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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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PAPER-THIN WALLS

a/n: i woke up totally in themood to write just straight up smut... and that's what i did lmao. there's not much plot in it, just a whole lot of fucking, so enjoy!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, oral, the good stuff

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

The Avengers compound was built almost perfectly with its luxurious suits, several entertainment rooms, fully equipped training areas and millions of hidden snack and drink bars all across the building. But the stress this time is on almost.

Bucky was never sure if the walls were originally built to keep less noise than in any other buildings, or if it was just his super hearing that allowed him to catch conversations and noises that weren’t meant for his ears. He would often hear gossiping agents as he walked down the hallways, or Vision and Wanda talk about recipes and TV shows in her room and there was this one time he heard Nat and Bruce have a discussion that was surely not meant to be heard by anyone but the two of them. He is still trying to get rid of the words he heard.

Having a room next to yours, he often sat on his bed, hearing you shuffling around, humming to yourself. As the latest addition to the Avengers, you felt a little out of place at the compound, like you were a stranger to the team even though they never gave you a reason to think so. This feeling of not belonging is what brought you closer to the century old super soldier on the other side of the wall, who despite being free from the claws of Hydra finally, still felt like an outsider in the superhero filled complex. Bucky always thought he was hard to make friends with, but he had to realize that it was all about who he was trying to make friends with. Because with you, it was an instant, like he had known you his whole life, you’ve definitely become one of the closest people to his heart in a very short time.

With this friendship came some undeniable feelings and tension from Bucky’s part. He couldn’t help but fall for you, how couldn’t he? He would have been surprised if it didn’t happen, after spending so much time with you. He found himself craving your presence, to be with you, talk to you and listen to you at the same time. He was a sucker for your lame jokes that he would laugh at even if they weren’t that funny. He loved your enthusiasm whenever you brought a new book and basically told him the whole plot, spoiling the story, but he never minded, because the way you rambled in excitement made up for everything.

And of course, he has been attracted to you since day one. Even when you weren’t that close, he couldn’t deny how much it affected him when he saw you spar with Steve at the gym in just some tight shorts and a sports bra, or when you linger around in the kitchen early in the morning wearing only an oversized shirt and your underwear hidden under the long fabric. It stirred his fantasies that’ve been sleeping for decades and late at night, when he was lying in his bed restless, his vibranium hand firmly curling around his erection, he thought about you. How you’d taste and feel, what it would be like to have your body pressed against his, his name falling from your lips in a whimper as he pleases you all over and over again. Sometimes he felt dirty after an elaborate fantasy, barely able to look into your eyes, but he just couldn’t help it. You had him in the palm of your hand.

What he doesn’t know is that he is not the only one with fantasies and desires. Because on the other side of the wall, you’ve often found yourself craving the mixture of warm and cold touch from flesh and metal hands, toned muscles flexing under your palms, pink lips whispering into your ears as you arch against his body… Bucky has been living in your mind rent free and you’ve been having a hard time containing your desire for the super soldier.

Having sex dreams is not at all a new thing for you. It happens every once in a while, waking from a heated scene only to find yourself alone in the comfort of your room, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to bring yourself back to reality. It was never an inconvenience, but in the past few days it’s been getting worse. You’ve had a wet dream for three days in a row, jolting awake right when you were about to climax, a wave of disappointment washing over your body as you fisted the sheets in your sweaty palms. And the worst part? All of them have been about Bucky.

It’s another sleepless night for Bucky, nothing new. He has tried to chase himself into sleep with everything already, TV, ready, music, even counting sheep, but nothing seems to be working, so he is left with lying in his bed, staring at the blank ceiling, the soft bed sheet throw across his naked upper body, only wearing a pair of boxer briefs, because it’s been hot these past week, but he is not a fan of using the air-condition. The dogtags are lying messily on his naked chest, his vibranium finger playing with the wrinkles of the sheets mindlessly.

His eyes slowly flutter closed, a promise of some rest finally nearing the corner, but right just then, he hears some muffled noise coming from the other side of the wall. His eyes snap open as he sits up, trying to make out what it is, but he catches no words, just… grunts and some shallow panting, as if someone was struggling.

What if you’re sick and something is wrong? You’ve been a little worn off the past days, maybe something was lingering in you.

Kicking the sheets off of himself, he pads his way to the door, his bare feet tapping on the hardwood floor as he walks out of his room, heading to yours, stopping at the door. Pressing his flesh hand to the door he takes a moment to listen to the voices so he can make out what’s happening, but it really feels like you’re in a struggle, but he has no idea why. Knocking lightly on the door he hopes to get an answer, but nothing of sort comes and he stays still, debating whether he should go in or just leave. Right when he is about to retreat he hears you gasping, as if you’re at a short of breath and it pushes him to check in on you.

Opening the door he pops his head inside, the darkness fully taking up the room, your king sized bed in the middle, a few strikes of moonlight sneaking through the curtains that are not entirely drawn.

“Y/N?” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle you, but no answer comes once again, however he can see your figure tossing and turning under the sheets, another gasp slipping through your lips.

He walks closer, stopping at your bedside, seeing how your eyebrows are pulled together tensely, chest heaving as you keep moving around. Bucky feels like an intruder, you’re definitely asleep, probably having a nightmare, but he is not sure if he should be in here. Should he wake you? Or just leave? Would you be mad if you found him here upon waking up? After some hesitation he decides it’s better if he leaves, but right as he turns around, taking just one step towards the door, he finally hears a word from you.

“Bucky,” you whine, his name coming out a little slurred, but still clear to him. “Bucky, please!” you continue, his eyes widening as his head snaps around, eyes returning to you. You’re still asleep, but he notices your hand moving down your chest and then disappearing under the sheets, between your legs. That’s when he realizes that it’s not a nightmare. You’re having a sex dream about him.

Clearly trying to chase your release, your lips part as you moan, the voice instantly making Bucky’s cock twitch while hardening. His hands curl into fists as he is fighting himself whether he should do something or leave, but when his name slips through your lips again, he goes feral. He would be damned if he lets you get stuck in your dream when he can please you in real life.

He finds himself striding back to your bed faster like ever, like an elegant lion, hungry for his prey as one of his knees sink into the mattress between your open legs, keeping his weight up on one arm while the other finds your waist. The shirt you always sleep in has ridden up to just below your breasts, the exposed skin watering Bucky’s mouth as he squeezes your waist gently but firmly enough to wake you from your fever dream.

Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him slack-mouthed, your brain barely able to process the sudden change between the Bucky in your dream and the one holding himself up above you in real life.

“Bucky? I—“ you breathe out, the cloud of confusion on your head making it hard to even form a sentence. He leans down, his face just inches away from yours and even though it’s quite dark, his blue eyes are basically piercing. His dogtags fall to your chest, right above your wildly racing heart and you wonder if he can hear the pounding in your ribcage.

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers and without a warning, his lips crash down onto yours.

It’s so hard and passionate, filled with hunger and longing, the air gets knocked right out of your chest as you eagerly kiss him back while he slowly moves himself until he is fully between your legs, his hips coming down to meet yours and you moan when you feel his erection pressing against your already soaking wet core. Your hands find their way up into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and he can’t stop himself from growling at your action, grinding himself against your hips, both of you desperate to take it further.

Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he grabs your panties and tugs them down your bare legs, throwing them across the room before he rids you from your shirt as well, so now you’re lying completely naked in front of his lustful eyes. He could devour you with just his icy blue eyes, he looks glorious, towering above you with his broad, muscular shoulders and toned chest, you’ve never been more desperate for a man before.

Your desire takes action, pushing yourself up your lips meet his chest, kissing the hot skin, your tongue sloppily pressing against him as you make your way up on his body. His vibranium fingers tangle into your hair as he holds the back of your head, pulling you up to kiss you again, both of you in a kneeling position while your hand reaches into his underwear, palming his hard cock, feeling up his size before you push the fabric down and he kicks it off easily, his erection now pressed between the two of you teasing and tempting you, making you buck your hips forward just for the slightest friction.

“Were you dreaming of me, doll? Huh?” he questions, his lips nibbling on your lower lip as he takes it between his teeth and gently tugs on it.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hips before they move down to his bare ass, pulling him closer to you, earning a moan from him.

“And what was I doing in your dream?” He kisses down your neck, stopping at a soft spot before he starts sucking and biting on it, marking you as his, something he’s been aching to do since the moment he laid eyes on you for the first time. Your brain almost shuts down, one of his hands is on your jaw, keeping your head in place, while the other one is gripping your waist harshly, his fingers digging into your muscles. You fail to answer his question as just a whimper leaves your lips at the sensation.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words for me, will you?”

“I, uhh—You used your f-fingers,” you croak out, a satisfied grin tugging on Bucky’s lips at your words.

He pushes you back on the bed, making you lie on your back as he gets on top of you once again, but this time he doesn’t stay like that long, after a hard kiss he climbs down until his face aligns with your core, his hands parting your legs widely, baring you to him fully.

“Tell me, where did I use my fingers?” he hums, face so close to your center that you can feel his hot breath on you. He teases you, running his hands up and down your spread thighs, his fingers just grazing your folds before moving away every time.

“Bucky, please!” you cry out, grinding your hips up, but you only reach his chin before he leans back with a pleased grin on his face.

“Just tell me and I’ll do it. Where did I use my fingers?” he repeats.

“On my pussy! You fingered me!” you groan, your cheeks heating up from the blunt comment you just made, but it’s exactly what Bucky wanted to hear.

Two of his fingers find your clit easily, starting off with slowly drawing circles on it, stimulating your nerves and it’s nothing like in your dream. You curse under your breath when his fingers move to your hole and he pushes both of them inside, his lips taking their place on your clit.

“Oh fuck!” you groan in pleasure, your hands immediately snapping to his head, fingers lacing into his chocolate locks as you shamelessly grind against his face.

Bucky is not a man of many words, but god damn, he can use his mouth like a fucking master. It feels like your whole body is on fire, you’re sweating and shaking, his fingers curl inside you every time he thrusts into you and he is stroking that one heavenly spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. His tongue is slick and sloppy against your wet pussy, but he is drinking it all up as if you were his last meal before death.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum! Bucky!” you gasp as your back arches at the sensation, your orgasm building up rapidly.

“Cum on my tongue and fingers, let me make your dream come true,” he growls against your heat, picking up the pace of his fingers which completely throws you over the edge.

You come with chanting his name over and over again as you ride your high, thighs shaking and tightening on either side of his head until you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Bucky pushes himself up, his lips glistening from your juices and you watch him wipe his mouth with his fingers, licking them afterwards like he just finished eating a chocolate cake, a satisfied grin on his ridiculously handsome face. He crawls up on you until his lips can finally reach yours again, kissing you in a slower pace, but still with a lot of passion to offer.

“Tonight wasn’t my first sex dream about you,” you slyly admit, lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm, so there’s more to act out.” His still hard cock twitches again and you’re fast to reach down and palm him again, wrapping a hand around him as you give his cock a few lazy stokes, but it surely has an effect on him.

You’re quick to turn him over, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddle him, steading yourself with holding onto his waist, his eyes bore into yours intently and your mouth hangs open when you grind against him, his hard cock sliding between your wet folds.

“The other day, I dreamed about riding you, your cock filled me up so good, but right when I was about to cum I woke up,” you tell him, not sure how this sudden confidence came from, but you just can’t help yourself. Bucky growls at your words as his fingers dig into your thighs.

“Then let’s make up for that, love,” he breathes out and you nod eagerly, lifting yourself up just enough to position him to your hole and then you sink down as far as you can, his dick filling you up inch by inch and your breath hitches when you finally settle, his length fully buried inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” you whine before you start moving yourself up and down his cock, grinding back and forth, the feeling of him inside you so intoxicating, you think for a moment that this might still be your dream. If it is, you hope you don’t wake up this time.

Though your training has strengthened your legs so you are able to ride him in this position longer, it still tires you out. Bucky notices when your movements slow down, his hands running up your torso, kneading your breasts before they end up on the back of your neck, pulling you down so you lie on top of him, his strong arms wrapping around you. His lips kiss the side of your head before he starts thrusting up into you, doing the work for you this time. You can’t stop yourself from moaning and whimpering as your second orgasm is starting to build up, your senses are on the edge.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close,” he gasps, his thrusts becoming a little uncoordinated and you feel the same way, only moments away from your climax.

You push yourself up, pulling him with you, wanting to take back control before you both reach your relief, you get into a sitting position that allows you to grind in his lap, moving your hips back and forth as fast as you can. Bucky’s lips find yours again, kissing your sloppily before they travel down your neck and he licks at your collarbone as you hold onto his broad shoulders.

“You feel so fucking good, oh God!” he whines, his head falling backwards as you keep moving, both of you sweating, but neither of you really cares, you’re just relentlessly chasing your high again.

“I want to feel you cum. Please, Bucky!” you beg him, squeezing your walls around him, the action completely maddening the man as he holds you to his chest and flips you over with ease, his body weighing down on you as he starts fucking into you fast and hard. You could throw a fuss about how he took control again, but you don’t mind it, not at all. Because the way he pounds into you, his cock disappearing to the last inch inside you with each thrust, your whole body starts shaking as your orgasm finally reaches you.

Your squeeze your walls again around him and the moment he hears his name fall from your trembling lips he cums inside of you, filling you up entirely, marking you with his pleasure.

He rides his high with a few more sloppy thrusts until he stops, his forehead falling against yours as you both try to catch your breath. He captures your lips in a soft and slow kiss, so different from the ones you shared before. Then he finally rolls off of you and you let out a displeased grunt when you feel him slide out of you.

For a while it’s just the silence in the room mixed with your soft panting, but he is the first one to break it as his head rolls to the side, looking at you with those fucked-out eyes of his.

“How long have you been having these dreams?” he asks, turning to his side so his hand can spread out on your naked stomach, fingers drawing tiny circles on your sweaty skin.

“A while,” you admit.

“I wish I heard you earlier through the wall,” he chuckles, but your eyes widen.

“Wait, what? You heard me through the wall?”

“Yeah. Thought something was wrong so I came over to check on you.”

“God, I must have been really loud,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands, but he is quick to peel them off and leaning closer he kisses your lips gently.

“Don’t blame yourself, these walls are like paper. And besides…” A sly smirk tugs on his lips as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb running along the line of your bottom lip. “I fucking love it when you’re loud.”

“I wasn’t even screaming yet,” you tease back, your comment definitely catching him off-guard, but he likes it.

“We’ll get there next time.”

You and Bucky walk into the kitchen in the morning, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, still in the bliss of last night. Nat, Tony and Steve are sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on their morning coffee when you emerge from your room, all eyes immediately glued to the pair of you.

“Well, good morning, everyone,” you chuckle a little nervously, not sure what the stares mean.

“Morning,” Nat smirks, shaking her head before she turns back to the newspaper unfolded in front of her.

“Nice of you to make an appearance, I have some news to share with you all,” Tony announces as you pour some coffee for yourself while Bucky grabs everything he needs to make breakfast for the two of you. Nodding you signal to Tony that you’re listening. “I decided to do some remodeling on the compound.”

“Oh, what are you getting done?” you ask, wondering what could possibly need work on the building.

“Nothing major, I’m just gonna make the walls soundproof, so we don’t have to listen to you guys fucking all night long.”

You almost choke on your coffee at Tony’s blunt comment, cheeks heating up right away, you were not expecting that. Though he is looking at you and Bucky, who is now standing behind you with a hand on your waist, with a stern expression, you can see the small smile hiding in his eyes. He finds the situation rather amusing instead of annoying.

“Yeah, next time maybe keep it down a little,” Steve suggests as he stands from his seat, grabbing his mug. Walking past the two of you, he pats Bucky’s shoulder however. “But I’m glad you guys are finally getting it on,” he comments before walking out, Nat and Tony following him right after, leaving just you and Bucky in the kitchen.

You glance up at him with concern in your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, but he doesn’t seem to be ashamed at all. Instead, he leans down, pecks your lips shortly and then whispers:

“I told you. Paper-thin walls.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you

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captainsy-cookiemonster · 3 years

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That’s Not What You Want to See When You Come Home

(gif and pic found on pinterest, gif credit @demivampirew)

Summary: just another period drabble, because there are not enough stories out there. this time including Walter. A little less fluffly and a little more angsty, but it fits him.

Paring: Walter Marshall x teacher!reader (2nd person pov)

Warnings: periods and blood, mentions of policework and things involved, a gun, i tried to build up suspense that’s a warning in itself, a different take on period stories, fluff at the beginning and end

Not your thing? don't read it. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

A/N: connected to Home For The Weekend , i’ll make a proper series out of these two someday. also, i started my period yesterday and felt the need to write this. not beta’d. The 'blood' on the mood board is wine, all good💗.

Word count: 1.1k

Title: That’s Not What You Want To See When You Come Home

Enjoy 💗 writers live off feedback and validation, so if you liked it, please consider leaving a comment and reblog💖

The day had started off better than it went. When you woke up, it was just in time to see Walter drop his towel, giving you a chance to admire your husband in his birthday suit before he'd go to work, to return home only late at night. You had hummed in approval and bitten your lip and when he noticed you were awake, he had marched over to your side and given you a searing kiss, a whispered "good morning, baby". While he finished getting ready, you dragged yourself out of bed to prepare some breakfast and coffee. You packed some lunch for Walter - the leftovers from yesterday.

After breakfast, he gave you one last goodbye-kiss and left.

Everything had turned around from that moment on.

It's your one free day and you had decided to relax. In the last weeks, months if you were honest, you had spent your free Wednesdays and your weekends grading papers and planning lessons. This week, your schedule allowed you a break.

Ironically, the start of your period falls on today. Fantastic. Not that it's surprising, you had felt it coming, your tracker had notified you, but that timing was just... impeccable.

It's a light flow, though, so you equip yourself for a that. It's the first day anyway... No heavy flow expected.

So you sit on the couch, wrapped in blankets and catch up with your favorite show, when it happens.

***

Walter comes home earlier than expected. Earlier than ever, really. It's early afternoon when he swings open the front door, expecting you to jump into his arms. But nothing.

When he steps into the living room, he finds the TV bright with Netflix' "Are you still watching?" written across it, a by now melted bowl of ice cream on the coffee table and...

The cream colored blanket soiled by a crimson patch crumbled on the ground. More red streaks splattered across it. And upon looking closer there’s some blood on the bowl as well.

Immediately, Walter switches from husband who just returned home to detective inspecting a crime scene. The panic he tried to fight making itself obvious when he draws his gun - in case someone is here. He curses himself for allowing his hands to shake, but he can't bring them to stop. For all he knows, his wife is missing, and there's blood in the living room. His experience makes him assume the worst.

He searches every room, quietly, his house now an unfamiliar place. Gun drawn and safety unlocked, he goes deeper into inside. Looking for any sign of what has happened here. It’s quiet, so damn quiet, when he reaches the top of the stairs.

His small study; empty, everything in its place.

Your study; your usual organized chaos, but no traces of anything happening here.

The bedroom; everything how he had left i-

A bloody t-shirt, dropped carelessly by the door to the ensuit bathroom. The t-shirt you had worn this morning. His t-shirt.

Panic clutches his heart with icy claws, a cold sweat making the gun in his hand a little more slippery than it should be as he raises it and inches his other hand to the doorknob. His shaky breath is drowned out by his own hammering heartbeat. What would he find in there?

Giving himself no time to even think up the possible scenarios what could have happened, he pushes the door open forcefully, making it slam into the wall.

***

Your day had been absolute shit, and now you almost had a heart attack, too. While you were sitting on the toilet lid, spreading your favorite lotion on your legs after your shower, the door bursts open and all you can see for a second is a large man aiming a gun at you.

You scream, shrill and loud – who wouldn’t?

Only a second later, you recognize the man as your husband, his face wild with worry, hands shaking.

“What the fuck, Walter?!” you yell when he lowers and locks the gun, putting it back into the holster on his hip.

He just stares at you in shock for a few seconds, before he catches himself. “What the fuck?! What the fuck did you do? I come home and everything is covered in blood and I can’t find you anywhere. And you ask me what the fuck?!” he yells, still utterly panicked.

You flinch at his booming voice, tears springing to your eyes. Damn those hormones! Realizing his mistake, Walter slowly steps towards you and pulls you off the toilet lid to cradle you in his arms. You immediately start sobbing into his chest, the shock, your hormones, the frustration all crashing down on you. He holds you and pats your head, whispering to you soothingly.

Once your tears ebb away, he pulls back to look at you.

“Baby, can you tell me what happened?”

You nod and get up, off his lap, to collect some clothes. You do that so you don’t have to look at him while you tell him. It’s embarrassing.

“My period started,” you explain in a small voice, slipping into a comfy sports bra back in your bedroom.

“And?” Walter asks, entering the room.

“You know it usually starts lightly for me. Well… not this time. Not really.” You slip into another of Walter’s t-shirts as you turn to face him. He gives you a puzzled look, still not understanding, really.

“I sneezed! It just… like ketchup! And my nose started bleeding, too! I… we can throw that blanket away… I’ll never get that stain out,” you sigh.

“Oh, baby, come here,” Walter laughs, arms wide open, waiting to hold you tight. Hesitantly, you hug him. You have no idea what’s so funny about this. “Oh fuck, when I got home and found the blood I expected the worst,” he sighs into your hair and hugs you tighter. “How about we go back downstairs and eat something while watching your show? Hm?”

“But you hate it,” you mumble into his sweater.

“Babe, I came home and thought you got murdered. I think I can endure watching a few episodes of your show.”

Done as said, a few minutes later, you’re sitting cuddled together on the couch, each with a plate and a sandwich, watching your stupid cop show while Walter has to bite his tongue not to complain about how unrealistic this is. And an hour later, he’s holding you while you nap on top of him, softly running his hands up and down your back, trying not to move too much while laughing as he watches the first season of your show, only to find it's quite entertaining, actually. Of course he’s never admit it to you.

The End

#walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #nomis fanfic #Nighthunter fanfic #Nomis #night hunter #Walter marshall x reader #Walter marshall x you #Henry Cavill #henry cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill x you #henry cavill fluff #walter marshall fluff

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katsukikitten · 3 years

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Time spent with Todoroki.

Warnings: This is a Pro Hero aged up AU, think late twenties. Adult themes such as sex are to follow. Please enjoy

Shoto was by far your favorite sugar daddy. He showered you in lavish gifts and gave you the pipe often. He checked your bank account and made sure it never fell below a certain amount and paraded you around town like the Princess you were. But most importantly he was stoic. Doing nothing more than wiping you up with a warm rag once the two of you were finished, never clinging to you with desperate hands like many other sugar daddies had. Hoping their money would make you giddy and buy your love. Maybe it would have, had you not already run out of love for people. Your heart broken one too many times by a long term relationship causing you to vow that money was your only love.

People were just too disappointing.

Your contracts with Shoto were medium in length, anywhere between three to five months mostly because he likes to keep his "options open." Which filled you with pure lust for him, knowing you could get away with your kinks without worrying over some man falling for you.

Still, it was difficult for the Pro hero not to fall for you, at first he had no interest in love. Having sworn it off mostly for fear of failure thanks to his dysfunctional family. It was the main reason he started looking into sugar baby websites, he saw your profile picture and your bolded No strings attached. He liked the idea of that, loved it really and yet, he became tangled in you after the renewal of your second contract. He tried to suppress the warm feeling in his chest, he found it difficult more times than not.

Especially now, with you on your knees with his guicci jacket spread out on the tile of the bathroom floor as your lipstick clad lips wrap around his cock. Your cheeks hollowed and your eyes looking up at him with enchanting lust. He fists your hair shoving you further on his cock. Your eyes water as you gag softly and Todoroki is just thankful your makeup is waterproof.

The sight and the sounds make him groan while your manicured nails dig into his bare thigh. You rub your thighs for friction, moaning around his cock, it's enough to send Shoto over the edge. Hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat as his grip on your styled hair tightens.

"Fuck Princess…." He moans bucking into your mouth, sharp eyes look down at you. Seeing a powerful man come undone for you is enough to keep you content for now.

"Sir will take care of you after the gala okay?" His cheeks are still a little red as he runs his hand over your hair. Lifting you off the floor before fixing himself. He gives you a light spin, making sure nothing scuffed your gorgeous designer dress before he exits the stall. Pushing back his long hair while you retouch your lipstick with a knowing smirk.

The two of you waltz back to the party, sans his jacket, abandoning the designer garment without a second thought. The price of it was barely a drop in his bucket. It could have been half of his bucket for all he cared, his mind always swimming with thoughts of you. He places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you back to the table, dinner half forgotten once your hand wandered towards his crotch for a tease.

"F...find the bar okay?' Izuku asks as you take your seat, your sly hand going for your wine. Uraraka blushes when you give her a wink.

"Just fine." Shoto says sipping his whisky.

"So who's won awards so far?" You ask with gleaming eyes, Izuku smiles.

"Kaachan for most villains caught. Kirishima for the safest feeling hero, myself for rescue ratio." He holds up his small little trophy, "And you, Shouto, for most mysterious."

"What about the rankings? Did we miss that?"

"No they are about to announce it!" Uraraka exclaims, eyes glittering with excitement and wine. Her chestnut eyes slide over to her emerald eye date, hoping for the best for him.

The announcer steps to the stage, his sapphire blue suit catching everyone's eye as he takes the center.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a night filled with congratulations and cheer but now is the moment you've been waiting for, tonight we will reveal the top three heroes. Voted in by a strenuous board appointed by the fans, we finally present the BIG THREE!"

Some tables erupt in cheers while the host takes his dramatic pause, when the sound dies down the host brandishes the golden envelope.

As he announces your hand wanders again, playing with your favorite toy, Shouto's face gives way nothing as the host drags out the awards. Explaining how long the winner's speeches should be. Soon Shouto cannot ignore your hands creeping on his clothed cock that throbs beneath your fingers. He knows he can't wait through what's bound to be a half an hour. He rises excusing himself dragging you with him before you're being cornered against a wall in some random closet.

"So impatient, princess." He bites out, kissing your throat, sliding down to your exposed collar bone while his hand ventures between your thighs. Calloused pads circling your puffy clit as you let out a loud moan that's swallowed by the cheering of the gala room. Impatient himself he undoes his pants, stroking himself with his free hand while you cum on his fingers.

After the coil in your stomach snaps for a third time he's satisfied, kissing you as he aligns the tip of his dick to your quivering entrance.

"Fuck, Shouto. Fuck me please, sir!" You beg, making his head spin, alcohol mingling in the small dark space.

"Be patient kitten. Sir will fuck you right baby." He grunts, sheathing himself into your soaking core. You cry out, clawing at his back through his shirt. The smell of biting cold hair mingling with the hearty smoke of a bonfire engulfs you as you press your face into his chest. He lifts both of your legs, strong hands grabbing onto thick thighs as he fucks into you with a deadly pace. Slapping skin and lewd wet sounds echo back to the two of you, encouraging his pistoning hips.

"Listen to those sounds Princess, your pussy sounds so pretty." He bites at your ear as you endlessly moan and whimper into his chest. Cunt clenching as he drives over your spongy spot, the head of his cock going deeper with each thrust. Soon it all becomes too much, your vision spots panting as you cry out in ecstasy, body ridged and arching to meet him.

"Cumming on my cock already?" He coos, fucking you through your next orgasim as your legs shake around him. Toes pointed in your red bottoms as you attempt to hold onto him for dear life.

"S..sir! You cry out, "I'm gonna...nnngghhh."

He ruts into you, pressing you further into the wall as he frees up one hand to play with your throbbing clit. Rubbing harsh circles as he loses focus on his precise thrusts that turn sloppy. His eyes too focused on you as you cum, milking his cock. Your eyes flutter, desperately attempting to hold eye contact as one hand palms your breast and the other scratches at the skin at the nape of his neck. Your tongue lulls out just a bit as your mouth makes a sinful O shape, a few tears of over stimulation fall down your cheeks as he continues to fuck into your wet cunt. The sight makes him explode into you, warm spurts of cum causing you to whimper and clench in delight as he ruts until he is done. He sets his sweaty forehead against yours, panting as words claw up his throat.

"I love..." He whispers, catching himself just in time, "Your tight cunt."

He kisses you, hoping you don't think anything more of it.

After a few minutes, and Shouto's cock softens, he withdraws. Wiping you up with a wipe from your purse as the two of you check the other for fluids. A drunken cat smile plastered on your lips as you reapply your lipstick, wiping away the stains on his dark grey shirt and collar.

The two of you step into the hall just in time as the doors start to open. Quickly and calmly you grab for your pack of cigarettes, your normal alabi, placing the stick in your mouth. Shouto, much like a gentleman, lights it as you inhale to keep the tip a burning ember. Gently blowing the smoke over his clothes, careful to avoid his face as you waft the burning stick around yourself as if it were an incense. Knowing good and well the smell of smoke always hides the salty smell of sex. Quickly you extinguish it on an ice cube that Todoroki provides, you toss the cube in the closet and the half of a smoke into your burkin slamming it shut just as a small group of sidekicks approach.

"Shouto! Wow! I can't believe it was a three way tie this year! Congrats to you, Deku and Dynamight!" They drunkenly cheer, "It's crazy how that happened."

"You're so secretive, your manager accepted the award on your behalf even though you were here tonight!"

A stream of people dot on your date as you cling to his muscular arm while you harbor a secret of your own. Cum dribbles between your thighs as you think of his sweaty head against yours. It feels good to be a Pro hero sugar baby.

"You staying the night again?" Shouto asks as he presses a cold water bottle to your palm, your body covered in a sheen of post sex sweat from a week's worth of fun. You give him a small smile as you sit up, tits bouncing as you readjust entirely. You can feel his icy hot gaze as it rakes over your body, feeling the goose flesh prick along your skin as it does with the threat of an oncoming summer storm.

"I wanna discuss the renewal of our contract. Plus we have a final date per the expiring one." He says as he rises, heading towards the luxurious ensuite to start a shower for you both.

"Hmmm guess I could. How much longer do we have left?" You never really paid attention to this things, always being satisfied with whatever Shouto gave you.

"Two weeks." He returns back from the bathroom, grabbing his wallet from his bedside table. Pulling out his onyx black card, he places it in your hand. His eyes holding yours, you give a devilish grin.

"Sir has a lot of paperwork for the agency to do today. Buy a dress I want to fuck you in and anything else you want to match okay baby girl?" He leans down to give your forehead a kiss while you giggle. Unable to hide the giddy that bubbles beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around him.

"Thank you sir!" You exclaim, pepper his cheeks with kisses as you pull back, "Do I get to pick the date again?"

"Mmhmm." He encourages, running his hand up your bare bare as you squeal with delight. You rush to the bathroom before he slowly follows behind. While under the hot stream the two of you make out for far too long, tongues fighting as the two of you exchange laughs before you add a playful statement that stays with the two toned hair man as he sits in his boring home office.

"I'm going to get a dress so classy and sinful you'll fuck me on the spot!"

His eyes wander to the photo on his desk, the one of your first date. The one you insisted the two of you take after a month of late booty calls since he paid for the "girlfriend" package. The two of you are bundled in warm coats, you cling to his firey side as you laugh and he just barely smirks.

Looking back he thinks this is when he started to fall for you. You had never been ice skating before and insisted on going while the two of you were in NYC for important PR interviews for the cold and mysterious hero. Because that's what people did in the movies while in NYC, put on their skates at the Rockefeller rink to glide along the ice beneath the sparkling lights of the giant Christmas tree. It was busy, he opted for no skates, as he did better without but he helped you lace yours. Being ginger for the first time in his life as he helped you onto the ice, after demanding a moment of independence you had fallen straight onto your ass. Giving Shouto second hand embarrassment but instead of yelling, crying out or giving up, you laughed. Genuinely laughed as you reached for his steady hand, captivating the whole rink for a moment. It felt like magic had washed over the ice, as snow slowly danced into your hair and the colorful lights danced across your eyes. Just like that the spell was broken with a flash of light. A stranger approached to give you a small tip on how to skate and the polaroid he had taken. You thanked them with a smile placing the photo into your coat pocket leaning into Shoto to share a secret.

"Now we have our first 'date' immortalized!" You had giggled, gliding across the ice as if you were ethereal, hands outstretched for Shoto to join you.

He wonders how you're doing at the shops. He occasionally gets a text or two from you. Sexy pictures of you in the changing room as you obviously buy lingerie as well.

He fists his cock enough times he gets no work done and by the time he convinces himself enough is enough you come home.

Wearing that damned devilish smirk.

And so another week passes in the four walls of his bedroom. Your bank account as stuffed as your pussy as you bounce on his heating and cooling cock.

"Fuck, baby fuck." Is all Todoroki can say as you chase your own high. His blunt nails clawing at your thighs as your tits bounce. Your mouth opens into that gorgeous O as you seek out that delicious friction on your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps as your humping becomes erratic and sloppy but still enough for your tight cunt to spasm wonderfully over Todoroki. So nice is the sight, sound and smell of you that Todoroki pumps his hips up into you twice before he paints your velvety walls, his eyes focused on you.

"Fuck." He presses his sweaty head into the silk of his pillow case. Two toned hair clinging to his forehead. You lean over and kiss his cheek.

"Thanks for the ride Pro hero." You wink before you dismount. Stretching towards the sky once your feet hit the warmed hardwoods, you begin to make your way towards the bathroom. Phone in hand.

"I wanted to talk about extending your contract." Todoroki says, staring after you, "At dinner tonight."

"It expired tonight right?" You say, looking over your shoulder while your phone lights up with an alert, "No need for dinner."

"What do you mean?" He calls to you as you start the shower.

"I mean, I think we should let the contract expire. Keep things fresh you know? Keep our options open?"

He jumps to his feet and begs the urgency to die in his step. Calmly with somber steps making his way to the ensuite. He finds you already in the shower, water washes away the smell of sweat. The smell of him as your phone glares up at him. He taps the screen and your recent notifications wave at him as he stares down.

Reading one of them in horror.

Todoroki isn't sure why he feels this way as he looks at your phone on his vanity. As if the world fell from beneath his feet. His throat burns as he stares at the illuminated glass, spiraling as steam clouds his vision that begins to blur. He knew what he signed up for, he wanted this.

This detached, heart hidden exchange in hopes of choking down the loneliness

But he never expected that when this ended it would feel as if his heart had been ripped out, stepped on and crushed beneath the heel of one of your red bottomed shoes.

"Come on aren't you joining me for our last shower iced cutie?"

"Uh yes I'm coming." He steps into the shower as the push alert on your phone burns into his brain.

"Kirishima Eijirou has put in an offer."

#todoroki x reader #todoroki sugar daddy #bnha au #aged up au

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Tender Ch. 2 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Winning the favour of the God of Mischief is not an easy task - even if he has already fallen for you.

Warnings: None.

Words: ~1600

A/N: Since I am writing several Series at once, together with Oneshots in between, the chapters are gonna be a bit shorter so I keep no one waiting. Hope that is alright!

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza @queenariesofnarnia @commonintrest @buckylokisimp @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay

The first weeks after your arrival at the Avengers Compound passed by rather uneventful.

Due to the fact that you neither had a family you could be attached to, nor many belongings ever since HYDRA had kidnapped you and destroyed your home, Tony insisted on you living at the tower - like many of the other members as well.

Everything was just so new and exciting, not even Loki’s gleeful mockery could bring you down from that high.

Little did you know that all of his pep talks about those ‘inferior heros’, the ‘illusion of power’ or how no one was ever truly good or evil had a completely different reason:

An attempt to get you to leave, for your own good. After everything that had happened to you, the god was worried how another fight would affect you.

Anyway, it was a luxurious life compared to your old one, with so many kind persons and new perspectives. And you were sure to return that favor once you’d learn to control your powers!

So until then, you would train as hard as possible and care for your new friends through little acts of service. Caring for others came quite natural to you, may it be listening to their problems or simply complimenting them to see their faces brighten up.

And for some reason, that particular character trait was the one thing Loki found the most annoying.

How could a person so naive and pure think they could actually join in battles against evil? You’ll only end up getting yourself killed - and to be honest, Loki thought this to be a waste.

And even though he’d never admit it, but jealousy was starting to get the better of him the more he observed you getting along with everyone.

They adored you - and they were very right in doing so!

But that would mean that you were just nice to everyone, not especially to him, right?

Every time you’d help Bucky through a panic attack, braided Thor’s hair or helped Banner in the laboratory, Loki only wished you’d be with him instead - and if he had to burn this whole place to the ground for this to happen.

Yet his pride kept him from voicing that desire.

For you on the other hand, it was frustratingly hard to get through to the God of Mischief. In comparison to how he treated the other Avengers, he was always reserved and courteous towards you, yet also unreachable distanced.

Only on a weekend where the other Avengers were on a mission, the two of you found a way to actually bond with each other, if only a little.

Loki had once again read every book he borrowed from Stark’s library, now having a reason to leave his room again. At least those subhumans won’t be there to drain on his nerves...

When he crossed the living room on his way to the elevator, he blinked heavily as he saw you plainly chilling on the sofa. He was just about to turn around and leave, when you hectically gestured for him to stay.

“Hey, Loki! 😊” you wrote on a notepad, holding it up for him to read.

“Greetings...” he spoke between gritted teeth, but your smile wouldn’t falter, so he stood rooted in the middle of the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” How blunt could you be to ask a literal god directly, just like that?!

“Actually, I-” When your eyes met, Loki cut himself off, the words being caught in his throat. “Well, if you’re in dire need of my sublime company...”

You were quick to sit up straight, offering a bowl with popcorn to the Odinson which he curiously accepted. When he answered your question about what sweets they eat on Asgard, he wouldn’t understand why you’d laugh. Apparently ‘nuts and grapes’ are not considered treats on earth. Got it.

Yet that little huff you blew out of your nose instead of making an actual laughing sound came somewhat endearing to him, especially in contrast to your other noisy companions. “Adorable...”

Without even asking first, you’d wrap the other half of the blanket around Loki, effectively closing the gap between you two.

“Wha- I’m not cold!” he blurted out, visibly overchallenged by the sudden closeness. “I’m a Jotun, hel!”

What was he even so worked up about? Geeze...

“But the weather on Asgard is rather humid, right?” you wrote down, with him nodding approvingly. "It allows all kinds of flowers to blossom, other than this metal brick” he explained, your excited look not failing to keep him talking. “You should see it some time.”

Loki’s eyes were now locked on the screen, and you could basically grasp his homesicknes, very well aware that a failure and war criminal like him would never be tolerated in those holy grounds ever again.

Great...now you had achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tugged on his arm so he’d shift your attention to you again, quickly writing something with a barely there sulk on your face:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you sad.”

Tears were already forming on the rim of your eyes, making Loki’s insides churn. “So sensitive...gods. Keep yourself together, would you.”

The Odinson instinctively wrapped an arm around you, his free hand petting your head as he pulled it to his chest. He was awfully warm for a frost giant, and his heart was hammering against his chest in a fastened pace - maybe just your imagination, though.

“Well, it’s winter...” he uttered, acting as if he actually cared about the plot of the movie. “I may not freeze, but you seemed cold. That’s all.”

You let your hand run across his collarbone, making him look down to you once again. He bit his lip as his icy glare met your warm one, eyes shimmering with earnest affection while you formed silent words with your lips:

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u.”

“N-no need to thank me.” Just now Loki wondered what kind of spell you were using on him, being reduced to a shaking and stuttering mess.

No curse, no beauty ever before had bewitched him so much that he would lose his cool, let anyone peek under his confident mask, after all.

Not so long ago, when he was still considered the handsome Prince of Asgard, he would bed a different lover on each night, though never settling for anyone.

And after the revelation of his true heritage, even those fleeting encounters to ease his loneliness would falter - all that’s left was certainty that the theory he had ever since his childhood had proven to be true:

That everyone had always secretly despised him, the failure of the family and disgrace to all of Asgard. Only through his Jotun blood they had found a reason to not play along with the royal courtesy anymore, showing their resentment up in the open.

But you...you looked at him with completely different eyes than anyone ever did.

Maybe he had become softer, weaker over time - or simply more mature. His mother once told him to seize the moment when someone truly special would cross his way, and to never let them go.

“We could do this more often.” You shoved the notepad in his line of sight, and just now he noticed that two hours had sure passed in an incredible speed.

Just the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa, enjoying each other’s presence instead of dealing with the troublesome past.

“Well...” Loki clawed into your upper arm softly, no intention of letting you out of his grasp already. “I am sure your other companions are more fun to be around. As you most likely already noticed, I am known for ruining the mood.”

Loki had a habit of talking ill about himself, and letting himself down as well. Yet as he saw you eagerly scribble on the notepad, he knit his brows together, impatient to what you’d say next.

“But I want to see you.” The word ‘you’ was written in a thicker font, underlined several times.

“Why?”, that was the first and only thing crossing his mind. And yet there you sat, shoving the notepad into his face with a stern look on your face.

Loki was rooted on spot as you put the notepad on the table, instead laying your hands on his cheeks and softly tugging on the edge of his lips. “S-m-i-l-e!”

“E-enough!” he carefully pushed your hands away, afraid you’d detect the mild blush on his face. “Then it shall be. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want.”

Loki finally arrived at the library to return his books, even though with a few hours delay. Realizing just how much he had enjoyed that spontaneous meeting with you, he began to panic.

Was it really a good idea to repeat this?

He was almost 100% certain that it would only end in him ruining your trust in anyone completely, if he’d ever allow you to come close to his core.

Due to him having saved you back then, you probably see him as something better than he actually was - and gods, how disappointed you’ll be once you’d find out what he really is like...

It was probably for the best if this would never happen, with him just keeping on to admire you from afar...

After a while of just staring into the void, mentally debating about your offer, he couldn’t help the fact that he was already looking forwards to meeting you again.

Uncertain how to approach the matter, Loki was at least eager to show you his goodwill.

For you have been the first person who - despite everything he had done - was willing to give him another chance.

"Greetings. I need every available book about sign language.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki / Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki / You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #God of Mischief #Marvel #Disney #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert

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nolpat0 · 3 years

Text

too late | t. jost

summary: he left her, but he realizes it was a mistake too late

wc: 1,724

warnings: break up, angst

Cold, numb fingers curled around the steaming hot paper of coffee cup, gripping the fresh beverage with new desperation, the owner trying to will the heat into his frozen bones by sheer force of thought. Tyson huffed softly, his breath clouding thickly in the frigid, winter air, a shiver snaking down his spine despite the thick, wool layers he wrapped himself in that morning. Muttering a soft curse as he remembers just why he should've grabbed the thick, fuzzy gloves that were currently sitting on his entry side table, Tyson moves from the busy, buzzing street corner and quickly strides across the crosswalk. As if he can merely outwalk the cold threatening to petrify his bones; and Tyson was pretty damn sure it was a real possibility. Finally searching his surroundings, Tyson's dark eyes scan the scenery of the cold, wintery lense of Colorado's capital, trying to pick out his car from the rest of the masses in the over-stuffed parking lot. His dark eyes land on a couple, laughing loudly in the cold air, as free and in love as they could be, paying no mind to the freezing temperatures or the snow littering the ground in various, black slush clumps. A bell of familiarity rings in his mind at the sound of the girl's silvery laughter, but Tyson is unable to place the exact memory begging to be released to the surface of his consciousness. A tiny, confused frown tugs at the edges of his pink, chapped lips as his heavy, boot-clad feet shuffle closer. He knows the laughter.

And then it hits him: her.

All the icy breath trapped in his pink lungs rushes out, leaving him breathless and stunned, a sharp shard of aching pain slanting through his chest and cutting against the muscle of his wild heart. Tyson blinks, his hazel eyes shuttering in bitter surprise as he watches her with the unknown man. His heart goes tumbling to his stomach, burning away into nothing but ash when he sees her fingers curl around the upper arm of his jacket, her familiar, toothy smile tugging at her pretty face. She's laughing, a high and pretty sound that dislodges a horde of repressed memories from the back of his mind, bringing them forth and sparking a wave of stinging tears to prick the backs of his eyes. But she's not with him or holding on to Tyson, she's with him. At first, Tyson is unable to place him, his brain too overloaded with the endless stream of merry moments of the past two years with her to try and problem solve why the unfamiliar man is vaguely intriguing. And then he realizes why the sharp cut of his low voice is familiar: it’s Zach. Her college from work that Tyson always thought was too flirty and willing to touch her and brush his fingers against her arm when she said something funny.

She was now with Zach. The realization and reality of the statement hit Tyson like a freight train, barreling into him without remorse and at full speed, knocking the breath from his lungs once again. Tyson vaguely felt his white-knuckled grip on his scalding coffee loosen, shock waves of pain and regret rippling through him.

She looked up, crinkled eyes full of mirth and laughter flickering up to catch Tyson’s dark eyes, feet accidentally stalling against the snow-clogged gravel as they locked eyes. Tyson, for the life of him, was unable to turn away and continue the seemingly futile hunt for his car. And she was too stricken with shock to register that she’d been staring. Old, familiar feelings clawed at Tyson’s throat as he regarded her, begging to be released. But he held them back, determined to hide his regret from her and her all-knowing eyes. She dipped her chin, the barest form of a nod as the edges of her lips curled into a soft, melancholy smile. Her feet continued their previous path and she mumbled a quick, halfhearted apology to Zach before allowing her gloved hand to fall into his naturally, tugging him away from the scene of her broken heart before either boy noticed. Tyson was still watching the sidewalk she disappeared down long after her figure faded from sight.

———

Standing in the cramped, messy confines of Zach’s hallway bathroom, she pressed her fingers against the worn door in an illusion of more privacy as she dropped to the tile floor. Her eyes roam over her illuminated phone screen, rapt on the single notification that alerted her during dinner.

Tyson Jost: Voicemail

With shaking, uncertain hands, she unlocked her phone, eyes catching the photo of her pressing her lips against Zach’s cheek. The background was a familiar pose, one she and Tyson would make thousands of times in selfies in a mockery of the pose, grinning like fools every time the camera snapped and captured them in their happiness. Memories flitted across her eyelids, stacks of them as they played their heartbreaking adoration back to her. She pressed her fingers against the call app, playing Tyson’s voicemail.

Hi.

Tyson’s gravelly, unsure voice filled the small bathroom, reigniting a familiar ache in her chest, reminding her just how much she missed the familiar lilt of his calming, smile-lined voice.

I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I- I felt like- I don't know. I feel like I should say something.

With baited, frozen breath she curls around the device clutched in her palm, hanging on to every crackling syllable that hums from the speakers as if she can picture Tyson pacing, in the small, tiled room of his cramped kitchen as he hesitates with every breathed word. She's almost grateful for the conversational, thought-like cadence of his playing message, if only for the fact she can better picture him, imagine the scene of him talking to her under the warm glow of his kitchen light.

It isn't fair for me to say this. I know that, but Jesus, I gotta get this off my chest, baby.

Her heart stutters wildly in her chest at the achingly familiar pet name, the quiet murmur of her breath cutting off rapidly as a renewed wave of pain crashes through her body, burning every nerve. The subconsciousness of the saccharine saying has her head-first tumbling into every moment of Tyson's second nature actions of his love; the brush of his thumb against the soft back of her hand whenever she clung to him, the press of his lips into the layers of her hair when she laced her arms around his neck, the tug of her legs onto his lap whenever they lay on the couch together with his eyes still trained on the TV.

Letting you go was the worst decision I ever made- in my life. My mom and Kacey let me know that- like all the time. I kinda hate them for it, but I know they're right.

Fuck. I don't know what to do- but I- seeing you today nearly fucking destroyed me, okay? Like I couldn't breathe for like a minute and I thought I was sort of moving on, but now I know I just forgot how much I still love you.

Red-rimmed eyes going wide at the rashly truthful confession, she hiccups, throat catching on the breath as a quiver over sakes the tips of her fingers. She never thought she'd hear the confession again; hear the rough syllables of his voice etch out the words she imprinted on her traitorous heart.

———

She remembers the first time he finally confessed the words to her; after she'd confessed them a week prior.

Tyson's long fingers had run through his head of dark-honey curls enough to brush them out significantly, and she knew he was on edge from the glint in his eyes as he looked at her. She'd hesitantly laughed softly, eyebrows furrowed as she slowly surveyed him,

"Tyson? Why are you so nervous?"

"Right?" he cried in sudden protest, a choked laugh falling from his lips. "You already said it, and I know you love me, but I'm still nervous as fuck to say it back."

Her eyes crinkled gently at the fumbled words falling from his lips, a grin tugging at her lips s she reached for him, smoothing over the collar of his shirt as she giggled lightly. "You don't have to say it, you know."

"No, I want to." Tyson shakes his head softly, dark eyes intent on hers as his calloused palms slide against hers and his fingers curl atop hers. "Because I love you. So much."

———

A soft, grief-stricken sob escapes the boundaries of her shut lips, echoing off the pale tiles of the small bathroom as she places shaking fingers against her chapped lips to silence herself; saving herself from the inevitably embarrassing moment Zach finds her sobbing over a long, fumbling voicemail from her ex on the dirty floor of his bathroom, still as devastatingly in love with said ex as the day she confessed it.

Leaning her head against the wall of the room, she pushes a shaking, broken breath past her lips, trying to reel herself in, scooping up her shattered pieces into some semblance of herself so she can wrap her head around what his message means and what it means for her.

"Damn you, Tyson," she breathes with gentle conviction, squeezing her eyes shut as she wishes for the millionth time she just deleted the message instead of sneaking away to listen to it. Or, if she really got all three wishes: Tyson never let go of her smaller hand and let the shining glass of her fragile heart slip from his fingers as he tried to ease the blow with his calming, sorrowful words.

Shattered into thousands of tiny, beautifully glittering pieces on the floor of her boyfriend's bathroom, she accepts the one thing roaring wildly in her head in an endless, unrelenting loop that won't let her go. She might not understand how she'll continue on, or what this means for the clueless current boyfriend settled on his couch, or for the curly-haired boy with words capable enough to break her. But she understands one thing with distressing clarity.

She is in love with Tyson, and she'll never stop.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 7- Touch Me Under The Stars

Bucky Barnes x reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Now that Bucky is finally out of Cryo, the two of you adjust to life in Wakanda.

Warning: fluff, smut (it gets spicy), Bucky being soft

Masterlist

Life in Wakanda was something you could never have ever dreamed of, they literally had everything here. The buildings were huge, the people so interesting and lively, the scenery absolutely breathtaking, and the tech? Out of this fucking world to put it bluntly. Tony Stark who?

Though you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to be fully satisfied with your new corner of the globe, you had a place to exist and feel comfortable in, even a nice apartment overlooking the city that’s attached to where Bucky is currently being held in.

Right. Bucky.

He’s been on your mind as of late, well in actuality he’s been consuming most of your brain processing for the past couple weeks since you and him arrived here with T’Challa and Steve after the mess in Siberia.

Another painful memory added to the already long list of traumatic experiences endured by you throughout these past sixty or so years. But you’re surviving, well enough for the most part that is; you see Steve left soon after Bucky went into the Cryo chamber. Leaving yourself all on your lonesome in a strange new country with no friends but T’Challa.

If you could even consider him a friend.

Who by the way, makes you still feel pretty uncomfortable around considering all the times you beat the shit out of each other in the past, and he thought you and Bucky killed his dad, so it’s been light treading even if he insists it’s all in the past.

On a lighter note you met his little sister Shuri, who upon discovering who you were and what you can do, immediately began marveling at the fact that you have Adamantium claws in your forearms. She was thoroughly impressed and asked for you to cut a lot of random expensive looking objects for scientific purposes only.

Well that’s what she claimed at least. Other then then those two, you’ve been pretty solitary for the most part. Which has really started getting to you recently, something that T’Challa has begun to notice.

That man is too observant for his own good.

Wind rustles the jungle trees from outside this large glass window in the lounging area of King T’Challa’s extravagant home. They sway freely in the open sun as they stretch their great green leaves to the beautiful sky above. But no bout of joy resides in your heart this day, no matter how enticing the weather may appear.

Soon a new presence is felt in the room, though it’s nothing to be alarmed about as he walks to your side, a thoughtful yet concerned expression crossing over his kingly features, “Are you finding your stay here welcoming Y/N?” Wonders T’Challa softy as you slowly blink.

“I am.”

He frowns, you’ve been quit talkative before, but now you barely even speak to anyone, “My friend I know you are not alright. Please tell me what troubles your heart.”

Dammit he’s good.

Sighing, you hug your sides as he patiently awaits an honest answer, frowning, you reluctantly begin, “I thought I would be fine....I’ve always been alone for most of my life anyways. Never counted on anyone but myself. Never needed anyone but myself. That’s how I survived. It’s just now.....I have Bucky. And I care about him more then anything in the world, but he’s gone.......well not really but, you know.” You whisper before turning your head towards some tall trees so that the king cannot see the way that your eyes brim with unshed tears. God the ache you feel for him is almost unbearable.

Understanding your deep sorrow from your lovers absence, T’Challa slowly nods, “I cannot fully express an understanding of your pain, as I have never felt it like the way that you have now. Nor have I lived the life of your own.” He admits as you turn your head to catch him in your peripheral vision, not quit ready to meet his unthreatening gaze.

He swallows before continuing, “But this I do know, you are a warrior if I’ve ever known one, and I know many.” Chuckles the king, “You fight fiercely and love deeply, Bucky should be proud to have you by his side. I may envy that kind of love, though I should not say it, it is true.”

A stray tear slides down your cheek as you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand, “Love.” You whisper softly in thought, “I do love him, yes....very much. I’ve been withdrawn lately, because well, I guess I miss him more then I’d realize I would. I hope your people help him. That’s all I ask for, I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“You might not be waiting quit that long actually.” Reveals Shuri as her familiar footsteps wander into the large sun-lite room overlooking the jungle, “My team just needs a couple more days with him and he’ll be good to go for the most part. Though the process of fully becoming free from the trigger words may take a little longer....his mind will still need time to heal.” Explains Shuri as she moves to stand on your left, opposite of her half-brother.

At this your heart speeds up with excitement, eyes turning to face the smiling princess , “I don’t want to threaten royalty, but I might break a couple of your lounge chairs if you’re lying to me. I’m not joking.” You add half jokingly as T’Challa lightly chuckles.

“Now I do not doubt that.”

——

Today you’ve been summoned into the lab in preparation for Bucky’s defrosting, claiming that having a familiar face as the first thing he sees was probably the best for when he wakes up again, at least that’s what the doctors told you.

And of course you didn’t even hesitate to say yes. So now here you are in their cleaner then a soap bottle lab, standing nervously a couple feet away from the Cryo chamber as some scientists go about their duties to his left. It’s strange, he looks relatively peaceful and serene, like he’s having a nice little nap while standing upright and covered in frost.

Nonetheless Bucky looks handsome as always, soon a tiny subconscious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you await the aftermath of the defrosting process. A button is hit and the familiar whoosh of the air chamber fills your ears as bouts of warm white steam push up into the air from the bottom and sides of his chamber.

The inside goes foggy before one of the scientists flicks a switch and the glass door pops open to emit a plethora of tiny clouds that float up and dissipate just as quickly. In the aftermath, your eyes search for Bucky, he’s still sleeping and is covered in a couple specks of blue frost, his hair undoubtedly wet from the chamber’s atmosphere.

“Give him a moment, he may be slightly disoriented as the body wakes up again.” Explains Shuri from the doorway as you bite your bottom lip anxiously in anticipation for when he’s finally conscious.

“Right.” You nod in understanding, “Not like this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him this way.” You mutter with a depressing chuckle.

A second later you’re alerted to the sound of someone sucking in a deep breath, immediately your head snaps over to witness as Bucky stirs, his fingers curl back to life as his lips part. Then soon after his two icy blue pools slowly reveal themselves to the rest of the lab as he takes a look around.

Your fists grip tightly onto the fabric of your jacket as Bucky swallows before blinking back the slight blur of waking up from a couple weeks of hibernation. The scientists, Shuri, and you study his movements as Bucky’s brow raises in thought, his eyes only on you.

“How longs it been?” He wonders before taking a step to get out of the Cryo chamber.

“Exactly a month and a half Mr. Barnes.” Chirps Shuri enthusiastically as he nods in understanding before she gives a glance between the two of you, “Alright, I’ll give you and Miss. Valerious some time to catch up while we check your vitals.” Adds the princess before exiting out the door, the other scientists following suit.

Now it’s just you and your Bucky; glancing at the floor, the two of you wander into a semi-awkward silence before he finally breaks the ice, “You look good.” He mutters softly, a small reassuring smile on his pink lips as your eyes trail up to meet his.

Revealing a breathy laugh, you shrug, “Hardly. But you on the other hand, white, I like it. It’s a good color on you.”

His stubbled cheeks flush pink as he smiles brightly, “I think I remember you telling me the exact same thing before I went under.”

“Well I just told you again, because I mean it.”

“Well I like the new style..” Points Bucky to your outfit, “it’s Wakandian but very Y/N.....I like it.”

Shaking your head you begin giggling at his adorable compliment, “Barnes you’re too much....but seriously, how do you feel? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Thirsty?”

He smiles, “No, uh....I actually feel pretty good honestly. I could go for something to eat though, I’m starving.”

Walking over you gently take his hand in yours, “Say no more. T’Challa’s got everything here.”

——

After Bucky got readjusted and evaluated by Shuri’s team of incredible scientists and brilliant doctors, Bucky was well on his way to a full recovery from the years of mental torture given to him by Hydra. The words didn’t affect him anymore, the anxiety surrounding the very thought of breaking and turning on everyone again was a thing of the past.

He was your Bucky, completely.

In the following days after, T’Challa found a nice place on the outskirts of the grand city where you and Bucky could lay low and recover for some time as needed. Not wanting to over due your stay in his lavish home, and also wanting to feel the breeze again, you both agreed to live in a little village on the edge of a large pond.

All of it was Wakanda, so neither you nor Bucky stressed any worry that the Romanian and German authorities would come bursting through the front gates to whisk you away for your crimes. Or Tony Stark for that matter, he definitely hates you guys without a doubt in your mind.

Definitly with good reason, but that doesn’t mean you’d ever dare give Bucky up.

But on to greener pastures, it’s truly a possible thing that you’ve never seen Bucky in colors besides black or faded red shirts. But now? He wanders around in the brilliantly beautiful colors of Wakanda and her people with a brighter smile on his lips and lack of one arm for the time being.

Ah yes, the arm.

For the most part he’s been fine about it, though he needs your assistance when getting dressed or when attempting to wash the grime from his growing mane. Although, and fortunately for you, he’s still quit proficient in the area of love making with no decline in performance with lack of one arm, much to your satisfaction and his.

Besides that, it’s amusing, since you’ve been staying in this little friendly village, the kids have begun calling him the White Wolf when they want his attention. Which in turn earns a small smile upon his lips, one because he knows you usually hear it and think it’s adorable, and two it’s probably the first honestly kind thing anyone has ever placed on him, ever.

Walking across the villages center area, past huts and ladies washing some of their tunics, you follow the excited rambling of one of the village children as she talks a mile a minute about how you just have to see this really cool thing right now without exception. So of course you have to see this really cool thing, right now.

“Y/N! Y/N! Come! Faster you’re going to miss it, hurry you’re being slow.” Urges Ryn’a with a wave of her hand as she beckons you to starts running with her.

Heeding to her urgent request, you give her aunt a pursed lip grind before racing after the sprinting child, “This better be very interesting, or I’ll throw you into the water again!” You playfully threaten as she giggles across the grassy field.

Soon you’re crouching behind a rock as she peeks over the stony edge, ducking back down, she gives you a mischievous grin, “The White Wolf doesn’t see us.”

Raising a brow you nod, “This is what you wanted me to see? Him?”

Shaking her head she rolls her dark eyes in amusement, “No. We’re hunting.” She smirks in excitement as your brows furrow in confusion. Huh?

“Uh.....what?” Suddenly you connect the dots, “Are we hunting the White Wolf?” You ask, pretty damn positive that’s where this little adventure is going.

Shaking your shoulder excitedly she squeaks with joy before instantly catching herself and quieting down real quick, “He’s just over this rock. Chopping wood for the fire tonight....we need to hit him with a stick okay, then we run.”

Slowly nodding, your eyes trail over her excited face, “Hmm, okay. But I gotta ask, did Kova put you up to this and I’m now an accomplice?”

Biting her bottom lip, she diverts her gaze to the bushes behind you before mumbling out, “He might have......and if I was to hit the White Wolf on his head without getting caught. I’d get to play the drums for the fire tonight.” She whispers almost embarrassed.

Giving her a kind smile, you gently touch her shoulder in reassurance as she looks to you now, “Well then. Looks like we’re on a wolf hunt today, huh. Lucky for you, I’m great at throwing sticks.”

Immediately she squeals in joy before standing as still as stone, “Sorry.”

“No worries. I don’t think he heard a sound.” You reply, snatching a ruler sized stick from the ground before peeking over the grey sun kissed rock.

There he is, in his red tunic completely oblivious, using a Vibranium axe to chop away at the wood for tonight’s fire dance. Sitting back down, you press your back against the stone as Ryn’a clenches her fists in excited anticipation, “Ready, Y/N?” You nod as she smiles.

“Okay good....don’t miss.” She warns.

“I never miss.” You muse before turning back around, your eyes peek up over the edge and watch as Bucky sets another log on the flat rock, he hauls the axe down, splitting the wood in two.

Setting the axe down again, he walks over to the small log pile before selecting one and setting it back on the flat rock, bending down to grab the axe and when he stands to his full height again...

Smack!

Instantly the dry weather worn stick flies from the back of his head to the ground below as he throws a wary look in your direction. Though he sees absolutely nothing but a big grey rock and some bushes. Touching the back of his head, he looks down and swiftly picks up the relatively unthreatening piece of dried wood.

Studying it like it’s the holy grail and will give him all the answers to eternal life and whatnot, he throws it to the ground before continuing with his duties as you turn back to Ryn’a. “That was a good hit.....can you do it again? Please?” Mutters the little beast as you settle down from that adrenaline rush of perfectly nailing Bucky in the back of his head without getting caught.

Let’s not forget you were one of Hydra’s most deadliest assassins.

Her dark chocolate eyes stare pleadingly and puppy-like as she fake pouts, “Please Y/N? I won’t ever leave another turtle in your house ever again....promise. I promise, please?” She quietly begs as you contain your laughter.

“Yeah alright. But you’re gonna have to run cause he’s probably gonna figure out where the second one came from.” You add with a smirk, “I’ll deal with the wolf after. I can take him.”

“Yes!” She squeaks, “Oh, sorry I mean....yes.” She whispers quietly as you search for a new stick to throw.

Soon enough you find another and cautiously look around the side of the rock this time, there’s Bucky, setting another log on the flat rock before slicing it in half. Instantly the biggest grin pulls your lips into a Cheshire Cat smile as he turns to grab another log.

Smack!

“Hey! Who was that?!” He shouts in confusion as Ryn’a bursts with laughter before booking it back to the safety of the village while you crouch there behind a rock cackling like a child.

God that was such an accurate hit too. And he didn’t even see it coming.

Suddenly you hear the sounds of feet running against the earth, when Bucky makes it to the back of the large rock you’re nowhere to be found. Brows furrowing, he looks at the bushes and then over to the nearby village before shaking his head and turning around to walk back over to his usual duties for the day.

Only now he’s confronted by the casually innocent face of you who’s standing there with the axe slung over your shoulder, “Something scare you Barnes?” You muse with a small laugh before nodding towards the wood, “I mean these logs can be pretty scary I won’t hold it against you. You might have seen a snake, who knows.”

Sauntering back over to you he stands there for a moment just observing your casually calm self, “Why do I have a suspicion you just hit me with a stick. Twice.”

Shrugging, you slam the axe into the dirt before rising up to meet his humored gaze, “Maybe it was a Rhino, maybe it was a little nine year old who needed me to win her a drum. Guess you’ll never know.”

Glancing from the ground then back up to you again, Bucky shakes his head at your theatrical antics, warm smile ghosting across his lips, “Well just so you know it didn’t hurt.” Assures your big tough man with a nod.

“I’ll use a bigger stick next time.” You quip as he takes a step closer to you.

Handsome face breaking out into a beaming grin, “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I’m tired of chopping wood.” He says as his fingers ghost against the bare skin of your sleeveless shoulders, “I just want to be with you.”

Touching the side of of his stubbly cheek affectionately, you smile, “Where too? By the pond?” Which causes him to snort a breathy laugh.

“No, I don’t trust you by open water.”

You shrug in agreement, remembering the first time you both arrived here and the children brought you into a splashing fight where you got Bucky’s hair all wet, “Yeah that’s fair.”

——

After enjoying a pleasant evening walk together, eating a delicious traditional Wakandian meal, and watching the performers for the celebration dance and beat on their drums for hours into the night. You and Bucky decided to steal away from the festivities and have a little moment together under the stars, just you and him, nothing and no one else.

“That was nice wasn’t it.” You mutter as he lays on his back next to you, “I like these people. They’re kind.”

Turning his head to meet your shadowed face, he smiles adoringly as you keep a steady gaze set on the stars above, “Well, no ones trying to kill us so I’d say we’re doing alright.”

“We are, aren’t we. Who would have thought that shit huh? Two ex-assassins, two fucked up people like us laying like sappy teenagers under the stars. This almost feels like some stupid romantic film.”

Bucky lets out a proper laugh this time as you send him a humored look, “What? I’m being honest!”

Quickly he rolls onto his side to face you, a new sultry flicker flashing through his dark gaze, “Maybe I like being sappy with you.” He mutters lovingly before trailing a finger across your jaw as you study his face.

“Sappy with me? Why Mr. Barnes are you flirting with me this fine evening?” You muse with a breathy chuckle as he smiles brightly down at you.

“I was hoping you’d notice, is it working?” He asks, a hopeful look in his dark blue eyes.

Leaning closer, he’s pleasantly surprised when you gently press your lips to his, “My God James you’re making me swoon.” You jest before snickering at your shitty old-timey accent replacing the Eastern European one, “Why I’ve never met such a character, now tell me Mr. Barnes, are you a single man?”

Holding in his laughter, he takes a breath before answering, “Doll, I’m taken.”

Gasping in mock surprise, you quickly sit up before pushing him onto his back by both shoulders, your legs to either side of his torso as your faces keep mere inches apart, “Well, well, well how about that.” You slyly tisk, your natural accent dripping heavily as it sends a thrill through Bucky, “Lucky woman indeed. But I can guarantee you, I’m much more enticing.”

Bucky shivers as you lean your body closer to his, your silky hands to either side of his flushed face as you smile a devilish grin in the darkness, “I don’t doubt it.” He rasps, voice just barley above a whisper, lips so close to yours now you could almost taste him.

“I just realized something.” You suddenly mumble against his plush inviting lips.

Bucky hums in reply, to completely and utterly enthralled by your seductive charm to even form a coherent sentence, you smirk before rising to properly sit up against him, “Bucky, you look better in the dark.”

His stomach rises with a deep laugh that rubs pleasingly against your growing warmness as he gently squeezes a hand on your right thigh, “You’re gonna get it for that one.” He muses, appearing like he’s about to flip you over but you’re not having any of that.

Pressing a hand against his firm chest, you suddenly grind your clothed nether regions slowly and meticulously against his lower stomach. He quickly lets out a low guttural moan as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his lips.

Pulling away, you rest one hand on the thin Wakandian blanket that’s keeping you two from the dirty ground below, your other hand gently trailing down the side of his stubbly face, “Just let me make love to you okay? If you want that i...”

“Yes!” Interrupts Bucky with a great bout of enthusiasm before catching himself, “I mean....uh, yes please.” He mutters, failing to regain his composure as you circle your hips against his fiery skin. Oh, you are certainly enjoying yourself.

Smiling into the half moonlight, your eyes trail cautiously over to the burning village bond-fire a small trek away, seeing everyone laughing and minding their sweet business you then immediately pull your shirt off, your bra following right after just as quickly. Laying discarded on the nearby grass for later; Bucky’s eyes go wide with lust as the outline of your curves and protruding breasts flash like gold in the moonlight.

God you’re so beautiful, he thinks, and all mine.

The smile that Bucky gives you could just about light up a room on the darkest of nights, he wants you, he needs to be consumed by you, to feel you for all that you are. You can see it by the way that he rubs your partially exposed thigh, by the way his eyes never leave yours and when they do it’s to wander around your divine vessel.

He’s never been more in love then in this very moment, if that’s even possible; he’s never really spoken too deeply about it, his time with Hydra. But he’s undoubtedly glad that you found him when you did, he was in a dark place then. Lost and alone, on the run and keeping to the shadows as best he could from the rest of the hungry eyes of the world.

Then one day out of the blue you showed up with nothing but your wits and a kind smile to show you meant no harm, all you wanted was to see him again after all that time apart from your escape and his imprisonment with Hydra. He was sent to kill you, but you came back to him anyways.

He didn’t understand it at first, when he began to realize what falling in love truly felt like, but with time it came to him. At first sight wasn’t something that happened by any means, he was nervous to see you, standing there so innocently in his apartment in Bucharest. He thought he was being careful, he thought he was safe.

But then Hydra’s most prized weapon and most difficult one at that, you, had shown up to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t believe it, but what scared him the most as he let you stay with him, he was slowly but surly beginning to fall in love with you.

Now that was a new feeling he hadn’t felt in decades, you intrigued him, made him laugh with the simplest of offhanded side comments, made him try to be a better person. And most of all you made him feel wanted and loved, and that is something he will always hold dearly to his very heart and soul.

Because as you’ve said to him, you’re his ride or die no exception, you’ll always be there to throw a punch for him or to gather himself in your arms when the darkness threatens to consume him for all he’s worth.

You’re not afraid of him like so many are, you don’t run from danger, oh no, when Bucky’s concerned. You’re ass will fight to exhaustion to keep him safe and alive. Which so far has proved a very useful state of mind in consideration to the past events that have currently led you two on this ever changing roller coaster.

From Bucharest to Berlin, a flight to Siberia and a long skip down to Wakanda; you two will be by each other’s side no matter the distance. Because to put it bluntly, you’re all Bucky has left in the world and Bucky is all you have either, one without the other would be a dreadful existence.

Luckily for you, Bucky’s incredibly alive and doing pretty damn alright all things considered. Also for the current moment, he’s becoming an undone mess underneath you. Which is just what you’ve wanted, he deserves it.

Trailing a fiery pathway of butterfly kisses from his collarbone all the way up to his neck and jawline, Bucky emits a deep groan of pleasure as you palm him through his baggy pants that have started to tent with the pull of his growing hardness.

His lower half is still clothed while your whole body is free for the shimmering stars to bear witness to, and Bucky of course. “Y/N. Please.” He rasps as you feel up his clothed manhood while you grind tirelessly against his bare stomach, the sensation no doubt drawing you into a blissful rising climax to follow.

Stopping your pleasurable attack to his hardened member, you swiftly roll off of him as you decide it’s time to get things rolling, “Alright hot stuff get that shit off, I need you inside me right the fuck now.”

“Give me a sec...” Grunts Bucky as he kicks off his pants into the grass before you help him prepare to slip off his underwear, holding the top rim of the fabric, you generously pull it to his ankles before he kicks them off completely.

He chuckles as your face flashes with delight once all the goods are finally shown at long last, “See something you like?” Quips your man as your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze, huh were you staring?

A hot second later you’re hovering directly above his heated body as he strains from grabbing your soft hips and pushing your slick entrance into him. He wants you to enjoy yourself more then anything in the world, so instead does he pull you in for a heated kiss.

“I see many things that I like.” You whisper against his soft lips before slowly sinking down onto him, the sensation of his fullness and girth pulling you into a world of bliss.

Your smile is almost provocative as he moans, the sounds of his pleasure sending sparks of electricity into your system, “God Buck, you feel so fucking good.” You praise, rolling your hips back and forth against him shamelessly, God he loves it when you sweet talk him

He smirks against the corner of your lips before kissing your cheek, “You.....to-too.” Stutters Bucky while you continue to relentlessly ride him like a wild bull, the rocking of your hips causing him to forget how to properly speak.

He looks absolutely angelic, dark locks spread out upon the Wakandian blanket, shirtless, and face smiling with great happiness and joy that he’s been so terribly deprived of for such a long time. Not anymore. Not if you can help it.

Biting your lip when his member twitches inside you, you’re helpless to stop as a soft voluptuous whimper leaves your parted lips unexpectedly when he bucks his hips into you for some more friction. Noticing how well this new action is being received by you, Bucky does it over and over again until you’re nothing but a moaning mess above him.

Dammit he knows how to make you feel good.

Your body falling fully onto him as he makes you cum hard, “F-fuck.....oh God Buck, fuck me.” You mumble against his lips as he thrusts up into you over and over until he finally spills inside you with a concentrated grunt.

“oh.” You gasp breathlessly as Bucky flips you onto your back in one skilled motion, still deep within your wet warmness as his whole body presses you wonderfully into the soft blanket, “I hope they can’t see us.” You point out as Bucky chuckles before kissing your jawline, strong hips pushing against yours as he parts your legs further with his large body.

“It’s dark out.” Mutters Bucky in reply as he pulls another moan from your sweet lips, “They’re dancing.....and we’re....oh fuck....uhh....yes...” He can’t even finish his sentence as you suddenly squeeze your walls tightly around his cock as a second orgasm hits you, “Dear God Y/N.” Moans Bucky while you trail pink fiery lines down his muscular back.

Smiling against his lips, you fully enjoy the sensation of his thick member sliding in and out of you at a blissfully rapid pace as he continues to make a mess down there with his pleasure inducing actions. You’re incredibly grateful for the fire dance celebration happening a little ways away and all the loud pounding of the tribal drums that masks over the sounds of yours and Bucky’s intense love making on the Wakandian savanna.

Biting your lip, you can’t help when more whiney moans slip from your mouth, he’s a relentless force of lust and love that’s on a mission to see you filled to the brim with pleasure once more. He needs you, he wants every single inch of your heated vessel, he needs you to come for him just one last time.

“Y/N.” Mumbles Bucky against your parted lips as you slowly nod in acknowledgment, too fucked out to think. He smirks, “Cum for me, last time okay.” Says your lover sweetly as his hips roll against your sweaty skin, sending waves of building pleasure on a crash course for your hot core that’s pulsating in delight.

Digging your nails into the slick muscle of his broad back, you suck in a breath while his hard member slides in and out of you with ease. You’re about to come undone right under him yet again, the power of this man you could just about die happy, “Fuck,” You whimper helplessly as he kisses your cheek, “oh God Buck I’m close.”

He smiles proudly as his hips thrust forward, cock sliding deep within your warm walls as his manhood presses on the brim of your entrance, working absolute wonders on your over-stimulated clit.

Soon enough, the tight coil bursts open, sending shock waves of absolute radiant bliss that causes your muscles to tighten and shake reflexively. A sudden wetness slips out around his cock and onto the Wakandian blanket that’s definitely going to need a deep cleaning tomorrow.

The new liquid slides down your inner thighs as your body slowly yet surly comes down from your salaciously erotic climax; head unclouding the thick fog away, you take a deep breath only for yourself to realize you just squirted for the first time ever.

And it appears Bucky has just come to this thrilling realization too, locking eyes with him, you’re greeted with a sly smirk, “Did I just make you squirt?” Muses Bucky in underlying excitement as you simply roll your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like I can deny it considering it’s all over the blanket, among other places.” You sass back, still aware of how he’s still buried deep inside you, “Proud of yourself?” You add with a small laugh.

Kissing your lips in reply, he pushes himself up by his one arm to gently slip out of you before laying in an exhausted heap at your side, “Actually. Yes, I am very proud of myself thanks for asking.” Quips Bucky while his hand trails down your bare rib cage before a huge grin reveals itself in the darkness, “I just made my girlfriend squirt!” Shouts Bucky without a care in the whole goddamn world.

Smacking his arm, you quickly sit up and look around, though it appears no one even knows you two are out here, “Will you shut up!” You whisper yell down at Bucky who’s giving you the biggest white toothed smile ever, “Stop smiling it wasn’t that impressive.”

Faking a half offended look, he pats your leg affectionately, “It was! And you seemed to be enjoying it so just accept that I’ve gotten better at this.”

You scoff, “I never said you weren’t. It’s just we’ve been together for almost three years and that’s the first time I’ve ever done.....that. So..”

“And it just happened so therefore I am amazing and you’re just going to have to accept how hot I am Y/N.”

“Buc..”

“I was getting you all hot and bothered doll.” Winks Bucky seductively as you shake your head at him, a reluctant smile creeping onto your beautiful features anyway.

“God you’re so old.”

Bucky snorts, “And aren’t you 65 or something? Sleeping with a 90 year old man....Y/N you’re getting out of hand.”

Shoving his hand off of your leg, you swiftly fall into his side as his arm curls up to wrap protectively against your waist, “Bucky shut your ass up.” You snicker, “I liked you better when I was on top. All you did was give me that “oh god Y/N oh fuck me ohhh I’m gonna I’m gonna...”

Bucky squeezes your side, “Okay. Okay. I get it you little asshole....let’s just, let’s just rest a moment yeah?”

You hum, shifting yourself so that you can lay against his chest, “Getting mushy on me now Barnes?” You whisper softly with a playful smirk.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his plush lips while he glances down at you, “A little.”

For about twenty minutes the two of you keep silent, just listing to the yelps and thunderous pounding of the drums from farther away. There is no reason to leave, no reason to move, no reason to speak. Just you two, laying wrapped up together in each others loving embrace, taking in the moment for as long as you can. The future is always uncertain, so every single second with Bucky is a blessing to be cherished and consumed for all you can take.

His breaths are slow and steady as you feel the soft rise and fall of his muscular chest that’s pressed against your breasts and face. His fingers run gentle line up and down your naked skin as you hug him close.

“Do you remember when we first saw one another?” Asks Bucky, his voice almost startling you. Lips just barley brush against your naked shoulder as he holds you close, your face nuzzled comfortably against his dark hair.

You pause, eyes blinking as they shift over to Bucky while he awaits an answer, “It was a long time ago Buck.”

“I know. But do you remember?”

Shrugging, you shift a bit to have a better look at his face, “I do. But you were the Winter Soldier and I was.....something I never want to be ever again.” You mutter, the sadness and regret deep in your soft voice.

All goes silent for the next couple minutes before Bucky suddenly kisses your shoulder, “I thought you were beautiful.”

Yours brows raise as you pull from his right grasp to sit up on one elbow while you look down at him, a lump forming in the back of your throat as you hold back tears. You didn’t expect to get this emotional but here you are naked and bare for him, “You did?”

Bucky nods in the darkness, heart hurting when your voice cracks, he’s never told you a word about how he felt when he was a weapon, “And every day after that.”

“oh.”

“I didn’t want them to.....well, you know.....I didn’t want to forget you.” Confesses Bucky, “I’m so fucking glad I didn’t. Thank you for finding me Y/N....I owe you my life.”

Biting the bottom of your quivering lip, he smiles adoringly up at you, “Bucky....shut up you’re going to make me cry you bastard.” He laughs as you indeed shed a couple stray tears in this soft moment of vulnerability with your sweet man as he holds you protectively in his arm.

“I mean it...every single word, you mean so much to me Y/N. The world would be a darker place without you in it...”

You lower your head in shame, all those buried memories piling up all at once, “No. No it wouldn’t be....I’m part of the darkness Bucky...you know that..”

“Y/N, look at me, please.” Begs Bucky as you begrudgingly lift your head for him to meet your tearfully sad eyes, “Don’t let them win. What they did to us, what they made us do....you’re so much better then all of that. We’ve changed Y/N, for the better and you know it...the words can’t break me anymore and you, you’re free.”

“Okay.” Is all you’re able to rasp out before more tears fall willingly from your eyes, tiny water droplets of grief and remorse pattering against his bare chest, Bucky’s heart breaks for your pain and loss, and everything those fuckers at Hydra put you through before your escape to freedom.

He knows how much you hate yourself for all the innocent people you killed, granted not many were adherently innocent, but there where many that died by your hand because wrong place wrong time or by Hydra manipulation. Selling you false secrets that painted some people who were indeed good, as the enemy equal to the worst kinds of humans.

He knows, and he refuses to let you fall into this dark pit of despair, “I love you...okay, Y/N I love you so fucking much.” His words are well heard and received as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

There he holds you tightly, there he will protect you with his life, and there he will stay with you under the stars until dawn breaks out over the horizon.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel #tfatws #the avengers imagine #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #james buchanan barnes

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pog-sad-muffin · 3 years

Text

The dreamscape.

Vilbur and Reader pt. 6

!TW! freezing, manipulation, yelling, violence, mentions of blood, feral Tommy!TW!

Hope you enjoy <3

Art credit to: @elevenshaze on twt

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Tubbo's POV

I know I am dreaming, I can hear Phil pacing around the room. Soon his pacing fades away.

-entering the dream state-

The sun rests just over the horizon, Tommy is here. We are on the hill that overlooks L'manburg.

"Hey, big man?"

"Yeah what's up?" Tommy answers.

"Will we get our happily ever after? Everyone is talking about how they work towards their happy ending. But I just can't seem to see the end." I say brushing my hair away from my eyes.

"There is no ending because there was never a beginning," Tommy says, his voice getting scratchy.

"What do you mean," I ask, turning to look at him. His eyes are the void and a smile is etched into his face. No! NO! DREAM CANT TAKE HIM FROM ME! please...

Waking up with a start. Sweat dripping down my face, my breathing erratic, and shaking all over. Phil, with a concerned look on his face, swiftly walks up to me.

"Are you alright mate, you look like you just had a nightmare," Phil says softly, sitting down next to me and rubbing circles on my back. I open my mouth but no words come out, my mind racing from what I saw.

"It's ok you don't need to talk about it. Go be with Ranboo, he was worried about you." Nodding, I shakily stand. Walking cautiously down the stairs I make it to the kitchen. Collecting myself I look around for Ranboo. Nope, not in the kitchen, not in the living room. Though Techno is when he notices me peeking into the room he points to the porch. Stepping over to the door I bring it open and looking out. Seeing Ranboo playing with Michael, a lazy smile adorned his face. Smiling softly to myself I walk outside fully and close the door, getting their attention.

"Dad!" Michael yells, wobbling up to his feet he shuffles towards me.

"Hello buddy, how are you?" I ask resting Michael in my lap after I sit down in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch.

"Good, Papa called some people over. Mister Pink looked at me weirdly and Mister Green told Papa to relax so he played with me out here while you were sleeping! We played all these fun games…" my son's voice settling into the background, he thought I was sleeping and Techno saw him… "and then I saw you and you were awake and here!" Michael says finishing his story.

"That's nice, now I need to talk to your Papa for a moment, would you go inside with Phil?" I ask, voice cracking slightly.

"Ok, Dad see you later!" Michael says, jumping up and running inside. We wait a few moments, I'm still sitting on the ground, the cold of the snow no longer bothering me.

Ranboo's POV

I look over at Tubbo when Michael runs inside. His eyes are glassy, and he is still on the ground. After a moment I walked over to him. Sitting down next to him I pull him into a hug. I feel him start to cry, it burns into my chest, but I don't complain. Comforting him I feel myself starting to cry as well. My tears cascading down my face, sizzling and burning down my face. It is snowing now. Tubbo and I don't care anymore, we grasp onto each other and start sobbing. Tubbo let out a cry, one you would hear from someone who just got the news that their last hope had passed.

3rd person POV

Techno is watching the two broken children cry into each other from the window. Something in him breaks in him as well. They shouldn't be in this life of violence, they're only kids. And yet they had suffered so much. He thinks shaking his head. Started when he hears the most heart-wrenching scream from Tubbo. His eyes tearing up, he turns away and walks up to the room where Tommy lays. Phil has long since left the room to comfort Michael. Looking over Tommy, he notices all the details of what had happened. Tommy's lips were dark purple, his exposed skin looked like icy veins crawling up his body, Tommys breathing slow and labored. He is not much better than when Ranboo found him. We don't know why he isn't getting better. Niki should be on her way, unfortunately, she lives far away from Ranboo and Tubbo's house.

Knock knock knock. Phil upon hearing this sets Michael down on the bed, the young child having fallen asleep. Hears the knock and makes his way downstairs. Opening the door, letting Niki inside.

"So where is Tommy? I saw Tubbo was awake." She mentions, taking her winter coat and winter gear off. Grabbing the satchel that was under the coat.

"Good to see you again mate, follow me," Phil says waving his hand towards the stairs. As they make their way up the stairs Niki is looking around, looking for clues to what had happened to the boys. Phil stops at the door opening it for Niki.

"He's on the bed over there," Phil mutters, refusing to make eye contact or look in the room. Niki looks at Phil with sympathy in her eyes before entering. Walking in closing the door softly behind her. Techno once he saw her stood up, knowing her past and her hate against Tommy. Pulling out his ax in a defensive stance.

"Woah, calm down I'm only here to help. Phil called me in," Niki says, trying to calm Techno. Slowly lowering his defensive stance in front of Tommy, who is effectively dying without treatment.

Niki's POV

As I cautiously approach Tommy, I can see the damage of whatever had been done to him. His lips are dark plum and black near the center, his ears are blue and black, his hair was stiff from what seems like the cold Ranboo found him in, his breathing is more like wheezing and pained. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Focusing my eyes back on Tommy I grab the bag that I had brought with me. Opening it I grab my book, my candles, and a heater. Looking over at Techno I ask, "Would you put some coal in here," I hand him the heater. He looks skeptical about it before doing what I asked. As he loaded coal into it, I pulled out my book looking through various supernatural creatures before finding what I was looking for.

“Here!” I shout, after a while, startling Techno. “Sorry,” I say softly when he glares at me.

Hearing a thundering sound running up the stairs, Phil bursts into the room, “Do you know what caused this?!” Phil says frantically. Techno being confused at the question looks between Niki and Phil expectantly.

“He means what creature caused this,” I explain, “I'm a mob expert.”

“HUH! Since when?”

“She has been for a while… Anyway, that's not the point.” Phil says.

“Yes, Phil is right. I found what caused this. It says here-” I say, pointing at a page in my book,”- the only thing that could have caused this would be… A spectator aka a ghost essentialy.” Once I say that Phil and Techno’s eyes go wide and they stare at each other, then Tommy. Their eyes are filled with confusion and terror. And then the realization hit me, we only have two ghosts, and both of them were close to the young boys. But they wouldn't do this… would they?

Tommy's POV

-entering the dream state-

It is warm here, I remember it was cold earlier. Why was it cold again? Eh doesn't matter now that I am warm. A new wave of heat cascades through me, thawing my body into comfort. I am calm, wow when was the last time that happened. Maybe when Tubbo and I were building our bench, Techno and Wilbur watched our back. It was the most peaceful week of work… ever I think.

"Hello?" I hear an echo crossing the room.

"Hello, who are you?" I question back to the voice, not bothering to open my eyes.

"Tommy is that you?" I hear, starting to recognize the voice. Snapping my eyes open, I look around in search of the voice. Y/n they are here, I want to see them again. I miss them.

"Y/n? Where are you?"

"I'm right over here Tommy," they say. I turn around and see them, glowing with their arm stretched towards me, a soft welcoming smile decorated their face. Rushing over to them I tackle them into a hug, crying slightly.

"Hello Big man," they say softly, engulfing the smaller in a hug. I smile through the tears that are free-falling down my face.

"I missed you Y/n," I say, my voice heavy with emotion. Finally, I reluctantly pull away from the hug.

"I have something important to tell you, Tommy…" Y/n says, eyes going downcast and glossing over. "They are trying to take you from me," their voice growing softer, as I grow more confused and I furrow my brows.

"Who is trying to take you? I want to stay with you." I say, standing my ground ready to fight anyone who gets in my way of being with my sibling I was forced to lose.

"They are Tommy you have to stop them…" their voice fading away more as I am being pulled away from them.

"No! Stop! I want to go back! Y/n!" I yelled, reaching desperately towards them, despite me being pulled away.

Waking with a start, all of the warmth from the dreamscape gone. Niki, Techno, and Phil standing over me. They are smiling. Why do they get to be happy? I just want to go home, the place where I belong. With Y/n, Will, Tubbo, and L'manburg. The good days.

"How are you feeling?" Phil asks, my head slowly turning towards him. I throw myself at him, clawing at him. I get a handful of feathers and his hat before Techno and Niki pull me off of him with my arms behind my back. I hear an animalistic growl until I realize it is coming from me. Not that I care they were the ones trying to take me away from Y/n. Phil, who has now fallen onto the floor. Looking at me in shock. I feel my lips curl up to bare my teeth and growl once again.

"Niki what's happening?!" Techno shouts frantically, as I struggle from their grasp. I hear people storming up the stairs. Tubbo and Ranboo slam the door open. They see me and I'm not sure what sparked it but I think it was looking at Ranboo, I never liked him, he took away my friend, and now he is here for Y/n as well. With newfound strength, I launch myself at Ranboo, ripping my grasp away from Techno and Niki. I go to attack him only to be hit with something and thrown off to the side. Looking at where the item was thrown I see a shaking Niki, standing on all fours I growl at them. My hybrid features on display. My tail swishing behind me defensively, my razor-sharp canines bared at all of them, the two joints on my legs ripping through my pants near the joints.

"Hey… Tommy, Big man calm down…" Tubbo says cautiously sidestepping towards me, in response, I let out an unnerving growl that makes everyone flinch in response.

"Niki! What is going on!" Techno growls, furiously.

"I don't know this isn't supposed to happen! Though there is a chance that the spector had said something to him!" she says, looking through her book frantically trying to find an answer.

"What do you mean! There is a chance! What could they have said'' Phil yells, I ignore them focusing on Ranboo. Tensing my legs and lowering myself onto the ground I feel something fall from my mouth.

"Umm… Phil what is dripping from his mouth," Tubbo asks, voice quivering. Suddenly everyone's attention is on me again. I let out another growl, more of the goop falling from my mouth, looking at it this time I see it is a black-looking slime. Hearing someone step closer to me, my head snaps at them. I let out a roar. Tubbo and Niki are staring at me in fear, Phil is staring in shock, and Techno in distress. I lunge at Ranboo once more this time reaching for his horn with the reached ring on it. Tubbo shrieks when he sees what I'm going for, and he jumps at me. I make it to my target and start yanking on his horn trying to rip it off, so he will let me see Y/n again. Tubbo hits me off, falling to the floor with a whimper. Techno and Phil rush to restrain me, Niki rushes to Ranboo to check on what I hurt. I see Ranboo reach for his horn and realize the ring is gone.

"My ring is gone! Did it fall off!?" Ranboo asks, I plant myself onto the ground. It's not like I needed to, I have two people keeping me on the ground. Smirking, I look Ranboo in the eyes.

"Tommy where is it!" He yells at me, part of his jaw unhinging. I close my mouth tighter, locking my jaw.

"Guys… I think it's in his mouth." Tubbo says, noticing my jaw tense.

"How? We didn't see it?!" Niki says, baffled. She runs over to Techno and Phil, something in her hand.

I feel something cold touch my neck as the world fades to dark.

-entering dreamscape-

"Tommy are you ok?!" I hear Y/n yell when they see the state I'm in.

"I wanted to come back… they are the enemy…" I mumble my words slurred.

"Ah... I see what happened. I'm so glad you came back," they say, picking me up into a soft warm hug. Just like Mum used to do. Feeling the familiar warmth return.

"Don't worry Big man I will protect you," they say. I feel warmth flood my being and patterns scorching into my body. I didn't mind though it felt nice.

"They're going to sting when you wake once more, but don't worry I will always be here when you go to sleep." I nod limply.

"Want to see them?" Parking up at this I nod once more, not finding the energy to speak. A mirror appears in front of me. I have marks up and down my back and arms. They have symbols that look like, "⋔⊬ ⌿⎍⌿⟟⌰" I feel myself fading out of dream world into a deep sleep.

"Y/n would you stay with me?"

"Of course my pupil."

-----

Thank you for reading, don't be shy if you have a recommendation🖤

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detroitbecomeyandere · 3 years

Note

Oh my god, that part two was so good. What would happen if you tried to escape the island somehow?

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I just want to keep writing for them but I have other things I really want to do for this month, I'll probably come back to them at some point. (If anyone is good at naming things what should we name the pod?)

The only way you could escape is if by some miracle you managed to find enough materials to build a raft and something to store food and water in. You spent weeks inside the forest crafting it, though you still have to make some appearances at the beach so the mermen don't get to suspicious. You decide to set out at night, you know dolphins sleep with half of their brain active but you aren't sure about the mermen. You decide to chance it so you pretend to go to sleep on the leaf bed you made on the beach, laying there hours just watching the shoreline until you see no sign of them. Even then you wait a bit longer, your anxiety almost talks you out of your plan but you do your best to swallow the fear and push yourself up. Despite there being no way they could hear you you still walk as quietly as possible, the first thing you do is drag your raft to the edge of the beach. Feeling more confident you run back and haul your water and food to the raft and get it into the water, you push off with the flat piece of wood you found and use it to paddle out of the bay.

While you were no sailor you could still use the stars to navigate your way home, when you got back you'd have to call up your ex and thank him for making you learn the skill along with him. Following the North star you paddle as hard as you can just trying to put as much distance between yourself and the island as possible. You paddle for hours only stopping when your arms feel like they are wet noodles, pulling the branch out of the water you lay back and watch the stars. The sound of soft waves splashing against your raft lull you to sleep.

A loud thump wakes you, you sit up just as something else hits the raft. Your pulse spikes as you clutch the paddle to your chest, god you hoped that was a shark and not who you think it was. More thumps sound and you hear splashes coming from all sides of you, then a hand shoots out of the water soon after the body follows it. Cyrus launches out of the water and claws his way across towards you the anger in his face on full display in the moonlight, before you can even think about it you swing the paddle and smack his across his face. Blood pours from his nose as he lunges for your ankle, with nowhere to go you stand up and try to back away as far as you could but all you do is tip the raft and send yourself crashing into the dark water.

You surface and franticly look around for Cyrus but find him nowhere so you try and make it back to the raft, the paddle forgotten as you scramble to get out of the water. A cold hand wraps around your ankle and with a shriek you are plunged back into the icy water, he pulls you deeper and deeper. Struggling in his grip you try to pull yourself free but Cyrus digs his nails into your skin. Your lungs are on fire as the last of your oxygen runs out, your thrashing stops as black spots start to dot your vision. Looking up you see the fading moonlight, closing your eyes your final thought is "Well... this is one way to escape."

The first thing you feel is pressure on your chest, then the pain kicks in. Every breath you take in burns and you choke on it, you try to roll over and cough up whatever water was left in your lungs but the pressure on your top of you doesn't budge. Your eyes crack open to see what's holding you down and panic when you see the sleeping merman on top of you. From the freckles on his shoulders you can tell it was Connor and not Cyrus, for which you thanked God for. Gently lifting your head up you see that he has pulled your dress down to your waist and is nuzzled into your breasts, you notice you are still on the raft but moving faster than if just the water were guiding you. Closing your eyes you to try to hold back your tears, knowing they are taking you back to that damned island.

#detroit become human #yandere #yandere x reader #mermay 2021 #mermay ask #mermay #pod bois #anon #ask #mod beau

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years

Text

Not Alone - Peter Rumancek (Hemlock Grove) Part 2 of 2

Eh, probably shouldn’t read this if you’re really squeamish

~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, you were still trying to avoid Peter. But it was proven a bit difficult since school had started.

Just because you told him you weren’t buying what he was selling didn’t mean he could just leave you alone. No, that would be too easy.

Every chance he got, he’d try to persuade you to listen to him. To convince you that you were going to turn into a monster. You just couldn’t believe it. There was no way you were going to turn into a dog on a full moon. No way.

The closer it got to the next full moon, the more anxious you felt. You had no idea why, you’d completely convinced yourself that a scratch from a werewolf didn’t do anything.

But deep down, you could almost feel some of your senses were heightened. You didn’t even know if that was a thing, but maybe it was a placebo effect from all the horror movies you’ve watched.

Just a placebo. It had to be.

A brutal murder that happened to one of your fellow classmates didn’t ease your anxiety either.

You finally realized you were just staring into your dull locker when the bell finally rung. You weren’t as focused as you used to be, and that worried you.

You looked to your left to see Peter already staring at you, and you could sense it. You sensed that he sensed that you were struggling mentally. You hated it. You hated that in the back of your mind you actually believed him. You hated that you might be fated to live a life of misery and lies.

You slammed your locker closed and stormed out of school, not even caring that you had a couple periods left. You needed air.

Not really caring where you were going once again, you found yourself at the park where the Bluebell girl was murdered. You sat on a swing and sighed. You had no idea what you would do if you were going to transform in just a few nights.

“Y/N?”

You jumped, looking around to see Peter stood next to the swing set with a look of concern. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” You asked once you got over your mini heart attack.

Peter chuckled. “You’re asking me that?” He took a seat in the swing beside you, swaying in the wind gently.

“Are you sure...that I’ll turn?” You asked in an almost whisper.

Peter sighed. “It’s happened before. One of my family members, he attacked his wife in a rage. He only scratched her before he came to his senses...she turns on full moons ever since.”

You closed your eyes. “Fuck...”

“Hey,” He voiced softly, “it’s not as miserable as you think it will be.”

“Will I be in control?” You looked at him.

“Yep, the whole time.” He smiled.

“...will it hurt?” You asked timidly, suddenly feeling sick when the Peter’s smile went away.

Peter scratched the back of his head. “You, uh, you get used to it.”

“What’s the probability that I won’t turn?”

Peter thought for a moment, looking up towards the sky like he was searching for the answer in the clouds. “Like...two percent maybe?”

You groaned.

“I can be with you when you turn...if you want.” Peter suggested timidly. “I know how nerve wracking it can be when you turn for the first time. Greenies usually turn earlier than someone who’s been turning for a long time already. I could like...guide you though it.”

You didn’t know why you blushed, but you did. “Uh, I suppose. Might as well, right?” You giggled. “Man, it’ll be real embarrassing if I don’t end up turning.”

“Yeah, I’ll make fun of you if you don’t.” Peter teased.

Some more days passed and you started to feel nauseous almost constantly. You really hated the wait the most.

You and Peter started to hang out together more, now that everyone thought he had something to do with the murder at the park. But he assured you that it wasn’t, for the murder had taken place on the wrong moon.

What you didn’t like was that Peter had been somewhat friendly with the heir to Godfrey industry, Roman. You weren’t his biggest fan.

Currently, you were in Peter’s room, reading a book. You got into the habit of staying at Peter’s every chance you got to get away from your father’s sharp tongue. Lynda welcomed you with open arms as well.

You were starting to worry when Peter didn’t come home right away. Staring at the clock, you realized it was only a few hours till sundown. You really didn’t want to be alone when you turned for the first time. Although, Lynda would be with you.

The palms of your hands started to sweat as Peter stormed in the through the front door. “Where have you been?” Lynda scolded.

You stood up and ran to Peter, engulfing him in a hug. “You scared me. I thought I’d have to turn alone.” You laughed breathlessly.

Peter avoided your eyes. “Yep, you won’t be alone alright.” He coughed.

You furrowed your brows. “What the hell does that mean?” Lynda asked for you.

“Roman’s coming here.”

“What?” You shouted.

“He asked if he could watch.”

“And you said he could?” Lynda screeched.

“I didn’t say yes...or no.”

“Peter, this is the first time this girl is going to turn because of you. And you thought it was a good idea to let an Upir come here?” Lynda asked, making you confused.

“She’s gonna turn before me, so it won’t matter anyway.”

“Wait, what’s an Upir?” You asked.

Peter sighed. “It doesn’t matter right now. What matters is we need to prepare you for the your first turn. Come on.” He lead you to his bedroom.

Peter sat you down on his bed, and started to pace his room. “Peter, you okay?”

He laughed. “I should be asking you that.”

“Well, I’m not feeling too well.” You chuckled weakly.

“That’s normal. By the way, don’t worry about Roman. He’s only gonna watch me turn.”

“What should I expect?” You asked, starting to feel queasy.

Peter sat beside you. “The first turn is the worst. It’s scary, especially if you don’t have someone with you. It sounds horrible, but it makes it easier if you rip off your skin...helps the wolf break out quicker.”

Upon hearing that, you started to tear up. “I really don’t want to do this, Peter...” You cried.

Peter’s eyes softened, bringing you into his arms. “It’ll be okay. I’m gonna be with you every step of the way.” Peter’s watch suddenly beeped, making you flinch. He sat up, reaching his hand out to you.

“It’s time...I can feel it.” You whispered, voice wavering.

Peter brought you outside, motioning for Lynda to join too. “Okay...” He started. “You, uh, have to take off your clothes.”

Your eyes widened, looking to Lynda. She nodded, assuring you that it was something you were supposed to do. You slowly started to remove all the articles of clothing, blushing.

After that, you saw Peter and Lynda only looking at your face. You started to feel more comfortable, despite knowing you were going to turn.

You took a breath and suddenly, you felt a sharp pain in your side. You cried out, hearing and feeling your own bones shift inside you.

You glanced up at Peter, him looking at you with remorse.

You cried out again at the repeated cracks of your bones, falling to your knees and hands. You felt like your eyes were going to burst. Then they did, your eyes burst and fell out of your sockets.

You were completely blind for a moment, then you could see, but your vision wasn’t like it used to be. It was like you could only see in certain colors. It was strange, but felt natural.

One by one, all your teeth started to fall out and were replaced by sharp ones. Canines. The pain got even more intense and you felt like you were going to die, you let out high pitched screams.

You wanted to yell, “what the fuck?” when you started to hear your screams come out lower and distorted, but you were too busy screaming out in agony.

You reached up and clawed at your face, violently ripping off your skin. It burned like hell, but Peter was right, it did make it easier.

Eventually, your human form didn’t even feel like yourself. It just felt like it was a cast over your normal self, and that’s exactly what made it easier for you to rip off the human flesh.

You clawed and clawed, finally finding it easier to break free of the heavy pink flesh.

You shook off the rest of the meat that was attached to you by its blood, spraying it everywhere around you. You saw all the meat on the ground, and you felt so hungry.

Peter watched as you started to eat your discarded human flesh. It was hard watching you turn, knowing it was his fault in the first place.

Peter could’ve gasped when he saw your fur. He wasn’t really sure what to expect of your coat. He thought that maybe you’d look exactly like his wolf, since he was the one who made you.

But your coat wasn’t exactly like his, but it was similar. Most of your fur was a blackish grey color, flecks of white around your chest. You looked up at Peter with icy blue eyes.

Peter thought you were beautiful.

~~~~~~~~~~

#hemlock grove #peter rumancek #peter rumancek x reader

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dercolaris · 3 years

Text

The Devil Child

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Grandmother Crane, Scarecrow

Relationship: Jonathan Crane & Scarecrow (Friendship?)

Genre: Hurt and Comfort, Horror, Angst

Word length: 2283

Warnings: Abuse, Murder, Gore, Character Death

Status: Complete

Short summary: Jonathan can't stand the constant violence any more and takes radical actions against his abuser. Victim or culprit? "Who's the real devil in this house, grandma?"

Song: https://youtu.be/BxrLVldZtmg

Enjoy!

Jonathan looked completely lost in thought at the small snow globe in front of him, watched the sparkling flakes closely, which slowly trickled down from the milky glass. The two figures inside the sphere were slowly enveloped by the snow, standing lost and abandoned between two high towers of clear white. The boy put his fingers around the base of the globe and turned it upside down once, then put it back in its original place. Once again he watched the snow and the two figures, his eyes were glued to the spectacle. The sight was just beautiful. Even the scratches that have occurred here and there over the past few years could not reduce the value of the snow globe. At least not for Jonathan. He was just about to sink deeper into the unique sight when a loud clang from the kitchen could be heard. He got up in a hurry and left the living room almost in a rush, turning left in the direction of his own room. The boy was about to start running when a slim hand roughly grabbed his collar and pulled him back with high force. He hit the floor head first, sliding a little more on the polished parquet floor. Jonathan held his aching head and looked up as if in slow motion, immediately staring into his grandmother's dark eyes. Her face was a mirror of all the negative emotions the brown-haired boy knew – above all, irrepressible anger. She hissed calmly: “Did you really think I didn't notice you? You are breaking my rules once again, Ichabod. This is the third time this week. What should I do with a creature as godless as you? Even Samuel is deeply disappointed by your rebellious behaviour. Foolish child." Her ice-cold hands wrapped around his dirty shirt collar, pulled him roughly back to his feet. She pressed him against the nearest wall and ran her long fingers almost gently over his pale cheek. Then she struck hard with the palm of her hand. Over and over again.

Only when the left half of his face gradually began to swell did the elderly lady stop and look at her work with a bitter, almost evil smile. She shook her now bloody hand to relax it a bit and spoke in a prudent voice: “Maybe this time it will be a lesson for you, Ichabod. Remember the verse, the foolish heart cries out its folly. That is exactly what you do all the time with incredible ignorance of the sacred values of our God." The kid only nodded slowly, not daring to contradict his grandmother. She reached into a small pocket on her black dress, pulled out a slightly greyish handkerchief and wiped the blood from her fingers. She handed it to the little heap of misery on the floor, growling softly: “Clean yourself up, you ungrateful fiend and do not flinch. You owe that pain to yourself. I will be waiting for you in the kitchen in half an hour. You have to wash the dirty dishes when I finish eating my well-deserved meal. You will not have dinner tonight in repentance for your sins. But you are welcome to enjoy the pig feed – it is outside in the barn next to the manure." With these words the thin woman disappeared from his field of vision, slipped like a ghost into one of the long hallways of the mansion. Jonathan held his bleeding cheek, pressed the dirty handkerchief over the small scratches. He slowly rubbed the rough cotton against his pale skin, trying to wipe as much dirt from the wounds as possible. The brown-haired boy didn't want to risk a serious infection. He took the handkerchief from his cheek and stared at the now dark coloured fabric. His eyes widened at that moment. Small larvae cavorted among the loose threads, crawling helplessly like himself on the dirt and rubbish.

He dropped the handkerchief in pure shock, then ran down the dark corridor to his room. Once there, he slammed the door behind him and leaned against the dark cedar wood with his bony body. This action probably wouldn't keep his grandmother from entering his chamber, but this position at least gave him a deceptive sense of security. He looked down at his trembling hands. Small drops of the red liquid from his face fell on the pale skin, moistening the bony fingertips with thin fluid blood. Jonathan put his head back on the wood, took a few deep breaths. How long could he endure this eternal disgrace? The brown-haired kid slipped down the door, hiding his violated face in his bloody hands. It was allowed to cry here. His quiet sobs filled the room, even drowning out the gloomy-looking grandfather clock in his room. He clawed his fingers in his forehead and swayed himself in a lonely, helpless embrace. Was his grandmother already thinking about an appropriate punishment for him? At that moment he heard the familiar rustling again. It was getting louder with every second. So it was back. Again. A large, pitch-black shadow moved over his slim figure, wrapping its thin arms slowly around the trembling, underweight body. It gently patted the bowed head, then breathed softly in Jonathan's ear: “We'll do it tonight, my child. Tonight we're finally going to take the witch to purgatory. God will help us in this task." The person addressed just shook his head weakly, whimpered softly under the waves of pain: “I can't. I can't do it. She's my grandmother after all and I have no one else besides her. I would be alone. Please don't really make me do it. I beg you. Our rabbi preached just a week ago that violence should not be retaliated with violence. There has to be another way. " The sinister figure broke away in front of him, hovered for a while in the dim light of the full moon. It put its arms to the side and laughed heartily, turned once elegantly around itself. Only then did the icy giggle creep out of the creature's throat. Jonathan just sobbed louder, sank his fingers tighter on his sore knees.

His visitor let its head fall to one side and smiled as it examined what was left of the small boy on the floor. The figure took a few steps towards him, placed two thin fingers on his emaciated chin. It slowly raised it and whispered softly to his dry lips: “I'm not forcing you to do anything, Ichabod. She does. With every blow in your poor little soul. Over and over again. Deeper and deeper until there is nothing left of you in the end, you poor lost soul. But tonight something will change. Tonight the old witch will die. Die by our hands my boy." Jonathan shook his head as if on command, put his fingers back on his throbbing temples and pressed his nails firmly into the lean flesh. The uninvited visitor tried to loosen one of the cramping hands, stroking its straw-like fingernails soothingly over the little boy's head. The brown-haired kid was reluctant to let go, finally lost in an overwhelming outburst of his feelings. Tears flowed freely from his blue eyes, making the otherwise clear view extremely watery. The creature giggled softly and wiped the salty drops from the worn cheeks, breathed softly: “There is a small dagger in your bedside table, Ichabod. Do you remember who this belonged to? Correct. Your cursed father. He stabbed the useless whore with the dagger from which body you once crawled into the world. And now we're going to use this weapon to keep your mother's dried up corpse some nasty company. Come on my poor thing. You will be released from all suffering in a moment. Believe me." The kid just nodded slowly and got up, slowly pushed away from the door and staggered to the bedside table next to his bed. He sat down on the worn-out mattress and stroked the frayed quilt. His grandmother still hadn't allowed him more for the nights. The countless holes from all the clothes moths made it impossible to sleep in the cold winter months. How many trembling nights had he already spent in this dark loneliness? At some point the unknown being had appeared next to him. A person with his face, with the exact same voice and yet it wasn't himself. It was bursting with self-confidence and zest for action. Often it had already observed the one-sided fights with his grandmother. The visitor regularly urged him to do something about the old woman.

Jonathan slowly opened the bottom drawer of the small bedside table and reached inside with trembling hands. There was only one item there – the forbidden dagger of his father. The small children's hands clasped the leather handle, raised the light weapon into the light of the full moon. The cold iron flashed and shone in the dark. The brown-haired boy slowly lifted his head, examined the rusty dial of the grandfather clock. It was almost time. He closed the drawer again, then swayed from the bed. His feet carried him to the door, now lingering much quieter than before in front of the clunky wood. He looked down at his fingers, watched the dagger for a second before stepping out into the freezing corridor. Jonathan strolled quietly down the hall and came to a stop in front of the spacious kitchen. His grandmother was already there, mixing thick blood in an oversized pot. The boy swallowed hard and entered carefully. His lips trembled with nervousness. His bony fingers tightened on the dagger's worn leather. “Finally,” the older woman teased without looking up from her work, “I thought I'd have to reprimand you for being late, Ichabod.” He didn't reply, just stepped closer to his grandmother. The being behind him had put its hands on his shoulders and whispered softly into his ear: “Look at her, Jonathan. Just look how helpless she is right now. Just a stab. A small hit will be enough and we are finally free. A single stab and all the pain, all the agony, all the dark memories ... All of this will be gone. You can do it! Stab! It's so easy." The small kid turned pale and shivered even more, trying to control his breath. The older woman just kept stirring the viscous blood, took some sugar from a shelf above her and poured a few tablespoons into the pitch black soup. With the same tablespoon she scooped up some of the viscous liquid and sipped with relish from tomorrow's dinner. Suddenly, she coughed and patted her narrow chest with her fist. The spoon fell to the floor with a loud clatter. His grandmother continued to cough, then shouted angrily to Jonathan: “Help me, you little devil. Do you want to let your poor grandmother die?” In the background he could hear the sad tones of the old music box from the living room. A forbidden melody for his ears.

The boy took another step forward, still hearing the whispering voice in his left ear. It whistled softly: “Come on! Now is your chance! Stab! Stab her! I said stab!" Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut tight as the hand with the dagger came up hesitantly. Then everything happened as if in slow motion. The blade whizzed through the air, practically severing it with the action, and then struck something massive. A choked scream came from the older woman's mouth, and then – silence. Jonathan let go of the weapon and stumbled back a few steps. Everything suddenly felt unreal, almost like a very realistic nightmare. There was an unexpectedly loud bang and a low, plaintive whimper. The small boy finally opened his blue eyes and looked startled at the bloodless face of his grandmother on the floor. In the meantime she had pulled the dagger out of her wound on her back and suddenly shouted loudly into the night: “Jonathan Ichabod Crane! You are really the devil's spawn! I should have killed you as soon as Samuel brought you to my door! You're going to burn in hell, just like your damn mother whore and all her suitors! You will all rot in the eternal fire!" The person addressed fell down next to the screaming woman, looked at the angry face without any emotional movement. Soulless, he grabbed the dagger on the ground and raised the weapon again, then stabbed with it again. Blood oozed from the narrow torso. The brown-haired kid cocked his head slightly to one side and blinked lost, ignoring the older woman's screams, which bubbling over with poison and bile. It was far from enough. Jonathan closed his eyes again and carefully worked his grandmother's chest with the dagger. The blood splashed on his face, gradually staining his clothes. It didn't bother him at the moment. His grandmother's screams were long gone. The slim boy collected his breath and stopped stabbing the corpse after almost ten minutes. “You see Ichabod”, the quiet voice purred next to him, “it's far too easy to kill a human being and this witch deserved it. You can be proud of what you did, but now we have to take care of eliminating the body. Let's burn it, as was the custom with witches back then. Come on now. We have a lot of work to do." Jonathan just nodded slowly, feeling a strange emptiness inside of him. The dagger slipped from his hands and fell to the blood-stained floor. Together they left the kitchen as if in a trance, looking for as much fuel as possible to burn the entire property to the ground.

#DC #Batman #Pre Arkham Verse #Arkham Verse #Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #Grandmother Crane #Religious Stuff #Heavy Abuse #Murder #Child Abuse #Violence #Pain and Suffering #More serious stuff

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nukyster-blog · 3 years

Text

Changing Course Chapter 22) Crossfire

.-.-.

Ivar was brought back to the shed and dropped on his stomach, although he wasn’t aware of his transition. Unconsciousness momentarily redeemed him from the flaring pain spreading all over his back like a wildfire. The battered skin in between his shoulder blades had ruptured due to the lashes, leaving large bloody gashes.

In a flash, he regained consciousness as his faithful guardian took it upon herself to disinfect his wounds. Although her touch was soft, pain seared through his upper body better than a branding iron.

Bloody cloth after bloody cloth dropped aside Ivar’s writhing body; pain taking over a good portion of his brain. It was all consuming, his mind conceding in agony but aware of the necessity of Piglet’s torture. So he balled his fist and tried his best to lessen the primeval noises that come from his mouth; that of a dying animal.

The pain burned and radiated, it should have shattered his soul but deep down Ivar saw the blessing in his pain, it brought him closer to his Gods, it made him realise he was inviolable.

Piglet applied a salve, which smelled of honey, plantain, and chamomile while humming her song in candlelight. Ivar listened and turned his head so that he could look up to her. The young woman’s face revealed how badly his wounds were; her forehead puckered, lips set in a grim line and her hands were shaking.

“Lay flat,” she said matter-of-factly, which was an unnecessary order, because he wasn’t planning to move, not even an inch. He lay still as hay tickled his face and nose.

Piglet eventually curled up on her side to face him properly.

“Thick-head,” she sneered, eyes clearly upset over the hell he’d put himself through.

“Savage cunt,” Ivar murmured back apologetically.

“Did he come for you?” Ivar asked when Piglet was done rolling her eyes skywards, “last night?”

“No, he walks funny now,” Piglet revealed with a devilish grin, “you’re a mad dog.”

Ivar gave her an all-tooth smile, very pleased with the thought of marking the young ruler.

.-.-.

Ivar’s punishment had caused a change inside the castle’s walls. Although daily routine started as winter swiped through the shed with icy claws like an eagle, the atmosphere was different. The Giant spat his orders into Piglet’s face, but kept far away from Ivar’s box, as if his cripple slave was stricken by the plague.

Ivar had expected the brute to give him another kick after, definitely now that he lay battered and defenseless on the floor.

But the Giant left along with Piglet, leaving Ivar to face boredom and cold. His mobility was close to none, every moment hurt and could cause the cuts to rip further. Being exposed to fresh air would accelerate the healing process; the downside was being awfully cold.

Ivar slept for the most part of the day and was awoken by the fluttering footsteps of the two linen maidens. Both young women seemed anxious to step over the threshold, but eventually curiosity got the best of them.

With large doe-like eyes the two maidens kneeled down at his box and took in every inch of Ivar’s battered body.

Being the main act of their freak show wasn’t actually how Ivar had planned his afternoon, but aside from throwing daggers with his eyes there wasn’t much he could do about it.

One of the two maidens then did something unexpected, she clasped her hands together and started a soft prayer while the other placed two thick woolen blankets next to his trough.

After a brief hail Mary, both maidens hurried to get up and fled the shed, leaving Ivar completely dumbstruck.

That same event occurred two more times with different people. A peasant mother and daughter snuck inside the stable to behold Ivar’s beat down form and placed a bowl of goat milk aside his box before leaving. Two youngsters ogled him for a while before daring to enter the stable and, instead of throwing stones, left one of their most treasured possessions; a sling and a wooden miniature toy horse.

Piglet was less humble about entering and burst out laughing when she noticed all the gifted items. Shaking her head, she nicked the milk and brought it closer to Ivar. It was awkward drinking milk while lying flat, but Ivar managed without spilling too much.

“Ivar the bloody,” Piglet sniggered and drank some herself, “martyr.”

And so, Ivar learned he’d been given a new nickname among the poor population of de Haar. ‘De martelaar’, The Martyr, as Piglet put it. She explained as good as her Nordish vocabulary allowed her that a martyr was someone who suffered persecution and death for advocating a religious belief or for a good cause. Apparently, Piglet’s life was useless, yet her virtue was considered sacred enough to fight and nearly die for in the eyes of the slaves, serfs and servants.

Although Ivar completely despised the way his punishment was now silently considered a holy statement, he did enjoy the benefits; proper food, warmth in forms of decent clothing and blankets. And he must admit, the smoldering eyes of the female population fully in awe of his quote on quote ‘scars of true heroism’, flattered his ego greatly.

Piglet managed to keep her lips in a proper shape and hands clasped together as she registered all the gifts and from time to time ushered spectators out who dared to take too much time of the healing martyr.

After a few days Ivar managed to turn on his side without rupturing the gashes, Piglet wasn’t happy with it, but Ivar had to place himself in another position. Laying still for an extended amount of time caused so much ache in his legs he’d rather cut his own skin open again.

His body was no longer an unblemished canvas, but he had come to treasure his first won symbols of victory. He victored a Christian death, for even his crippled body was stronger than that of the enemy.

Was Ivar simply a stubborn young man, willing himself to survive torture, or did he lay there as something sacred in the punishment brought upon him?

Whatever it was, his new near holy status made it possible to survive the upcoming cold. The Giant did not bother him and stayed away from the shed.

It even placed him on a pedestal of the more fortunate of castle De Haar...

.-.-.

A week. It took Ivar a week to be able to place himself into a sitting position. It hurt, badly and he couldn’t maintain the position for long, for it was impossible to place his back against the solidness of a wall.

But it allowed him to massage his legs. Kneading his calloused fingers into the poor muscle tone of his calves his heart ached for a hot bath. And the warmth of a fire. And the satisfaction of a belly filled with mead.

The fallen prince extended his wish-list and glanced up puzzled as the door creaked. It was an odd hour for his so-called worshippers to risk a peek. Everyone should be working, it was way past lunch.

Cocooned in the finest of silk and furs, the fair maiden desecrated her sandals as she tiptoed into the shed. Ivar’s mouth dropped as she came closer, Kattegat was known for their beautiful women but this maiden outshone them all.

He could not breath, eyes drawn to her golden locks that gently caressed its way down to her neck, reaching her bosom. If her God was real, Ivar told himself, then this woman was one of His masterpieces.

She was scared, petrified. Ivar failed to find reason in her fright, for he was still recovering and enchained for the matter. Her hurried glances over her shoulder revealed her true dread; she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Now, this drew Ivar’s full attention. Why would a noblewoman, with so much to lose, put herself at risk for a crippled? Now this was interesting.

She kneeled down, and with that pulled her cloak around her tighter to stave off the keen wind. Closing her eyes, the fair maiden started to pray, clasping her hands together and bowing her head.

Now this was very interesting. Her submissive demeanor drew Ivar closer. As his chains rattled, the fair maiden hunched further forward and trembled. Oh, she was scared, a lamb willingly walking into a lion's den. And why, for gossip and rumors spread by her lessers?

Ivar edged closer, as close as the chains allowed him. And he waited for the fair maiden to finish her prayer, out of curiosity, for he wondered what she’d do next as she’d face him from up close. Lowering her trembling hands the fair maiden found enough bravery in her heart to look up. And her eyes, they were, in one word, beautiful. Her eyes were a perfect spring sky and along with terror they were incarnated with sanctity.

Ivar found himself bizarrely fascinated by the fair maiden’s utter devotion of her faith. She was risking hers to lay eyes on his skin, for he who was De Martelaar.

With one swift move Ivar grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in. She was close, so close that he could see her heartbeat gallop underneath the fair skin of her neck. She smelled of rose water and jasmine, pure and unblemished.

Ivar looked down at her trembling hands, her ring finger still lacking a wedding ring.

“Poor little lamb, you’re sold off to a monster,” Ivar murmured with pity, “but I bet you already know that.” Their eyes locked like magnets and although the fair maiden couldn’t understand his language, his humble bit of sympathy didn’t go by unnoticed. With wide eyes she watched as the crippled martyr slowly rose his free hand and pressed his index finger down in between her brows. She took in a sharp breath as he drew a small cross and spoke a blessing with sencernity:

“God zegene u.”

They were the words their holy man spoke at the end of every service. Ivar didn’t know the depth of the words, but witnessing how the fear drained from her face and got restored with hope, he knew he did little right today.

“How lost you must be, if you perceive me as something biblical,” Ivar scoffed soft, lips turning in a sideway smirk, very pleased that she still allowed him to touch her. A noblewoman on her knees in filth and animal dung, so desperately in need to find a shatter of hope.

Ivar’s fingers ran down the bridge of her nose fully aware that he was playing with fire, enough to burn the entire castle down.

Ivar did not know what emotion drove him, was it a simple payback in regards to her fiance? Was it selfishness? Weakness? Lust? Or a simple consideration towards a beautiful young woman, to briefly veil her from the terrible truth; that she was going to be married to a monster?

Whatever it was, Ivar kissed the fair maiden and the world fell away. The touch was light and soft, comforting in ways words would never be, for language was their barrier. His hand moved and rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled.

The sounds of a tearing potato bag broke their spell. The fair maiden jerked her head in the direction of the sound and Ivar managed to look over her shoulder.

Piglet lingered in the doorway, holding the torn bag against her chest with a pile of potatoes spread around her feet. Still as a statue the slave gawked at the scene in front of her.

It was the fair maiden who broke the awful silence. As being touched by fire she jolted back, struggling to get on her feet. Shame-faced she whispered something to Piglet and managed to shove something in her hands before evacuating the shed.

Piglet managed a deadpan expression all while striding with large steps into Ivar’s box. There she exploded, beating her fists into his chest and smacking him across the face.

Alongside the curses in her mother tongue she managed to slip in some Nordish:

“Thick-head, do you have a death wish?!” She repeated numerous times before dropping on her knees and staring up skywards.

“IDIOT!” She exclaimed and thrusted her fists into the ground. “Hamar! Stupid idiot!” When Ivar failed to speak she crawled back on her feet and marched off. At the doorway she took a small pause and threw the fair maidens item across the shed.

Ivar played marble until he no longer could see the back of Piglet’s head before reaching forwards in the way. He picked up a woman’s necklace. A golden cross dangling at the end.

.-.-.

A/N Yeah, so this happened. This was not supposed to happen. But then again, Ivar is into blondes so yeah maybe I shouldn’t have let her get down on her knees. Also I didn’t have the intentions of making Ivar a Martyr, but it’ll get the pair of them through winter and c’mon you know how good this is for his ego. Mister God complex. But fuck, why did they had to kiss. Yes I’ll I seriously need to recover from this.

Also ‘God zegene U’, means ‘God Bless you’ in Dutch. So at least he blessed her before making out with the fiance of the guy who’s responsible for tearing his entire back open. I’m team Piglet with this one, he’s a complete and utter idiot.

So, what are your thoughts of our young Prince smoothing up with the WORST OPTION in the entire castle….

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #Ivar the marthy #ivar the bloody #ivar fanfic #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #alex hogh andersen

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minijenn · 4 years

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Yesss thanks! 😆 Alright so no. 91 and 73 Sora and Riku (either Keys or not, doesn't matter haha). And no.33 Keys Sora and Xehanort/young xehanort/( any nort really xD) to Sora

91. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” & 73. “I will take all the pain if it means you’ll smile.”

He falls apart in Riku’s arms, strong and sturdy and steadying as they are, for what feels like the hundredth time that day alone. It’s the first time they’ve been alone since their fateful fight on the beach and Sora can only manage to shake the horrific thought of what happened there, what he did out of his mind as long as he reminds himself that Riku invited him into his arms willingly. That Riku forgave him.

If only he could forgive himself.

“You’re shaking again,” Riku notes, his voice soft and sad as he presses his hand tighter against the small of his back. “Are you cold?”

Sora shakes his head, his face still tucked against Riku’s chest all the while. If anything, he’s as warm as can be, or at least his body is. His heart feels like it has for the past several weeks, like it’s been turned to ice that’s on the constant verge of shattering to pieces at any given moment. “No,” he mutters, deciding that he should be honest. It’s not like he really has that much to lie about anymore anyway. “I… I’m scared…”

“Scared,” Riku repeats thoughtfully but the sympathy in his voice is clear. “Of what?”

“O-of what might happen… t-tomorrow…” Of the momentous battle that’s to take place tomorrow, one that could cost him much more than his freedom if the guardians of light lost. “I-I don’t want them to… I-I don’t want to be one of them!” he sobs, clutching the back of Riku’s jacket tighter in his hands. He’s barely even thinking about how his claws might be tearing through it as his mind races with untold fear for his future. “I don’t want to lose myself! I-I don’t want them to take me away from you! Please, Riku…” he begs brokenly. “Please, I-I can’t-”

“I know,” Riku quietly comforts his hysterical weeping, running a gentle hand through his now-white hair. “I know… I promise, Sora, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Not tomorrow, or ever. I’ll find a way to free you from this, from them. I won’t rest until I do.”

Sora doesn’t know what to say in response to such a solemn, earnest vow, so instead, he simply glances up, tears streaking his face as his mournful golden eyes meet Riku’s calming teal ones. “Y-you mean it?” he whispers, the thought of freedom alone largely being too good to be true, too far out of his reach to ever obtain again.

“I do,” Riku smiles, a careful hand perched under his chin to keep him looking upward. Sora can’t help but guiltily note that even with the dark, damming scar now marring his features, he’s still just as handsome as he’s ever been. “Sora, I… I want you to know that if I could, I would take away every bit of pain you’re feeling right now and put it on myself… even if all it would do is make you smile.”

Surprisingly, Sora smirks at this, his former fear forgotten as he lets out a short, genuine snort of a laugh. “No offense,” he chuckles and the very sound of it alone warms Riku’s heart beyond measure. “But that was kinda corny, Riku.”

“Well,” Riku returns his laugh, pulling him even closer than he already is and refusing to let go. Regardless of whatever twisted plans the Organization might have in mind for him otherwise. “At least it worked.”

***

33. “You can run away but I will always find you.”

The dark corridor disintegrates into nothingness behind him as he collapses to his knees, weak from summoning it and even weaker from going through it unprotected as he did. Trips through the shadowy portals usually make him nauseous at best and outright sick at most and this time it seems he’s being particularly punished for his panicked haste in using one. His claws dig into the soil, his vision bleary to the point that he can’t even tell what kind of world he’s ended up in as he heaves violently. He can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a curse when nothing comes out.

His head is pounding, his heart aching, but at least he’s alone. As far as Sora is concerned, any spare moment of solitude is a fortunate one, one where he doesn’t have to contend with his foes or run from his friends. It’s a moment of rest, reprieve from the chase that has him as the sole target on both sides. A chase that he longs for an end to, but doesn’t expect one anytime soon. After all, it hardly seems like luck is on his side anymore, so why should he expect any differently now?

Still, he sits in that solitude for a moment, closing his eyes as his darkness-damaged body finally starts to calm itself down. The sounds of a peaceful forest fill his ears and he nearly lets himself relax along with it. At least until he hears a single set of footsteps falling behind him, his chest wrenching in unspeakable agony the moment they do.

“I must say, I’m impressed with you, Sora,” Xehanort says and under the master’s oppressive grip on his heart, Sora isn’t even capable of turning back to face him. As a result, he begins to walk slowly around him, circling the boy as if he’s his prey. Which, by all accounts, he is. “I didn’t think you would be able to keep this little ‘game’ of cat-and-mouse going for as long as you have, between either us or the guardians of light. And yet-” Sora is trembling, his mind begging him to move, to run, to escape from this wicked man at all costs, and his body refusing all the while. “Here we are.”

Xehanort slips a single finger under his chin, forcing his gaze upward so he can meet the master’s cold, cunning smirk. He looks amused, almost, by the suffering his unexpected visit is causing his hapless young vessel, and Sora finds himself hating the old man even more for it. On top of an already very long list of reasons he has to hate him, that is. “Well?” Xehanort asks, arcing an expectant eyebrow down at him, as if he was an unruly student that needed lecturing about good behavior. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”

Sora takes in a deep, shaky breath as a bit of the weight lifts off his chest. Xehanort just granted him his ability to speak back, and he’s not about to waste the opportunity. “Y-yeah,” he begins, his voice tight, yet rigid as he fixes his master with an icy glare. “Leave… me… alone…” His words are pointed, perforated, and he makes sure there’s an edge behind them to show just how tired he is of this treatment, just how much he would fight against Xehanort’s suffocating hold over him… if only he actually could.

The smile fades from the elderly master’s face as he reaches down and tightly grips the collar of Sora’s shirt, abruptly yanking him upward. His body is still limp and immobile, and a newfound wave of stark fear washes over him as Xehanort pulls him close, a fierce, warning scowl on his face all the while. “Never,” he hisses and a spiking chill runs down Sora’s spine when he does. “Clearly, you still fail to understand exactly what is happening to you, boy. You are my thirteenth vessel, whether you wish to be or not. Your heart is mine. You can resist and run away as much as you’d like, but mark my words, I will always find you.”

With that horrific threat issued, Xehanort drops him, allowing him to collapse weakly to the ground at his feet. Sora barely resists the urge to sob in relief as he notices the master summon a dark corridor to take his leave, one that he apparently has no intentions of dragging him through. At least, not as long as there are still lost Keys to be found.

“Your body, your mind, your heart, everything you are, belongs solely to me,” Xehanort reminds him coldly before he goes. He clenches his fist, and Sora has no idea how, but the action forces him to fall into a submissive bow, a testament to just how little control he has over anything in his life anymore. “Don’t forget that, my thirteenth.”

“Y-yes, Master…” The words are drawn out of his mouth completely against his will, his head still frozen in low reverence for a master he has no desire to serve. A master he has no choice but to serve all the same.

He only barely has enough autonomy to glance up to catch the satisfied smile Xehanort sends him before he disappears into the darkness. A smile that haunts Sora every bit as much as what his master had said: the stern assurance that there was no escape for him from the dark, demented fate Xehanort had in store for him. Not anymore.

(ohohoho a two for one deal huh? I couldn’t resist either of these so ya know i had to go with both. The first one for angsty but soft Soriku hours and the second one BC I just like writing them angsty confrontations between the corrupting hero and the protagonist. Its pretty funny that in Keys so far, Sora has never encountered Master Xehanort himself except for in dreams and nightmares and such. That’s boutta change in the not too far off future though hmhmhmhmh ;)

Prompts are open, send away!

#jen writes #keys to the kingdom #kingdom hearts #sora #riku #soriku #xehanort #keys spoilers?#drabble prompts

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chaoskirin · 3 years

Text

Reversed (Reworked) Chapter Two

Chapter Title: Sirensong Word Count: 5764 Rating: PG Genre: Fantasy/Gen

Summary: A little more description of this new setting, and a wild Freddie appears! The quartet is complete!! As always, reblogs and comments are very appreciated. <3

Read Chapter on AO3

---

Throwing open the nearest washroom door, Roger parked himself in front of a mirror and grimaced. "Are they going to do this every night?" he hissed, looking back over his shoulder. His eyes--both the white part and the iris--were inky black and eerily deep, filled with stars. Just like they had been the night John first cursed him. He could see, though, which was why the condition had gone unnoticed for days.

John narrowed his eyes, pressing his lips together in what he hoped was a contrite expression. He wasn't particularly good with friend freakouts, mostly because he hadn't had a friend before Roger and Brian came along.

"What! What's that face?!" Roger demanded. "Is that good or bad?"

Brian ducked into the washroom behind the others. "John's face is permanently unimpressed," he replied.

Roger repeated. "Are my eyes. Going to do this. Every night?!" He gestured at them, as if John hadn't yet noticed. "Because this is not okay. It's creepy." He glanced at the mirror again, fake-startled, and added, "See? I'm scaring myself."

John couldn't find any words to express how sorry he was, or how he'd thought Roger was okay with what happened to him, or how he really just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.

"Rog, it's okay," Brian said. "It's at night. They'll be fine tomorrow."

"This is a lot more noticeable than purple," Roger said.

"It is a curse," Brian replied, glancing at John. "If it wasn't unpleasant, it'd be called a charm. We can get you sunglasses or something, if it bothers you."

"It's bothering me!"

John still couldn't even squeak another "I'm sorry." Maybe he'd reached his quota for the day. Or maybe the way Brian was staring at him, angrily waiting for him to say something, robbed him of his ability to speak. He couldn't be sure.

Thankfully, someone chose just that particular moment to walk into the bathroom, and John didn't have to think of anything to say. In fact, even Roger shut up, turning away from the newcomer, as Brian tried (and failed) to appear casual, leaning against the row of sinks.

It was a Ghittan student, wearing the earthy amalgamation of colors characteristic of the View, albeit with a bright red collar that drew attention to his rather sharp features. He stared at them for a moment, before snorting a quick chuckle. "Well then," he said, stepping up to the sink and turning it on. "This isn't suspicious at all. A Vexxzus and an Oerris hanging out together in the loo?" After splashing his face, he pulled an elegant laced kerchief out of one pocket and dabbed himself dry. Smirking, he allowed rather large, protruding upper teeth to show for a moment. "And a Kyyra referee? Should I go get a professor? Or popcorn?"

"You could just bugger off," Roger said. He was hyperventilating, almost out of breath, and pale. John put a hand on his shoulder.

"He okay?" The Ghittan asked, entire tone shifting. It sounded genuine enough. "You aren't beating the stuffing out of him, are you? I think that's a Vexxzusian thing to do. eh?"

John looked at the floor. He had a thousand witty things he could say, but unfortunately, they wouldn't pop into his head until after the Ghittan left. Such was his own curse.

"He's..." Brian started. Roger nodded just a little, and Brian finished with, "Fine," and an obviously strained smile.

"He's not," the Ghittan said in a sing-song voice. He sauntered around Brian and John. For a second, Brian looked as if he might reach out to stop him, but the Kyyra seemed to be entirely non-confrontational, from what John knew of him so far. And John, of course, was almost useless in the face of someone new. If he had even a small measure of bravery, he could have hauled this newcomer out by the hood of his robe, given him a kick in the rear, and told him to mind his own business.

John did all that in his head. He was a hero there.

Eventually, the boy stood directly in front of Roger.

And he stared, dumbfounded and horrified. "Oh, your eyes darling! They're hideous!"

Roger whimpered. It was just the tiniest noise, just the whisper of tears, that caused John to snap. Considering he was already feeling guilty and fairly protective of the boy he cursed, he found it quite easy to locate his backbone.

Reaching into his pocket, he expertly flipped the stopper off one tiny vial and crushed the beetle within it in his hand. Power suffused him, a spell instinctively clawing at his throat to escape.

He smeared the crushed beetle against the Ghittan's jumper. The boy said, "ew."

John smiled. He hadn't meant to smile. It didn't seem like a very smile-worthy moment. Then he said, "I can curse you, too, if you like it so much."

Awkwardly, Brian took John's shoulders and turned him away from the intruder. "Ah--how does one stop a Vexxzus from cursing? He has no gem to take. No wand...? Deacon, no more cursing people. Let's deal with one problem at a time."

Regardless, John struggled free, meeting the Ghittan's eyes. They were wide, his hands raised in shock. Fear. John shook his head, rubbing his temples. "Sorry... S-sorry," he said, tangling his fingers in his hair. "Just--He was making it worse. He was making it worse."

Brian took John's shoulders again. "I know. But we gotta work on that temper. You can't just do stuff like that. Okay?"

John nodded.

"Is this a new thing?" The Ghittan asked. "The hideous eyes, that is? I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to rub salt in the wound, as it were." He glared at John, suspiciously, then asked Brian, "Did you want me to get a professor?"

"No!" All three of them shouted at once, leaving the poor boy utterly confused.

"It was really an accident," Roger clarified. "I did challenge John to a duel. That's John, by the way." He nodded at the Vexxzus, who raised a hand to wave while still keeping his eyes down. "And I'm Roger. The tall one with the crazy hair is Brian."

"Crazy hair?" Brian asked.

"Freddie," The Ghittan said.

"Anyway, he didn't mean to. Or, I guess he did at the time," Roger said, scratching his chin. "But he feels bad about it, and it'd be really awesome if you didn't tell anyone he did it? We told the Head Matron that I accidentally cursed myself."

"Even though Roger would never be able to pull off a curse that advanced," John said. There! He'd told somebody. He felt much better now. "...Sorry, Roger."

"Oh, no, you're right."

"The staff doesn't know that though," Brian said. "And we'd rather nobody be expelled over this. We're dealing with it."

"Well, I know a thing or two about keeping curses secret," Freddie said. "Maybe this'll make you feel better, eh?" He hopped up on the sink, the old plumbing creaking under his weight. "I am one, you see. A curse, I mean, dears. So what you've got? It's nothing. You'll get used to it, I bet, so don't feel so bad."

"It's not nothing," Roger said. "My eyes are black holes. I've been scaring first-years all week, and someone just now told me I should look in a mirror. I mean, they're only like this at night, so I guess... I guess you're right. It's not so bad." He turned to look in the mirror again, turning his face this way and that. "It'll be amazing on Halloween." He looked at Brian, then John. "Why didn't you guys tell me?"

"We, uh. Meant to?" Brian said. "Anyway, didn't you hear him?" He nodded at the Ghittan.

"Freddie," Freddie said again.

"Right, Freddie. You can't be a curse," Brian said. He rolled his eyes back, thinking. Then he muttered, "Unless you're the one--May I?" He reached for Freddie's hair.

Freddie nodded. "I suppose. I was going to tell you anyway. But don't be surprised if I bite."

Brian tucked Freddie's long, black hair back, revealing both the intricate pattern of scales on the sharp jawline, as well as one severely mutilated ear. The edge was covered with green scar tissue. Brian quickly pulled away, and Freddie's hair fell back, covering the scales again.

As Freddie crossed his legs, John noticed he wasn't wearing shoes. A light smattering of scales sparkled on his pale skin.

"Your ears are--" Roger started.

Freddie interrupted. "Yes! Beautiful, aren't they? Oh, I love telling a good story just as much as you like hearing one, I'm sure. Turned out I possessed the wild magic of humans despite my half-siren lineage. So rare. So special." He paused to smile. "And you know what happens when a human displays magical aptitude."

Everyone groaned. Nobody liked school. Then again, learning magic on top of maths and sciences at least provided a respite to an otherwise boring day.

"Yes, exactly," Freddie continued, pulling a sequins-decorated pouch out of one pocket. He twirled it around his fingers. "Of course I fitted into the Ghittan View. But it turned out, I also suffered from the siren's curse, as well. Dear me... My first week here, I accidentally started humming a jaunty little tune, and before I knew it, there were well over a dozen people following me. Silently. Waiting for me to tell them what to do."

John and Brian glanced at each other. John almost mentioned that they didn't need a life's story, when Brian said, "but the ears...?"

"Oh, yes. Quite mundane. My mum cut them off when I enrolled. Don't worry," he hastily added when Brian gasped. "It was a mutual decision. We thought I'd blend in more if I didn't have fish ears."

"Yeah," Roger said. "You're right, that's worse."

"Excellent," Freddie said. "I do like winning."

"Do you know," Brian asked, his tone almost conversational. And yet John felt the looming storm about to crash down as Brian continued. "...if they intend to admit more creatures to Vale Rest?" John only had time to say, "Oh, Brian, no."

"Creatures," Freddie repeated, his entire demeanor turning icy. It wasn't subtle at all--John definitely recognized the signs of an oncoming anger hurricane, since he was prone to fits himself. Still, he couldn't say anything quickly enough to prevent the inevitable tirade.

Maybe, John wondered, Brian deserved it.

Brian blustered, fumbling for an answer.

"Listen very carefully, darlings," Freddie growled, his brows darkening his eyes.

Then, he began to sing.

It was a beautiful song, in beautiful tenor, with an undertone of something uncomfortable. It was a series of clicks and whistles that Freddie seemed to produce without meaning to, or without realizing it. Almost like whale or dolphin song. And it wasn't long before Roger's and Brian's faces were completely blank, devoid of any expression whatsoever. Freddie hopped off the sink and pointed at all three of them. "Now, you all stay put here until this wears off, then get to your dorms. Got it?"

Roger and Brian nodded obediently, expressions still slack.

"Good," Freddie said. He sighed--sadly, John thought--and headed for the door.

John caught his sleeve, and Freddie whipped around, meeting John's eyes with surprise.

"Are they going to be okay?" John asked.

"Er, yeah. It lasts a few minutes, darling, but they'll be fine. Why aren't you under?"

"Am I supposed to be?"

Freddie looked at the other two. Brian was actually slack-jawed and drooling. "Well, it's not selective. It just affects everyone who hears it. Or, I thought it did. Hm. Lemme try again."

John clapped a hand over Freddie's mouth, and glared. "None of that. You've already got them in a state. You want 'em brain-dead, too?" Still with his hand over Freddie's mouth, he looked past the boy's shoulder and tried, "Brian? Roger?" No answer. Not even a reaction.

Freddie pushed John's hand away. "But why aren't you...?"

"I don't know," John replied, curling his lip. "Why'd you do that to them, anyway? And you were just going to leave them like that? Everyone thinks Vexxzuses are bad. This is just cruel."

"It wears off after a bit, I told you," Freddie said. "I mean, they'll be a bit fuzzy for a while, so that's why I told them to get to their dorms after. It's just hypnotism, you see. They wouldn't do anything against their own self-preservation, or I don't think they'd have let me into Vale Rest. I'm not a full siren." He turned to Brian, getting right up in his face and adding, "And I'm not a creature."

Brian didn't even blink. It was quite disturbing.

"Is that it?" John said. "That's why you--what. Mind-controlled them? With Brian, that's a compliment. I've only known him for a couple weeks, really, and all I know about him is that he loves animals--" John paused and amended as Freddie scowled. "Non-humans, I mean! It's what he's studying here! It's his best subject. He wants to write his thesis on werebats. I think he was kind of happy about maybe getting to know you better."

Freddie blinked, confused. John pushed past him and gave Roger's shoulders a shake. "C'mon, Rog." "They won't listen to you, dear," Freddie said quietly. "Brian studies non-humans?"

"He does. He knows practically everything about them, too."

"Oh." Freddie muttered. "Well. I'm. I'm a being, first of all. But, I'm sorry."

"Maybe tell him when this wears off," John said.

"Oh, he heard me. It's just that he can't do anything at the moment." Freddie turned to them and added, "Besides, I shouldn't be here when they snap out of it. They're probably terrified. It's the whole reason I do this, you see. No one bothers me twice. Nod if you're terrified."

Roger nodded. Brian didn't.

John laughed. "Tell him to nod if he thinks this is the coolest thing in the world."

"Er, okay. Nod if you think this is cool."

Brian nodded.

"I told you," John said. "Non-humans. Beings. Whatever. If you'd given them a chance..."

Freddie didn't say anything. He stared at Brian for a while, then turned his attention to Roger, putting his hand on Roger's cheek. Roger reached for it, and Freddie said, "Don't be scared. It'll wear off, I promise."

Roger nodded.

Freddie tried to remove his hand, but Roger held on, wrapping both his arms around Freddie's.

"Oh, wonderful," Freddie said.

"He's a hugger," John said. "Does this mean it's wearing off?"

"Yeah, if they're acting on their own. But... They won't be very good conversationalists when they snap out of it. Trust me on that."

John waved a hand in front of Brian's face, though the Kyyra didn't even blink. His eyes might have moved, just a bit, but he was still obediently staying put, waiting for the siren's spell to wear off. "They can hear everything we're saying?" John asked.

"That's the horror of Siren Song," Freddie said. "It's why humans don't like them. You're fully conscious as you're made to do things you don't want to do. If I was a full-blood siren, I could make them do anything. They wouldn't even question it. They wouldn't be able to." He turned to Brian and Roger again, stating for their benefit, "But I'm not. Like I said, this is no more than hypnotism. I couldn't make 'em follow me into the ocean and drown, if that's what you're worried about."

"Sounds to me like you're the one that's worried about that," John said. "I mean, they haven't said a word. And apparently I'm immune, so."

"Yes, strange."

"Anyway, you're gonna have Brian following you around like a puppy now, so good job there," John said. He did feel a little bad, making fun of the Kyyra when he couldn't fight back. Still, it was true. Brian could talk for hours about dragons and hippogriffs. Why not sirens? "And it was Roger's idea to lie about who cursed him, so he's already forgiven you, I'm sure."

Freddie hopped up on the sink again, despite Roger's grip on his arm. He brushed the beetle bits off the front of his uniform. "Maybe this is fate, then, me meeting you three."

"Well, I don't believe in fate," John said. "But if you need friends, then I think you got yourself a few." He attempted to hop up on the sink as Freddie had done, but his arms weren't quite up to the task. Giggling, Freddie grabbed the back of his jumper and hauled him up.

"Ugh, why did you have to be a Vexxzus, though?" Freddie asked.

"Look, you're a Ghittan. I feel the same way about you. I mean who uses dirt to do magic? It's weird. The Headmatron used it to heal a broken arm I had a couple weeks ago and it's... It's just..."

"Dirty?" Freddie drawled, smiling.

John grunted. "Trust me here. These two are all right, and these View rivalries are pointless anyway."

"Says the one who cursed a poor, defenseless Oerris."

"He had it coming."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roger nod.

"How much longer, you think?" John asked.

"Any second now, probably." Freddie snapped his fingers next to Brian's face, and he actually blinked this time. "They're moving on their own, which is a good indication. It'll be tomorrow before they're themselves again though, I'm afraid. There's a sort of fuzziness that comes along after you break out of Siren's Song."

"Everything is pink and fluffy," Brian mumbled.

"I think I'm gonna get married," Roger said, dreamily.

"Welp. Here we go," Freddie said. "Let's get these two back to their dorms so they can sleep it off."

~*~

The lowest floor of Vale Rest was called the Recreation Well. Most people just called it Rec, or the Well. Located seven floors underground, Rec was a sprawling complex of fields, an enormous hot spring, a gaming compound for those who were Virtuatekk inclined, and a vaulted cave ceiling which held all manner of glowing spell-lights and naturally glowing mosses. It had its own weather patterns overseen by students; understandably, things sometimes went awry in the Recreation Well, but those events were few and far between.

It also featured a well-developed shopping area, ironically called the Weald. Unfortunately for the students, the Weald remained off limits except with special passes, or on certain days. Located behind a magical barrier, a separate entrance admitted the outside public, who found the little underground town quaint and relaxing.

Most new students found it absolutely astounding that someone could fit what amounted to an entire town under Vale Rest's ground, but once they spent the majority of their free time in the Recreation Well, most came to call it home.

"That's just the thing, darling," Freddie said, reaching across their picnic table to take Brian's book away. He scrunched up his face at the picture. "It's not something I can stop. I know you mean well, but this...?"

"And we're not letting you cut him open," John added. "It's barbaric."

"I wasn't suggesting..." Brian snatched the book back and laid it out on the table. These people had absolutely no imagination whatsoever. Still, he felt bad, after offending Freddie. It wasn't the end of the world, but he hadn't expected the half-siren to be so vocal about his idea. In hind-sight, he should have. "We're mages. If we can find a spell..."

"But I like what I can do," Freddie said, tapping his chest with his fingers. "It's me. I mean, maybe it's a pain sometimes, but it's fantastic defense, isn't it? Against... You know. Vexxzuses."

John elbowed him. "Not against me."

"Which isn't fair," Roger said. With the weather within the Well mirroring the sunny weather outside, his eyes were a bright, golden yellow. Sometimes fluffy clouds would drift across the spell-lights, and his eyes would turn silver. "It's a little frightening. I wish I was inane."

"Immune," Brian said. "You know the right word."

"I do, but it was still funny. Freddie laughed."

"I didn't, dear."

Roger shrugged. "You meant to."

Freddie tapped the picture. It was a mostly humanoid creature, with the tell-tale signs that it was something else entirely. Long, webbed ears, for example, and webbing between each of its fingers and toes. The latter was something Freddie never had to worry about, he'd said. "You know, they probably dissected a siren to get this much detail in the drawing."

Guiltily, Brian pushed the book away. "Well, these illustrations are hundreds of years old. I'm sure it wasn't, er... Related. Look, I'm just trying to help. Sirens are so badly understood..."

The others stared at him. Roger curled his lip a bit and said, "Uh. Freddie is right here."

Brian sighed. "I'm not helping. I'm sorry, it's just that--The creatures I study don't... usually... Talk back--I'm going to stop now before I shove my other foot into my mouth, too." Stifling a groan, he put his head down on the table, curly hair splaying out in all directions.

Freddie patted his shoulder. "Oh, come now, Brian. It just frazzles you so, when you think I'm angry."

"You're not?"

"No! Of course not. I'm the center of attention. It's right where I ought to be."

"Prat," Brian said. He reached for the book, but Roger climbed up onto the table, lifting it from his reach.

"So your ears looked like this?" he asked.

"Smaller, but all sorts of colors." Freddie smiled sadly, and sighed. "They'd sparkle in the sun." "Well, we would have been your friends anyway," Roger said. "Even if you hadn't hacked 'em off."

"I know, that's what makes it so tragic that they're gone." He rested an elbow on the table, and lay his head in his hand. "It would have been too much of a risk, though. I mean, most of the Views get along, but there's always some Kyrra who don't see you as human, then there's the Vexxzuses who're a bit specist. It was better that people got to know me, in all my wonderful glory and humility, before they discovered my deep, dark secret."

John rolled his eyes. Roger turned another few pages in the book. "Green blood, too?"

Freddie nodded. "Oh, that's the coolest part. Look here." He searched around on the table until he found a splinter, and pried it loose with his fingernails. Holding up a thumb, he gave his skin a light stab.

It wasn't exactly green. More like a muddy greenish-brown. Still, very odd, and very cool. "Don't touch, though," Freddie said as he wrapped it in a fresh kerchief. The cloth sizzled. "It'll burn."

"Sirens sound wonderful," John muttered.

"They are," Freddie said, grabbing the book off Roger's knee. "I'm sure I could make some proper edits here and there. Make this chapter much less sensational. This is all fear-mongering stuff."

"So sirens don't lure people to their deaths?" Roger asked.

Brian couldn't help it. He held his breath, while John stared at Roger with surprise. Both of their expressions must have said what words couldn't--how could Roger possibly say something like that, with Freddie sitting right there? And poor Freddie looked distinctly uncomfortable, glancing away. Realizing he was still holding the book, he tossed it on the table, which echoed thunderously through the Well. "Freddie," Roger said.

Freddie held out his hand, stood, and retreated toward the stairwell.

Roger started to stand. Brian reached for his wrist, taking it and shaking his head. "Are you actually an idiot?" Brian asked. "Because sometimes I don't think you actually..."

Freddie appeared directly in front of his face, smiling. Brian squeaked, nearly falling backward off the bench, as Freddie laughed. "You know, it's incredibly difficult to walk off in a proper huff if no one follows and fawns over you. Were you three coming, or...?"

Roger arched his eyebrows. "Are you an idiot?" he asked Brian, who was still trying to slow his pulse. "You did not know he was going to do that!" he called after Roger and John. Standing, he hurried to catch up, too. "You didn't! Dammit, Freddie."

"You should have seen the look on your face," Freddie chuckled.

"I'm laughing," Brian replied, glaring at Roger and John. "They didn't know, either." "We were all in on it," Roger said. Brian elbowed him a little harder than intended. Roger guffawed through a pained "Ouch!" Which just caused John to start chuckling, too.

"They weren't, it just played out so well," Freddie said. "I do love you guys."

"I am sorry about the whole... luring people to their deaths thing," Roger said. "We were just chatting. I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, I'd be offended if it weren't true," Freddie said, his voice growing theatrically dangerous. "Most sirens don't like humans. The ocean is full of trash. Even my father wasn't fond."

"Is this a love story?" John asked. "If this is a romance, I have somewhere else to be."

"Oh, shut it. My dad's a perfect gentleman. Mum was on holiday. He saw her cleaning the beach. I think he was just curious at first, but then he had himself silenced so he could get to know her." Freddie smiled. "It's hard to stop a siren from singing, you know. He had to learn. But he figured it out eventually. It's sad, though. He has such a beautiful voice... I do wish mum could hear it."

"See? It's a romance," John said.

"Right, that's the point I was trying to make. Thank you, John."

John smirked. "You're welcome."

"What I'm saying is that... Maybe it worked for my dad, being silenced. But I don't want to be. I want to be able to talk to you guys. I haven't had friends in years, and, well, I've got a lot to say."

They passed into the central staircase, which stretched all the way through the two aboveground floors. The steps were carved out of the gnarled tree's roots; each one was alive, and often grew offshoots of new staircases, which very often led to nowhere. Some of the stairways were carpeted with moss. Others, ancient beyond understanding, displayed the deeply grooved surfaces of dozens of generations of students. Some were carved or decorated, while others were left to wither away at the tree's whim.

John and Freddie walked ahead, with Roger just behind them. Brian brought up the rear, his head down, hands in his pockets. How could he have even thought that silencing Freddie would be a good idea? Perhaps it would work for an animal... You could silence one of the louder ones and it would barely care. Somehow, he thought Freddie might even appreciate the notion, but now that he really considered it, Brian knew he wouldn't want to lose his voice, either. He was just trying to help. Good intentions. Good intentions often led down the worst roads. But he had another idea. A better one. He hoped.

"Oh, what, are you having a sulk now?" Freddie asked. "Come on, Brian, it's fine. You academics just can't help it. I understand. If you don't constantly invent problems to solve, you languish away."

Brian ignored the insult as Roger had a good chuckle at his expense. "No, it was a stupid thing to suggest. But... I think I can make it up to you. I'm doing really well with non-human healing. We just started, of course, but if I study up a bit, I bet I can figure out how to heal your ears." Unguarded, Freddie brightened. It may have been the first genuine reaction he'd seen from the Ghittan. "You think you could?"

"Yes! I do! I mean, not now..." Freddie's face fell a bit, and Brian hurried to add, "But in a year or two, once I get a good grasp on healing magic. They're some of the hardest spells to master, and regrowing lost ears, with your... physiology. Give me some time. I promise I can do it."

He absolutely could. It was the best consolation he could offer. Freddie, giddy, wiggled a bit. "Yes. Okay! Apology accepted. Let's go to the library and see if we can find some books for you to read. Might as well get a start!"

Brian blinked. "What, now?"

"We've the time!" Freddie said.

It was a fair point, with classes starting later in the morning. They could pop into the library, and with his record, he could likely check out a book more advanced than he'd normally have access to. Shrugging, he followed, as Freddie hummed a happy little tune.

In fact, Brian was so relieved, he almost felt as if he were floating. His mind emptied of all its worries, and soon he could only focus on--oh.

Oh no.

He couldn't say anything. Couldn't deviate from the path set out before him. Couldn't act against Freddie's wishes. Silently, he willed Freddie to stop humming!

They made it up a few more flights before John, quirking a brow, glanced over his shoulder. "You're awfully quiet back there, Rog. Are you sick, or... Ah. Freddie."

Freddie stopped. Brian stopped.

Freddie turned, confused, and realization dawned. He covered his face with his hands, muttering something completely unintelligible. Since his attention was entirely focused on the half-siren, Brian could almost see the conversation playing out in Freddie's mind, even though he said nothing. "This is so frustrating," he finally mumbled. "I didn't mean to do this again, guys."

Brian couldn't do anything. Couldn't say a word of reassurance or even move his eyes. They were locked onto Freddie. Everything the Ghittan did caught Brian's attention. He was stuck.

It was truly amazing how quickly it worked, though. Freddie couldn't have been humming for more than a few seconds before John caught him. But even then, it was too late. Amazing magic, and completely innate, too. No need for a focus.

"There's nothing we can do, either," Freddie went on, pacing back and forth along a step. "I'll--I'll get you guys somewhere safe. Maybe we can talk about that silencing spell after all. Or maybe I'll just command them to stay away? I think I can do that. Yes, it's in their own best interests, so they'd follow the command to the letter, I'm sure. Then again, I'd be down two friends, and I don't want to--"

John shuffled up a couple steps, reached around Freddie's shoulders, and once again covered his mouth.

Freddie swore.

"Freddie, it's hypnotism," John said, removing his hand. "You said it yourself. Right? That's how this works." "Essentially," Freddie replied. His voice was higher, distraught. "I can't keep doing this to them, though. Harmless or not, it can't be comfortable to--Well, look at them!" Brian did feel himself drooling again. That was embarrassing.

"I've always called this the suggestion phase. Right now, I could literally tell them to behave like chickens for the rest of their lives, and they might do it." Freddie quickly amended, "I wouldn't, guys. Promise."

"You said 'might,'" John observed.

"Right. Because eventually it'd go against their sense of self-preservation and they'd stop. At least, I think so. I'd hope so." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Roger, though..."

"Huh," John said. "Hang on."

Setting his bag on the nearest landing, John sat down, shuffling through his things until he found a notebook. Brian would have loved to spy what he was writing, but his attention remained comfortably on Freddie as he waited for that all-important suggestion. He had no choice. Even so, his consciousness remained intact, if not wholly confused by the whole ordeal.

Worried, Freddie chewed on his fingernails as John scratched away at the paper. Eventually, John stood, holding the notebook out. "Tell me this won't work."

Freddie read it over. "Well, you've certainly accounted for everything. I don't know. I can try."

"Go on, then." "Should I just read it?"

"Like I wrote it," John said. "I think I've covered all the loopholes."

"Okay." Freddie nodded, holding the paper in front of him. "Brian May and Roger Taylor. Next time I say 'now', if you hear my song, you're to behave entirely normally, how you would if I wasn't singing at all. From this point forward, my song has no effect on you whatsoever, but you're to remember this suggestion." He paused, then added, "Do you understand?"

Brian felt himself nod.

Freddie looked at Roger, who nodded.

Freddie said, "Now."

And the curse fell away. Not slowly, like before, but immediately. Brian barely had time to reach out as the step jumped up to meet him. Grunting, he seated himself and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the last of the lingering fog. "Ooh, that's going to freak me out every time it happens," Roger muttered. "That's bloody scary." "Hopefully it doesn't have to?" Freddie suggested, crouching in front of them. "It's genius, if it works," Brian said. "Go on, then. Sing something." "What? Now? Already? You've just come out of it!" Freddie looked at Roger, who'd grown very still at the suggestion. "Yes," Roger said. "Do it while I’m expecting it. Better if I know it's comin'."

Freddie gave them one last Look, as if they were both daft, and he sang.

It wasn't like the last times. It wasn't beautiful and otherworldly, nor did it melt over him and wrest control of his mind before he realized what was happening. As Freddie sang, Brian felt a certain fuzzy feeling behind his eyes, but when he looked down and checked if he could still move his fingers, he found he wasn't stuck like before. This time, there was something under the song that Brian hadn't heard previously, which was almost grating. It was high-pitched and whiny, borderline unpleasant. Freddie trailed off, and Brian shrugged, glancing over at Roger.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Roger said. "That was terrible, though. What'd you do to your voice?"

Freddie actually cried. His eyes were wide--stunned and almost wild--as a giant grin broke out across his face. He paced a step or two, before throwing his arms around John and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Oh, go on," John said, embarrassed. "It was no more complex then figuring out a puzzle."

Freddie backed away, laughing, then turned and threw himself at Brian and Roger, who somehow managed not to fall face-first down the stairs. John knelt next to them, putting his hand on Freddie's shoulder. No one said anything. Nothing needed to be said.

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #brian may #freddie mercury #john deacon #fantasy #fantasy au #reversed #ck writes #not bestiary

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the-melting-world · 4 years

Text

Sleepy Valerius Fluff pt.2

GN!MC

Sleepy Valerius: Part 1 | Part 2

~ 2k words

***

You wake up feeling very stiff, but surprisingly well rested.

The first thing you smell is shampoo. It’s mixed in with the familiar scent of body salt and sweat. Still, the sharp pine soap cuts past the other layers and lingers.

A light groan escapes you as you flatten your face against a bed of silk. The sound is answered by another, coming from just above you. Your eyes flutter open, revealing the true nature of your silken pillow.

Disbelief and even the first inklings of horror course through you as you register the soft bronze tones darkening to richer shades of brown.

“Oh no. No, no, no.”

Your eyes use the undone braid like it’s some kind of rope ladder, climbing and climbing until you reach the smooth planes of Consul Valerius’s face. He’s still waking up, blinking slowly into consciousness.

You have no words. All you can do is watch the emotions cycle one after the other on the consul’s face.

Confusion. Discomfort. Sheer embarrassment.

“Get . . . off.”

You mumble a pathetic apology as you try to disengage your arms and legs from the nobleman’s. It’s even more mortifying when he has to assist you. You’re trapped in what feels like a never ending nightmare of squirming, tripping and breathless pardons.

Finally, you both are on your feet staring at each other from opposite ends of the pew. Valerius’s braid is completely undone. His uniform is just as untidy. And his eyes, though wild and perplexed, are much clearer now than the night before.

Of course, waking up after spending the night in his wine cellar suits him perfectly fine. You, on the other hand, must look like . . . You drag your fingers through the hair at your nape to test your theory. It’s as you expected — a horror story in the making.

You notice that Valerius is looking too. His lip quivers before he blurts, “You never went home?”

You surrender your hands. “You never woke me up!”

The emotion on his face is positively murderous.

“I was drunk! And you,” his eyes fixate on your upper body, “you are heavy! What’s your excuse, barhand?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” You groan, “sleep deprivation?”

Valerius’s lip quivers again. He bursts a second time in what could possibly be laughter. Bordering on hysteria.

You take advantage of the distraction and shuffle backwards towards the entrance of the cellar.

There wasn’t enough time for you to go all the way home and change. So you walk into work with the same clothes and unkempt hair. Your boss doesn’t fail to point out that it makes you look like a thug. You apologize profusely, though on the inside you are boiling. The only upside to this whole catastrophe was the fact that you finally got some rest. Amazing how a few extra hours could give you so much energy and clarity. You wonder if the consul feels the same.

But the idea of seeing the noble again gives you the chills. And you’re not sure whether they are the good or bad kind.

Days go by. You go to work and come home with barely enough daylight to start working on your other project. So you start sacrificing your nights again. And it costs you.

It’s when your life fully returns to this familiar yet tiresome routine that you receive a knock upon the door of your tiny apartment.

You don’t check your hair in the mirror or put on a proper shirt because it was most likely just your cute neighbor, Leah. Probably stopping by to ask for some sugar. Who else would it be?

You open the door.

And it’s not your neighbor.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been this close to Consul Valerius.

It seems that he is alone.

He holds up a bottle of wine. “I come bearing gifts.”

You slam the door in his face. Then you panic because this is not supposed to be happening. You curse and breathe erratically as you gather up a sleeveless pullover off the couch and tug it over your head. You suddenly become aware of how cramped and disorganized your apartment is. You even find error with the smell of natural cooking oil wafting from your kitchenette.

Another polite knock sounds at the door. “I know I should have made some sort of announcement before showing up here. But if you give me a chance to –”

The consul’s words become even more muffled as you race to the bathroom to check your hair. It looks no better than it did the morning you woke up on his chest.

You can tell by the way Valerius muses to himself on the other side of the door that he is not going anywhere. And with how crowded your unit is, it’s only a matter of time before one of your curious neighbors begins to notice that nobility has somehow strayed this deep in the flooded district.

You return to the door, open it, and sweep the consul inside.

“Hello again,” he greets as if this is something you two do often. You ignore him, scan the hallway for any signs of life, and close the door behind you.

“Don’t look too hard, consul,” you say, gesturing to your cluttered hovel. “I wasn’t expecting any guests today.”

He says something about the space being charming and demure while you shuffle him towards the back. Though he towers over you, it doesn’t take much effort to move him across the room. He appears to find this amusing.

You reach the terrace that overlooks the watery alleyways. It’s small, but a lot cleaner than the inside. You guide Valerius outside and pull out a small, iron-wrought chair for him.

He maintains that glimmer of a smile as he takes his time getting comfortable. Meanwhile his gaze coasts over you. He seems particularly interested in your arms, which you cross over your chest as you lean against the stone guard rail.

“Consul Valerius,” you sigh, “what are you doing here?”

He’s already freeing the cork from the bottle of wine.

“Enjoying the view, obviously.”

You glance behind you and snort. “Of this part of the city? It’s nothing but gray water and sinking infrastructure.”

“The other view.”

You look back and follow the consul’s gaze to your tucked forearms.

“It’s pleasing to know that you’re as strong as I remember.”

You glance back up at him. “You’re too easily impressed, Consul.”

His clover honey eyes hold yours as he takes a swig straight from the bottle. When he takes it away, he’s left with a rosy thumbprint in the center of his lower lip. Suddenly finding yourself very thirsty, you quell the urge to lick your lips and instead join Valerius at the tiny iron bistro table.

When you take a seat, he offers you the bottle. You look away as you take a sip, clawing your mind for something eloquent and clever to say. Your thoughts sober once you realize that you are so far from the sort of company the man across from you keeps on a regular basis.

“I don’t know your name.” Valerius’s voice pulls you back to reality. “What should I call you?”

You blink and hand him the bottle. “Khleo, if you’d like.”

Valerius accepts and tilts his head. “A shorthand of Khleopath, I take? Or are you more of a Khleonari?”

You prop your elbow against the table and lean against your fist.

“It’s nothing like that.” Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s . . . long for Khlee. My father insisted that I take his name, but Mother didn’t want it sounding harsh, so… you know. Parents. What about yours?”

Valerius gives a derisive snort. “Are you suggesting that I was ever a child? How dare you.”

You both chuckle at that. All of the tension from before has ebbed significantly. Though you still don’t know why the consul is here, it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment.

The two of you share the wine and talk of things that are both meaningless and amusing. Your conversation carries on as you watch the shrinking daylight play games across the gunmetal surfaces of the twisting channels.

When the bottle is empty, you get up. Sure that you have another in your cabinet, you excuse yourself and head inside.

But Valerius apprehends you on the way. Before you know it, you’re perched on his lap. His mouth is close to your ear, asking for a kiss. This shift in proximity is almost enough to make you lose your nerve.

Still, you manage to say, “What’s the rush? You can at least take me on a date first.”

Your skin heats rapidly at Valerius’s low chuckle. “Fair. But since you’re here,” His hand coasts up the inside of your thigh. Your eyelids threaten to surrender to a sudden heaviness, but you fight it, training your features into coolness. “Can you give me something to part with?” His hand stops halfway up your leg and holds firmly to the underside.

You already know the answer is yes. But you don’t want to appear too eager, so you let your eyes drift from his tender hold on your leg to look over the terrace. You don’t make your move until he gives a sign of impatience.

In Valerius’s case, it was loosening his fingers to drum them along your thigh. You keep your eyes averted, but lean a bit closer to him and tilt your head away, exposing your neck. The consul’s fingers freeze as he reads your offering and exhales as he bends towards you. His forehead connects with the underside of your jaw. The bridge of his nose bumps carelessly against your jugular. No lips yet, but you feel his breath, hot and yet somehow like icy needles on your skin.

“Khleo, I’ll be candid with you. I haven’t slept soundly in months. Then you appeared in my wine cellar like some kind of gift wrapped sandsprite.”

You want to trip him up with a clever retort, but you’re too distracted by the way he teases your skin with the edge of his nose. And then there was that hand on your leg. When did it become so warm?

Valerius goes on. “I thought your presence was just a lame coincidence, but it was not. I haven’t been able to revisit that deep of a slumber since.”

Finally, you find your voice. “I didn’t realize this was a job interview.” Despite the taunt, you don’t withdraw from the touch. And neither does he.

The noble sighs. “I know that after the way I acted, you have every reason to say no.” Then Valerius – damn him – chooses this moment to work his lips into your neck, kneading your skin like a warm, soft dough. You fight off whatever urge compels you to show weakness.

He whispers, “I wonder if you might be interested in helping me chase this elusive sleep.”

You realize that your fist is clinging tightly to the front of Valerius’s uniform. He doesn’t seem to notice or care that your hand is determined to mangle it.

You swallow hard before saying, “What’s in it for me?”

Gods be damned. He kisses your neck again. “Tell me what you want.”

His gentle command momentarily clears your head. Your voice sobers. “What do I want? What do I want? Consul . . . ” You sigh, perhaps too aggressively. “I can name so many things.

Valerius’s lips subdue the vibrations of your throat, as if to tame a caged animal.

“Name one.”

You suddenly have control over your hand again. It lets go of Valerius’s collar and absently slides down his chest. Your throat bobs as you swallow once more. You close your eyes.

“I want . . .”

Valerius gives your leg a curious squeeze. “Khleo?”

“Anonymity.”

Valerius scoffs. “That’s it? Might I remind you of my influence –”

Finally, you turn, meeting his gaze head on. “I don’t need reminding.” You try to smooth down the ugly wrinkles in his collar. “Sorry. About your shirt.”

He smiles wistfully. “We can call ourselves even.”

You get the feeling that the consul enjoys your unwarranted demonstrations of strength. And it makes you smile.

“So . . . how does this work exactly?”

(To be continued . . .)

#valerius #valerius fanfic #valerius fluff #the arcana #valerius the arcana #valerius x mc #my writing #wine daddy fluff #gender neutral mc

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