeling me inside you” your eyes went wide as you read his messages, heat flooding your face as you ended the call, forcing yourself to dial another number before Freddie could get the upper hand. He slowly made his way to the desk once more and you gulped as you swallowed the saliva that had filled your mouth, Freddie hung up the phone before it ever even really began to ring

“Seriously, don’t...” you whispered, knowing that you were about to break from whatever move he made next

“But I want to” he growled, grazing your nose with his and you started to give in when he walked toward the door, “crap” you thought to yourself when you thought he was about to leave but he was only locking the door

“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, “that was unlocked this whole time?!”

“Yeah?” he chuckled

“Freddie! What would have happened if someone walked in earlier?”

“They would’ve gotten a great show” he replied, walking over to you, leaning over you but not doing anything. You took a deep breath before running your hands up his arms, tangling your fingers in his hair before bringing him down to kiss you

“We have to be quick...” you whispered, earning a grin from Freddie before he pulled your leggings off and directed your thighs around his waist so he could pick you up to carry you to the couch. You laughed when he sat down and you fell into him clumsily, “quiet” you shushed him before kissing him slowly and trailing your hands down to his waistband, pushing his pants down just enough to free his erection while his hands lifted your shirt up, stopping to massage your breasts. You heard a laugh outside of the office and stopped what you were doing, “wait,” you whispered, “I think someone’s there” he didn’t listen, kissing your neck and lining himself up with your entrance before bucking his hips to yours; your nails digging into his shoulders to stop yourself from making any sound. His hands gripped your hips as he thrust into you, bringing your attention back to him while your lips found each other in a clumsy rush to muffle the sounds of each other’s moans

“Fuck,” Freddie moaned first, “fuck” you were about to reciprocate his sentiment when the phone rang and your head jerked back in panic

“Shit” you sighed, worry mixing with pleasure as Freddie continued to grip your hips tightly

“Ignore it” he said, kissing your peaked nipple over your shirt before moving a hand to your core, but your head still stayed looking at the ringing phone

“What if it’s her?” you whined, referring to your boss

“Ignore it” he repeated

“What if it’s one of the partners or the vendors? What if it’s one of the really important clients?” you asked, knowing he wouldn’t give any helpful advice other than

“Ignore it” he said once more, pulling your face back to his before kissing you harshly. The phone stopped ringing and you felt a faint sense of peace course through you as you softened the kiss that Freddie had started, your tongue begging for his lips to part, a muffled moan intertwining with his warm breath as it brushed over your exposed neck. Your tongue danced with his for a while as his fingers circled your clit, pressing down on the sensitive flesh every so often

“Fuck” you breathed finally, now beginning to ride him faster, feeling his thighs flex underneath you as he welcomed the sensation of you crashing onto him. “Fuck,” you repeated, “shit, oh my god. Fuck Freddie” you felt your climax build as his lips met your neck, his finger still working on your clit while you rode him harder; the loud ringing of the phone the only thing that brought you back to where you were. “Ugh” you groaned

“Leave it” he groaned back

“Fuck” you sighed, reluctantly ignoring the phone to continue fucking your incredibly broad shoulder boyfriend

“That’s my girl” he smirked, watching you bounce up and down his length

“Fuck, Freddie, I’m gonna cum” you panted, your hands clutching his shirt as your hips began to shake. “Sh-i-it, god fuck! Freddie” you moaned, still trying to be as quiet as possible but knowing that everyone in the office was probably putting on noise cancelling headphones just to try to escape the sounds they were undoubtedly hearing.

“Almost there, baby” Freddie breathed, clutching onto your waist to assist your movements. Fuck, his hands fit so perfectly on your body, you really hated that this had to end so quickly, but that’s what he came here for. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you”

“Fuck” you breathed, dropping your head onto his shoulder, your body taking over until you and Freddie met your release. Like clockwork, the annoying ringing of the phone appeared and you had to scoff at Freddie while you quickly got dressed

“That was fun,” he smiled, “you sure you don’t wanna go round two?”

“Hello” you greeted, picking up the phone to continue the work you had come to do, “I am so sorry about that. I’m not sure what was happening with the line…”

“So we’ll continue this at my place then?” Freddie teased before and you nodded with wink before shooing him away but not before he kissed you goodbye. You were dreading the walk out of the office if Mason and his team hadn’t left yet but you knew it had to happen sooner or later

“So, should we hire a clean up crew before your boss gets back?” one of the guys teased

“Shut up” you said, hoping your embarrassment didn’t show too clearly

“You do know we put on our headphones as soon as we saw him,” Mason admitted, “we knew there’s no way that he was gonna just show up to say hi”

“He could’ve,” you tried, exhaling when you realized you were never going to fool any of them, “fine. Just, please, don’t rat me out. I just pulled together a miracle in that office and I don’t need Laura finding out about my office sex-capades — I don’t want that to be the reason she fires me. I’m not that girl…”

“We know” another co-worker smirked

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us,” Mason assured, “it’s a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy as far as we’re concerned” you gave him an appreciative smile before heading out to meet Freddie in the parking garage

“Hey” he smiled as you sat in the front seat

“Hi” you replied, leaning over to peck his lips

“Did you get your work done?” he teased

“Yeah,” you chuckled, ��it was a miracle but I got it done” he took your hand and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to it

“No more quickies,” he whined, holding your hand for the remainder of the ride, until he needed it for one reason or another, “I need more than that”

“I agree,” you smirked, “now, let’s go home so you can fuck me until I can’t walk

“Yes ma’am.”

#Freddie Andersen #Frederik Andersen #Frederik Andersen fic #Frederik Andersen imagine #Freddie Andersen fic #Freddie Andersen imagine #Freddie Andersen request #Freddie Andersen smut #Frederik Andersen smut #Frederik Andersen request #nhl #hockey #hockey fic #tml #hockey request #masterlist #the other masterlist

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tuiccim · 3 years

Text

Terrigenisis (Part 17)

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Inhuman!Reader

Words: 1700

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: a god of Mischief (He’s a warning, okay?)

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist Divider by @firefly-graphics

You lounged on the lawn furniture in the back of the compound watching Dizzy run in joyful circles as Redtail made loops overhead. You had brought a tennis ball out and Dizzy was adorable as she ran around with it in her mouth. Occasionally, she’d drop it in your laugh and you’d throw it out into the expanse of lawn. You laughed as she leapt into action each time the ball was thrown. Redtail would swoop down every now and then to tease the dog.

The rest of the team was out on missions or meetings. Sam, Steve, and Bucky had been sent on a mission yesterday afternoon and you were enjoying some down time. It felt like it had been some time since it had happened. You stretched lazily, basking in the feel of the sun on your skin and the feeling of contentment.

You hear footsteps approaching and turn to see Loki walking towards you. He had been in a meeting with Thor, Tony, and Maria Hill when you had checked earlier.

“Hi. How’d the meeting go?” You greet the god.

“It went well. Nothing of grave importance,” Loki takes the chair next to you, “What are you up to?”

“Relaxing in this glorious weather,” you see his eyes take in your tank top, jean shorts, and sandals. “You know, I’ve never seen you in anything except the leather. Is there casual wear on Asgard?”

“Simple tunics and robes but, as prince and warrior, I do not wear them often.” Loki raises an eyebrow at you.

“I see. What about for Tony’s party this weekend? Will you wear this?” you motion to his attire.

“I plan to wear a suit.” Loki chuckles.

“I look forward to seeing that. Isn’t the leather hot though? It’s 80 today.”

“I could strip for you if you’d like.” Loki smirks playfully.

“That’s okay,” you hold your hands up in defeat.

“Is this better?” Loki’s form shimmers for a moment before revealing him in bermuda shorts and hawaiin shirt.

You grin, “I like it! You look ready for a beach vacation.” You stare at Loki for a moment, wondering about his personal life. He knew a lot about you but rarely revealed much about himself. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, darling. Anything.”

“Do you have… someone? Here or on Asgard or… somewhere?” you stammer through the question.

“Your two lovers are not enough for you?” Loki chuckles.

“They’re plenty for me. You don’t talk about yourself much, Lok. I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to but I’m curious about you. We’re friends and so I wonder, is there someone? Are you a player? Are you a monk? You know my story. You haven’t given me much of yours. Have you ever been in love?”

Loki studies you for a moment and then nods as if deciding something to himself, “I suppose I would be what you Midgardians refer to as a player.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em?” you giggle.

“I suppose. There’s only ever been one person who…” Loki trails off.

“Who what?”

“Who I thought I could fall for.”

“What happened?” You question.

“She belongs to another.” Loki says as he looks away.

“She belongs only to herself.” You counter.

“Of course. She’s engaged to another.”

“I’m sorry.” You tell him.

“Thank you.” Loki pauses to contemplate before asking, “Are you happy? You’ve been through a lot in your short life.”

You smile at the statement, “I’m not that young, Loki.”

“I’m over 1000 years old.” Loki deadpans.

“True,” you laugh, amazed at the lifespan of Asgardians, “Yes. I am happy. This isn’t what I imagined my life to be. Terrigenisis tore my world apart but you make the best of what you have. I have a family in the team, lovers in Steve and Bucky, friends, a purpose. This is… home.”

“And I’m your friend?” Loki asks.

“Of course you are.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll betray you at some point? I mean, I am notorious.”

“I trust you, Loki. I think I know your heart, but understand that I live by the statement, ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’ I may let someone make a fool of me once but I won’t let them a second time. Once you lose my trust, it’s gone and would take a great deal to earn it back,” you explain.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I have to trust you. I’m letting you play with my brain.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Giving me a chance. Trusting me. Seeing me as something other than the villain that I was.”

“You’re more than your past. Oh!” you exclaim when a slobber covered ball is dropped in your lap. “Hi Dizz.” you laugh and throw the ball for her.

“She has you well trained.” Loki smirks.

“That she does. Speaking of training, are you up for another session?” you ask.

“Same time as always, darling. I’ll see you then.” Loki gets up.

“See ya later, friend,” you watch as Loki walks back to the building, dropping the glamour to reveal his normal outfit as he walks. He sends you a brief wave before walking into the building. Your attention is pulled away when Dizzy drops the ball in your lap again. Time to play.

You get to the training room early to do some climbing and ended up in the rafters as you were known to do. You were just about to climb down when Loki entered with Thor trailing behind him.

“Drop it, brother,” Loki grouses at him.

“Just tell me you aren’t playing at anything with her and I will,” Thor demands.

“Mortals are your weakness,” Loki rolls his eyes at his brother.

“Love is not weakness, Loki.”

“I do not feel that way about her. She is a friend. Much like Sif is to you.” Loki says pointedly.

“That’s all I wanted, brother,” Thor smiles.

You clear your throat loudly, “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

Loki looks up at you in amusement, “How long have you been there?”

“Well before you came in,” you wink at him.

Thor looks at you sheepishly, “I’ll let you two get to your training.”

“Okay. See ya later,” you are holding in your giggle as you make your way to the climbing rope and jump to it. When you slide to the floor, you look into Loki’s mischievous eyes and you both burst into laughter. When it’s spent you say dramatically, “Loki! I can no longer control myself. I must swoon into your arms!” You pretend to faint against him and he catches you.

“You’re ridiculous.” Loki narrows his eyes at you.

“Yup! And you, my friend, are stuck with me!” You stand back up.

“You know that won’t be the last time someone will make the insinuation.” Loki says quietly.

“People have a hard time believing a man and woman can be just friends,” you shrug.

“That is true. Can I ask you something?” Loki asks.

“Of course.”

“Hypothetically, would you have been able to fall in love with me if…” Loki trails off.

“I don’t think I would let myself fall in love with any Asgardian,” you admit.

“Why?”

“How old are you, Loki?”

“A little over a thousand years.”

“Exactly. Asgardians live for around 5,000 years, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why. Humans live maybe 80 years. That’s a blink in comparison. I’ve lost a lot of people who are important to me in my life. I don’t think I could purposely put someone through that. Falling for an Asgardian, letting them fall for you, would mean making them watch you die while they live on for millenia. I don’t think I could do that to someone, ever. It’s difficult enough being friends and knowing that. Being lovers, it would be unbearable.”

Loki nods, “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

You smile at him, glad he understands. “How about we get to work?”

“Let’s go, darling.”

Over the past week, you had worked up to slipping into Loki’s mind without the unbearable pain. It still caused a headache but you were able to see through his eyes and communicate in a similar fashion to how you did with animals. Today, you were attempting to take control of Loki’s movement. It wasn’t easy. Just lifting his hand took a toll. You drop the warg after a moment.

“What’s wrong?” Loki looks concerned.

“It’s difficult. The pain is worse,” you explain.

“Why don’t you warg and I’ll do some magic? Just play around a bit.”

“Okay. Sounds fun,” you warg back into Loki. He begins doing some simple tricks and you watch in delight. You try to concentrate on the motions he makes, the feel of the magic flowing through him, and his thought process as he works. A picture flashes in Loki’s mind and you catch a glimpse of a beautiful face before he forces it away.

“Does she know?” You ask in his head.

“What?” Loki hedges.

“Does she know?” you drop the warg.

“No.” Loki says.

“Then she’s not.”

“Not what?”

“She’s not lost to you. How do you know she doesn’t feel the same way?” you push.

“She… I… I don’t… She couldn’t-”

“Oh, I’m gonna stop you right there. She could. She really could, but if you never told her how you feel, what’s she supposed to do?”

“She’s engaged.” Loki insists.

“She’s not married, Loki. You should tell her. Wouldn’t it be better to know?”

“What?”

“At least then you’d know. Either she doesn’t and you have closure to move on. Or she does and you two can figure it out. ‘Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all’, right? Better to say it and know than to spend the next few millennia wondering,” you needle.

“I…” Loki falters with a far away look in his eyes.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I will.” Loki nods.

“Good,” you see Loki’s concentration is completely gone, “Why don’t we leave it for today?”

“Oh. Yes, good. I’ll see you later.” Loki walks away lost in thought.

“Later, loverboy,” you whisper with a chuckle to yourself.

Part 18

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Told You So

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Jack Kline

Rating: 18+

Tags: sex toys, dom/sub, wrist restraints, coming untouched, dirty talk, slut shaming, choking, cum eating

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Jack doesn’t believe that Sam can make him come without touching his dick.

Created for: @winklinebingo - Sex Toys | @spnrareshipbingo - Jack / Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Coming Untouched

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Jack shivers as Sam’s fingers trail over his shoulder, tracing down his arm, the feeling somehow amplified through the cotton of his jacket catching on the hairs standing up from his skin.

“How you feeling, kid?” Dean asks through a gulp of beer. “You look a little–” he waves his hand around in front of his face, indicating that he’s noticed the flushed, far off look Jack must have going on right about now.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Jack swallows, aiming for a grin but only achieving a grimace, and jumping slightly when Sam’s fingers connect with his under the war-table.

“Dean’s right, Jack,” Sam cuts in, leaning forward under the pretense of looking closer at Jack to check he’s alright, but actually creeping his hand further up the boy’s thigh. “You sure you’re okay, you do look a little…” Sam trails off, smirking when he sees Dean isn’t looking at them, “worked up.”

Jack wants to scoff in Sam’s face, but that would be impolite. Of course, he’s fucking worked up right now. He’s had a small remote control toy buzzing against his prostate for the past twenty minutes. It had felt so unbelievable at first, like he could have come in about 30 seconds if Sam had told him he was allowed to, but then Sam had dropped the speed down to its lowest setting, and the unrelenting buzz had dulled into just about manageable — just about ignorable — unless he shifts even an inch, and then the pleasure pulses through his limbs and send even more blood rushing to his crotch. Honestly, he’s surprised there’s enough blood left in the top half of his body for his face to be blushing at all. It feels like every drop of blood in his body has pushed itself into his cock, it feels so hard and full, and like it could burst at any second.

“I’m fine, S–” Jack squeaks when Sam’s long, sinful fingers curl around the bulge in his pants and the speed of the vibrator jumps up a notch simultaneously.

“No, I think you should go lay down.” Sam’s face is the picture of fatherly concern and sage advice, the dickhead. “You don’t want to get caught with your pants down during a hunt if you’re coming over with something.”

“I’ll be coming over something,” Jack mumbles to himself, hating Sam and his fucking teasing.

“Huhm?” Dean grunts, only half paying attention on the other side of the table, where his burger is much more interesting than Jack maybe having a cold.

“I am going to go lay down,” Jack announces as he springs out of his chair abruptly, disguising the gasp he’d just let slip when Sam turned the toy up another notch, with the sound of the chair grating against the concrete floors as he pushed out of his seat. He carefully angles his body behind Sam’s chair, so as not to display his hard on and the wet spot he’d been steadily growing on the front of his jeans for the past half hour.

“I’ll come check on you in a bit, buddy,” Sam squeezes Jack’s bicep, pressing right over a bruise he’d left there the night before, knowing he was tormenting Jack even more by reminding him of the claiming mark he’d bitten into his skin. Reminding him ‘you’re mine, you and your body and your pleasure— They. Are. Mine.’

Jack could barely choke down his whimper at Sam’s touch, the soreness of his bruise recalling the delicious soreness he still felt between his legs – an ache that was being accentuated by the now rhythmic vibrating of the small toy inside of him. The pattern beat against the nerves inside him maddeningly. Just as the vibrations grew to a strength that might be able to tip him over the edge into relief they disappeared, leaving the toy still and silent for a moment before starting the torture over again.

Inside his room, Jack collapsed to his knees at the foot of the bed, relishing in the moan he could finally let loose now he was alone. The toy inside him pressed just below the sweet spot inside of him in this position, and he let himself relax and settle into it. He knew that Sam would make him wait for a bit, make him sweat and squirm. Sometimes this was the best part. When he was all alone, only kept company by his own desperate thoughts – this was when Jack realised just how much of a slut he really was.

Sure, Sam told him he was all the time. When he was on his knees with Sam’s cock down his throat, or when Sam pressed him against the back of the Impala and made him grind against that thick, muscular, hunter’s thigh until he came in his pants, or when Sam caught him jerking off in the shower only a few hours after Sam had fucked him into the mattress, or when Sam noticed his inappropriate boner during a case and told him to go wait for him in the police station bathroom, where Sam promptly handcuffed him and ate him out until he came without being touched. Jack was most definitely a slut, and he knew it. But here, in the cold fluorescent light of his bunker bedroom, knees going numb on the concrete beneath him, and sweat dripping beneath the collar of his t-shirt – this is where he felt the humiliation most keenly.

The fact that Jack wasn’t just a slut for Sam, wasn’t just doing all those dirty things because he was being told to, but would sit here and torture himself willingly, was the thing that made Jack feel the dirtiest he ever did. Of course, Sam knew what Jack was thinking, that he loved his time alone spent contemplating just how much of a fucking whore he really was, and Sam loved how desperate it made Jack when he did finally join him again.

“There’s a good boy,” Jack hears Sam murmur as he steps into the room, the vibrations in the plug jumping down to its lowest, thrumming level. Jack lets out a shaky sigh, but keeps his position on his knees, back straight, waiting for Sam to give him his instructions. Sam brushes his hand over the back of the boy’s head as he moves around his kneeling form to sit on the foot of the bed, carefully placing the toy’s remote control on the blanket next to him. He reaches out a hand to rest on Jack’s cheek, the big fingers nearly engulfing his face, and Jack has to fight his instincts to sit straight instead of leaning into the touch. “How you doing?” Sam asks, voice heavy with sympathy.

“Good,” Jack pants, hoping he sounds convincing, but knowing Sam will see through him in a heartbeat.

“You still look pretty flushed to me,” Sam muses, brushing a stray hair off Jack’s forehead. “Maybe you should lay down, get yourself out of these clothes into something more… comfortable.” Jack closes his eyes and whimpers, nodding, he wants that so badly. “Okay, if I let you lay down, the vibrations on your toy are gonna go back up again. Can you handle that?”

Jack nods again, furiously. “Yes, Sam, please.”

“Okay, c’mon, up you get.” Sam pulls Jack up by his wrists and starts to peel the boy’s jacket off. Jack lets Sam manipulate him out of his clothes, shivering in the cool of the air as the layers are dropped by his feet. When he’s been stripped bare, Sam pulls him onto the bed, guiding his hands to the restraints they keep attached to each corner of the headboard and buckles him in. The bruises on Jack’s arms and shoulders stand out against his pale skin, which is shimmering with the sweat of his earlier exertions. Sam’s fingers trace over the marks and down Jack’s chest, around each pink nipple, standing erect in the cool air of the bedroom, down his stomach to the soft trail of hair below his belly button, avoiding the angry pink cock currently twitching against the sharp jut of his hip bone. Jack had done so well keeping quiet while Sam laid him out the way he wanted him, but under the man’s taunting touch, he can’t keep his whines in his throat any more.

“Please, Sam,” Jack mewls, bucking his hips into the air, hoping to push Sam’s fingers against his cock where he wants them.

“Tch, tch, tch,” Sam tuts, unimpressed. “I told you, baby boy, no one is going to be touching that cock tonight.” Sam’s smirk is infuriating.

“Sam,” Jack whines again, “I really need to cum. Please. I’ll –” he pants, grasping for words “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, just let me cum. Please, Sam, please.”

“I didn’t tell you you couldn’t cum baby,” Sam sits on the bed, picking up the remote and turning up the pace, like he’d threatened. “You can cum whenever you want to. I just said you can’t touch yourself to make it happen.” Jack whines petulantly, making Sam laugh, and he switches the pattern of the vibrations in the boy’s plug again.

“But I’ll never cum like this Sam,” Jack complains, struggling against his restraints, and Sam is glad he had the foresight to lock him down.

“Oh, really?” Sam ups the intensity of the vibrations and Jack arches off the bed, moaning. “You don’t think a little slut like you can cum just from a little toy up their ass? Don’t think you’re desperate enough?” He changes the pattern to something quicker - sharper - and Jack hisses. “If you were a good little whore, you wouldn’t need anyone to touch that little cock, you’d cum when I tell you to, heh? But…” Sam stands, twirling the remote in his palm, “if you don’t think you can, I’ll just –” he clicks the ‘off’ button on the plug, and Jack lets out the most pathetic whimper yet, instantly missing the pleasure that had been coursing through him for the past hour.

“No! Sam, no, I’m sorry, please. Please let me cum,” Jack begs, squirming in his restraints.

“I told you, I wasn’t stopping you,” Sam smirks wickedly.

“Please,” Jack is almost crying, Sam can see the tears shimmering in his eyes.

“If I turn this back on, are you going to be a good boy, and do what I tell you?”

“Yes, I promise, please, Sam, please, turn it back on. I need to cum, please.” Sam walks back to the bed, stroking Jack’s cheek tenderly, victory glowing in his eyes.

“So pretty when you beg, baby boy,” Sam coos, and Jack nuzzles into his touch. When Sam turns the toy back on, Jack jumps, twisting his head to whimper into his pillow. “Nope, don’t you dare,” Sam grins and yanks on Jack’s hair, pulling his face up. “Don’t hide those noises from me, baby. Wanna hear how much of a little slut you are for me. Want you to get as loud as you can for me, let Dean hear how desperate you are, yeah? You my needy little whore, baby?”

“Yes!” Jack whines, the intensity of the toy ratcheting up, the increased speed pressing it harder against the spot inside of him that is starting to burn.

“Want to hear you say it,” Sam’s voice has hardened, and he drags his hand down Jack’s face to his throat, his fingers easily wrapping most of the way around.

“I’m a slut, a needy little slut, fuck, just need to cum, Sam, please,” Jack groans desperately.

“Yeah? Needy little slut needs to cum?” Sam teases, squeezing against the veins on either side of the boy’s neck, working to make him light-headed, while also turning the toy up another setting. “Why don’t you do it then, baby boy? Cum for me real loud, want you screamin’,” Sam is panting now too, his own arousal barely being held in check as he torments Jack – it will be his turn soon.

“Please,” Jack is crying now, hips humping down into nothing, looking for resistance that won’t come. He looks pathetic, and Sam loves it.

“I told you” —Sam’s chest heaves and he turns the toy up to its highest setting, leaning over Jack’s face and squeezing around his fragile little throat— “to cum, you little slut.” He spits into Jack’s mouth, which is frozen open in pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, God, ah–” Jack’s words trail off into unintelligible noises as his hips launch off the bed and he cums in sharp bursts, the shiny white liquid splashing up his chest, onto his face and lips, and Sam’s hand. Sam is panting nearly as hard as Jack as he watches the boy spurt cum all over himself, he’s always loved when he can make Jack lose control this completely.

“That’s a good boy,” Sam huffs, trying to get himself under control long enough to finish taking care of Jack. “Told you so, didn’t I?” he smirks. Jack whimpers in acknowledgement, but he isn’t quite recovered enough for words yet. Sam lets go of his throat and examines the cum shining on his knuckles. “You didn’t believe me, did you?”

“I’m sorry,” Jack whimpers tiredly, slumping back against his pillows.

“You believe me now?” Sam checks, and Jack doesn’t see the mischievous glint in Sam’s eyes because his own are still closed while he nods. Sam runs his fingers along Jack’s chest to collect the cum still glistening against the creamy, pale skin, pushing the dirty fingers between Jack’s lips when they’ve gathered everything they can. Jack’s eyes open wide in shock, but he sucks Sam down eagerly, confused – but still craving his approval. “In case you needed proof,” Sam chuckles, letting Jack suckle on his fingers and clean every last drop of his own cum from Sam’s skin.

“I still get to touch you though, right?” Jack checks anxiously, looking at the impressive bulge that Sam has started to free from his jeans.

“You fuckin’ better,” Sam growls, shedding his jeans and briefs and climbing onto the bed to straddle Jack’s chest. “Open up, baby.”

Tags: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @sonofslaanesh69 @stoneyggirl

#winklinebingo #spnrareshipbingo #spnkinkbingo #winkline #sam x jack #supernatural smut #sam winchester smut #sam smut #jack kline smut #jack smut #sam winchester #jack kline

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