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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

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inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

day 3 ❅ you are my home, my home for all seasons

don’t cry snowman, don’t you fear the sun, who’ll carry me without legs to run?

day two ❅ day three ❅ day four | series masterlist

characters: todoroki touya | dabi ft. todoroki natsuo

genre: smut + angst

notes: WAAAAH okay listen i swear to god this was not supposed to be as long as it is. uhhhh just over half of this is smut, pls pay attention to the warnings below n stay safe! <33 | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), one (1) non-graphic fist fight, tense family dynamics, generally toxic relationships, size difference, drug use, threesome, rough sex, cumplay/snowballing, a hint of mindbreak, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 7.7k

synopsis:

And the way his eyes glitter as he gazes at you, the way his fingers trace your jaw and then smooth down your hair, melts all of the anxiety and anger that had been building in your chest, burns it all to ash and sweeps it away just like that, with that one look and that gentle caress.

Because his sapphire eyes hold so much love it’s almost suffocating, overwhelming in the best way, has you endlessly craving more, more, more; and his soft touches speak volumes, rough hands scarred and stained with blood he’ll never be able to wash off, so tender when they touch you like this.

I think…I think he really loves her.

And suddenly, none of it matters anymore, Fuyumi’s words and Rei’s worry no longer holding any weight. All that matters is that you love him, and he loves you, and that’s all you need.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

It storms, the day of December 23rd; a nasty blizzard that has the wooden shutters banging against the outside of the cabin, harsh gusts of air rattling the glass windows as it viciously hurls snow and ice against them.

“God, you can’t see fucking anything!”

“Language, Natsuo,” Rei chides softly, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stares out at the white, at the nothingness, just endless swirls of deceptively pretty snow, being tossed in every direction by fierce winds.

“We can’t even see the cars, and they’re only a few feet away!” Fuyumi whines. “So much for tubing today,”

“That’s alright,” Rei says, forcing her lips into a smile as she turns towards her children. “We’ll just have to find other ways to entertain ourselves, that’s all,”

And not one of you misses the uneasy trembling in her voice.

❅ ❅ ❅

“Up,”

Black obscures your vision for a moment as Touya tugs his shirt over your head, a shiver coursing through your body as your skin is exposed to the cool air of your shared bedroom.

“You cold?” Touya teases, tweaking a peaked nipple.

“Niichan!” you whine, swatting at his hand, blood rushing to your face, cheeks tingling with embarrassment.

“Cute,” Touya smirks, the tips of his fingers caressing a burning cheek before he turns away, rooting through a drawer and looking for your dress today. “It’s adorable that you’ll let me stick my cock in you, or fuck your throat, or coat you entire body in cum, but you still get embarrassed by those little things,”

He turns back to face you with a stupid, goofy smile on his face, though his eyes are shining with mirth, and you can’t help the soft giggle that bubbles past your lips, sprinkled throughout your shy little shut up, niichan!

It’s routine at this point, your actions entirely automatic as your naked body slides off the bed, Touya kneeling to pull a fresh pair of panties—lavender today, trimmed with lace and ribbon—up your legs, lips scattering a few kisses along your thigh as he does so. Arms raise into the air, almost expectantly, as Touya straightens up again, slipping a long sleeved babydoll dress over your head—crushed velvet and plum purple, this time—helping pull your arms through before smoothing it down your body.

Stepping back to assess you, to admire you, Touya dusts his hands together. “Do you think you can pull on your tights by yourself today?”

Your eyebrows furrow, but you nod anyways. Of course you can, you’re a big girl, you know.

“Perfect.” He turns on his heel. “Then, I’ll be back,” he tosses over his shoulder casually, as if there isn’t a blizzard raging outside. “Stay put, yeah?”

“Wait, what?” tiny finger curl in the material of his sleeve, tugging a little. “You’re going out in that?”

“Just for a moment—”

“Niichan!” the honorific comes out as a gasp, your hand smacking his bicep. “Do you have a deathwish?”

“Baby,” he begins, gently taking your face between two large palms, voice supercilious as if speaking to a child. “I need to smoke, or I’m going to crawl out of my fucking skin, do you understand? Natsuo’s gonna come,”

“I wanna—”

“No.” he says instantly, eyes flashing, your body instinctually cowering from his tone. “I’ll only be a minute, I promise,” he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Relax, it’s just a little snow! I want you to sit here like the perfect little good girl you are, and not move until I come back, okay?”

Lips pulling down into an involuntary frown, you nod in his grasp, watching him go with a little pout. It’s only after you hear the backdoor slam, pulled shut by the sheer force of the wind, that you hear them.

“He’s got her entirely brainwashed!” Fuyumi’s muffled voice carries through the walls.

“I’m not quite sure that’s it,” Rei responds, trying to gently reason with her daughter.

“Oh my God, what are you talking about!”

You creep off the bed, springs squeaking under your weight.

“Fuyumi,” Rei sighs, and you imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose. “When’s the last time you saw Touya smile like that? When’s the last time you saw your older brother this happy?”

Bare feet make the softest little pad…pad…pad… against the hardwood as you tiptoe towards the door.

“Mom…” Fuyumi trails off, her voice softer when she speaks again. “It doesn’t make it right, though,”

The brass knob turns slowly, carefully, silently, and you pull the door open just a crack, just enough to push your ear close to the sliver and listen.

The master bedroom is at the end of the hallway, but the door is wide open, their voices floating through the vacant corridor.

Rei responds after a beat of silence. “Would he stop even if I told him to? Is it even worth the fight, at this point?”

And she sounds so sad, so defeated that it drives a dull, throbbing ache deep in your chest, a hand coming up to press against your body, trying to quell it.

“I think…” Rei trails off, and your breathing halts. “I think he really loves her,”

Her words probably shouldn’t inspire such wicked sparks of joy that shoot through your veins and up your spine, but they do, and you have to press your lips together to keep a giddy smile from spreading across your face. So other people do see it.

“Oh God, give me a break, he’s—”

“I’m serious, Fuyumi,” Rei cuts her off sharply, voice curt. “I haven’t…He’s never stayed with someone for this long, never cared about anyone as much as he cares about her—you can see it in his eyes,”

“But—But she’s his sister, mom!” Fuyumi cries. “It isn’t okay!”

“Keep your voice down,” Rei scolds, sounding exasperated. She’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It isn’t okay. But I…” her voice fades, and you think you hear sniffling, the thought stinging your own eyes. “I can’t take that from him, Yumi, I just can’t,”

A tense silence settles, and you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, body rigid and tight as you wonder if the conversation’s over.

“She doesn’t deserve that, you know. He doesn’t, either,”

Fuyumi’s words, murmured so quietly you have to strain to hear them, light a ferocious fire in your chest, sending scalding fury burning through your veins. How dare she!

Your teeth grind together, hand gripping the doorknob so tightly it begins to jiggle. How dare she insinuate that Touya doesn’t deserve your love. How dare she imply that he isn’t capable of loving, when she barely knows a goddamn thing about him.

Sparkling cobalt flashes through your mind, accompanied by that pearly, lopsided smile and that thoaty, syrupy voice that’s always dripping with just a touch of indifference, and your heart swells.

Touya takes care of you better than anyone ever has in your entire life. Touya makes sure you’re well fed, well groomed, well dressed. Touya ensures your final year university assignments get done in a timely manner, buys you whatever you want, whenever you want it. Touya provides for and cares about and loves you.

How dare she pretend as if she understands any of that, as if she knows anything about your relationship at all, as if it’s any of her damn business in the first place.

“What about her father? What does he think about this whole situation?” Fuyumi asks a few moments later, when it’s clear Rei isn’t going to respond, capturing your attention again, jaw clenching.

Another deep sigh, one that surely has her chest heaving with the force of it, echoes down the hallway. “He refuses to talk about it any time I try to bring it up, so I’ve stopped trying. He’d rather just…not know, I guess, ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist, and just look away. I don’t—I don’t think he can bear the thought, so he just…doesn’t.”

Exhaustion is heavy in your step-mother’s voice, weighing down her words and diminishing the flames raging in your chest to smoldering embers, hand relaxing its grip around the doorknob.

“If that were me and Natsuo—”

“That’s enough,”

“Or me and Shouto—”

“I said, that’s enough, Fuyumi.” Rei snaps, and you flinch—in all the years you’ve known her, you’ve never heard her use that tone of voice. It’s unusual, unfamiliar, unsettling.

Heavy footsteps begin stomping up the stairs, cutting off your thoughts, and you yelp softly, scampering back towards the bed. Touya pushes through the door a moment later, eyebrows knitting as azure eyes dart from your untouched tights, still sitting neatly folded on the bed where he placed him, to your bare legs, then drifting up to your face.

“Why aren’t your tights on, princess?” he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips, more relaxed now that he’s smoked. “Willfully misbehaving? Or are you not such a big girl after all?”

I think…I think he really loves her.

And suddenly, none of it matters anymore, Fuyumi’s words and Rei’s worry no longer holding any weight. All that matters is that you love him, and he loves you, and that’s all you need.

❅ ❅ ❅

By the late afternoon, you’ve all begun to get antsy, resulting in Rei feeling like her kids are actual children again and wracking her mind for an activity to keep you all occupied. She decides on baking and decorating gingerbread men and then a Christmas movie marathon after dinner, gathering the family in the kitchen as her hands nervously rearrange the ingredients she’s laid out on the table.

Everyone’s already a little on edge, shoulders tense and tight any time Touya and Shouto are in the same room together, and you swear the air is electric, cracking and popping with shocks and zaps anytime one of them bristles at something the other said.

Like a storm is brewing.

The entire family works hard to keep them as far away from each other as possible, and attempts to minimize any type of contact at all: seating them on opposite ends of the table, keeping them sandwiched between moderators—family members who speak cautiously in gentle voices, who carefully and dutifully steer the conversation away from a fight—and even going as far to give each ‘group’ their own mixing bowl and baking tools.

The ingredients, however, they have to share.

It feels like a competition: who can make their dough the fastest, who can decorate their cookies the nicest, who can stay the most faithful to the recipe, who’s cookies taste the best.

And yet, none of these efforts seem to matter, because Shouto’s very presence, Shouto’s very existence, infuriates Touya to no end. They clash like thunder and lightning, silent strikes of white-hot fury that you can almost see flashing through the air—Shouto snickering quietly, or making some snide comment muttered under his breath, or reacting to something Touya does with a roll of his eyes or a scoff—followed by a clap of menacing thunder; rumbling—a tremorous growl deep within Touya’s chest; and roaring—the way his deep voice booms through the space; and rolling—his hand clutching you: your hand, your thigh, your wrist, anything he can latch onto to keep him grounded, to keep him sane.

It only continues to build as the day progresses, explosive magma rising higher, and higher, and higher with each spiteful word spit through clenched teeth, each ridiculing laugh ringing out around the room, each malicious look shot in the others direction, until it finally erupts, spouting blistering lava that scorches everything in its path, that seeps through the cracks, beginning to corrode that mask Shouto has been steadily chipping away at.

It was bound to happen eventually—no matter how hard any of you had tried to pretend, you had all known it. It had only been a question of when.

The answer to that question, apparently, is after dinner.

You aren’t even sure how it began, exactly, busy washing dishes with Rei in the kitchen, but your blood runs cold when you hear Natsuo quietly urging Touya to stop, don’t, it isn’t worth it, and Touya growling at Natsuo to let go of him, don’t fucking touch him.

Rei hears it too, of course, because the plate she was scrubbing slips from her hands and cracks as it collides with the aluminum sink, sheer panic etched into her face, wiping sudsy hands on her cardigan as she hurries towards the voices with you in tow.

Shouto’s barking out a laugh as you both round the corner—a harsh, almost piercing sound that echoes throughout the cabin, void of any humour.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,”

And though his face is harder than marble, eyes positively glaring at his eldest brother, his voice shakes a bit.

Touya picks up on it, of course, because Touya picks up on everything.

“That so?” He asks casually with a shrug, eyes beginning to glitter as Shouto involuntarily shrinks away from him. “Shame. Whaddya say we fix that?”

Touya has always been quick, has always been seemingly one or two steps ahead of everyone else. He reaches around his body, lithe fingers running along the waistband of his jeans, and groans out a curse when his hand meets nothing—Nastuo still has his gun.

That’s fine, he shrugs a little, dangerous smirk on his face as Shouto’s eyes watch his hands with laboured breathing as fingers dip into his front pocket, curling and finding it empty—Natuso still has his blade, too.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Touya hisses, Natsuo’s words from after the snowball incident echoing through his mind. You can have these back, he had said sternly, as if speaking to a fucking toddler, when you’re in your car, behind the wheel, all packed up and ready to go Christmas Day.

Well, that’s alright, Touya supposes, because his fists are weapons in their own right, too, aren’t they?, large hands flexing before curling into tight balls, sapphire eyes glinting in the warm light, teeth bared in a petrifying smile as he cracks his neck.

And it all happens so fast, like a cat pouncing on its prey, nothing but a blur of ivory and black colliding with crimson and cream, a mess of bruised knuckles and split lips and flowing scarlet—so much scarlet, streaming from noses and smeared across cracked picture frames, seeping through little slashes and spit from between clenched teeth.

Something shatters, someone screams, but it all sounds muffled to you, distant and far away as you stare dazedly at the mess of limbs on the hardwood floor a few feet away, watching as brilliant galaxies of periwinkle bloom rapidly on smooth skin, and everything feels numb.

Natsuo manages to catch Touya, receiving an elbow to the stomach in the process as he hooks his arms under Touya’s and hoists him off of their baby brother. Shouto leaps to his feet, ready to lunge at his now incapacitated brother, but your father grabs him before he can, holding him back, arms wrapping around him in an iron grip.

The softest sob sounds, all eyes snapping towards it.

Rei stands with her arms wrapped around herself, gleaming grey eyes darting between her eldest and youngest, and everything stills.

“You leave my sight for two seconds—” she starts, blinking hard as fat tears roll down her cheeks, the rest of the sentence getting lodged in her throat. “Two seconds, a-and—and you—I am so—so—”

She’s unable to force the words through her trembling lips, but she doesn’t need to.

I am so disappointed in you.

Natsuo’s able to haul Touya off to the first floor washroom, curses still spewing from your niichan’s lips as he thrashes against his brothers grip, volatile and malignant and stuffed full of hostility, his rough voice breaking with them. His eyes look glossy, and you think he may even be crying, though it’s hard to tell with his aggressive writhing in Natsuo’s strong arms, muscles bulging under the thin material of his shirt.

Touya’s hands tremble as he taps out those little round pills, as white as the snow outside, a few clattering to the floor during the process. Your fingers knot together in front of your body, wringing and unwringing as you watch Touya toss several in his mouth, dry swallowing them expertly before leaning against the counter, fingers curling around the edge, exhaling a shaky breath.

“Sh-Should he be taking that many?” Your eyes dart to Natsuo, who’s propped up against the bathroom door, your forehead creased in worry. He laughs a little, coos at you as if you’re so cute for worrying about your niichan, like your niichan didn’t just down four oxys at once—before bothering to clean himself up, before bothering to do anything—and wraps an arm around your shoulder, tugging you towards him.

It’s comforting, and you automatically snuggle into the warmth, still shaken up from the events that occurred in the past twenty minutes, burying your head in his chest and inhaling, letting the palliative scent of fresh mint and lemon with a hint of blue raspberry fill your lungs.

He needs them, Natsuo tells you in that gentle voice, in that trusting voice, his thumb rhythmically stroking your back, voice vibrating against your cheek and reassuring you that It’s alright, he’s fine, he just needs a little something to calm him down, to sedate him.

This is the best option, he promises you, stone eyes soothing and familiar when you gaze up at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth. With the snow storm happening outside and all.

He has a point, you guess. Whether you like it or not, Touya’s still undoubtedly trapped in this tiny cabin with Shouto for at least the next twelve hours.

It’s a low dose, he ensures with a kiss pressed to the side of your head, “Gave ‘em to him myself,”

You feel like you can breathe again, Natsuo’s calming words taming the irregular palpitating in your chest, soft fingers swiping across your cheeks, catching glistening tears as he consoles you.

It’s okay. He’s okay. He’ll be okay.

What Natsuo doesn’t tell you, though, is that Touya needs them in more ways than one, that Touya actually ran out of the oxys he had brought for the trip, the ones that were supposed to last him the full five days, and that Natsuo’s pulled from his personal stash to give him more, because the last thing anyone needs on top of this disaster is Touya suffering a fucking opioid withdrawal.

He leaves to check on Shouto shortly after, muttering something about shoving a few pills down his throat, too, to mellow him out.

You pretend not to hear it, rushing towards Touya the moment the door shuts, latching onto him from behind and nuzzling your face into his back, tears threatening to suffocate you again.

Touya turns in your grasp, wrapping large arms around you and squeezing you to his chest, clutching you like a lifeline as his fingers dig into your flesh, head dropping and cheek resting against the crown of your head as he repeats Natsuo’s words.

It’s okay. He’s okay. He’ll be okay—as long as you never leave him.

And you won’t. You wouldn’t. You never will.

❅ ❅ ❅

The movie marathon, to everyone’s surprise, proceeds as scheduled. It’s awkward, and no one actually wants to be there, but Rei’s face is still stained with tears, streaks of sticky salt decorating her cheeks, and none of you have the heart to leave her when she throws on some staticky old cartoon and collapses on one of the couches—not even Touya.

No one talks about it, either. No one talks about the shards of broken glass Fuyumi swept from the floor, or the ugly, weblike crack Shouto’s head left when it whacked off the drywall.

There’s nothing to talk about, you guess, bitterness stinging the back of your tongue, sinking in your chest, as you snuggle into Touya’s lap.

But Touya’s feeling better—Touya’s feeling good, large hands running down your bare thighs, kneading the flesh before he drags them back up, under your dress, the thick quilt draped over your lap obscuring his actions from the others.

“N-Niichan,” you whisper, turning to shove your burning face in his neck and whimpering when he chuckles lowly, a dark sound that has scalding heat pooling deep in the pit of your stomach, that has your thighs clamping together and trapping his hand.

“Shh, behave,” he murmurs into your hair, waiting for your thighs to relax before his hand continues its ministrations, creeping up, up, up until he reaches your clit, flicking his thumb over it once. A gasp spills from your lips, and Touya pinches the sensitive bud, lips at your ear. “I said, behave,”

So you do—or, you try, legs spreading wider for him, molars sinking into the flesh of your inner cheek to keep from mewling. Because that’s all you want, really—to be good for him, to be his good girl, to help him forget, to do anything you can to alleviate his stress and make him feel better.

Touya teases you for the entirety of the marathon, continuously driving you to the edge and teetering you on the cliff, tempting you with the fall, the plunge, the release, before dragging you away from it, only to repeat the process again, and again, and again. Skilled fingers have it down to a fucking science at this point, circling your clit in quick, hard motions, until your thighs are trembling and your hips are pathetically trying to buck into his touch. Such reactions are always his cue to stop, to back off, immediately slowing to unhurried figure eights, sometimes pressing his fingertips into your hole just a little through the thin cotton of your panties. And then, he waits, waits until every muscle unclenches, relaxes, until your breathing evens back out and your whines fade, decreasing in frequency, until the gentle, featherlight touches of nimble fingers against your swollen clit have almost put you to sleep, just to simply begin it again.

The bulge in his jeans strains eagerly against the denim, and it’s hard, so hard, pressed up against your thigh. Long, slender fingers catch your wrist when you try to cup it, to offer him some relief, sapphire eyes flashing as he shakes his head slowly. A deep pout etches itself into your face, you just want to help, but Touya growls in your ear, orders you to stop being a fucking brat, chest rumbling against your back.

And by the end of it, you’re covered in a glistening layer of sweat, legs quivering so bad that you’re barely able to stand, the cotton of your panties soaked all the way through and sticking uncomfortably to your aching pussy, your slick slippery on your inner thighs after having seeped through the thin material.

Everything hurts, muscles feeling like they’ve been filled with sand, Touya chuckling as he stands and stretches his hands above his head, cock still straining painfully against black denim, and murmuring about how cute you are when you’re tired.

“Tired,” Natsuo snorts with a roll of his eyes, just after the rest of your family has trudged up the stairs to get ready for bed, Fuyumi struggling to support a barely coherent Shouto.

You look over at him, head quirking curiously.

“You two were misbehaving,” he smirks, glancing between your faces self-righteously. “You were quite naughty tonight, don’t you think?”

Pricks of humiliation crawl along your skin. He noticed?

Of course he did, how could he not? His voice is sharp, stings like a slap to the face, a tone you don’t hear very often from him, and it wasn’t very fair to make him sit through that and not be able to touch, was it?

“No, it wasn’t,” Touya agrees with a shake of his head, sounding almost solemn, though amusement glitters in his azure eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. I think we should make it up to poor Natsuo, princess. Don’t you?

They’re looking at you like a pair of starving jaguars, stone and sapphire eyes glinting dangerously in the hazy yellow light the little lamp provides as they prowl towards you, trapping you between their bodies and the edge of the couch.

“I-I…” your voice dies in your throat, eyes darting between the two men as your heart begins to race. You don’t know, you aren’t sure, is this even allowed?

Then they’re laughing at you, cooing at you as their hands paw at your body, pinching and cupping and squeezing, Touya murmuring about how you’re going to help Natsuo out like a good girl while carrying you up to your shared bedroom and placing you on the bed, Natsuo following close behind, shutting the door with a gentle kick of his foot.

Then Natsuo’s crawling onto the bed beside you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I bet you look so pretty when you cum, baby,” His voice is low, rough, and it makes your stomach flutter.

His words pull an unexpected gasp from your throat and your eyes find his, blinking twice in genuine question. “D-Do you think about that?”

“Fuck,” he nearly whimpers, sharing a look with Touya, who chuckles smugly, leaning against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest.

“I told you,”

Forehead wrinkling as your brow furrows, your gaze darts between the two of them, unsure of exactly what it is they’re talking about.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Natsuo breathes, eyes hooded as they scan your body slowly, working back up to your face as he grinds the heel of his hand against his hardening cock. “I think about it,”

The burning deep in your belly flares at his dark stare, thighs rubbing together as you hold his eyes, sweet little pants escaping your parted lips. Make it up to him, huh?

“I wanna—” you start, looking over at Touya and swallowing thickly. “Can I cum on his cock?”

Natsuo chokes on a whine the moment the words leave your lips. “Christ, niisan, she’s gonna kill me,”

Touya huffs out a little laugh, though his eyes do not leave yours as he considers.

Usually, the answer would be no, absolutely not. Touya has always refused to share your pussy with anyone—that was his and his alone. However…

If there’s anyone he would even think of sharing it with, he supposes it would be his brother.

“You wanna cum on his cock, baby?” he asks slowly, sapphire eyes watching you sharply, analyzing every micro-expression, every twitch of your brow, every quiver of your lips.

You’re unsure if it’s a trick question or not, but you’ve learned that it’s always best to be honest with your niichan—he’d know instantly if you were lying, anyway—so you nod, sucking on your bottom lip. “J-Just once,” you add, after a beat of silence.

“I mean, it is Christmas…” Touya trails off, looking over at his brother, who’s glassy gaze is glued to your face. “What do you say, Natsuo?”

“Seriously?” his eyes fly to Touya’s, wide with disbelief, not nearly as bold as he was in the living room. “I mean—I don’t—I’m not here to overstep any boundaries—”

“I know,” Touya cuts him off calmly. “I trust you,”

Trust. That’s rare with Touya, an honour to be told, and Natsuo’s eyes soften.

“It’d be a privilege to have you cumming on my cock, baby,” he tells you, voice so gentle, so sweet, so sincere, foiling the dirty words spoken.

But your fingers are trembling, tangled in your lap, and your heart is racing, pounding against your ribcage, and your mouth is dry, throat stuffed with cotton. Blood rushes in your ears as you look over at your niichan again, worried, scared. Is this a test? Is he really allowing you to ride someone else’s cock?

A frown materializes on his face and he stalks forward, stopping in front of you and reaching out to cup your cheek and tilt your head up, thumb caressing your cheekbone as he stares down at you.

“What is it, baby?”

“C-Can I really?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t—You won’t be mad?”

Both men coo and Touya laughs, eyes shining in the dark. “No, I won’t be mad, princess,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he nods, hand moving to pet your hair once. “Now, come on,” he gives you a light slap to the cheek, eyes darting to the bulge in Natsuo’s grey sweatpants. “Can’t wait to see you take that monster, baby,”

Monster isn’t exactly an exaggeration.

He’s bigger than Touya—not by much, maybe an inch or so longer, but considerably thicker. The head of his cock glimmers, decorated with a pearl of precum, thick and veiny and nowhere near as pretty as your niichan’s.

“Look at her,” Touya teases from his spot across from you, now perched on the edge of the other bed. “She’s already salivating over it,”

And it’s true, at least in part, your wide eyes glued to Natsuo’s cock as endless heat gushes, throbs, between your legs, little cunt suddenly feeling very empty. Touya’s been teasing you all damn night, an intense neediness building in your chest, powerless to stop the pathetic little whine that gets caught in your throat when Natsuo shifts on the bed, rearranging himself slightly and patting his spread thighs.

“C’mere, baby,” he’s saying as you climb over him, massive hands clutching your hips as you hover above his cock. “Lemme give you what you need,”

And the high pitched moan that slips from between parted lips as you sink down onto him is nothing short of pathetic. Natsuo emits a breathless little laugh as dark grey eyes watch the way your face screws up in discomfort, little whimpers spilling from your lips as he splits you in half.

“Aw, baby,” he murmurs, never slowing his pace as he forces your hips down, down, down. “We didn’t prep you properly, did we?”

No, they didn’t, neglecting to stretch you out at all, copious amounts of your own slick the only thing aiding Natsuo’s cock as he shoves it into you.

“Your fault, you know,” he whispers in your ear as he finally bottoms out. “If you hadn’t been so greedy, so eager to hop on my cock, maybe I would’ve let’cha cum on my fingers first. But what more could I expect from a slut?”

Your eyes snap open, inhaling sharply, unused to hearing Natsuo talk with such derision, unused to the way it makes your stomach positively swoop. He’s already looking at you, a small grin on his face, and, oh, he knows.

Natsuo doesn’t afford you a second to adjust to his girth, though, immediately bouncing you in his lap like you’re just some toy for him to use, hips bucking up into you wildly, malicious laughter escaping his chest as you whimper out Hurts, Natsuo, i-it hurts, Touya snapping at you to be a good little whore and just take it.

But the stinging fades quickly, like it always does, finally yielding to that heady mix of pain and pleasure, and it feels so good, the stretch is so good, Natsuo is so good.

Natsuo snickers, berating you for your extremely limited vocabulary, and you’re so cute, all stupid and fucked out like that from bouncing on his cock—you’re so fucking easy, aren’t ya?

His degrading is punctuated by his hard thrusts, blunt nails biting into the flesh of your hips as he fucks you, as he uses you, each piston of his hips forcing you closer and closer to that edge, the one Touya has already dangled you off of so many times tonight.

Todoroki cock must really make you dumb, huh? Turns you into nothing but a drooling, senseless little cocksleeve, isn’t that right, baby girl?

You’re having trouble concentrating on anything, really, overwhelmed by sensations and sounds, by Natsuo’s steady stream of words and the smack of your ass against his thighs.

Can’t even answer me, foolish little girl, already drunk with cock and we’re just getting started.

Yes, you whine, nodding your head in lazy little jerks, pushing the word out of your slackened mouth. Yes, yes, yes!

Your skin is crawling, itching, blazing, your head lolling to the side, connecting with glowing sapphire, and you swear you can feel his gaze on your body, leaving a trail of blistering heat in its wake.

His cock is still so hard, but he doesn’t touch it, completely captivated by you. He doesn’t ever want to forget this, he tells you, unblinking eyes searing into yours, wants to see the way your face contorts in ecstasy when you cum all over his brother’s cock, wants to commit it to memory.

And it’s Natsuo’s mean, belittling words, spoken in that saccharine sweet patronizing voice paired with each rough drag of his thick cock, plus Touya’s shallow breaths, little gasps and inhales, the way his dark eyes almost sparkle as he watches you, that have you creaming on Natsuo’s cock embarrassingly quickly.

Your eyes don’t leave his, though, sapphire all you can see as your orgasm tears through you almost violently, the pulsing release almost painful after being edged for so long, little pussy aching as it clenches around Natsuo’s cock.

A pathetic little whimper slips through your lips as your body collapses against Natsuo’s firm chest, head automatically nuzzling into his neck. His cock is still so hard inside of you, twitching as your hips involuntarily shift a little. Strong hands find your waist, a patronizing chuckle blanketing you as they begin to knead your flesh.

“Idiotic little girl, we aren’t done yet,”

The words are harsh, almost spit out with that small chuckle, dripping with condescension and rolled in icing sugar—and his tone is so ridiculing, speaking to you as if you’re so dumb, so silly and God, you really do go so stupid from cock, don’t you?

Another laugh rings out—niichan’s this time, and he’s saying something—something about Natsuo’s cum filling up that empty head of yours, you think—as Natsuo roughly rearranges your pliant body, pushing your head into the mattress and yanking your hips up.

It’s hard to focus on the words being spoken, brain hazy and floating on post-orgasmic clouds, but you’re fairly sure Natsuo’s promising to make good use of your cute, empty little skull, telling you it’s the perfect little cumbucket.

But Natsuo’s arrogance fades, finally, morphs into high, needy mewls and quiet little moans, interspersed with sharp intakes of air, sucking in curses and your name as he repeatedly rams into you, thrusts growing sloppier, massive hands keeping your hips held up.

“Oh, Christ,” the curse leaves Natsuo’s throat in a pitiful whimper. And although they were talking about it, joking about it, a mere twenty minutes ago, Natsuo knows he must still get permission. “Niisan, can I—can I cum inside?”

And his voice is so whiny, as if he’s begging Touya to say yes, harsh breaths ghosting over your bare back, cool against your heated skin and mingled with little half-grunts, ones that hitch in his throat as he continues to pound into you, pace never faltering.

Desperate pleads begin spilling from your lips almost instantly, urgent and uncontrollable, brain mushy with thoughts of ice cold hands on your waist and a thick cock buried within you, intoxicated by the scent of cool mint and tangy lemon.

“Oh, please, niichan, please,” you’re sobbing into the mattress, bleary eyes squinting as they try to focus on the watery blur you assume is Touya, still seated on the other bed. “Please, want his cum, want his cum for Christmas,”

“Holy fuck,” Natsuo’s gasps out brokenly, a loud moan reverberating in his chest. “Please, Niisan,”

Touya chuckles, and if it weren’t for the slight breathlessness to his voice, you would have figured him entirely unaffected. “Yeah, fine, go ahead,” he says passively, as if it makes no difference to him. “She’s a little cumslut, anyway,”

A steady stream of overlapping, practically incoherent thank you’s flow from yours and Natsuo’s mouths, getting lost between pitchy mewls and the slap of skin against skin as his taut hips meet your ass.

“Nat—Natsuo-nii!” you cry, so fucked out that the honorific doesn’t even register in your mind, blissfully unaware in that moment that you’re older than him, little hole pulsing around his thick cock. “Natsuo-nii, please, please, give it to me,”

“Oh God,” he chokes on the words, gurgling them in his throat.

His hips piston into you once, twice, three more times, and then they’re stilling, pressed flush against you as he falls forward, sweaty chest pressed against your back, strong arms caging you in as his cock throbs, filling your little cunt with powerful spurts of thick cum.

It’s like a rush of frost through your veins, not scalding the way Touya’s cum is, sending vicious shivers skittering across your skin. It’s soothing, almost, cool and pleasant and has you pushing back against him, hips wiggling a little as you try to milk him for just a bit more. Plush lips find the back of your neck, pressing kisses along your sweaty hairline, a tongue darting out a moment later to lap at the salty substance.

He stays pressed against you for a moment more before straightening up, pulling out with a hiss and heavily collapsing back on his heels, legs tucked under himself.

“Let’s see,” Touya’s saying, as if he’s asking Natsuo to show him his homework, not to examine his brother’s cum leaking out of your aching cunt. “God, look at that,”

You whine a little, hole fluttering as Touya gently blows hot air against it, and Natsuo groans out a curse, voice raw and wrecked.

Hands—Touya’s hands, you can tell, you’re sure of it—curl around your hips, halting them from their slight swaying. A soft, surprised yelp gets caught in your throat when you feel something wet, something warm, something strong, lick along your slit.

“Aw, niisan!” Natsuo scolds, emitting an indignant sound from the back of his throat. “That’s so…That’s so…” his voice tapers off into a soft whine that has Touya chuckling against your swollen lips, the tip of his tongue flicking against your clit teasingly before he pulls back.

But, wait, that isn’t fair!

“Niichan,” you whimper, hips squirming in his loose grasp. “Niichan, want some,”

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, hands running over the smooth skin of your ass, thumb caressing his scarred name. “You want some of Natsuo’s cum, too?”

“Please,” you beg, hole clenching again at the thought. You can feel it oozing out of you, thick and cold, and hate the thought of it being wasted on the bedsheets.

You expect Touya to swipe nimble fingers along your slit and gather cum to feed you, gasping loudly when you feel his tongue on you again. The strong muscle laps at the cum trickling down your inner thigh, then it’s curling against your cunt, inside of your cunt, collecting as much of the syrupy substance as it possibly can.

A hand fists in your hair, using it as leverage to yank your head up. Your mouth falls open instantly, expectantly, and Touya lets his younger brother’s cum—now watered down with his own saliva—dribble from his mouth into yours.

Natsuo chokes something out—you aren’t sure what, you weren’t listening, hyper-focused on the way sapphire burns into your skull as cream coats your tongue—and Touya’s open mouth molds into a sinful smile, still drizzling the sticky, viscous substance into your mouth, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth as gooey strings of white drip off of it.

“Such a greedy little baby,” Touya says after he’s emptied his mouth, voice almost affectionate. “Now be a good girl and swallow. Swallow for Natsuo,”

And you do, of course, because you are such a good girl, such a good girl for Natsuo, such a good girl for your niichan.

“You guys are nasty,” Natsuo almost pants out, failing to keep the whine out of his voice, gunmetal eyes scanning your little hole, licked clean and now gleaming with Touya’s saliva. “Fuck, that was—hey, wait…What’s this?”

“About time you noticed,” Touya mutters, and your heart sinks.

You know exactly what he’s looking at.

A beat of silence passes, and you keep your head buried in the sheets, terrified to move even an inch.

“What did…Did you…?”

“Yeah, with a soldering iron,”

“Jesus Christ,”

“I deserved it,” you whine out, muffled by the mattress, guilty tears springing into your eyes. “I was—I was very bad,”

Glowing ruby and soft, fluffy tufts of silvery-blue hair flash through your mind, eyes squeezing shut tightly as stinging spears rip through your chest, straight through your heart and right to the core of your body.

No. Now is not the time to think of him. It is never the time to think of him.

A tiny sniffle escapes, your chest hiccupping with it, and you clench your teeth hard, so hard your jaw aches, in an effort to keep any other sounds from escaping. Touya hushes you, large hand warm and heavy and oh so familiar on your lower back, thumb caressing the silky skin just above the swell of your ass. You’re good, he tells you, voice quiet but firm, and you nod into the sheets.

“That is so fucking hot,” Natsuo breathes out, eyes flying to the brand again, his voice breaking you out of the reverie you nearly fell into. “Can I touch it?”

The question startles you—no one else has ever touched it except for Touya. Your mouth stays shut, body stiff and still, waiting for your niichan to make the decision.

“Sure,” Touya finally answers, your entire body flinching when Natsuo reaches out to trace the name with his pointer finger, first forward; T, O, U, Y, A, and then backwards; A, Y, U, O, T, the letters echoing through your mind in Touya’s smooth, deep voice as he does so.

“Holy fuck,” Natsuo whispers as he sits back again, the bed jiggling a little with the motion. “That’s…”

Touya gazes down at it as he blows air out of his mouth, fingers running across it slowly, feeling the slightly raised letters of his name in an almost gentle caress.

He didn’t expect it to scar as bad as it did, his name forever etched into your skin in thin silvery streaks that almost shine when the light hits them right, but you didn’t seem to mind. It’s pretty, you had told him, in that gentle soft voice that makes his chest feel as though it’s blooming its own tiny ball of sunlight. It’s yours, niichan.

He wonders what Shouto would think, if he knew, how he’d feel, if it would make his throat burn and his eyes sting and his chest stutter, if he would weep for you. Touya hopes he would.

“Mine,” he whispers, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to it, his tongue darting out and laving over the entire name once before the tip traces the letters. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you whimper, hips greedily pushing back again. “Niichan, niichan, please,”

He hushes you, tells you he’ll give you his cock now, quiet, quiet, rearranging your body so you’re on your side and bending your legs, pushing them up towards your chest and revealing your little cunt to him. Large hands drag your hips to the edge of the bed, sure to keep the ass cheek with the brand facing upward, facing him.

The gentle clinking of his belt has your toes curling in anticipation, the head of his cock nudging your little hole a moment later.

He delivers one quick thrust, burying himself in your snug little cunt in a singular motion, groaning about how you’re still so tight, how you still feel so good, even after being pounded by his brother.

His pace is merciless from the very beginning, hard and fast and so fucking deep, pulling broken cries and rough little whimpers from your raw throat, one of his hands on the mattress to stabilize himself while the other weighs down on you, pinning you to the surface.

“Niichan!” you’re squealing, Touya’s blunt nails digging into the meat of your thigh as he uses it to steady you, large hand splayed out on your skin. “Niichan, nii-niichan, it hurts,”

It more than hurts—hurts doesn’t even begin to describe the excruciating thorns of pain intermittently racing through your upper body as he slams against your cervix, shooting straight to your core and festering in your throat. You can feel them collecting in the column, wedged tightly between the gummy walls, and you choke on them, gag on them, coughing around them as you urgently gasp in air.

“But you can take it though, right?” he pants out, cobalt eyes wide and frenzied as they burn into your face. “You can take it, because you’re a good little slut for niichan, aren’t you?”

Salt stains the back of your throat, tears and snot mixing as you sob into the mattress, face half-buried in the rumpled sheets.

Yes, yes, oh God yes, you want to be good for him. “Uh-huh,” you breathe out, the noise stuttering past your lips in time with the quick snap of his hips.

And, fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful like this, so fucking hot, taking his cock so well when he’s giving it to you so hard.

“Good,” he gasps, eyes zeroing in on his name etched into your ass, peaking out from between his thumb and forefinger, glimmering when it catches in the pale moonlight. “So fucking good for me,”

Because you are, with your dedication, and your submission, and your pure devotion to him as he brutally fucks you, taking everything he gives you, taking it so well.

And it’s these thoughts, swirling in his mind as you gaze up at him, a mess of sweat and drool and cum, teary eyes dazedly watching him like he’s some sort of god, that have his hips stuttering, filling you with cum, thick and hot and so much, your body going lax under his grip as he chokes out how much he loves you.

Senseless gurgling bubbles past your lips as you try to move, try to roll onto your back or uncurl your limp body, whining softly when you find that you can’t. Two silhouettes loom over you menacingly, the sound of laughter and mingled voices blanketing you, murmuring words you can barely make out. Another pathetic whine hitches in your throat, tongue sluggish in your mouth as you try to speak again, losing the battle with your heavy eyelids a moment later, finally engulfed in darkness.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya smut #dabi #todoroki touya #there's one line of dialogue in the smut taken straight from my life no joke <33 #ok ok ok dont expand the tags unless u want a slight spoiler!!! promised anon i'd answer here so!!#this almost murdered me #deadass almost jumped out from my laptop screen and stabbed me in the heart #uuuuh YES ANON FROM BEFORE there's ur answer: rei is caught in a moral struggle and her dad would rather not know #tw pseudo-incest #tw drugs

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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

Text

life is not a shoujo manga

— Kaibara believes that his life with you could be a shoujo manga. Why? One, he’s in love with you and two, you work at a maid cafe he is prohibited from visiting. But nothing happens in life without doing what you’re told NEVER to do.

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pairing: kaibara sen x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, modern!au, reader is a sex worker, maid cafe but make it kinky, dubcon (spoiler: reader just services kaibara despite his embarrassment), semipublic sex, master and maid dynamic/kink, blow job, sex on a table, marking

word count: 4,570

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab for sex work lmaoooo, this was hella inspired by maid-sama,,, kinda sorta, not really, but hey!!!! check out the rest of the masterlist and I hope you enjoy this!!! happy birthday to me :D

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Kaibara Sen was pretty confident in the fact that he was not in a shoujo manga.

There are, however, some claims that he can unashamedly admit make him believe that he might be in one. Here is his gathered evidence:

1. He had a crush on a girl (you) that was practically written to be nothing more than a crazy, hopeful fantasy.

Explanation:

Kaibara has known you for his entire life, but you, the airheaded, mind focused on only those around you, had never noticed him. You were bright, intelligent, witty, with blazing eyes and a curling smile, you were an enigma in the world, and he was a bystander just waiting for a day when you would notice him. Popular as you were, Kaibara knew he stood no chance at ever playing a role in your life. There was no room for his initial stoic personality, the way that he walks away from you as you near because, god forbid, you see his ears tinge pink.

All in all, you never knew he existed, and his crush would have to remain one-sided and unknown. But you see, reason number two is yet a testament to his denied belief that he lives a shoujo manga.

2. He had gained your attention one day by catching you one day when you tripped off a brick wall.

Explanation:

Talk about falling into the arms of the one you’re destined for! Kaibara had been walking home from the end of his first year of high school, and as he turned a corner, there came a yell and he looked up to see a body plummeting towards him. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and superhuman strength supplying him the strength and ability to catch you, Kaibara caught you bridal style. He held you there for a few moments, the air suddenly blowing and the blossoming cherry blossoms swirling with the winds. He swore your eyes brightened at the moment you locked eyes.

3. He had a (former) love rival.

Explanation:

Pretty self-explanatory, Kaibara would admit. Before his introduction to you, another male student in your class had been essentially building up his intentions to ask you out. Kaibara wasn’t one to step on people’s toes; he respected people too much and often just didn’t want to spend energy where he thought was unnecessary. But you were never unnecessary. Kaibara wanted you and found himself clashing heads with this other love rival, but he seemed to have won the moment Kaibara was accepted into the same university as you.

4. You were working at a maid cafe.

Explanation:

Kaibara did not have an older sister for no reason. Maid-Sama and Ouran Highschool Host Club were constantly on repeat when he was growing up! Because of this selected memory and application, he believed that time and time again, whenever maids were involved — or any type of service job — it was shoujo material.

Four points and that was four more points than most romances, and Kaibara was convinced that he was in line to become the main star of a real-life adaption of some obscure shoujo manga. All he had to do now was seal the deal and get you, his now best friend of nearly four years, to fall in love with him.

“I have work tonight,” you sigh from your place on Kaibara’s bed, your face twisted in a dissatisfied pout, feet kicking a bit on the mattress.

“Call out,” Kaibara simply replied, his head resting upon yours as you both watched an old All Might film. “I don’t understand why the maid cafe is open so late anyways. Who’s even awake and wanting to go out?”

You chuckle at his words, fingers tapping on your thigh — as they do when you’re a bit nervous.

“It’s a cafe for foreigners and people who are up late,” you repeat the same line you always say when Kaibara asks why you would go in so late. “It works out, and it pays well.”

“How long is your shift tonight?”

“Ten until three.”

Kaibara groans, “that’s rough.”

You snicker a bit in unknown irony, “you have no idea.”

Time passes, and Kaibara realizes that it’s nearly nine-thirty by the time you pull away from the small mirror on Kaibara’s desk (he bought it so that you could do your makeup in his room), and he looks at you in your beautiful form. You looked ethereal in the makeup, big eyes, and painted pretty lips. You turned to look at him, a grand grin painting your lips, and for whatever reason, a spoof of unspoken for confidence, Kaibara feels himself speaking before he can stop himself.

“Go on a date with me? Next weekend?”

You froze, before chuckling, lips splayed in a lazy grin, “you’d want to date a maid?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Kaibara watched as you flustered a bit, teeth tugging and tearing into your lower lip as you shook your head. “You’re a dork, Sen,” you push back a strand of hair as you stand up, “but let me think about it? As much as I love the idea of potentially being your girlfriend, I need to think about how you would feel about my job.”

And Kaibara smiled despite himself, his mind thinking about how sometimes shoujo protagonists often deny their own feelings at first. Not that his life was a shoujo manga anyways.

“I can do that.”

You laugh, the sound pretty and light on his ears, and you shake your head. Kaibara warmed at the sound and stood up too, already knowing that it was time for you to leave.

“Alright, but I must leave you now, my eternal love,” you grin, speaking with a mock accent. Your arms open for your goodbye hug he has since been accustomed to giving you when you both went separate ways. “I bid thee well when I’m away for the week.”

Ah yes, you would be gone for an entire week on account of a school trip you were taking.

“I do not know how I may live without you at my side, but I will try,” Kaibara spoke back with a low accent, too, his smile hidden in your neck as he hugged you near. “Have a good shift, and be safe on your trip.”

“Obviously!”

Two things about your job besides the obvious (that it was a maid cafe) that Kaibara knew.

1. You made a lot of money there.

He wasn’t all too sure as to why. He’s been to a maid cafe before and has definitely been called Kaibara-sama by pretty-faced females in French maid costumes. He knew that it was a popular place for otaku men and foreigners, but he also knew that pay range-wise, it wasn’t that much better than a typical waitress job.

2. Under no circumstances should he, or anyone for that matter, follow you to work or try to see you while you worked.

This made sense to Kaibara even if he didn’t particularly agree. There was no denying that he wanted to see you in a maid costume, he’d be a liar if he said otherwise, but he realized how embarrassing it could be for you. The fact that he knew where you worked was good enough for him.

Kaibara sighed, his body collapsing onto his bed, and he pulled out his phone. He checked the time on his phone and smiled, seeing that at this point, you were already at work because you sent a text saying that you had arrived. A small notification warning him that his phone was about to die pinged on his screen, and he frowned, hand reaching for his charger.

But instead of the white cord, his hand grasped onto the rose gold charging cable he knew was yours. You needed the charging cable; you were leaving on a trip basically right after work! Kaibara’s mouth twisted, weighing his options in his head. He knew that you had no other charging cables; you had a knack for breaking them without meaning to.

Shaking his head, he stood up.

This was about your charger for your phone.

It would be okay! He would simply step foot into the maid cafe, hand your coworker (he was hopeful he would see you) your charger, and leave! He wouldn’t stay! Nope! Not at all.

Kaibara nodded at his resolution and pocketed your charger before turning on his heel and marching out of his room.

It took a bit to get to the cafe.

Fushi’s Maid Cafe is what it was called.

Its hours of operation were quite weird, at the very least in Kaibara’s opinion. On its website, it said that it was open between 11 am and 5 pm, a reasonable range for its demographic; however, there were many times in which you would go in much later in the night. You were in a 10 pm until 3 am shift after all.

It was currently midnight as the trains were down for the night, and Kaibara had resolved to walk a near hour to drop off your charger. He didn’t really mind, especially if he sees you in that costume.

‘No!’ Kaibara thought, ‘you’re in a shoujo manga, not a hentai!’

He frowned, remembering to continue to claim that he was not living in a shoujo manga, and strode to the door. Confidence in every step, his game plan being repeated time and time again.

Kaibara swung open the door, readying himself to hear the onslaught of a chorus of ‘Welcome home, Master!’ but instead… oh…

He froze.

“F-Fukuda-samaaaaa!”

He blinked.

And as the door closed behind him, the most fucked out, blissful voice that he had only heard in his wettest of dreams called out, “Welcome home, Kaibara-sama…”

Kaibara locked eyes with you sitting alone at a table, your eyes laced with blissful lust, lips pouty and wet. The maid costume you had on exposed your beautiful breasts, shoving the curves, the tender flesh, and your sweat shined softly off it. Kaibara felt his breathing become shallower yet deeper as the sounds of meeting wet sex, lewd cries, the maids begging for more, demanding more. The clients — the masters — speaking in tongues as they fucked the women against the chairs, tabletops, anything in which they could balance.

Oh.

It made sense why you never wanted anyone to follow you to work.

Kaibara had been so caught up in the scene before him, the somehow sex maid cafe themed orgy (sexy party? But there was no group sex minus the man in the back fucking three maids!) that he hadn’t noticed you approach him. He tensed yet again when your hands fisted into his shirt, your warm breath brushing against his exposed collarbones, a curling sweetness emitting from your person and knocking his breath away yet again.

“Kaibara-sama, I never expected you to finally come. I’ve missed you,” you whine, pressing your body so close to his. Your stocking-covered thighs were brushing against his slowly awakening dick.

“Y-Y/n,” Kaibara stuttered, and he winced at how not part of the plan that was. “I-I thought this was a maid cafe?”

“We are a maid cafe,” you sigh as if he was asking an amusing yet dumb question. Your arms wrapping around his neck, and hips rolling against his. “We service our masters however they see fit! I wanna help Kaibara-sama feel good now that he’s here.”

Kaibara hisses under his breath, the feeling of your thigh rubbing against his growing dick insatiable as it is slightly uncomfortable due to the rough fabric of his jeans. “I’m here to drop off your charger! You forgot it! I-I’m leaving after this.”

You grin, your laughter bell-like in his ear as you nuzzle your nose against the smooth curve of his neck. “I left it there on purpose; I wanted Kaibara-sama to follow me here and see if he could still love me like this.” Goosebumps flash across his body, and Kaibara whines at the back of his throat as you begin walking backward, taking him to the table where you once sat. “I never wanted Kaibara-sama to see me like this, never wanted Kaibara-sama to see and know what a big whore I am before he confessed his feelings to me. But Kaibara-sama followed me to my work and didn’t run away… I’m so blessed.”

Your hands landed on his chest, and Kaibara yelped as you shoved him onto the spacious, comfortable chair before the table. Your teeth bit into your lower lip, eyes practically glowing with lust as a single sleeve began descending from your shoulder.

Kaibara suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“I’m at your service, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering. “How may I help you?”

Kaibara was going to respond eloquently and affirmatively that he didn’t need you to service him, but the Kaibara-sama sounded so lovely.

“I— um, well— I— ohmygoD!”

Kaibara nearly leaped out of his own skin as you pushed his knees apart and kneeled before him. Your eyes locked on his before glancing down to the prominent bulge in his pants. You grin, fingers stretching out and eagerly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his hard cock in less than ten seconds.

“Wowwww,” you breathe, eyes lighting up at the still hardening dick you were holding in your hands. “Kaibara-sama… you’re so big!”

You stared at the easily nine-inch dick in your hands, the slight curve to it making your core burn, and the bluish veins dancing under the skin making your mouth water. He was better than what you had expected him to be, and you wanted to know how he tasted, how he felt in your mouth and your pussy.

His erratic breathing caught your attention, and you looked back up at him, the scarlet on his cheeks, the expression that told you that he was battling instinct and morals. It was up to you, his maid, to make the decision for him, it seemed.

“I’ll take good care of you, Kaibara-sama,” you promised, heart hammering in your chest as you leaned forward, and without much of an issue, swallowed at least half of his cock.

Kaibara’s reaction is instantaneous; the near howl of pleasure and surprise ripping from his throat is a sound you’re almost unfamiliar with. He was such a serious man; even when he was comfortable and energetic, there was a sense of seriousness to him. There was a time, however, that you remember him being near-feral, demanding, excited. It was when there was a competition or when his feelings truly and utterly overcame him. You smiled around his cock, your teeth barely scraping the length of his cock, and giggled.

You overwhelmed him.

But there was no time for celebrations, no time to think about how you were serving your master to the best you could; his hands were suddenly fisted into your hair, and his hips rolled up into you, fucking your throat. Tears sprung in your eyes, the uncomfortable sensation of his cock flushes down your throat, pressing so heavy on your tongue.

“F-Fuck, this feels so fucking good!” Kaibara gasps, his eyebrows scrunching and hips lifting off the seat to continue face fucking you.

You relax your throat as best you can, chokes and gags pittering out of your mouth despite your best attempts. You hum, forcing your throat to allow the tip of his cock to go even further down your throat. Kaibara moans loudly, the noises he makes dripping down your back, making you feel sweaty, hot, and flush. His noises stir the heat between your thighs, making one of your hands go down beneath the layers of your puffy skirt to press to your throbbing clit, desperate to relieve the building, untouched tension.

“No!” Kaibara hisses, a single hand leaving your head to grab onto your wandering hand and bringing it back up. You yelp around his cock at the sudden movement, and you’re forced to come off his cock with haggling, rough coughs. Tears fall down your cheeks, and there's a thick line of saliva and precum trailing between the tip of his cock and the bottom of your lip. “You’re my maid, right?”

You cough, your lungs are burning with wrongly swallowed saliva, and the recent asphyxiation you had. Cocking your head to the side, you startle when he suddenly leans in near, pinching your cheeks between two fingers and drawing you near him.

“Answer me, y/l/n-chan.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeak, swollen lips trembling and your breathing hitching as you shiver. There was a fire in his eyes, a type of lust-fueled rage that made your skin tingle and crawl in the sweetest of ways. “I’m here to service Kaibara-sama.”

“Then why are you trying to relieve yourself?” he snaps, face so near you want to kiss him, and you whimper because his scolding and humiliation do nothing to ease the fire in your cunt… it only ravages it, letting it fester into a raging wildfire. “You’re here for me, your master, so fuck me — focus on just me.”

“Yes, Kaibara-sama!” you shiver, body tingling as you reclaim his cock in your mouth.

And unlike before, where Kaibara merely sounded like a man who was feasting upon the food of the gods, he sits up straighter, more commanding, a man who sat in his chair knowing his worth. He took on the deception of a master.

“Hold my dick with your hands,” Kaibara grunts, hands fisting the hair at the nape of your neck and forcing your head to tilt up towards him. “I can’t trust you.”

You nodded your head, hands coming up to hold onto the base of his cock that your mouth couldn’t take in. You were fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks doing all it could to please your master. You sucked his dick with the intention of promising him that you were worth it, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you wanted to consume.

“Such a good sluttly little maid,” Kaibara praised and degraded. His hands tighten almost painfully in your hair. “Taking my big cock so easily... Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing on other men.”

You make a noise that screams no.

You would never!

“Oh, no?” Kaibara grunts, his tongue licking out past his lips, and you shudder under his gaze. “Did my slutty fucking maid keep her mouth clean for me?”

You whine in approval, your lungs burning as he keeps you still on his cock, eyes deceivingly angry.

“Good… that just means I’ll have to fuck your whore pussy so good you’ll never ask or seek a new master,” Kaibara grinned, and your eyes widened.

It happened so fast, you were on the ground one second, and in the next, he had you pinned with your back against the table. It was almost uncomfortable, the edge of the table pressing into your spine, and your hands scrambled to latch onto his shirt as his jeans fell to his knees and his hands gripped the top of your maid outfit down, exposing your naked breasts.

His hands found a place on your breasts, warm and calloused fingers moving against smooth, soft skin. You moaned loudly, hips twitching unconsciously as he brushed against the swell of your nipple.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Kaibara groaned, fingers pinching roughly against your skin, and you warbled a scream. It wasn’t painful; it was pleasurable. Your head swam in a way it never had before when you had serviced other men, your clit was throbbing with an increase of needed attention, and your voice keened with his praise. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you — wanted this. I wanna make you feel so good, let your master fuck you however I want, y/l/n, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

You nod your head, words failing you, and you watched Kaibara let out a heavy stream of air out of his nose, a near perverted, happy grin on his face.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, hands fisting into his shirt. “Ruin me. Claim me. Make me yours.”

His eyes flash dangerously.

“You were never not mine.”

And with a hand looping underneath your knee and with the sudden shove on your shoulder to knock you back, Kaibara pressed his cock against your wet, sopping entrance and shoved into you. You scream loudly, hands digging into his back as his cock enters you, unforgiving and demanding. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his hips as you shudder and shake, body twitching under the dull, hot stretch of him in you, your body sweating with the consuming heat and pleasure that his entrance gives you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, fingernails digging into his skin, face burying into his neck. “Kaibara-sama is so big, he’s stretching me out so much, I’m— I can’t—”

Kaibara clicks his tongue, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, “Don’t say that, y/l/n-chan. Don’t ever tell your master that you can’t. You can do anything so long as I ask of it, right? I don’t like the word can’t.”

You whimper, head nodding in understanding as you shift your hips partly for needed friction, partly for relief.

“Stop that,” Kaibara orders, hands suddenly on your hips, preventing you from moving. “Ask permission from your master if you can move. You are here to serve me; you are not here for yourself. Do you understand?”

Your breathing is heavy, your legs shaking as you nod, breathlessly saying that you agree even though you need relief. You need to please your master; you have to make sure he continues to want your service: just you, no one else.

“Good girl,” he praises and somehow pushes even further into you.

You moan loudly at the movement, fingers digging into his skin yet again, and Kaibara laughed, teeth nipping at your collarbone. Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single happy noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“So tight, so hot,” Kaibara groans, his teeth dragging up and down your neck as his hips roll back and thrust back into you at his own pace. It’s steady, slow almost—a steady beat like a subtle heartbeat that kept you sane. “Don’t be quiet… I want to hear what I do to you; I want everyone to hear what I do to you.”

And a hand pinches your clit at the same time he slams roughly, with tremendous strength into you, and you wail.

It’s as if that wail was a starting sound, the sound that told Kaibara that he was in the clear to do whatever he wanted. To fuck you as he deemed, to make you fulfill your duty to providing and exceeding his every need and demand. He fucked into you, each snap of his hip, every roll, sending loud slaps through the room. The table creaked and shifted with every advancing move, and you rolled your hips up, fucking back into him, desperate to make his breath hitch and hiss in pleasure. His teeth buried into your skin, sucking and nibbling marks onto your skin, subtle and near bloody marks to show the world that you were his.

“Kaibara-sama!” you scream at a particular thrust, back arching wildly, eyes slamming shut as you moan to the heavens. “Kiss me please! Please kiss me—”

Kaibara’s mouth was over yours immediately. You cried into his mouth, shuddering and shaking as he continued his maddening dance with you, the endless, exciting cycle of tingling sensations and exploding warmth. His tongue entered your mouth, tasting of him, iron, and sweat. You moan louder, your velvet walls clenching and milking against his length. You don’t want to ever pull out; you want him, his seed, everything.

He kisses you like a madman, someone who believed that if he stopped, he would die.

You eat it up, returning it in full, unable to even believe you want him to stop.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Kaibara pants, hands coming back down to your hips and keeping them in place as he suddenly, powerfully, and somehow rhythmically pounding into you in short, strong fucks.

It’s overwhelming, the feeling of his girth stretching you out and abandoning you so quickly, the way his tip licks against your cervix, teasing up against your sweet spot. His face is desperate, needing, and so powerful that you cry to him, your master, your god. Your pussy is soaked with your essence, the sex spilling it all-around your thighs and on him, the wet squelching pounding making you embarrassed and so much more turned on. His teeth sink into your jaw, and your body is begging, twitching, the heat in your stomach overwhelming and no longer building but waiting for it to be unleashed.

“K-Kaibara-sama!” you cry, a warning for the near-inevitable.

But you wail his name, the electricity in your veins and blood scorching the levels of your skin, and Kaibara takes that as a reason to do more, to fuck more. He drills into you at a new speed, a new power. Your head is swimming in the delirium, and your body trembles, the words “more, faster, harder” spilling from your mouth without consent, but tears build in your eyes as his fingers seem to almost spin against your clit and you scream.

You cum loudly, aggressively, all your energy destroyed as you hit the high. Kaibara moans against your bruised and marked skin; the warmth heat of spilling seed expelling into your cunt is a sensation that drives you insane as he collapses his weight on top of you. You’re breathless, speechless, a part of you unable to comprehend that your crush had fucked you before he had kissed you, that he was the best fuck you had, and how this man wanted you back.

It’s quiet for a bit, the two of you laying on the table as cum dripped out of your cunt, and he rested his head between your exposed breasts.

“So,” you finally rasp, a soft grin coming onto your face. “You have my charger?”

“18000 yen?!” Kaibara barked, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the older lady at the counter who was billing him for his session.

“We are a sex club, Kaibara-sama,” she sighed. “Not only did you have a three-hour session with our most requested maid, but you also marked the merchandise.”

“I couldn’t?!” Kaibara snapped but cooled down almost immediately when the lady pointed at a: ‘Fines for every mark on the maids!!!!’ sign. “Oh.”

“Take it from my paycheck,” you sing from beside him, bundled up in a coat, the marks he gave you completely hidden now. It was the end of your shift and closing time, after all. “I got him riled up without telling him the rules.”

Kaibara chuckled as you arranged a proper check for him.

He thought about what he thought of his life, and while he couldn’t say that his life wasn’t a hentai right now, he knew, without a doubt, that life is not a shoujo manga.

#kaibara x reader #kaibara smut #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 10

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,179

Warnings: nothing new

A/N: Hey it’s me, daddy! ...well apparently. I really gotta take a chill pill... these chapters are getting way too long. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it, my babies are soft and sensitive :’) Thank you for reading, I truly appreciate it!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

You looked around the bar while you sipped your drink, a 12 dollar grapefruit juice and club soda cocktail. There weren’t many people at one in the afternoon, mostly suits and wealthy tourists, though you half expected to find Natasha hiding in the back with a hat, a large pair of sunglasses and an unfolded newspaper.

From the rug to the chairs and armchairs, everything was either black or white. You ran your index finger over the intricate calligraphy on the back of your chair. It was a number: 5.

Turning back around, you glanced at the clock and mentally cursed yourself for always being so early. You hated being late, and arriving less than ten minutes early counted as late in your book. You were nervous to see Wanda after all this time.

You hadn’t been expecting her to stay at a hotel on the Upper East Side. You wondered how she could afford it, but decided it was none of your business.

“I had a feeling you’d be here already.” That familiar voice brought back fond childhood memories and other not so pleasant memories. “You’re always early.”

You didn’t move a muscle as Wanda took a seat next to you, number 6. She signalled the bartender and ordered a latte. Meanwhile you played with your straw, trying to subtly steal a glance at her.

“What did you do to your hair?” you asked with a grimace, turning your body toward her.

Without looking at you, she raised her brows in mild exasperation. “I dyed it.”

“It’s orange.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I get it. You’re angry with me.”

“Oh,” you drawled out. “I’m well past angry. I was angry four years ago, now I just don’t care anymore.”

“You don’t care about me anymore?”

“No, and it’s not like you cared about me, or Scott, or Okoye.” You paused. “Or mom.”

Wanda had a shocked look on her face as she finally met your eyes. “That’s low. You have no idea-”

“No, you have no idea what it was like to live in that house after you all left. You have absolutely no idea,” you said, enunciating each word between your teeth, “because you weren’t there, because you left us –you left me. Six years, Wanda.”

She looked away and you saw her bottom lip quiver. She clenched her jaw and took a small sip of her latte. You instantly felt bad for snapping at her. You didn’t like confrontation. Hated arguing. You internalized. It was difficult for you to acknowledge that you had a right to express your feelings.

“I, uh,” Wanda said, then cleared her throat. “I knew you weren’t going to welcome me with open arms, and I know what I did was wrong, but I’d like us to be a family again. If it’s not too late.”

“It’s not too late,” you said with a small sigh. “But I’m not going to instantly forgive you just because you’re back.”

“I know.”

“What made you come back?”

She fiddled with her fingers in her lap and you noticed the ring on her fourth finger. It was a beautiful vintage-inspired ring made of black rhodium with an ornate cadenza halo in the centre.

A terrible thought occurred to you, making your stomach twist painfully. You didn’t know her at all. Not anymore. You had missed so much of your sister’s life. Or more accurately; she had cut you out of her life, and it was painful.

“I went to London,” Wanda said, unaware of your inner turmoil. “I saw Uncle Michael. He asked me if I was here to see mom, and I said, ‘No, mom’s in New York.’ And then he told me-” she tilted her head to look at you “-he told me mom was sick, that you and Okoye put her in a nursing home not far from his apartment. I didn’t believe him, so he took me to mom and she-” She paused, staring straight ahead as if she was caught in the memory

“She looked at you like she didn’t know you,” you said, knowing exactly where the story was going because it had happened to you too.

“Yeah,” Wanda breathed out, tears in her eyes. “I never felt so alone. They told her I was her daughter, but she didn’t recognize me. She kept asking Uncle Michael who I was, then she got mad because she was adamant she never had children.”

“I know,” you said sympathetically.

“I wanted to see you and apologize for not being the sister you deserve. For not being here when you needed me most.”

“Where were you all this time?” you asked, practically begged for an answer.

Her shoulders tensed and she straightened up in her seat. “Just travelling.”

“I know, I got your postcards.” You nodded toward the engagement ring on her finger. “I guess I should say congratulations.”

“Mhh,” she said running the pad of her thumb over the diamond. “It’s funny I never thought I’d fall in love and get married. I don’t need a man in my life to make me feel whole. Mom raised us alone, we’re independent and strong.” A small smile graced her lips. “But I found someone sweet and charming, someone who makes me feel safe and calm.”

“Are you writing your vows?”

“Har har,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. You’d missed her, missed your banter. “You haven’t changed.”

“If you say so,” you said in a sombre voice. You looked at the clock above the bar. “Listen, I have to go but I’m happy you found someone. I’d like to meet him one day. I bet he doesn’t know about your Baby Spice phase.”

You jumped off the bar stool and picked up your jacket. Wanda turned in her seat, catching your wrist as you looped your purse over your shoulder.

“Can you stay a little longer?” she asked, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just a minute.”

“Okay.”

She let go of your wrist. “Scott’s been released last month. I talked to him on the phone and asked him to fly to New York. He should be here tomorrow. I also talked to Okoye, I asked her to come here. We have things to discuss. I know things will never be the same, not after Pietro, not after mom, but we can try. We’re still a family.”

“Great,” you replied. Your word came out with more force than you had intended, but you didn’t apologize. They were all coming back for Wanda but when your mother needed help, you were all alone.

“Yeah,” Wanda whispered, her eyes cast down. “I was thinking we could all meet up for dinner. Okoye’s bringing her boyfriend so if you... if you have a partner-”

“I’m single.”

“Oh, uh, you can bring Natasha if you want.”

“No, thanks.” You reached into your purse and pulled out one of your business cards. “Text me, okay? I really gotta go.”

She smiled as she read your card. “You’re an artist? Splotchy, I’m so proud of you!”

That damn nickname... “I still haven't found a gallery. Not many people want to represent an unknown artist but I’m not giving up.”

“You never give up,” Wanda said with a gentle smile. “That’s why I love you.”

You took a cab to Natasha’s apartment. It had been three weeks since Sam moved to D.C., and Nat was having a hard time finding a job in her field.

She didn’t want to find another sugar daddy. It seemed ridiculous since she was still carrying a massive torch for Sam. She had saved enough money to live on until she could find a job and a new place to live.

“I’m officially done,” she grumbled in lieu of a greeting. “Job hunting sucks. New York sucks. Life sucks.”

“Pretty bold statement.”

You entered the apartment and plopped down next to her on the sofa. With a groan, she wrestled out of her blouse and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a simple white spaghetti-strap shirt and a pair of black trousers.

“I hate wearing a suit.”

“You look good in them.”

“I know,” she cried out. “I hate wearing suits when it’s all for nothing. I’m not the boss, I’m no one. Just another doofus with a college degree standing here like-” she cupped her hands together, as if she was holding a bowl, and looked at you with a pout. “Please, sir, I want some more.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get the job,” you said, biting back a laugh. “I would hire you for that spot on Oliver Twist impression.”

She laughed. “I think I lost my fire. People used to be scared of me. Remember? I miss that.”

“You’re a psycho,” you snorted, using her shoulder as a pillow. “If it’s any consolation, Bucky’s terrified of you.”

“Good.”

“Hey!”

She pressed her cheek against the top of your head and sighed. You stayed in that position for a few more seconds before you told Natasha what had happened with Wanda. She offered to go with you to your family gathering but you insisted you wanted to go alone.

“I gotta go,” you said. “Bucky’s taking me to dinner.”

“Oh,” she cooed, “is he finally going to propose?”

“That’s very funny,” you deadpanned. “I was starting to feel cooped up in our apartment so we decided to go out. Have fun, y’know.”

“Our apartment,” Natasha repeated with a lopsided smirk before she burst into a fit of giggles.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, embarrassed.

“That’s cute.” She pinched your cheek and you batted her hand away. “You should talk to him.”

“Don’t start.”

“What? I’m just saying-”

“Natasha,” you cut her off. “Stop asking me to talk to him. It’s not going to happen, and it’s giving me so much anxiety. You couldn’t talk to Sam, what makes you think I can talk to Bucky?”

She looked at you for a long moment. “I know you love him.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, considering. You had never really been in love before but falling in love with Bucky had been so easy. And it was particularly scary because you had never been in a relationship, only flings.

“I do,” you admitted quietly. Saying it out loud was both freeing and terrifying.

“Don’t lose him.”

You knew Natasha missed Sam, she’d told you about it, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who let others see her pain. She confided in you and her friend, Clint, but other than that she rarely shared her problems with others.

Her bony shoulder was digging uncomfortably into your cheek so you shifted and let your head rest against her chest. She started playing with your hair. “Have you heard from Sam?”

“Not since he left,” she replied, then glanced down at you. “Have you?”

She tried to sound casual so you played along and acted like you couldn’t hear her heart jackhammering in her chest. “He called the landline the other day. Bucky wasn’t home so I answered.”

“The landline?” Natasha repeated with a scoff. “Your husband is old.”

“He asked if you were okay,” you said, choosing to ignore her comment. “You should call him.”

She stayed quiet for so long, you began to worry. You tilted your head to look at her, she had a faraway look in her eyes. You didn’t want to break her trance but she was starting to scare you.

You booped her chin and almost immediately a soft smile touched her lips. She cleared her throat, then checked her watch.

“You should go, you’re going to be late.”

“It’s okay,” you said. You couldn’t leave, not when she looked so sad. You knew Bucky would understand. “We can order some pizza, binge watch something on Netflix and go out for ice cream later. Like we used to.”

She laughed softly. “That sounds amazing. I kinda want to be alone tonight though, and Bucky’s waiting for you. I’m fine, I promise.” She looked down at you with a kind smile. “Rain check?”

“Absolutely.”

With a heavy heart, you left Natasha and started walking to the restaurant. The clouds above you were low and dark, masking the setting sun. You smiled, remembering the day you and Bucky went to the park.

You had wanted to go paint outside but you got caught in a rainstorm on the way home. As rain poured down on the both of you, you caught Bucky’s hand and tried to run to the nearest subway entrance but he didn’t budge.

He stayed in the middle of the street, still holding your hand, and grinned at you while people rushed around you. His hair was plastered to his head, little rivulets of water running down his nose. He smiled at you, bright and playful, and you almost melted on the spot.

What’s the rush, sweet angel?

When you got home, you both changed into dry clothes and sat in front of the fireplace with a bowl of soup. He looked adorable with his slightly damp hair, a few big curls flopping down onto his forehead. When you started sneezing, he adjusted the blanket around you.

The next day, you felt a little feverish and Bucky took care of you. He pressed his lips to your forehead, checking your temperature. Your mother used to do that too. You doubted the accuracy of that little test but you couldn’t care less. It felt incredibly comforting. They should teach it in med school.

Bucky was waiting for you in front of the restaurant. The weather was warmer now, and you were pleased to see that his maroon bomber jacket was back. It was a rerun of the night you had met him.

“Hey you,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek. “How did it go with Wanda?”

“Good, I guess. It could have been way worse.” You paused to look at him. “You okay? You look a little nervous. We don’t have to-”

“I’m okay,” he chuckled, smoothing his hand down his jacket, lightly patting his pocket. “Shall we?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Promise me you’re not over-exerting yourself again.”

He stood in front of you, smiling kindly. “I promise.”

It had been a while since he had a panic attack, but they were always impressive and you couldn’t stand the thought of him trapped in his own mind, battling his demons alone.

You must have been silent too long because Bucky cupped the side of your face and said, “Thank you for taking care of me, angel. But I promise you, I’m fine. So what do you say? Wanna have dinner with me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he flashed you a cocky grin.

The restaurant was a quaint little place in Midtown with curved black leather booths lining the walls and simple cutlery. There were books everywhere, arranged neatly on the shelves along the walls. The place was well-lit, yet still cosy and calm.

Despite the hour, the restaurant wasn’t crowded. There was a couple, probably in their sixties, enjoying their meals together. Several people were eating alone, a book opened next to their plate, and a few others were browsing the shelves looking for something to read.

While you ate, you filled Bucky in on your conversation with Wanda. He didn’t interrupt you, he listened to you ramble on about how much you didn’t want to go to her reunion dinner.

“You can invite them over for dinner,” he said. You almost choked on your food. “Call me crazy but I think you’d feel more at ease if you were in a familiar environment.”

He had a point. You had no idea what that night had in store for you, and you definitely didn’t want to cause a scene in a restaurant. You weren’t one for airing your dirty laundry in public.

“I know that our... um, friendship is a little unconventional but I’d like to meet them.”

“Really? Wait,” you said, spotting a bit of tomato sauce on his chin. “You have something on your chin.” You reached over and used your napkin to wipe it away. “You eat like a wolf.”

“Mhh thanks.” He swallowed his mouthful of pasta and washed it down with a gulp of water. “To be honest with you, I’m a sucker for family reunions. I love watching people’s faces when they see someone they haven’t seen in a very long time.”

“I’m not sure it’ll be a happy one.”

“Well, then you could probably use some moral support,” he said. “And I’m curious if they ever gave you a silly nickname. Or maybe they’ll share some funny anecdotes.”

You stopped mid-bite and swallowed quickly, your eyes widening in fear. You couldn’t let that happen, Scott and Okoye would jump at the chance to tease you. “Oh, no, no, no! You are never meeting them.”

He laughed. “I bet you were a cute kid. I imagine you in some paint-stained overalls, hula hooping through the 90s, listening to the Spice Girls and watching Saturday morning cartoons with a bowl of cereal or a plate of pancakes.”

“You’re not too far off.” You grinned.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” he said in a more serious tone. “But think about it, okay?”

Inviting your siblings and their partners over for dinner was a bad idea. You could already picture their faces upon seeing Bucky. It would turn into an interrogation, and it would be absolutely unbearable.

But then again, you didn’t think you could endure the reunion without him.

The waiter came over to collect your dirty plates and asked if there would be anything else. He recited the dessert specialties and you ordered something that sounded both extravagant and mouth-watering.

“I have something for you,” Bucky broke the silence between you.

You responded with a curious yet playful frown and a tilt of your head. He glanced down at the table for a second as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim jewellery box.

He placed it on the table next to his glass and let his fingertips linger on the lid, caressing it slowly as he hesitated. Then with a smooth flick of his wrist, he slid the box across the table. Your eyes flickered between the box and Bucky’s worried expression.

Inside the box, nestled in cream velvet, was a gold artist’s palette pendant with a delicate chain. The pendant had two paint brushes sticking out of the palette and four tiny stones representing the colours waiting to be mixed; ruby, sapphire, emerald and topaz.

It was incredibly tiny, about the length of two staples, but it made the details even more impressive. You could tell it was an old piece. There were light signs of wear and the design reminded you of the 1930s. It looked full of stories from previous owners. A testimony of love, passion and devotion.

“Oh,” you gasped as if all the air had been punched out of you. Bucky straightened up and jerked forward in his seat, his eyes round with anticipation. “Oh,” you repeated dumbly, at a loss for words.

“I saw it in the window of an antique shop on the way here,” he said.

That was a lie.

He had spent weeks searching for the perfect charm. He had a very specific idea of what he wanted to buy. Until one day, he found it. It reminded him of you; delicate, discreet, irreplaceable.

“Bucky,” you sighed, spellbound. “It’s... it’s beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you.” He met your eyes, smiled, and extended his hand in your direction. “Can I?”

Without hesitation you removed the necklace from its box and gave it to Bucky. After living with him for about six months, you knew there was nothing he couldn’t do. Even fasten your necklace with one hand.

He stood up and rounded the table, sitting next to you on the booth. You turned, giving him your back as he slipped the necklace around your neck. You held the pendant in the little dip between your collarbones at the base of your throat and let the ends of the chain dangle down your back.

“I noticed you haven’t been painting a lot since-” Bucky trailed off. Since you had a meltdown in your studio, since you realized your art was not good enough. Since you realized your dreams were too big to accomplish.

You looked over your shoulder and watched him fumble with the spring ring clasp. You couldn’t see what he was doing but he seemed entirely focused on the task at hand.

“Inspiration is a fickle thing, it comes and goes,” he continued. “I worry about you. You put too much pressure on yourself visiting galleries and trying to match their vision. I want you to remember who you are. You’re an artist. Never doubt yourself or your skills.”

He secured the chain around your neck and adjusted the necklace so that the little palette fell nicely above the neckline of your sweater. You stared at him wide eyed and amazed, and he smiled tenderly at you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “I’ll never take it off.”

“My pleasure, angel.”

“I really love it but it’s too much,” you said as he returned to his seat. “I don’t want you to think I’m after your money. I’m so grateful for your help, you do so much for me already.”

“I know you’re not after my money, but it’s mine and I’ll spend it as I please. I know you like gifts with meaning. And all I want is to make you happy.”

“You want to make me happy?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course, I do.”

It was a foreign concept to you, you could hardly comprehend it. He wasn’t your childhood best friend, he wasn’t your brother or your mother’s brother, and yet he wanted to be the one who put a smile on your face.

You weren’t used to random acts of kindness. You spent most of your life taking care of others, making sure they had everything they needed, you forgot what it was like to feel loved.

And it all became so much clearer.

You knew in your heart that your feelings for Bucky weren’t one sided. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when he touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

There was a mutual, yet silent, understanding between you. This is good. Let’s not make things complicated. Even though we both want to. And you abided by that unspoken rule, not wanting to make things more complicated.

Your eyes were overflowing with tears. When a tear escaped, you felt it bounce on your cheekbone before it landed near your pendant. You rolled your eyes at yourself and smiled.

“Why am I always crying?” you said, laughing a little. “I’m not sad, I swear. These are happy tears.” Bucky’s smile was calm and sure. “Wait, I’m just gonna-” you trailed off, wiping the back of your hand under your nose with an embarrassed laugh.

“You’re beautiful.”

You lay in bed that night, replaying those three words in your head until you fell asleep.

It took you a couple of days to come to term with the realization that your feelings weren’t one sided. A little voice in your head tried to protect your heart, it said: Don’t get your hopes up. Remember what happened last time.

But that voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

Against your better judgement, you agreed to invite your siblings over for dinner. All you had to do was call Wanda’s hotel and ask the hotel staff to pass along a message. Easy-peasy.

Well, in theory, because it turned out to be stressed depressed lemon zest.

There were things Bucky didn’t know about you and your family, things that you had intentionally kept from him. One of these things was your brother’s criminal record.

Bucky had asked you a few times what Scott did for a living and you always gave him the same rehearsed answer. “Scott has a master’s degree in electrical engineering but he’s between jobs at the moment.” It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

You finally decided to tell him everything.

Scott was a thief. Before Cassie was born, and thanks to his computer skills, he used to steal from criminals and give back to those they had stolen from. He promised his wife, Maggie, that he would stop after Cassie’s birth.

He took up a job at VistaCorp but noticed that the company was overcharging their customers. Thinking that it was a coding error, he fixed it before his boss, Geoff Zorick, ordered him to change it back. It made him realize that the company was intentionally overcharging their customers.

He was fired soon after. Maggie begged him not to get involved, she begged him to think of his family but Scott didn’t listen. He broke into the company’s headquarters, hacked their system and redistributed the stolen money. Then he broke into Zorick’s house, stole a bunch of stuff and drove Zorick’s car into the pool.

He got five years.

Bucky was a little shocked but he took these new revelations well.

“People make mistakes,” he said. “He paid for his mistake, and not seeing his little girl for five years is punishment enough.” He bumped his shoulder against yours and grinned. “He sounds like a chaotic Robin Hood. I can’t wait to meet him.”

You chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Nope.”

“So... you’re not going to hide your valuables in a closet somewhere?”

“I would but I’m not sure you’d like to be stuck in the closet all night.” You rolled your eyes and huffed, thinking he wasn’t taking you seriously. He laughed quietly. “The only valuable thing I own is the bookmark my niece made for me, everything else is meaningless. And I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“You sound like Natasha,” you chuckled lowly. “But I’m glad you think that way.”

“That being said, they have a lot of apologizing and making up to do. They left you all alone. It isn’t right.”

You squirmed in your seat. “Argh, I don’t know. It’s in the past now, I don’t want to dwell on it. We were all miserable back then, and I’m not exactly blameless here.”

Bucky gave you a puzzled look. “You took care of your mom when she was sick, you sold your childhood home. You found your mom a nursing home where she gets the best treatment possible. You put your dreams on hold to pay her hospital bills. You did everything you could.”

“No, that’s not true,” you replied, biting your bottom lip.

You tried to find the courage to say it out loud. It was something that ate away at your soul. Your biggest mistake.

“I should have known something was wrong with her,” you said, rushing the words out. “At first she started misplacing things like her car keys, her glasses or the remote. She always had a good excuse, like was tired or stressed, but I should have known.”

“I misplace my keys all the time, angel. Sometimes it doesn’t mean anything. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“She’s my mom, I’ve known her all my life. I should have noticed something was wrong. If I had, maybe she’d still be with us, living in our old house.”

“C’mere,” he said, extending his arm toward you. You didn’t hesitate, you abandoned your seat on the sofa and wrapped your arms around him, your face buried in his chest. “I understand why you feel that way,” he said, stroking your hair. “But you did everything you could. You didn’t fail her. Alzheimer is... well it’s a sneaky disease. There are a lot of things we don’t understand. It’s unfair to blame yourself for something completely out of your control.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his shirt. “But it still hurts.”

“I know,” he cooed, his fingernails grazing your scalp. “I know, my angel.”

You stayed like that for some time, your cheek pressed against his shirt. You focused on the calm rhythm of his breathing and tried to match it. He gently ran his fingers up and down your back, calming you almost instantly.

You were terrified to see your siblings again. Despite Bucky’s reassuring words, a part of you still believed that you could have done more to help your mom, and you were afraid your siblings would feel the same.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bucky said, seemingly reading your thoughts. “I won’t let them belittle your efforts.”

The next day, you called Wanda’s hotel and left a message with the receptionist. Wanda called you back a few hours later, saying that she would love to have dinner at your place instead of going out.

She sounded surprised, and you could tell she had a lot of questions, but she knew she wasn’t in your good graces yet so she simply told you that she couldn’t wait to see your apartment and spend the evening with you.

Meanwhile Bucky was having some sort of nervous breakdown.

A few days before the party, he started to obsessively clean his apartment. Every single room had that distinctive lemony scent, his homemade disinfectant, except your room. It was still a line he refused to cross no matter how strong the urge might be.

He often had those spells but they usually didn’t last more than a few hours. You could see the tears in his eyes and the disgust on his face; grimaces that had been triggered by the realization that he still couldn’t control his need to constantly clean and tidy. His OCD had been dormant, not gone.

You knew it was hard for him to meet new people. He had offered to invite your siblings because he knew it would make you feel more at ease. He didn’t care about his own needs. This man was willing to endure anything for you. How could you not fall in love with him?

You let him clean. You knew from past experience that it wasn’t something he could control and getting involved usually did more harm than good. You made sure he knew you were there and that you were not judging him in any way.

He felt so physically and emotionally drained afterwards that you simply held him in your arms until he fell asleep.

On the day of the party, you were chopping dried apricots in the kitchen while Bucky was making sure the chicken pieces weren’t sticking to the bottom of the pan.

You had wanted to order dinner from the restaurant down the street, and Bucky wanted to cook. You told him that cooking a meal for seven people was pretty stressful but he simply shrugged.

“I can do it, angel.”

“I know but you don’t have to do it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied with a sad smile.

You remembered him telling you that his ex-girlfriend often babied him in front of her friends and that it always made him feel weak and pathetic. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove that, even with only one arm, he was able to cook a meal for an entire family.

“Okay, fine,” you reluctantly agreed. “But you’re not doing this alone.” He opened his mouth to protest but you raised your hand and touched a finger to his lips. “You can’t change my mind. I’ll be your sous-chef, and that’s final.”

So you ended up cutting vegetables for him. He made two tagines, one with meat and one with vegetables, in case anyone had any allergies or dietary restrictions.

Once the kitchen was spotless, you both went to your rooms to get ready for the night. It didn’t take you long so you checked on the tagines and waited for Bucky. The smell of harissa and coriander wrapped around you like a comforting hug.

You stole a dinner roll and checked the time on your phone. Nearly seven. A wave of anxiety rolled through the pit of your stomach. You took a deep, calming breath and decided to go check on Bucky.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard a deep, frustrated groan followed by a whine. Stifling a giggle, you tiptoed down the hallway towards his bathroom.

“C’mon, stay put or I’ll cut you!”

“Do you often threaten your hair?” you asked, leaning against the door frame. He gasped and jerked away from the sink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is everything okay?”

“I can’t do anything with my hair,” he complained. “I’m this close to shave the whole damn thing.”

You pushed yourself off the door frame and moved toward him. “Mhh, why not. A buzz-cut would make you look super dangerous.”

“You think so?” he frowned.

“Yeah,” you replied enthusiastically as you perched yourself on the counter by the sink. “A buzz-cut and a beard. Now that’s a look.”

He ran his hand over the dark stubble on his cheeks. “I already have the beard.”

“You’re halfway there.” You watched him consider what you were offering. “You know what, never mind. Your hair is too pretty to cut.”

“I should cut it though. It’s getting too long, I can’t style it.”

“Oh, poor you with your thick, fluffy hair,” you teased.

“It’s a gift, and also a curse,” he sighed with a whimsical grimace.

You laughed. “Come here, I’ll help you tame the monster on your head.”

He chuckled as he stepped between your parted legs. You took the hair dryer and a comb from the counter and started working on his hair. Despite its messy appearance, the comb ran smoothly through the strands.

“I think we need a safe word tonight,” you said while you worked.

“A safe word?” he repeated, confused. “Why would we need one?”

“Just in case,” you replied with a shrug. “I love my siblings but they can be quite a handful. So if you’re tired or if you feel overwhelmed, you just say the word and I’ll politely ask them to leave.”

“All right. Same goes for you.” He made a face. “What’s the safe word?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your eyes focused on his hair. “Flamingo?” You pulled back to look at him. “I saw an amazing documentary about baby flamingos the other day. See? It works.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “Flamingo it is.”

You picked up his hair gel and applied some to his hair.

“There you go,” you said, smoothing the hair over his temples before sliding your fingers down the sculpted curve of his cheekbones. “Ready to break some hearts.”

It was a joke, but your voice came out breathy and small. Bucky didn’t say a word. He pressed himself closer to you, and you resisted the urge to wrap your legs around him.

He rested his hand on your thigh, then slid it from your thigh to your waist and lingered there for a few seconds. He gazed into your eyes for a moment; careful, cautious. You cupped his face between your hands, feeling the bristle on his cheeks against your palms. It was rough against your sensitive skin.

He slid his hand up your side, fingers passing over your ribs, and you let out a gasping sigh as he rested his hand over your heart.

“Did I break your heart, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low.

“Just cracked.”

He cupped the back of your neck and massaged lightly while he looked at you longingly. He continued to stare at you as you moved your hands to his chest, feeling the strong thud of his heart beneath your palm.

“I-uh,” he started, then licked his lips. “Angel, I-”

The intercom buzzed loudly, awakening the two of you from your trance. Bucky took a step back and closed his eyes. You were glad you were sitting, because your legs felt unusually weak.

“You ready?” he asked, breathless.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you nodded.

You followed Bucky to the kitchen and answered the intercom, giving Wanda the apartment number. Bucky busied himself setting the table, unable to look you in the eye. You didn’t know what to say.

Finally, he stopped moving around and faced you.

“Who am I tonight? Who do you want me to be?”

You had anticipated his question. After all it was a legitimate question to ask giving the nature of your relationship.

“Just you,” you told him. You were tired of lies and half-truths.

A knock at the door startled you.

You opened the door, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of Wanda, Okoye and Scott standing in front of you, each with a bottle of wine. There were two men behind them, both looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Hey Splotchy, long time no see, right?”

Part 11

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spice

Word Count: 2K

A/N: This is set after he passes the gym to Marnie:P I hope that you enjoyed it!! Im sorry for it being so late!! Also, since sunday was a lot,, pokemon related things will go on ao3 like tomorrow!!

Piers is a rather intimidating person. He’s tall and wears dark clothing, a certain look of disdain on his features to anyone who looks upon him. He won’t necessarily be rude to people but he has a rather flippant personality that makes it hard for people to approach him first.

You on the other hand, you try to meet him. You may not enjoy his type of music, but you do try to approach him, wanting to attend his concerts or even just listening to some of his earlier music that is different from the way he sings now. It’s softer, harsh lyrics that are whispered into your ear accompanied by static due to the low quality of the mic but you enjoy it.

Truth be told, he inspired you to start your own musical journey. Different from his genre obviously, but still. It was easy to write the music, to let the flow seep into you and sing with a lonely voice and cute look. If he could keep his dark, gloomy aesthetic, then you could keep your pastel, cheery one.

Yet, despite the hopeful encounter that you wish you could have had with him, ended horribly. He hadn’t exactly called you anything mean and while you were aware of the tone he held, it certainly didn’t prepare you to be on the receiving end of it. It was a heavy feeling that it left, an unmistakable uneasiness that made you squirm and want to leave.

And yet, you still hold a strong admiration to him. You still want to meet him and go against him in a battle even if it isn’t his strongest suit just for the fact that you believe like everyone else that a battle is what people go against, what they put all their might into and see how they can prevail at the end of it. You wanted to see the light in his eyes up close and see how he would fight.

You’re everything opposite to Piers. Where he dresses in dark clothing and has a rather cold demeanor, you dress in soft colors and try to appear friendly to others, often accompanied by your team of fairy and mostly pink colored pokémon. You spent a good portion of your youth hating pink, wanting to go against gender norms but as you grew older, you fell in love with the color and the frills, wanting to be dressed in a cute way that while others may have seen as overbearing, you just liked it and it made you happy. Where as he sang metal and rock, you stuck with pop, you wore your dresses and had even jokingly called the type of music you sang “bubblegum pop”, no real reason behind it- agains, it just made you happy to call it. Despite the differences, you greatly admired the ex- gym leader. He had been able to hold his own in a town that was failing- no fault on his of course- and had been a caring brother from what you have seen. He was an admirable person and while the music he made wasn’t exactly your taste, you could learn to enjoy it.

However, due to your rising fame and the type advantage against him, people around the region- who knew of both of you- had begun to jokingly call the two of you rivals, wanting to see you both battle it out and see who would reign above the other. And while you would have happily accepted the chance to meet Piers, a trainer you strongly admired, he had only sneered at the idea of you and him having a battle. To say it hurt would be an understatement. He’s a personal inspiration and to have him act that way to the mere mention of you left you deflated.

It’s a mere accident that you both are in the same area. Mentions of him of you are sprinkled into your notifications, buildings that match in the background and while you aren’t proud of it, you take to following the buildings and the threads. You walk around, your white tennis skirt paired with a soft, baby blue pullover and pair or white tennis shoes, an obvious giveaway to who you are, a yellow star shaped bag that crosses over your chest, and a bow with trailing ribbons falling and curving around your shoulders, tickling at your neck with every step until you finally seem to be in a surrounding area that he was last seen at. While it left you with an odd taste, you wanted to run into him and express your admiration for him- just for a quick second, to tell him how much you liked the music he put out and how he stuck with the aesthetic- you could understand how expensive it could be to stick with something as money-consuming as clothing.

You find him by accident. It’s a completely stereotypical moment when you do. You both stand at the opposite ends of the fountain decorated with carvings of various water types from the region, the sun shines and you can see in front of you with his sister and the rising champions. You hold onto the straps of your bag, your lips pulling into a flustered line, heat that rises from excitement or general shyness- you aren’t sure yet, and you stare at him with wide eyes. In the pockets of your skirt, you can feel your phone buzz and in the corner of your eyes, you can see people hurriedly take out their phones. And just like that, the serene, very stereotypical moment is over when he turns around and your eyes meet. Where you widen and flush under his gaze, he hardens his stare and grows an annoyed look, brows furrowing and lips pulled into a thin line.

Your resolve is broken. You gasp, and look around, seeing people stare and a small circle forming, whether for the both of you or the rising stars of the region, you don’t know and you don’t find out, choosing to leave the area. You jump a bit, standing on the tips of your shoes and you turn to leave.

You don’t want to stick around and see what he might have to say, the thought of the smallest bit of rejection far too much on your mind. You manage to make your way into a bookstore, the scent of coffee lingering in the air and you greet the employees with a tight smile, wandering deeper into the store, hoping to distract yourself and walk between the aisles and find something to buy.

You stand at the end of the store, against a corner as you trail your finger against the spines of the books. In your peripheral, you can spot a figure, standing tall and you pay no mind. There is no real reason for you to worry- you may not look the part, but you can certainly fight dirty and the store isn’t abandoned so you could always call for help. You hum under your breath, pulling out a book and pursing your lips as you read the synopsis. The figure at the end comes closer and you turn, a soft squeak sounds past your lips. You feel yourself stand straighter, your shoulders squaring and the book held close to your chest, fingers gripping onto it tightly, enough to pale your knuckles.

“You ran away,” Piers muses, his fingers trailing along the spines, his steps quiet against the carpet. “You must be really scared of me,” he says, looking away from you, chuckling lightly. He stands in front of you, his brows raising as he looks down at you.

His dual colored hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, a thick part of it obscuring half of his face and you can only do so much to not cower under his gaze, eventually breaking from his eye contact and looking at the top of your shoes that differ from his.

“‘S not that,” you mutter, biting at your bottom lip. “I just… panicked,” you end, licking at your lips. “I- I didn’t mean to offend you.”

You were kidding yourself if you thought you could talk to him. Much less have a battle against him. Once he showed up, your resolve fell, further than it did before when he looked at you. You take a small step back, your shoes shuffling and messing at the carpet underneath, and your eyes still locked on his boots. Just a second ago, you wanted to proclaim your admiration to him, enough to go and see him and find him and yet, here he is standing in front of you without any distractions or prying eyes and you can’t bring yourself to talk to him with faltering.

“You’re a lot jumpier than I expected, ya know?” His reply to you is done with a simple roll of his eyes. “I mean, fuck, I guess it’s expected for a type user like you.” You stay quiet and you can almost hear his smug grin. “Lots of people comment how you’re a pushover because of your, er, type and all.”

You look up at him, your brows furrowed and frown against your lips. You lean towards him, the book still held in your hands. “It’s- So what? I like pink and fairy types! They happen to be cute and they’re strong!” Your voice starts to raise, slowly raising into a higher pitch, shoulders raiing a fraction to meet the ends of your lobes. “Plus, there are a few fairy that have a dark counterpart and Mimikyu is one that I’m going to add to my team!” Your eyes narrow and you pull away from him, crossing your arms in front of you, a scowl on your lips, face growing hot under anger. “I just happen to be,” you make a small noise of discomfort and bite the inside of your cheeks, “quieter.”

He looks taken aback, eyes wide as he blinks owlishly at you. His down turned lips start to twitch, forming into a wicked smile. He snorts and shakes his head, a pleasant sound ringing through the small corner, and you soften, your arms slowly lowering from their harsh grip.

“You got some fire in you, huh?” He asks, tilting his head “Damn, didn’t think you had it in you to actually stand up for yourself like that.” You meet his eyes and he flashes a quick grin that reveals his teeth. “Nothing bad about it, I swear.” he holds his hands up and brushes a hand through his hair. “Anyways-” he waves a hand and you watch it with careful eyes- “you oughta be more careful about who you yell it at, as all I’m gonna say,” he muses.

“Piers?” He hums in response and you swallow nervously. “Wh- Why did you come here?” You don’t want to accuse him of following you here, for all you know it could be a happy, little accident. “And why did you talk to me?”

His milky complexion turns into a bright pink that fills in his cheeks, a flustered look on his face where his eyes narrow. “Oh, hah, I- Marnie needed a book and I-” his hand swings around at a much faster pace, circling around in front of him with an open palm and you react instinctively.

You make a pained gasping noise, the book dropping onto the floor with a thud as your hands come up to block your face, back hunched as you try to cower under the minimal protection that you offer yourself. You whimper and take a stumbling step back that leads you against the wall, your eyes pinched shut and it’s a second too late that you realize you messed up. You gasp and straighten up, an uncomfortable heat running down your back as you meet his eyes.

He stands frozen, his hand still in midair and his eyes are wide, darting down to the book and back to where your hands still hold a semi-protective barrier against him. His eyes turn from shocked into pitiful and you break away from his gaze, mumbling an apology under your breath.

“Shit,” he hisses out, bringing his hands close to his body. “I didn’t mean to trigger you or-”

“It’s not that,” you respond quickly. “I- Can we not talk about it?” You turn to look at him, your bottom lip trembling ever so slightly, your eyes glancing back to the fallen book. “Please?” He nods slowly and you return it in response. You crouch down to grab the book and pull it close to you only to look back at it with disdain. You turn and place the book back into the shelf, your hands coming down to play with the hem of your skirt.

It’s silent. The soft music that plays from the music is not enough to drown the silence between the both of you and you want to chastise yourself for ruining a moment with your fears. Your teeth bite into the soft part of your cheeks, painful and enough to make tears spring into your eyes. In your pocket, your phone buzzes and you fail to pick it up, too frozen to care about the outside world.

“Do you want to get a coffee?” You look up at him and he gives you a hesitant smile. He jerks his chin to the other side, his hands inside his coat pockets. “I was thinking of getting a cup while I was here,” he clears his throat, “I could get you one if you want. We can drink it here too,” he adds quickly.

You give him a tentative smile, slowly pulling yourself away from the wall and taking a step closer to him. “Do you want to look for Marnie’s book first? I don’t- I don’t mind.”

“Right,” he says slowly, “her book. The uh- you know, let me message her to see what the title was, yeah?” He nods his head and moves to the side, jerking his head to allow you to walk in front of him first. “Let’s just get a drink first, all right?” He gives you a nervous smile, laughing quietly with eyes that come to a close. You come to stand next to him, nodding softly, your hands flexing at your sides in an attempt to calm down. “Neat,” he says. “Let’s get a cup

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 3)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a brief and half-assed description of theoretical male masturbation. that’s it. lol.

moodboard by @evnscvll, if you’re not following her what are you doing with your life???

As the afternoon was just starting to wind down into the evening, you went for a stroll along the side of the lake; it was your new daily routine in this place, and you’d done it every afternoon for the past several days. You found yourself looking for Sebastian outside, and being oddly disappointed when he was nowhere to be found. It took you a bit to appreciate that the strange feelings and behaviors you were exhibiting were a crush. You hadn’t had one in so long, not since you’d met your husband, that you almost forgot what it was like. This one felt particularly childish, exceptionally misguided, as you knew so little about the man. What was it that made you want to be around him anyways? There were plenty of guys you’d met since getting married that were, on paper, worthy of a crush. Successful, kind, good-looking... who knows, maybe if you’d been lonely and desperate and saw one of them hammering nails shirtless in the sun, you’d have been in the same predicament you are now.

And that was exactly why you needed to get your mind off this guy ASAP. You were just projecting your loss onto him. You’d been feeling neglected and unattractive because of everything that had happened with your husband and he had been kind to you. And helpful. And handy in a way your husband had never been. And so devastatingly hot.

He must know, right? you thought to yourself as you took in the scenery, just barely making out grey-ish shadows of mountains in the distance. He must know that he looks like that, and exactly the effect he has on women.

...And a decent portion of men, probably.

The idea of him being overwhelmed with attention of that nature made you feel slightly jealous. He was probably the exact kind of person you weren’t in high school: a heartbreaker. Yes, this was the narrative you needed to keep yourself from falling any further into this crush; you two were sworn natural enemies-- him the heartbreaker, you the heartbroken. A guy like him probably didn’t even give a girl like you the time of day.

Except, he had. He’d been friendly and attentive. Maybe he works for tips or something? Why else would he be giving you any of his energy?

No, that was specifically not the line of thinking you needed at the moment. Does he think about me when I’m not around? Could he think of me as much as I think of him? you found yourself wondering anyways.

Either way, he could never beat me at overthinking, you smiled to yourself. I always win at that one.

You’d almost spent too much time outside; it was nearly too dark to see by the time you made it back to the cottage. Clearly the bustling city had trained you to stay up late, but out here, you had no recourse if the sun set while you were outside without a flashlight.

It was so late, in fact, that Sebastian was nowhere to be found when you passed through the living room— and since he was certainly not working outside with no light to use, you figured he’d gone to bed. By now you knew where his room was, but you’d never seen it. Not that you wanted to. It was none of your business.

Making your way up the stairs, you tried to avoid the creakiest spots in case he was asleep. It wasn’t that late though, he was probably just… doing whatever people do before bed when they don’t have a television. Reading a book, maybe?

You shook your head to no one in particular. You shouldn’t be thinking about him so much. God, having a crush was exhausting.

Oh god, what if he, you know… took care of himself, before bed? It’s a fun way to end the day and wear yourself out for sleep, certainly. You felt your face turning hot just imagining him in such a compromising position. You didn’t even mean to imagine it, it just sort of happened. Maybe right now, just as you were struggling to keep quiet on this rickety old staircase, he was trying to keep quiet as he stroked his cock, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement, that perfect bottom lip caught between his surprisingly white teeth.

Probably not. But it was a nice thought.

Just as you stepped into your room and shut the door behind you, you thought you saw something in the corner of your eye. Turning to look, you realized that there was a rat running across the floor. With an embarrassingly girlish scream, you ran and jumped on your bed, trying to see where it went while keeping elevated; you know, just in case it tried to run up your leg like in a cartoon or something.

Creaking outside alerted you that someone was running up the stairs. Your door flew open to reveal Sebastian, wearing only pyjama trousers and a very concerned facial expression.

"Este totul în regulă?"

"There's a rat!" you screeched.

"Ce?" he asked with a furrowed brow of confusion.

You tried to explain, but how could you? Pointing to where you saw it last, it was gone, so you turned back-- only to see it running towards him! Screaming again, you pointed to the rodent barreling towards his feet and, finally, he understood.

In fact, he understood your situation better than you realized he would, so much so that he jumped up on the bed with you with a blood-curdling scream of his own.

"Şobolan!" he yelped, and you weren't sure there was room on this bed for two people afraid of rats but here you were anyway.

You both watched it scurry into a corner, and he seemed to relax a little.

"What are we going to do?"

"Stai așa," he said as he raised a finger as if to indicate 'wait', "ma voi intoarce."

He lept from the bed straight to the open doorway and dashed down the stairs. You figured he might come back with a broom or jar, so you were beyond surprised to see him come back with an enormous shotgun, quickly pumping it and bracing the stock against his shoulder.

"Unde este?" he asked quickly, closing one eye to look over the sights.

You nearly screamed your protest. "Jesus, Sebastian! Don't shoot it!"

“Ce vrei sa fac?!” he squawked in reply.

“I don’t know!” you replied. “Just put the gun down!”

He looked a little disappointed but lowered the barrel.

Hearing a squeak and a scurry from the corner of the room, you jumped off of your bed and found yourself hiding behind Sebastian.

“Nu sunt la fel de curajoasă pe cât crezi,” he said as he turned back to look at you.

“I can’t sleep here,” you admitted with a sigh. “We can set a trap in the morning, or hope it escapes on it’s own…” you trailed off, talking mostly to yourself as you made your way back downstairs. Sebastian shut the door quickly with a shudder before following behind you.

You pulled a blanket off of the loveseat as you passed through the living room, dragging it with you to the couch.

“Nu te pot lăsa să dormi pe canapea!” he protested when you laid down and covered yourself with it— after leaning the gun against a wall, thank god. You wondered where it was normally kept for him to have grabbed it so fast.

“I can’t sleep in my room,” you explained.

“Poți să dormi în patul meu,” he announced, pointing down the hall.

“What?”

“Poți să,” he repeated slower, pointing to you, “dormi,” he laid his face on his hands and feigned sleep for a moment, “în patul meu,” he pointed to the hall again.

“There’s another bedroom down the hall?” you asked as you sat up a little, not having realized there was a third bedroom.

“Da,” he nodded with a smile.

You got up, the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders, and followed him to the room down the hall and around the corner.

As he opened the door, you smiled but sighed as you realized you couldn’t sleep in here. The bed was still disturbed from where he’d jumped out of it; there was a picture in a frame by the bed.

“Sebastian, I’m not going to steal your room just because I’m afraid of a probably-harmless rat,” you sighed. “I’ll take the couch—”

You turned to walk back into the living room but his arm across the doorway stopped you.

“Te rog ia-mi patul și voi dormi pe canapea,” he instructed, motioning away from his chest towards the living room to, apparently, indicate he would sleep on the couch in your place.

“I can’t let you—”

He gently grabbed your wrist, getting your attention.

“Nu e nicio problemă,” he soothed. “Noapte bună!”

He basically just shoved you into the room after that, shutting the door behind you. You supposed it was the best option, but you still felt a little guilty that he was being kicked out of his own bed.

You turned and looked at the very bed in question. Realizing you should change the sheets, you began to search the room for a linen closet or chest that might have a spare set.

You weren’t intending to snoop, per se. You really just wanted the sheets… but it was a nice glimpse into the personal life of a man you knew so little about. A room says a lot about someone, of course.

The picture on the bedside table was of a family with a small boy; it looked like it had been taken by an instant camera, the sepia tones evoking a bygone era. You assumed that the boy was Sebastian, considering the faint resemblance. He looked happy, and so did his mother; his father less so, but it seemed stoic more than negative. Next to the photo was a card which rested partially open— thankfully, you couldn’t read it even if you wanted to, but you could also see the signature inside from where you were standing: “Iubesc, Mama.”

You weren’t sure if it meant ‘love’ or ‘sincerely’ or something else, but it made you smile. You figured his mother must miss him with him living in Hungary for work. You wondered if anyone missed you back in London.

A lot of his clothes were strewn in a pile on a chair in the corner. Relatable.

Inside a small white paper box, you found a silver locket— oddly enough, no picture inside. While ignoring the fact that you obviously were snooping because you would never look for queen-size sheets in a white paper box, you wondered why he would have something like that. Maybe it was a relic from a previous relationship, and hopefully not a current one; maybe it was his sister’s or his mother’s. Hell, maybe it was his: you weren’t the sort of person to say a guy couldn’t rock a silver locket. He had the masculinity to spare, surely.

You gave up after searching the closet and the side bathroom and finding no sign of linens. Surprisingly, he owned a lot of shirts. They didn’t seem to get much use. He wouldn’t mind if you stole one to use as pyjamas, right?

Pulling a soft button-up from the hanger, you stripped and changed into it, loving how small you felt with it on. You snuggled up into the sheets and took a deep breath as you realized you were surrounded in the smell of him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game to play. You needed to be avoiding this infatuation, not indulging it by playing girlfriend. It was almost like you two shared this bed, like he would come back any moment and pull you into his arms, kiss you goodnight. You saw the light from the living room go dark through the crack under the door and felt another pang of guilt for his night spent on the old sofa. Maybe in the morning you could convince him to take a day off or something, just so he could relax for once.

Your last thought was of him as you drifted to sleep. You wished you could say that wasn’t true of every other night.

The next morning came early; he slept with the shutters open, something you hadn’t noticed when it was dark out. The sun shined directly into your eyes at about six in the morning.

“Must be an early riser,” you mumbled to yourself as you got up and used the side bathroom, splashing your face to perk yourself up a little. When you left the hallway tentatively in pursuit of breakfast, all that was left of him was a Sebastian-shaped dent in the couch. As you began to make a pot of coffee, you heard someone step into the kitchen behind you.

“Good morning,” you greeted as you turned around and smiled at Sebastian.

“...Cămașă mea,” he realized, pointing to you with raised eyebrows. You glanced down and remembered what you were wearing, feeling yourself blush a little. Maybe you should’ve put on pants…

“Oh, this… yeah, sorry, I hope you don’t mind…”

“Îl porți mai bine decât mine,” he shrugged, and it seemed to be a vague approval, so you kept on making the coffee.

“You want some?” you offered, pointing to him and a mug as he stepped past you and sat at the table.

“Nu, mulțumesc,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. You nodded and poured your own, sitting across from him and sipping quietly. You hadn’t noticed he was holding a book before; the shirtlessness, as always, distracted from that sort of detail. But now that he pulled it out and continued from where he must have been before, you laughed a little. It was clearly a Romanian translation, but the title was Dracula.

“Isn’t that a little stereotypical?” you giggled.

He looked up from the book at you, and you pointed to it. “Ah, Dracula!” he said.

“Yep, I’ve read that one.”

He made a little hissing noise, holding his fingers up and curling them, and you realized he was doing a vampire impression. You laughed again.

“You don’t make for a convincing vampire, what with the healthy glow and all,” you smirked. “But feel free to bite my neck any time.”

For a second he made a serious, almost shocked face like he had somehow understood what you’d said, and you straightened up from sudden fear. But he only nodded and returned to his book, relieving your anxiety a bit. You realized that just because he didn’t speak English didn’t mean you could say whatever you wanted; maybe you’d given more away than you meant to with your facial expression. Or maybe he really had no idea that you’d said anything notable at all and it was just a coincidence.

Maybe you needed to change out of this man’s shirt before it drove you even more insane.

@mariahthelioness29 @navybrat817 @navegandoaciegas @mandalorianspace @2smittinkittin @maizyistrash (it won’t let me tag you :(( fuck tumblr) @honeygingergemini @msmarvelwrites @honeyloverogers @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @fleeingdawn-blog1 @readermia @fanfuckingtastic04

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x you #just a reminder that this is a love actually au... this will come into play again next chapter lmao

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toriwakes · 3 years

Text

Problem [Spender Reid x Reader]

summary: the daughter of a famous chef becomes a target, and it’s spencer’s job to protect her.

content warnings: female!reader, cursing

a/n: hello!!! first spencer reid post!! so excited to share, sorry if it’s bad </3. this is obviously inspired by s1 ep18. hope u all enjoy, lmk if you have any requests!

dad was a famous chef. he was known world wide, liked by some and hated by some. that’s how it worked. she had gotten used to the spotlight. it was his, anyway. no one payed much attention to her. or so she thought. when the incident happened she had noticed a pattern. someone was watching her and she didn’t know who. why her? her dad, a hot head, wasn’t going to let this fly easily. and that was a problem.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“davy plattel, 57. heard of him?” jennifer asked, clearly joking. “he’s an australian chef and has been on 5 different tv shows. all of which he rates food and has a tendency for being cold do this employees.” reid spat out the facts like he’s been waiting to be asked this question since he was born. the team just stared at him before jennifer spoke. “i was kidding.” spencer pressed his lips together as his cheeks flushed pink. “remind me why we’re looking into this guy?” morgan said, flicking through the files. “people going to his restaurants are getting poisoned, press says he’s snapped and is making them pay for making him look like a bad guy for all these years.” derek’s brows furrowed together. “and this is a b.a.u case because?” asked aaron. “right when the poisoning started-“ jj dropped a new file into his lap. “-his daughter (y/n) became a target.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“you lot are supposed to be the best in the game. figure out who’s hurting my business and find who’s hurting my daughter!” hot head was right. platell was taken into a separate room by gideon and morgan, which left aaron and reid to scout for you. davy told them you’d be in your room. “(y/n) platell? i’m special agent aaron hotchner with the fbi. we’re here to ask you a couple of questions if that’s okay with you?” your eyes lifted from the floor and to the stern man sitting on the edge of your bed. whilst nodding you noticed the taller man in your doorway. “special agent doctor spencer reid. we’re here to help.” hotch and reid walked you to the backyard, a perfect place to interrogate you. “tell me about your relationship with your dad.” spencer spoke first. you gulped. “i love him. he’s my best friend. he’s all i have, okay? he’s overprotective, but whose dad isn’t? he’s going crazy now that the person doing this wants me.” “what about the person who’s after you? any idea who it could be? think of someone who felt invisible to you, inferior.” as hard as you thought, nothing clicked. you shook your head and hotch let out a sigh. “i’m scared.” you admitted. “nothing like this has ever happened before?” spencer asked, almost surprised. “no, everyone focused on him, never on me.” spencer looked like he put pieces together. aaron thanked you for your time and led you back inside, spencer following. you knew the feeling in your stomach. butterflies.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

things got worse at the end of the day. you got a voicemail, an unsettling voice whose gender wasn’t identifiable called, talking about how they didn’t like how much time you were spending with the fbi. not only did this enrage your dad, it caused him to take matters into his own hands and search the bushes around your house. he didn’t find anything. “did the caller say anything else?” gideon asked. you quivered. “they..” you couldn’t catch your breath. “they said they were going to come get me at midnight.” everyone in the room shared a look of panic. “we need to get her out of here.” aaron instructed. “what? no, she is staying with me.” for what felt like the hundredth time today, the agents had to calm down your dad. “we have a safe house to take you to. an agent will stay with you for the night.” jennifer told you. your mind immediately went to reid. “anyone in particular you’d like?” she said, one hand on your shoulder. you leaned into her ear, whispering the name that made you cheeks flush. “spencer.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

the car ride was mostly silent. spencer was playing with his fingers, something you did as well. “are you nervous?” you said finally. he stopped at once, putting his hands into his pockets. “wha? oh, no, i’m fine.” you knew he wasn’t, but you didn’t press. “um- when did you leave australia?” he asked. you giggled. “when my dad started to get recognition, so when i was maybe eight. i didn’t leave much behind, the kids at school didn’t like me. i made my first friend here. gina.” he nodded. “was she nice to you?” “always. never anything but. i get a hot head sometimes- just like my dad. on occasion i would lash out on her, but she always forgave me. i always regretted it, she was really good to me.” spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “what did she act like when you would get mad?” you gave him a look, as if to say “why is this important?”. “well, she would look sad at first. like she didn’t understand why i was mad. she made herself smaller and blamed herself for making me mad. i thought it was weird that she never tried to defend herself.” reid shuffled into his pocket and took out his phone, dialing a number and speaking quickly. “hotch, why have we not considered looking at people close to her? it’s just like the case with that government official and the twin sisters- it was someone close to him. her friend- gina you said?” you nodded quickly. “fits the profile, and is close to her.” voices spoke on the other line before reid asked another question. “what’s her full name?” “gina carmen torres.” spencer retreated the name and you could hear hotch say he’d alert garcia. “it’s not her, i know it’s not.” reid looked at you like you were wrong. you shivered.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

when you got to the house spencer advised that you showered and got ready for bed, spreaking since it was so close to midnight. he stayed outside the shower door and handed you your close when you were done. “cold?” he asked, taking notice of you shaky frame. you nodded. he handed you the sweater he was going to wear to bed tonight, not minding at all. there go the butterflies. you sat one the bed and slid under the covers. “you should get some rest, i’m gonna stay up and make sure nothing happens.” he said. you didn’t fall asleep. “is something wrong? other than the fact that you’re being stalked?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “yes, actually. i don’t wanna admit this, but..i cant fall asleep unless i’m hugging something. and i..don’t have any stuffed animals with me.” spencer raised his eyebrows. “(y/n) if you’re asking me to sleep next to you i-“ “please spence? i’m not gonna be able to sleep anyway, it’ll help at least.” you pleaded, showing off your puppy dog eyes. “okay. fine.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

spencer stayed up all night. sure he was required to stay awake, but he was only staying up because he didn’t want to miss out on how beautiful you looked when you were asleep. you looked so calm, so peaceful. spencer had no idea what he was feeling, but he didn’t want it to stop. he liked you, and a lot. “fuck.” he whispered to himself. the small noise made you stir, but not enough to wake you up. suddenly, a ring came from spencer’s phone. he picked it up before it could wake you. “hello?” he whispered. “reid, we got em bud. found her in the girl’s bedroom of platell’s house. is she safe?” morgan’s voice spoke. spencer looked down at you, petting your head gently. “yea, she’s safe.” “alright man. i’m guessing she’s asleep?” “correct.” “okay. just stay with her, we’ll be there soon anyway.” morgan hung up. soon? damnit, he didn’t have much time left with you. he checked the clock, reading 5am. he wanted to talk to you, but he wasn’t going to wake you up for that. what were you doing to him?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

spencer woke you up at 7:30. “they’ll be here at 10, and i don’t really know your schedule so.. i hope that enough time to get ready.” you rubbed your eyes and examined spencer. he was wearing his sweats and found a white shirt that was a bit too tight on him. he looked cute. “yes, that’s fine. i’ll..i’ll be right back.” you left the room to brush your teeth and get changed, finding reid inspecting some books you had lying around. “i have two copies of that. one at home and one here. just in case.” you said, sitting down right next to him and peering over. “it’s a classic. you like to read?” he inquired. “love it. although i cant stick to a book unless there’s some type of romance.” spencer raised his eyebrows. “call me a dork, whatever. what’s wrong with being into a little bit of love?” you chuckled. “no, in fact i figured you’d be that way.” you rolled your eyes playfully. “profilers. well, tell me what you think of me.” spencer paused before speaking. “i think you’re smart, you know how to pick your relationships-“ “what do you mean by that?” he stopped and pursed his lips, finding what words to say. “you know what you want in friends and boyfriends.” you raised your eyebrows. he couldn’t possibly know. “are you saying you know my type?” he shrugged. “yeah probably.” “try me.” “you like smart guys. guys who are confident, but not full of themselves. you like it when they’re sweet, but demanding. though i don’t know what you find physically attractive.” he said, going back to the book. you pulled it out of his hands. “i can tell you that one. i like guys named spencer reid.” almost instantly his face flushed red and he stopped speaking. you took the liberty of leaning in, your lips ghosting his. “(y/n)-“ “kiss me spence.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

his lips were as soft as they looked. the way he kissed was new to you, but you adapted and matched his energy. due to this, he whimpered as he kissed you. you pulled back to look at him, his face was bright red. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have-“ “spencer!” he cut himself off and looked at you with those full eyes of his. “don’t apologize. i liked it. a lot.” seeing that as his green light he cupped your chin and pulled you in for another quick kiss before getting up and getting ready himself.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“(y/n)? (y/n)!” your dad showed up at the door a few hours later. “i was worried.” he whispered while you hugged. “i’m fine, dad. we’re fine.” when your dad let go of you and saw spencer lingering a bit too close, he connected the dots. “this boy didn’t try anything did he?” derek was listening now. you opened your mouth while turning to reid, whose eyes were wide with fear. “uh- no. he didn’t do anything but protect me, dad.” that didn’t let up his death stare on him. your dad wandered off to his car, everyone splitting up to leave home. “i’ll see you around.” spencer began to split up as well, but you caught his wrist. “check your pocket. see you.” with that you were gone. reaching into his back pocket, he felt something. a small piece of paper, you number etched on it with a small heart. you’re nothing like he’s used to. and thats a problem.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #mgg imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid funny

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heartofwritiing · 4 years

Text

I still love you.

Paring(s): Ethan Nestor x fem!reader

a/n: I was in a sad mood again so i got inspiration for this! yay! hope you like it! based on prompts 64. “we need to talk” from this prompt list. I tried to write an argument scene, also idk if I entirely love how this fic turned out. Also NO HATE to Mika I love and respect her and Ethan’s relationship 100% this is literally just for entertainment purposes and not meant to be taken seriously.

Warning(s): Angst! (grab the tissues) unedited!

I was planning on staying in tonight but it was Kathryn’s birthday party and I had to go. Amy and Mark insisted that I go to get out of the house and socialize. I knew Ethan would be there and I was dreading even thinking about seeing him. We broke up over a year ago and things didn’t go well. I thought everything was fine and clearly it wasn’t for a while, and I was just delusional. He said he met someone else and he didn’t love me like that anymore, so I left and we haven’t spoken since. Amy and Mark took me in and let me stay in their guest room for as long as I needed but, affording an apartment in southern California was hard and expensive on my own.

While I was getting ready a gentle knock came at my door.

“It’s me, can I come in?” It was Amy on the other side.

I said yes and the door opened. Amy stood in the doorway dressed in a white romper, her makeup and hair were done very nicely to a casual look because she didn't need that much anyways she was pretty on her own. I was just finishing up brushing the knots out of my hair when she sat at the end of my bed. I knew she wanted to chat when she did this, Amy had always been a sister to me since we first met and it was nice to have someone there for me like she was. I started doing a little concealer to cover the dark circles under my eyes but part of me didn’t care about impressing anyone tonight.

“you okay?” she asks.

I sigh. I wasn’t sure what to tell her and I didn’t want to lie. She would know if I did kinda like a six sense, she would always know if I was lying or not.

“I’m fine,” I say.

That wasn’t the whole truth but, It’s been a year and I knew I had to face him at some point. We have the same friends and I didn’t want everyone to feel awkward around us anymore any time the other was mentioned. I’m just tired of everyone acting like everything is wired and wished it would go back to normal.

“You don’t have to go, I know it's been really hard for you and if you're uncomfortable with seeing him-”

“I'll be fine Ames.” I reassure her. She sighed at my answer but didn’t push further into questioning.

I finished adjusting my outfit and grabbed my shoes from the floor and pulled them on. We exited my room to see Mark already waiting for us at the front door. He held out both arms for us to take and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Shall we ladies?”

We both giggled but accepted his arms.

“You’re a goof,” Amy laughs.

Arriving at Kathryn’s house it was a bit crowded with groups talking amongst themselves and some dancing in the living room where music played. Purple lights hung on the walls making the house glow and party streamers hung from the ceiling and some multi colored balloons floated in the conners of the house. It was a pretty chill looking party. The three of us quickly went to find the birthday girl and give hugs and presents.

“Y/N! You made it!” Kathryn exclaims. She rushes over to me and pulls me into a warm embrace.

“Of course Kath!” I smiled. “You know I only came for cake,” I wink.

She laughs and excuses herself to go greet more guests at the door. I noticed Tyler over by the snack table already chatting with Mark about something I walked over and he greeted me with a hug and he joked how he hasn’t seen me in years. I laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully before he continued his conversation with Mark. I never was into parties or gatherings and preferred hanging out with close friends. The only other person I knew there was Tyler; everyone else was either family or friends of Kath. So I felt like a wallflower for most of the night, which was fine by me since I didn’t like interacting with other people that much.

About an hour into the party we were all chatting amongst ourselves until the doorbell rang again, and Kathryn went to answer it. When she opened the door I instantly knew who it was since I hadn’t seen him at all yet tonight. Ethan greeted Kathryn with a hug and handed her a medium sized gold box with ribbon tied at the top. She made a motion over to where all of us where standing before heading off the other direction to put the gift on the table.

He was here and my brain was panicking.

My heart was hammering so much I was sure it would bust open my chest. I tried to turn away but I felt frozen and entranced by him. Him and his video game reference t-shirt and jeans. His styled hair, his smile that was contagious that always gave me butterflies. Mark noticed I was quiet for a while and looked over to see me staring at Ethan. He grabbed my hand and held it in his. I knew he was trying to comfort me and it helped. I looked up at him and smiled softly as thanks. He smiled back and continued his conversation with Tyler and I tried to not look in the direction Ethan was in. Instead, I turd to Amy and started talking about something random and she was at first confused then two figures came into my peripheral vision.

“Hey guys,” Ethan’s voice came to my ears and I turned to see him standing in front of us all with a girl. Her short green hair stood out and her demeanor seemed nervous. Everyone greeted him back with the same tone except for me but I didn’t think he noticed until his eyes shifted to me and the smile he sent me made me feel dizzy. I give him a very thin smile back. He frowns.

“I’m Mika,” the girl standing at his side says.

Mika gives a small wave to the group. Mark is still holding my hand and I'm trying so hard not to start crying.

Mark brings up a conversation about an upcoming show he's doing but I zone out. Amy comes to my side and puts a hand around my back. She must've noticed I was starting to get uncomfortable as she leans over into my ear.

“Do you wanna leave?” she whispers.

I shake my head.

“I just need the bathroom, be right back.” I say. She nods and gently pats me on the back. I let go of Mark's hand and walked towards the stairs. I've been to Kathryn's house many times so I knew where it was. I could feel everyone's eyes watching me as I walked away but I didn't care. I changed my route to the backdoor slider and pushed it open. I heard a faint call of my name but I ignored it, the chill of california night greeted me as I stepped out into the backyard trying to steady my breathing.

“Y/N.”

I froze at the voice.

It was Ethan.

“Listen, ” He says.

At this point I was on the verge of tears but I shook them away and crossed my arms over my chest and turned to face him but I didn't make eye contact out of fear of breaking down.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked, shifting my feet.

I could see him starting to move closer but I kept my eyes to the ground.

He inhaled a deep breath.

“I'm sorry about the way things ended for us and I'm sorry I hurt you.” He said.

“I wanted to be the very last person to ever hurt you.”

“Well you failed,” I spit, looking up at him finally.

His mouth parted, whatever he was going to say next vanished. in his eyes I could tell his mind was racing, searching for the right thing to say next. I clenched my hands at my side as he continued to speak.

“I felt like shit after

” He says.

“Then why did you still leave?!” My voice was rising.

“Because, after what I said I couldn’t bring myself to face you.”

“So what, you just decided to forget me completely and?” The last words coming out are bitter.

His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer making me inhale.

“If you’re referring to Mika, we only just started dating a few months ago.'' he seeths anger laced in his voice.

“Why would I do that? You think I was happy to leave you?”

I just shrugged and he scoffed.

“Well, you were the one who said you didn't love me anymore.” My lip trembling as I thought back to that night he said those words, taking some of his possessions and driving away.

We stood in silence for a minute before he walked even closer to me and I could hear his breathing. I didn’t see his eyes then he brought his hand up to my chin to tilt my head up to look at him. He smiled softly when our eyes connected then I started crying.

“Don’t,” I quiver.

“What?” he asks.

“Don’t smile at me like everything is fine,”

“You think I meant that?”

I nodded.

“I never stopped loving you.” He says and I gasp.

Before I could respond and say I felt the same he was leaning down and capturing my lips with his. I froze for a moment, my eyes going wide in surprise, then relaxed and let him consum me. His arms engulfed around my back to pull me closer so our chests were pressed together, I could feel my heart thumping loudly in my ears and my cheeks heated. The feeling of kissing him was one that I missed very greatly. Just the way he made me tremble with just a touch was proof my emotions regarding Ethan Nestor haven’t changed. Not even in the slightest. I reached my hands up into his hair instinctively, gripping his brown locks to bring him down deeper into me. His teeth came out to nip at my bottom lip causing me to let out a barely audible whine. Desire flooded through me like a wave and it was overwhelming how much I wanted him back so I could kiss him like this again. Over and over again until my lips were numb and swollen.

A smack filled the air when we pulled away, our breathing was uneven and hot as it mixed due to the proximity of our faces. I was breathless and could barely form a word. Ethan moved away from me entirely and turned back to go inside. my heart sank and deep down I knew, that was a kiss goodbye.

#ethan nestor x reader #crankgameplays #youtube imagine #youtuber imagines #crankgameplaysimagine #ethan nestor imagine

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

Text

Everdream | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, making out, alluding to smut

Time/Era: The Golden Age

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Y/N and Edmund go on a late-night horse ride to stargaze.

A/N: This is inspired by the song “Everdream” by Epic Soul Factory. (You can listen to it here.) I really love this song (you should listen to it! It’s an amazing piece!) and I really wanted to write something that hopefully followed the vibe. Please send feedback and maybe a request while you’re at it!

masterlist | read on ao3

Cair Paravel was beautiful at twilight. Bright oranges and reds blended with the cool blue of the night to stain the sky with magnificent colors. The warm and cool tones weaved together to make a deep green barrier between the passing day and incoming night. It was absolutely stunning in Y/N’s eyes, which is why she always made it a point to be outside at this time. She loved to admire how the final rays of the sun reflected off of the white stone walls and how the warm evening air grew crisp. Everything and everyone around her starts to grow calm and time seems to pass differently.

Her favorite place to soak in the atmosphere was a stone wall just right of a large garden. Here, she could look out at the water and watch the sun disappear behind the towering trees. Here, she can watch the colors dance upon the sails of massive ships like projectors and feel the brisk air flow around her. Sure the stone was bumpy, jagged, and sharp in some places and she had ripped many of her gowns because of it, but this was her spot. And her spot was where she liked to be.

Sometimes, one of the royal family would join her in her silence. Lucy would come when she was feeling happy; she loved Y/N’s company and liked to admire the sky. Occasionally, she would break the silence to point out a star that was just starting to appear, or a rabbit that was rushing by. Overall, she was a bottle of warm and inviting energy. She was always welcome with Y/N on her wall. Susan would come whenever she wanted to talk. She knew Y/N would listen. Her brothers and younger sister tended to interrupt her before she could fully explain herself, so Y/N’s continued silence was like a breath of fresh air. Peter would come whenever he had a stressful day, or whenever he knew a tough time was to come. He would just sit next to Y/N on the wall as if he was meditating. If he wanted to talk, he could but if he didn’t, he wasn’t pushed to. Y/N was nice company and the silence was always comforting right before bed. Edmund would come whenever he wanted to, which was more often than his siblings. He and Y/N had been an item for almost three years, so it sort of counted as a date. The two knew that they didn’t need anything flashy; just being together was more than enough. He always waited a little while, though, to make sure his siblings weren’t planning on joining his girl on the wall. Edmund knew that if they were there, they needed her and who was he to come in between that? Sometimes, Y/N would be alone with her thoughts.

Edmund sat silently next to her, looking out over the water. He had rid himself of his armor and crown, so his loose clothes and messy hair swayed in the breeze. His feet dangled freely, while her’s were crossed at the ankles.

“There’s going to be a full moon tonight,” Y/N’s voice was soft as she glanced over at Edmund. The shadows on his face shifted as he met her gaze. Y/N observed it. It seemed to contour his jaw, making his features look sharp and as if he was sculpted from marble. Ed always looked great at twilight, Y/N thought.

“Yeah?” He leaned back ever so slightly, his weight being supported by either hand gripping the wall. “That means it’ll be bright enough to see without a torch.”

“I was thinking maybe we could go for a ride,” Y/N turned her attention to a large Naval ship floating directly in the middle of the bay. “Unless you need to rest for tomorrow. Big meeting right? We can just go to bed instead.”

“The meeting isn’t really important, and besides, Pete does most of the work anyway.”

Ed had grown extremely nonchalant about meetings since the four had landed in Narnia. When he was younger, he used to stress about it for days beforehand. I guess when you sit through so many meetings about the same thing, the anxiety turns into familiarity.

“Whatever you say, oh magnificent one.” Y/N pushes herself off of the wall flattens her skirt out. “Oh wait, my bad, that’s Peter.”

Edmund frowns, “I can be magnificent too, love.” He follows her off of the wall and takes her hand in his.

The forest was quiet at this time of night so the sound of hooves on the dry dirt was easy to hear. Y/N trailed Edmund, staring at his back. The thin material of his renaissance Romeo style shirt allowed his shoulder blades and back muscles to be on full display. They moved every time he pulled on the rein. At one point during the ride, he turned around and caught Y/N admiring him. His smile became cocky once he saw the look in her eye.

“I can practically feel your eyes burning a hole in my back, Y/N.” He laughs, twisting his body back to face the front.

“Well, where else am I supposed to look? I don’t know where we’re going!!” Y/N’s voice came out as more of a whine than a defense, making Edmund laugh.

“Well, lucky for you, we’re almost there.”

Edmund leads Y/N into a small clearing and swings his leg over his horse. The circle was made up of around ten trees and a plush carpet of grass. It wasn’t much, but it had the most gorgeous view of millions of stars above. The stars were twinkling and a few planets were visible. Y/N stared upwards, trying to absorb all of the beauty.

“Tada, I found this last week when I was riding and I thought of you.” Edmund planted himself on the ground, leaning against a tree. “I thought we could stargaze and talk. We haven’t been able to talk a lot lately.”

Y/N slid into his open arms and laid a hand on his chest. “I know, it’s not your fault your busy. It’s no one’s fault. You’re king.” She feels him sigh underneath her.

“I know, I know, it still makes me feel guilty though. I feel as though I haven’t been able to put as much time into our relationship as I should.” He takes a strand of Y/N’s hair between his fingers and tucks it behind her ear. His hand gently runs along her cheek before sliding down her arm.

“I’m happy if you’re happy, Ed.” Y/N places a quick peck on his cheek and looks back up at the sky.

The sky looked as though someone dumped glitter on a black piece of construction paper. Intricate designs and swirls littered the atmosphere as if it was a painting. It was complicated and organized, yet messy and chaotic. Edmund’s fingertips lightly brush up and down Y/N’s arms making her skin erupt with goosebumps. Y/N squirms under his touch.

“What’s wrong?” Edmund asks, moving his hand down to squeeze Y/N’s hip and pull her onto his lap. In the process, Y/N’s long skirt moves up her leg.

“Nothings wrong, darling.” Y/N mumbles staring at a tree to her right. She knew what her love was about to do, just not how he was going to do it. Edmund kisses her jaw and down to her neck. His cold nose brushes against her pulse point making her instinctively shut her eyes. He takes her waist in both hands and positions her body so she’s straddling his long legs. She could feel the rough fabric of his trousers and fought the urge to move against it. Her dress bunches around her waist, draping against his hips.

“Ed, what are you doing?” Her voice was shaking as he continued to kiss and suck at her neck. Edmund’s hands find her waist once more and he begins massaging them over the thin material of her summer dress. His teeth scrape ever so slightly over the soft skin of her neck and she gasps.

Edmund moves off of her skin and brings his mouth to her ear. He’s so close that she can feel his hot breath fan over her ear. “I’m putting time into our relationship that I’ve been missing lately.” Edmund’s voice is husky and low, coming out as a deep growl.

Y/N’s head dips down and she presses her lips to his. They taste vaguely of devils food cake, the dessert they had for dinner. It was intoxicating; her head began to get light and she felt like she was getting high off of Edmund. Her hands find their way to his face, one brushing past his cheek to grip the back of his hair. She admired the way it feels in her hand. Edmund’s hair was always so soft, Y/N didn’t know how he did it. His dark locks flow in between her fingers like water, twisting and turning in every which way and falling in loose curls. She grips a handful of hair near the nape of his neck and pulled. Hard.

The sound Edmund let out was sinful; it came from somewhere deep in his throat and Y/N had only heard it a few times before. She loved that sound almost as much as she loved Edmund. He began to kiss her more harshly now, his hands starting to move her hips back and forth against him. Y/N let out a whimper and pulled away from the kiss.

“You have a meeting tomorrow, my king.” Y/N said, breathless with swollen lips. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched.

“Fuck meetings.”

The two love birds eventually made it back to the castle, nodding at a guard and dropping their horses off at the stables. They brought the duvet up to their chins and settled down for the night.

“Maybe I’ll skip tomorrow and lay in bed with you all day. We can talk about what’s happening in that pretty little head of yours. You can tell me about what you thought of when looking at the water.”

“I don’t know, Susan might scold me if I miss again. I’m not sure how she got the title of gentle.”

Edmund groaned. “I’ll talk to her, please? I miss you.” “Whatever you say, lover boy. But don’t think I won’t throw you under the bus.”

“Deal, my siblings don’t scare me.”

“I feel like they should, they’re quite good in battle.”

Edmund put a hand over his heart. “Excuse me? Who’s the one who fights with two swords?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you, I’m sleeping.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #narnia #c.s. lewis

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ikkaku-of-heart · 3 years

Text

Her Brother's Blood is on His Hands

(Originally written for @heart-pirates-week for Ikkaku’s day with the prompt “Family” but ended up being delayed until now. Inspired by discussions with @shambledsurgeon and @medicus-mortem)

Ikkaku awoke slowly, the persistent beeping of a heart monitor resembling that of a particularly slow but annoying alarm clock. She tried to sit up but a sharp pain in her side dissuaded her, so she was forced to remain on her back, looking around at the sterile walls of the infirmary. She was hooked up to an IV, there were several machines monitoring her vitals, and she could feel the pressure of tightly-wound bandages around her torso and arms.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Law said from the chair at her bedside, putting down the medical book he’d been reading. The circles under his eyes appeared darker than usual, but his grin was comforting and sure. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d have to resort to drastic measures to wake Sleeping Beauty.”

“Law?” she asked weakly, grimacing at how hoarse she sounded due to the dryness of her throat. “The fuck happened?”

“Gonna have to be more specific,” he stated as he carefully helped prop her up enough that she could safely drink some water. “Do you mean how did you end up here? Maybe the extent of your wounds? Or how about what, exactly, I did to the fucker who hurt you?”

Her eyes widened as she recalled what had happened. She’d been taking a walk with Jean Bart, venting about how much she hated that they were now government dogs because Law’d insisted on handing the Navy one hundred hearts. They’d run into a squad of Marines. Her brother’s squad, to be exact. Ushi had decided it was pointless trying to climb the Navy ranks the normal way, and thus had come up with the idea of sucking up to the Celestial Dragons. And what better way to do so than to return to Saint Rosward his wayward slave?

Heart clenching at the thought of her shipmate being handed back over to those bastards, she asked, “Is Jean—”

“He’s fine. Discharged yesterday,” Law promised, nodding towards the empty bed on the other side of the room. He picked up a chart, studying it as he continued, “Needed a lot of stitches for the lacerations across his back and arms, but nothing life-threatening.”

“Good,” she sighed in relief. He hadn’t been killed or taken. Jean Bart would continue to live as a free man for a while longer. He deserved that much.

“Was quite the sight, seeing him charging towards the ship, covered in blood, carrying you like a baby while you bled out from a stab wound,” he commented, voice even, though there was an unmistakable tightness in his jaw. “I’m just glad he managed to tell me who’d done this to you two before he passed out.”

White teeth sank into her bottom lip, guilt pulsing through her. That’s right. It hadn’t exactly been a victory. They’d managed to take down most of the Marines, but Ushi had managed to get behind her, and then there’d been excruciating pain as he’d driven a knife deep into her side…

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered, black curls hiding her face as she hung her head in shame.

“The hell are you apologizing for?” he asked, gold eyes flicking up from the clipboard and narrowing in displeasure.

She wrung her hands, anxious and guilty. “Jean Bart got hurt because of my family baggage.”

“He got hurt because of an opportunistic asshole who decided that Jean being under the protection of a shichibukai didn’t matter,” he snapped. Pausing, he took a deep breath to compose himself. “The fact that said asshole came out of the same uterus as you is irrelevant.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she countered, refusing to look at him. “He targeted the Hearts because of me. He always has. And he wouldn’t have been able to go after Jean Bart if I’d let you kill him years ago. Or killed him myself. You deserve a subordinate with the stones to kill her own brother.”

Internally, she berated herself for that last part. None of this would be a problem if she’d just toughened up and put an end to that bastard. Why did she always seem to stop herself? Morality? Because she knew how heartbroken her parents would be? Because even years later, she was still scared of her childhood boogeyman?

Her thoughts were disturbed by the clipboard lightly smacking her on the head in reproach. It didn’t hurt, but Ikkaku rubbed her head anyway, frowning up at her captain. “You trying to knock me unconscious again?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to stop talking bullshit,” he retorted. He glared at her for a moment before letting out a sigh, a tattooed hand falling heavily on her shoulder. “Ikkaku,” Law stated, tone brokering no argument, “what I deserve is a subordinate with the stones to stand up to a power-hungry bastard looking to sell her nakama to a bunch of delusional inbred freaks, which that’s exactly what I’ve got. And what you deserve is to not get stabbed in the spleen by your own blood.”

Well. It was hard to argue that logic. “I guess. But next time—”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“You don’t know that.”

The hand on her shoulder fell away to flip through the pages of her chart. “Ikkaku, you nearly bled out before you even got to the sub. You’re lucky Shachi and Penguin share your blood type and were basically tripping over themselves to donate. I had to replace your spleen and left kidney, and if that knife had gone in at a slightly different angle, he could have punctured your stomach or lung. In other words, this bastard nearly cost me my engineer. You’ve known me for goin’ on five years now; do you really think that once you were stable I just sat around twiddling my thumbs while I waited for you to wake up?”

Dark eyes widened in realization. “Did you kill him?”

“Would you be mad if I said I had?”

No. Not at him at least, but she still felt like she’d let him down by not being able to do it herself. “He shouldn’t have been your problem to solve.”

“You’re right. He shouldn’t have been a problem,” he replied harshly. Before Ikkaku could internally berate herself further, though, Law ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and there was a spark of guilt in his eyes. “No Marine should have even touched you guys. That’s supposed to be one of the fucking perks of being a shichibukai. I told you when I took this damn title that you be safe and look how that turned out.”

Yes, that had been a major argument between them, hadn’t it? For Ikkaku, not wanting to be affiliated with the World Government hadn’t just been a matter of pride or general hatred for the bastards who ran the world – she’d been afraid. Terrified that her brother would be waiting for her around every corner. That he’d find a way to get her alone, to finish the job he’d started when she was seven, to finally get her out of his hair. Law had promised she’d be safe, that he wouldn’t let him so much as breath near her. Eventually, she’d come to believe him, but things hadn’t gone to plan.

“You can’t blame yourself for Ushi not following the rules, Law,” she insisted. Yeah, she could have berated him for not listening to her, but in reality, Law’s logic had been sound; Ushi shouldn’t have dared to try anything. Ikkaku didn’t just have the Hearts protecting her anymore – the Navy itself had become another obstacle in his way. She should have been safe.

However, even she hadn’t fully considered why Ushi would go this far, but in hindsight, it made sense. Last she’d checked, he hadn’t been promoted in a while. Hadn’t advanced as quickly as he wanted or earned any accolades for heroism like everyone back home had been expecting. He was a commodore still – not even a rear-admiral, and his name didn’t strike fear into the hearts of pirates like Smoker’s did.

Because he’d been put on a pedestal, her brother had always gotten away with everything, which had only enforced his cruel and abusive nature. The whole island had believed that he’d become a famous Marine and boost their reputation, which was why they’d been willing to overlook the bruises that littered his sister’s arms, or the fact that she’d gone missing for three days while under his care.

If he’d come home a failure, everyone would have to finally admit he was nothing but a twisted, cruel bully. And instead of accepting the blame for enabling, they’d likely make him answer for his crimes.

But more than that, he’d be forced to accept that he was never that special to begin with, and she knew a man as arrogant as him wouldn’t be able to bear that.

Shaking her head, she almost felt pity for him. “Ushi was desperate, and desperate men are unpredictable as fuck. You couldn’t have known he’d be crazy enough to try to suck up to the Celestial Dragons.”

“Neither of us could have known, but I still could have protected you better,” Law retorted, crossing his arms. He still didn’t look fully convinced of his own absolution, but he declared quite plainly, “The fact is, brothers shouldn’t murder their younger siblings, or even try to.”

Well, not even Ikkaku could argue that.

But actions had consequences, and there was still a strong chance Law’s retaliation, justified or not, would bite him in the ass.

“Ushi might have been no one special, but the Navy’s not going to be happy about you killing one of their own,” she said, genuinely worried. Even if Ushi had been going against orders, shichibukai weren’t supposed to attack their Marine allies. What if they decided to strip Law of his new title? Sure, she hated that he was a government dog, but it was a vital part of his plan to take down Joker, and if that had been stripped away because he’d recklessly pursued revenge on her behalf…

The way he smirked at her belied that he didn’t share even a fraction of her concern. “The Navy’ll have a hell of a time pinning a murder on me when there’s no evidence. It’s unlikely he was ordered to attack you and Jean Bart, so there’s no paper trail. The man was obsessed with advancing up the ladder, so likely only a select few are even aware you’re related, thus no one knows of his unfortunate connection to the Heart Pirates. And unless they plan on gutting a bunch of Sea Kings and piecing together chunks of half-digested flesh, I doubt they’ll find enough of his body to even determine his cause of death.”

“You fed him to Sea Kings?”

“His remains, at least. As for how I killed him…well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

It was highly doubtful what he’d done could be described as boring, but Ikkaku decided not to press him. Knowing Law, it had been slow, painful, and had probably involved dissection. “You didn’t have to do all that for me, Captain.”

He dismissed her concerns with a casual wave of his hand. “Of course I did. You’re family. Besides, if I hadn’t, the rest of the crew would have gone after him themselves, and they wouldn’t have done as good a job covering their tracks. Or made him scream quite as loud. No offense to them, but conventional torture methods just can’t match the agony of having your heart slowly crushed to a pulp.”

Was she a bad person for not feeling sick at the thought of her oldest brother—her own blood—being subjected to the Surgeon of Death’s sadism? That instead of anger or disgust, she felt relieved? Sure, he was a massive piece of shit who deserved to die for everything he’d done to her, her other brothers, and who knows what else, but he was still family, wasn’t he?

No. The Hearts were family. Law was family. He was right – Ushi was blood, but he wasn’t her brother.

Law’s brow furrowed with concern and he reached forward, cupping her cheeks and wiping tears away with his thumbs. Ikkaku hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, looking genuinely guilty. “I shouldn’t have overstepped like that. I should have at least waited until you were awake and asked—”

Though she was tired and weak and it took far more effort than she’d like, Ikkaku lifted her arm and flicked Law squarely in the forehead. He didn’t quite flinch back, but he did give her an annoyed grunt, but his brow did smooth out when he saw her bright smile.

“Thank you,” she said, cheeks streaked with tears but voice warm with love and affection and gratitude. It might take a while for her to fully accept that Ushi was no longer laying in wait at every Marine base, but for now, she could breath a little easier. The monster from her childhood had finally been vanquished.

Trafalgar Law might not have been a knight in shining armor, but he was something better. He was the big brother she’d always wished for.

Relieved that she wasn’t angry, Law gave her a tiny but sincere grin back. His engineer was alive, safe, and giving him that sunny smile that could light up a room. Well worth the blood on his hands, and quietly, he vowed to keep her, and the rest of his Hearts, safe from whatever hell might come their way.

They were a loyal bunch of fools, but they were his family. He’d set the world on fire before allowing anything to happen to them.

A hand adorned with the word DEATH retreated from Ikkaku’s cheek to ruffle her hair. “Don’t mention it.”

#The Engine is the Heart of the Ship (canon)#Join the Hearts: We Have Uniforms #Heart Siblings #Drabble #(been wanting to go into what happens to Ushi during the timeskip)#(and how it would definitely be Law that kills him instead of Ikkaku)#(hope people like this!)#(not sure about the title but it's the best I could think of without being cheesy or cliche)

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jewish-space-laser · 4 years

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Miles & Black Coffee - Part Two

“If you’re thinking about taking the high road,

I can tell you that you’re doing it wrong,

There’s a better of way of letting it all go,

‘Cause you’ve been running from the feeling too long….”

-Highroad by Sir Woman

Hiya everyone! Sorry this is up a bit late, inspiration really just runs on its own clock. I’ll keep this short- giant thank you to @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays @for-fucks-sake-h for beta-ing and being so so SO supportive. If you haven’t read their fics yet, go check them out! As always, I adore feedback! (4.1k words)

xoxoxoxoxoXO Tile

You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before….

the one with campfire conversations, cabin getaways, and enemies that were never really enemies after all.

Read Part One here!

TUESDAY

Charlie was still sleeping soundly on her side of the bed when your alarm went off, so you tried your hardest to sneak out of the room without making a sound. Spending all day in the sun yesterday had been amazing; your heart felt full, your muscles were relaxed, and you were ready to do it all over again.

Unfortunately, you also felt a bit gross. Between the warm weather, lakewater, and sunscreen, your skin was feeling like it needed it a good rinse. The thought of showering in the showerhouse wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was that or the garden hose, so you gathered up your shower caddy and a change of clothes before making your way out of the main cabin.

It was a beautiful morning, the perfect setup for another day of summer. Dewy blades of grass tickled your ankles as you cut across the lawn, a pleasant chill running through you at the contact. You’d tried to wake up early enough to have the shower house to yourself, not wanting to have an awkward run-in with anyone before you’d had a chance to fully wake up.

From the look of it, you’d succeeded. You listened for signs that anyone else was out and about, but all you could hear were the sounds of birds chirping and bugs buzzing, the nature around you having yet to be disturbed by rowdy college students.

Smoking on the boat the night before had turned out to be a great idea. The group had stayed out till the moon was the only light in the sky, only turning in when none of you could stop yawning. You hadn’t slept that deeply in a long time; it felt amazing to be so rested after a full school year of late nights and early mornings.

When you finally reached the shower house, you moved to pull the door open to have it swing forward and smack into you. You stumbled backwards, balancing yourself against the wall as you stared wide eyed at the person who’d nearly knocked you over.

“Whoa, sorry,” Ryan rushed apologetically, “I didn’t think anyone else would be up this early.”

“That’s okay,” you gulped, “I didn’t think anyone else was awake, either. I wanted the showers to myself.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he chuckled, running a hand through his wet hair, “I’m all finished though, so it’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” you giggled, “how was the water pressure?”

“Honestly?” He shrugged. “Better than I expected, but not great.”

“Lovely,” you sighed, slinging your towel over your shoulder. Ryan dragged his eyes down your frame quickly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. You blushed as you realized that you were still in your pajamas. At least they were somewhat cute, little blue shorts with rubber duckies printed all over them and a plain white tank top.

The two of you were quiet for a moment, switching places so you were standing in the threshold of the shower house. He was too cute, sleepy eyes squinting in the sun as it grew brighter out.

“So, um, I was thinking of checking out this hiking trail today,” he blurted, cheeks tinted red, “Archie was going to come with me, but he drank his weight in white claw last night, so I’m thinking he might be too hungover to stomach it.”

“Where’s the trail?” You questioned.

“It’s on the other side of the lake, about two miles north. We were just gonna borrow a couple bikes from the shed,” he explained, playing with his hair some more, “but anyway, I was like, well, I was wondering if maybe you would wanna join me. I’d hate to go alone.”

“I’d love to!” You said eagerly. When he smirked at your excitement, you tried to play it cool. “I mean, uh, yeah. That sounds like it could be fun.”

“Great,” he chuckled, “I was thinking of leaving around eleven, gives us time to relax and have some breakfast. The trail itself should only take a couple hours, but there are a few detours I wanted to see. Is that cool with you?”

“Sounds awesome,” you nodded.

“Fantastic. I’ll find you in a bit?”

You nodded, bidding him farewell as he made his way back to the guest cabin. The moment the door shut behind you, you let out a quiet squeal. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and already you had a date with a cute boy. Plus, you were genuinely interested in the hiking trail; if it was anything like the forest around the cabin, it was sure to be gorgeous.

Ryan was right about the shower pressure. It was enough to make you feel clean and refreshed, but certainly left much to be desired. At least there was hot water.

By the time you made it back to your room, Charlie was up and about, playing upbeat music on her phone speaker and digging her toothbrush out of her bag.

“I can’t believe I forgot to brush my teeth last night,” she pretended to gag, “I literally passed out so hard. Didn’t even hear you get up this morning.”

“It was a long night,” you laughed, feeling amused as you watched her flit around the room to get ready for the day.

“And it’s gonna be another long day,” she sighed, “long, but fun. Olivia and I were gonna tan on the docks for a bit, if you wanna join?”

“Actually,” you tried to act nonchalant, “Ryan and I are going on a hike.”

You sat on the corner of the bed, sucking your lips into your mouth to keep your giddy smile at bay. You were really excited though, and Charlie seemed like just the right person to gush to.

“Ryan, huh?” She said, face scrunching up in confusion. “I would’ve thought you’d want to spend as much time with Harry as possible.”

You widened your eyes, letting out a loud burst of laughter that had you wheezing. “Harry? No way!”

“You and him aren’t a thing, then?” She asked, zipping her suitcase shut. “He was asking after you at the bonfire yesterday, and then insisted that he should check on you when you didn’t come down.”

A frown formed on your face. You specifically remember him saying that he’d just been using the restroom. Why would he want to check up on you, anyway? Surely he was just using it as an excuse to bother you. It was his favorite activity, after all.

“Well, no, we’re not a thing,” you said firmly.

“Ryan’s cute, too,” Charlie shrugged, “James and I had a moment yesterday, too, so hopefully we both get our cute summer romance this week.”

“Ooooh, James?” You waggled your eyebrows, happy to change the subject. Charlie flushed, biting down on her lip.

The two of you gossipped for a while longer, with Charlie organizing all of her belongings while you lounged on the bed. It was nice chatting with her; you weren’t the closest, but you’d always gotten along really well.

New romance, new friends, sunshine and nature. You could already tell that this was going to be a week to remember.

~~~

By the time you made your way into the kitchen, almost everyone had already had breakfast. Dishes were piled high in the small sink, streaks of what looked like pancake batter smeared across the countertop. You hated when people didn’t clean up after themselves, but you chose to ignore it for now.

What you couldn’t ignore, however, was Harry, who was sitting by himself at the table. He was also pouring a bowl of cereal, which wouldn’t have been a problem if your name wasn’t written across the box in black sharpie.

“Is that your cereal, Harry?”

You had a hand planted on your hip, eyebrows raised expectantly as you awaited his answer. He lazily glanced up from his phone, looking you over from head to toe before shrugging.

“Dunno, found it in the cupboard,” he muttered, jamming a spoonful into his mouth.

“Interesting, interesting,” you droned, biting the inside of your cheek, “did you stop for a moment to think that it might belong to somebody else?”

He shrugged again, not bothering to look away from his phone this time as he chewed slowly. You could tell he was holding back a smirk from the way his dimple indented into his cheek. He knew what he was doing, he always did.

With a huff, you walked over to him and snatched the box off of the table, turning it around and pointing at your name in bold letters.

“I wish you’d asked,” you snapped, opening the cabinet with more force than necessary to grab a bowl.

“Just figured we were all sharing food,” you heard him say.

You wanted to rip his breakfast out from under him, anything to get a reaction, but you just took a deep breath insead. Getting you worked up is exactly what he wanted, and you’d never give him the satisfaction

“If you’d read your sister’s e-mail, you’d know that any food that isn’t labelled is up for grabs. That cereal has my name on it.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged again, “I don’t really look at my e-mail.”

“Clearly,” you rolled your eyes.

He didn’t respond, and even though your skin was crawling with irritation, you figured it was best if you stopped talking. Even though he was being a pest, this behavior was relatively tame for him, and it would be a shame to ruin a perfectly good morning with a fight.

Well, that’s what you told yourself before you opened the fridge.

“Harry,” you warned through gritted teeth, “did you finish off the milk… and then put the empty carton back?”

“No,” he locked his phone, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning, “there are a few drops left in there.”

That was it. The absolute last straw.

“You are literally the most inconsiderate person I’ve ever met,” you seethed, shaking the empty carton in his direction before throwing it into the recycling bin. It didn’t seem to phase him.

“I think-”

“I don’t really care what you think,” you interrupted.

“-that you’re being dramatic.”

You were scowling so hard that your cheeks were beginning to hurt, but you couldn’t help it. Not when he was pushing your buttons in all the wrong ways. You dumped your bowl of dry cereal back into the box.

“I’m not being dramatic,” you hissed, “you’re just being a dick, but what else is new.”

“You really need to calm down,” he snorted, “a bunch of us were going to break out the kayak and race across the lake, do you wanna join?”

You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the idea that you’d want to spend more time with him, so you just shot him a dirty look, deciding to just skip breakfast. Sure, you were starving, but anything was better than spending one more second in Harry’s presence.

“I have other plans,” you snarled, turning your back to him and leaving the room.

“Really?” He asked, following you down the hallway. “Do they involve… I dunno, pulling the giant stick out of your ass?”

You practically growled, stopping so suddenly that Harry nearly ran into you.

“No,” your voice was strained, “Ryan asked me to go hiking with him, if you must know.”

For the first time all morning, the unbearable smirk on his face dropped into a frown.

“Just the two of you?” He prodded.

You narrowed your eyes at him. Why was he suddenly so interested?

“Yes, just the two of us,” you sighed, turning to walk away again, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be as far away from you as possible.”

He didn’t follow you this time, but you could feel him watching you go up the stairs. It bothered you to no end that he could get you so riled up. Next time, you would walk away at the first sign of trouble, because he truly wasn’t worth your energy.

Once you finished packing up a drawstring backpack with the hiking essentials, it was just about to time to meet Ryan, so you made your way over to the guest cabin. On the way there, you saw Harry pulling a kayak off of a metal rack, passing it to James like it weighed nothing. He looked a bit ridiculous, with his tie-dye shirt and a bandana in his hair.

“Hey,” you jumped at Ryan’s voice, “you ready to head out?”

You didn’t spare Harry a second glance when Ryan started raving about this amazing waterfall that he wanted to see. The day could only go up from here.

~~~

The rain had come out of nowhere.

It had been blue sky for miles for the entire hike, but the second you got back to the bikes at the trailhead, dark stormclouds had already started sprinkling. It had quickly turned into a downpour, soaking through your thin t-shirt in record time. Ryan wasn’t much better off as he pulled his helmet off, hair matted down on the top of his head.

Not to mention, it had been extremely buggy. Even with bug spray, they had been relentless. You were sure you had at least twenty bug bites all down your arms and legs.

Despite everything, you’d enjoyed yourself. You’d stayed out even longer than you planned, sitting by the waterfall and chatting. As soon as Ryan found out that you skipped breakfast, he’d given you half of his sandwich. He’d been a complete gentleman, taking your hand frequently to help you over a rough part of the trail, and even though neither of you specified, it felt like a date.

Conversation with him was easy, which was a major improvement from your awful morning. In fact, you barely even thought about Harry all afternoon, so distracted by Ryan and his nature commentary. The only time he’d come up was when you stopped for lunch.

“So what’s the deal with you and Harry?” Ryan had asked.

“Ugh,” you’d snarled, taking a pull from your water bottle “can we talk about literally anything else?”

“Oh,” Ryan had raised his eyebrows, “so, you’re not together?”

Immediately, you had choked on your sip of water, slapping your chest until you stopped coughing.

“Together?” You guffawed. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

He had blushed crimson, playing with the hair on the back of his head. “He talks about you a lot… and sometimes I notice you watching him.”

His comment had confused you, but you’d shrugged it off, assuring him that you and Harry weren’t, and never would be, together.

Now, the two of you were ditching your bikes in front of the cabin and sprinting towards the door to escape the awful weather. You found yourself giggling as you stumbled into the kitchen, wet, muddy footprints trailing behind you as you dropped your pack to the ground. It landed with a loud squelch, which only made you laugh harder.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you said, “I’m really glad you invited me.”

“Really?” He chuckled, catching his breath. “I thought it was a bit of a disaster, between the mosquitos, the rain… the mud….”

You both laughed, shaking your heads at your bad fortune. You were being truthful about having fun, though. Even though the day hadn’t gone according to plan, it was exactly the kind of adventure you’d wanted.

“Whatever,” you shrugged coyly, “I had good company.”

Ryan’s cheeks flushed crimson, and a sweet smile crept up his face. Even with mud caked across his neck, pine needles in his hair, and angry pink bug bites down his arms and legs, he still managed to look adorable. When his eyes darted down to your lips, you stepped forward.

“I’m really glad we’re both on this trip,” he said softly, placing a hand on your waist.

“Me too,” you whispered, leaning in closer.

Just as your lips were a hair away from brushing together, a crash from behind you had you jumping apart in alarm. You yelped loudly, your heart stopping for a beat before you spun around to face the culprit.

Of course it was Harry.

The first thing you noticed was his sunburn; all he was wearing was a pair of light gray sweatpants, so you could see how pink his chest had gotten. He resembled a deer in headlights as he stared at the floor below him, which was currently covered in the broken remnants of a shattered plate.

“Sorry,” he slurred, tip-toeing out from where the ceramic shards had scattered. Once he was clear, he stumbled over to the broom closet, swinging it open harshly as you and Ryan watched on awkwardly. After digging for a few seconds, he emerged with a broom and dustpan that looked like they were older than you.

“You scared us,” you bit out, heart finally slowing down to a normal rate.

“Oops,” his shoulders lifted in a shrug, He turned to start sweeping, but quickly did a double take. “What hap-… you guys look horrible. Why are you covered in mud?”

Irritation took over you as you watched him gape drunkenly at where you and Ryan were standing. Not only had he interrupted what was sure to be an epic kiss with Ryan, but then he’d nearly given you a heart attack by sneaking in and dropping the plate. Sure, it was an accident, but that didn’t make you feel any less angry. And now here he was, telling you that you looked horrible.Your foot started tapping against the floor rapidly on its own accord.

Just as you were about to chew him out for being a complete thorn in your side, he stumbled forward and hissed, lifting his bare foot into the air.

“Harry, you’re stepping on glass,” Ryan warned, rushing forward with a worried expression over his face, “and you’re barefoot. Why don’t you start getting ready for bed… I’ll clean this up, okay?”

He took the broom from Harry, shooing him away from the mess. You knew it was the responsible thing to do, but part of you was still disappointed that your moment with Ryan had been ruined.

“Will you help me up the stairs?” Harry asked you sheepishly, half-limping over to you, “can’t get the glass out of my foot….”

“Well, don’t try to take it out here,” you sighed with an eye roll, “let’s go up. We’ll have to clean it, too.”

“Aww, y’gonna take care of me?” He smirked.

“Don’t push your luck,” you snapped. He held his hands up in surrender, but you still wanted to slap the smug look off of his face. You turned to Ryan, who was still sweeping the plate shards into a pile, and shook your head apologetically. “See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, a sad little smile on his face. You made yourself a promise that you’d kiss him next time you were alone. It was only the second day, after all; you were positive that you’d find another moment. For now, though, you had to deal with a certain drunken fool, who was currently limping down the hall, tripping every other step as he tried to grip the wall for support.

“Hold on, you dimwit,” you sighed, rushing forward and slipping a hand around his waist.

“Ooh, we’re getting cosy,” he hummed. You weren’t going to dignify him with a response.

Harry’s skin was warm to the touch, a bit sticky with sunscreen but still smooth. You tried to ignore the shock that ran through you when you felt his back muscles shift… you knew he was in good shape, but you hadn’t expected him to be so… firm. Your mouth went dry.

He leaned practically his entire weight on you, nearly forcing your knees to buckle. Fortunately, you were able to find your balance and walk with him, taking one stair at a time.

“Now who’s being dramatic,” you muttered.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Harry slurred, frowning in your direction. He had one arm slung over your shoulder, and the other hand gripping the railing as he hopped on one foot.

“You called me dramatic this morning,” you reminded him, “and now here you are, needing help up the stairs because of a teeny piece of glass….”

“Heeeey,” he protested, stopping in his tracks to look down at you properly.

A scoff escaped you as you rolled your eyes, gesturing for him to continue hopping. You were nearly at the top now.

“Is there a first aid kit somewhere?” You asked, relieved when he removed his arm.

“Yeah,” he scratched at his head, “I packed one, but it’s still in my room.”

Honestly, you were a bit surprised that Harry packed a first aid kit. You’d never stricken him as the responsible type; Callie had always seemed more put together despite being younger.

You followed his hobbling figure into his room, which was much cleaner than you expected. He clearly hadn’t changed it much since he was young, evidenced by the lego figurines lined up on his shelves. There was also a cute framed photo of him and Callie at her high school graduation, which was admittedly adorable.

Getting the splinter out of Harry’s foot hadn’t been a problem, but cleaning it was another story. First, he insisted that he could do it himself, but then he accidentally got neosporin all over his bedsheets. Then, he wouldn’t stop flinching away from you when you tried to stick on the bandage, claiming that he was ticklish.

“Can you please just cooperate,” you sighed.

“Can’t help that it tickles,” he giggled, twitching away from your hand again, “your hands are too soft.”

If he pulled away from you one more time, you’d rip your hair out. This was not how you foresaw ending your night.

Eventually, finally, he stayed still long enough for you to finish. You glared at him as you gathered up the bandage wrapper and used alcohol wipe. He was gazing at you with wide eyes, bandana slightly crooked on top of his head.

“Did I interrupt something downstairs?” He asked all of a sudden, sheepishly looking out the window.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shaking your head in frustration. “You know, Harry? I don’t understand what I did for you to hate me so much.”

He squinted his eyes in confusion, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. As if he hadn’t spent countless hours intentionally getting on your nerves.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Please,” you laughed sarcastically, “It hasn’t even been two full days here, and you’ve already called me a wet blanket, eaten my food, and ruined the end of my date. You do nothing but antagonize me… why?”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, and it was then that you remembered how truly drunk he was. He probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning. You don’t know why you’d asked him about it in the first place.

“I mean, I…” He stuttered, apparently unable to articulate his thoughts.

Truthfully, you didn’t even want to know.

“Maybe we should just stay away from each other,” you told him, “I’m not a huge fan of you, and you clearly have a problem with me….”

He looked completely taken aback.

“Just… go to sleep, okay?” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I left the painkillers out, so… take those in the morning if you want.”

You were waiting for him to say something, but he just sat there, silently gaping at you with cloudy eyes, so that’s how you left him. He was still staring at you when you fleetingly made eye contact on your way out the door, but didn’t say a single word.

From what you knew about him, that was out of character. He always had something to say, another jab, another comeback, absolutely never letting you have the last word. And his eyes… the way he’d been staring at you, like he was offended and guilty and confused. You’d never seen him look like that before.

As you got ready for bed, you tried to shake the entire interaction off. He was drunk, he probably had no idea what you were saying. The entire conversation wouldn’t even matter in the morning.

Yet, for some reason, the image of his wide eyes and crooked bandana were all you thought about until you drifted off to sleep.

~~~

If you made it this far, thank you! What do we think? Any thoughts, theories, questions, comments? Let me know! Until next time, xoxoxoxoxox Tile

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry #styles #hs #enemies to lovers #love triangle #m&bc #miles &black coffee #m&bc2

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saint-gerard-of-arc · 3 years

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I'm a fucking wreck rn I haven't been sleeping for a week and I'm getting some rest from the bullshit factory that is my brain only now, but I just wanted to say that last year for me has been saved by tumblr and all the friends I made along the way.

Before you go below the cut, a special thanks goes to the Bee Movie Anon, who, rightfully, I can't tag so I have to say it here in the hope that they'll see it. Your hunger for chaos made me feel a lot of emotions, and I'd have never in any time or space thought that the Bee Movie would be such a prominent part of my life as it is now thanks (read it with a note of sarcasm) to you. Thank you for providing us an infinite amount of both entertainment and suffering, hell, some of the friends I made were because of YOU. I'm still not sure what was your drive to go and start this absurd crusade for the bee movie in the 80s metal fandom, but I don't know, I don't think bee so, I'm not gonna question your ways.

@arnold-layne being the first in line, you kept me sane somehow in the first phases of quarantine and dedicated a lot your time to talk with me and helped me enormously with creativity. If it wasn't for you, that Cyberpunk Comic That Is Kinda Inspired By The Crüe and Shout At The Devil would've been already down the drain. I would've given up probably, because I didn't know how to exted the concept and have an actual plot. A dream that I've been having for literal years wouldn't even have such cool characters with a rich storyline if it wasn't for you. I know I kinda left it after a month or so of intense brainstorming with you, I was literally drained at that point both physically and mentally, but oh boy I haven't forgot about the characters that WE created. How could I after all? Russ being the wreck of a tormented junkie protagonist that he is, Dylan the happy-go-lucky fuck up that seems to do nothing right but with the best intentions, Frankie the runaway sassy and wary androgynous teenager whose gender is a mystery even to themselves, and the epitome of the found family trope, ex gov agent part Japanese, part Russian, part cyborg Vik, whose story isn't still clear yet but we'll give him a very good one, eventually.

You gave me the curiosity to read fanfiction again after literally NINE YEARS of being distant from that part of the fandom and honestly I don't regret it one bit. In fact, I discovered literally my favorite writer in fanfiction. That is you, Arnold. I don't care how frequently you write, I don't care if sometimes you can't do your best. I'll always be there waiting for the next chapter and I'll always think that your art is sublime. I'll have to admit, I don't read your works as often as I should. But it's because I love them so much that I want to always save for later. It's like a drug, or a delicious cake that you want it to last as long as possible so you can enjoy it for much longer (I should be reading your fic more often either way tho like, at least so I can make more art for it. I'll make sure to change that this year and give you the recognition you deserve 🖤).

Everytime I make art, everytime I make a post, I always wait for your name to pop in my notifs. And fuck if I'm happy when I see it, and I rush to read your tags and it always makes my day. Like seriously, you mean so much to me and I admire how you can still be any amount of sane with all you're going through. You're strong as hell, keep going. 🖤

@i-dont-like-rice dude, how can I explain it. You're my best bud here. You're my chaotic sibling from another mother. The other braindead I share the single braincell I have with. The Nikki to my Tommy. Or the Tommy to my Nikki, I'm still not sure which of us is which (I guess I'm Nikki and you're Tommy? lmao it's ironic how even them are an italian and a balkanian) but you get the point. Every interaction we have, I laugh my ass off till my whole body hurts every time. I think I worried my mother and annoyed my sister at least a couple times for bursting out laughing for five minutes straight out of the blue, especially if it was late at night, and all the times, I swear it was because of you. You are as chaotic as you are kind, and it's always so disarming to see you worry or take care of others when you are definitely in a worse situation. Please, be more selfish, goddammit. For your own sake. And be more confident of your art. Draw shit and post it. Who cares if it's not perfect and you hate it and you don't want anybody to see it, it's tumblr, nobody will ever reblog it or give you the well deserved recognition anyway! So it's worth a try isn't it?

@no-stone-no-bone seriously, I'm so glad I met you. You're like the third element of chaos that holds me and Andi together. All three of us are literally unstoppable. You're extremely sweet too and I wish you the best, and DON'T HIDE SHIT IN THE TAGS GODDAMMIT 😂

@white-lightning-625 @viiinceneil I know we really haven't talked much, and we met through unfortunate times, but I'm so glad that something good came out of the chaos and drama, which is being able to talk to you and getting to know you both better. And the fics. My god, the fics. Frankie, I already told you this but MY GOD. I still find it incredible that I've read a fic about a band I didn't even know what they looked or sounded like and I was HOOKED from start to finish. And Katie, I should definitely read more of your works because I love what you've got going on. You're both very sweet and talented with a very distinct, beautiful way of writing and I can't wait to sink my teeth into the pulp of your work, because I know that by now I only scratched the surface.

@awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands Bruh, conoscere una fan su tumblr the parla la MIA STESSA LINGUA (e che ha pure il mio stesso vero nome lmao cosa sta succedendo)??? Che concetto innovativo!!! Le nostre conversazioni sono sempre disgiunte, ma non importa, adoro ogni nostra interazione. Sei seriamente una delle persone più dolci e gentili che abbia mai conosciuto. La tua creatività stimola sempre la mia. Le tue moodboard sono sempre 👌👌👌 e ogni volta trovo sempre qualcosa che sì, ci avevo pensato, ma mai nel modo in cui lo poni tu, e di solito sono una persona che resta vicina alle proprie idee, ma tu riesci a farmi alterare prospettiva, e trovo questo meccanismo mentale molto affascinante. Ti ricordi lo swapped instruments AU, con Tommy come cantante, no? Giuro che è un concetto a cui penso ancora dopo mesi. Spero di avere la capacità mentale per tradurre quell'idea in arte il prima possibile, perché cazzo, lo adoro troppo

@tattooed-lies thank you for providing the fandom the best gifs in the fucking platform and thank you for giving us the vinikki content that everyone, even if they're not aware, deserves and needs. Thank you for being the only Vince stan that I know. Thank you for being the sweetest person alive 💖

@nbtommylee honestly, I wish I was cool like you. Your sense of humor is impeccable, much like your critical thinking. I have never read something from you that wasn't a valid point. You don't talk shit and that's extremely sexy of you, y'know? And having a "gender dysphoria buddy" to be jealous of our Rockstar Gender Of Choice with is always fun to have, so that's definitely a plus. Can't wait to see (and read!) more of your art, I just love your style so much and you deserve to be Known

@metalmelkor @emometalhead @polka-dot-duff I'm always so happy to see you in my notifs and y'all are oh so very sweet and cool, we haven't talked much but I love every interaction we have, sorry for having the social skills of a stale piece of white bread 🖤

A special thanks goes to @awesomgrlgr8job bc you're literally one of my very first mutuals since I made the decision to make this dumpster fire of a blog and holy shit it's crazy to think about that. I don't even know if we ever interacted that much but it's always such a joy to see you around, ily and I hope you're doing well and thanks for putting up with my clownery for so long 💖

Like seriously, thank you all. I don't even know where I would be without you. Here's to another year of chaos, but only of the good kind 💖

#witchy.txt #I didn't think I would've rambled so much ahshdhjfjf I'm so sorry you have to go through all that #there are a lot of people I could've mentioned but we never really talked so I wouldn't have much to say #but believe me when I tell you that I love seeing you on my dash and in my notifs #I really mean that #and I hope y'all are doing well bc ily 💖

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starbuckie · 4 years

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𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2,393(with song lyrics), 2,300(without song lyrics)

warnings: LaNgUaGe, a little baby bit of angst, fluff, and soft!bucky

summary: y/n tried to move in after the events of infinity war.

a/n: i bring you my first bucky oneshot! dear evan hansen is one of my favorite musicals in the entire world, and “if i could tell her” is the sweetest song. i thought it would fit well with this plot i came up with and i really enjoyed writing this, so if y’all wanna read more musical inspired fics just let me know (even though i’ll probably still do it anyway). anywaaaaays, enjoy as always, and i hope you guys have a great day <3

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

He thought you were awesome

He thought I was awesome? My brother?

Definitely!

You sat in the compound with Nat in silence. Grieving over Chinese food together had become a norm over the past five years. Ever since the snap, losing your teammates and half of the universe had taken a toll on your friendship. You two worked in tandem together still, but there was always that tension in the air, the elephant in the room. Neither of you addressed the “blip” unless you were on a call with the remaining heroes. Five years later, and you two still have trouble speaking about it.

Quiet footsteps approached letting you know that Steve had arrived. You looked up, and there was your blue-eyed friend, leaning against the doorway, lips turned up in a small smile.

“Chinese food again?” He walked over and sat next to Natasha to grab a plate. “Everytime I come over here you two are sitting at the table eating Chinese takeout without speaking to each other. Natasha, get your feet off the table.”

Both of you smiled at this. “Okay, dad.” She snarkily responded. Those were the first words she had said all day. Of course Steve could get her to talk. Whenever he came to visit, he was always the one to break the quiet. To get you to smile. Three of you sat and chatted a bit about your days, until there was nothing left to say. Silence heavy in the air, Natasha set her plate down on the table. “I’m going to my room to work on some stuff. I’ll be gone for a bit.” She put her hand on your shoulder and left.

“We’re both aware that that’s code for her going to track Barton down, right?” You sighed heavily and nodded. He knew that she was spending any free time she had trying to find her best friend, but whenever she did find him, she would look at what he’d done and decided to leave it. Clint was grieving too. Natasha had been very reserved, and though the two of you were still close, the distance between her and everyone else seemed farther than ever.

You respected Natasha’s privacy and solitude, but sometimes you really need to talk to her. Much like Natasha, the Avengers were the only family you had, and you had lost them. You had survived and they hadn’t. Feelings were always bubbling in the pit of your stomach, but you had no way to express them. Exhaustion had kept you from your tears, but now that Steve was here, you broke down.

“She needs to grieve.” You took a long breath. “And so do I, frankly. Because everyone’s gone now Steve. There’s nothing left to fucking do. We have no leads about where they may have gone, or what the hell happened! Nothing is in our control anymore. There’s nothing left for us.” After your small outburst, the two of you sat in silence, hot tears trailing down your face.

“He loved you too, you know.” You looked up, red rimmed eyes, staring at him imploringly. “Bucky.”

Bucky. The one person that you had felt strongly towards. God, you wished you had just told him when you had the chance. But you let him walk off into battle before you could say anything.

You remembered the first time you saw the blue-eyed man. Clint had rushed you and Wanda out of the compound, exclaiming that Steve needed your help. Your friend had literally just thrown her boyfriend(?) through the ground, and everything about it seemed very illegal. Tony had told the two of you to stay inside the compound, but if Cap needed you, you went. After a fun journey to San Francisco to pick up Scott, the four of you found yourselves in a white van, traveling to an airport in Germany.

The first time you laid eyes on him, you could have sworn you were in heaven. Steve’s description of him did Bucky no justice. Long brown hair that fell right above his chin, and pink pouty lips. He had an angled jaw, that at the time you swore could get you pregnant it was so hot, and stubble that covered most of it. He had broad shoulders and you had to stop yourself from ogling his thighs. But what really caught your attention were his eyes. Bright and vibrant, yet tired and dull at the same time. In that moment, you had fallen in love.

However, your time with him wasn’t very long, as you soon after had to go and fight your old team. Once Steve and Bucky had gotten into the quinjet, you thought that was the last time you would see the pretty, blue-eyed boy. Months later though, after Steve came back to free you, Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott, he offered to take you to Wakanda. He knew you were tired, not looking to fight anymore, and T’Challa had offered asylum. Eagerly you had agreed, and flew to Wakanda, where you truly fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes.

Though Bucky was brought out of his cryostasis chamber three months after you had gotten there, the two of you had bonded fairly quickly. It did take him a while to open up to you, considering you had only a brief interaction, but after that, the two of you were inseparable. You would spend mornings watching the beautiful sunrise outside his hut and playing with the goats, afternoons working in the fields, and nights wrapped around each other with blankets, talking about nothing and everything all at once. Over the months, you found yourself falling farther and farther in love with Bucky, but you didn’t know what the two of you were. He always called you “doll”, “honey”, and “sweetheart”, and gave you forehead kisses. He came to you at night when he had nightmares and let you hold him until he fell asleep. But was that love? Did he feel anything for you? You hoped he did. But you let him get away, and now there was nothing left to say.

How?

Well, he said

There's nothing like your smile

Sort of subtle and perfect and real

He said

You never knew how wonderful

That smile could make someone feel

Snapping out of your reverie, you focused back on Steve. “H-he loved me?” Steve chuckled softly and leaned over the table slightly, taking your hand in his.

“More than anything.” Nodding at him to keep going, he continued. “He told me right before we went to fight. Horrible timing, but that’s how it always is, huh. So goddamn cliche.”

Steve thought back to the conversation he had had with his oldest friend, and recounted it for you.

“What’s going on with you and Y/N, pal?” Steve smiled brightly at his best friend, even though they weren’t in the best circumstances for a catch-up, he was dying to know what was going on between two of his closest friends. Bucky bashfully grinned and dipped his head down in hopes that his best friend wouldn’t see his blush, but to no avail. “Aw, you’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”

“Steve, I’m not sweet on her.” Steve’s smile fell, but Bucky’s only grew. “I think I love her. No, I know I love her.” He smiled fondly into the distance, watching where you were exchanging greetings with Sam and Natasha near Shuri’s lab tables. You were laughing, head thrown back and teeth sparkling in the light. You had a tactical suit on, hair tied up in a sleek ponytail, a rifle in hand, and Bucky thought you never had looked prettier.

Steve had never seen Bucky like this. Calm, peaceful, in love. Granted, they hadn’t exactly been spending lots of time together in the past seventy years, but it made him happy to know that Bucky was happy. “In love? What about her?”

Bucky chuckled and looked back to his friend. “Where do you want me to start?” Bucky sighed before beginning his speech. “She is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. And from what I can remember, I knew a lot of girls back then. I know that waking up and getting to be around her everyday is a blessing, and makes me forget everything. She’s all sunshine and pure happiness, Steve.”

“What else, Buck?”

“She has the sweetest laugh in the world, and God, her smile is enough to make my entire day. It’s so real, just perfect. I only want to see that for the rest of my life. And she’s always there for me. Y/N is the most open-hearted person I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. She’s strong, hot-headed, kind, beautiful, funny, patient, and just so goddamn beautiful, inside and out. I would spend every single day with her by my side if that were possible.” Bucky then sighed, and his heart ached. Because though she was this wonderful human, how could she want him? His old, broken, damaged, quiet self? She deserved much better.

Steve grinned, completely missing Bucky’s face filled with self-doubt. “I think you’ve got it bad, Bucky. You should tell her.” The brunette simply shook his head.

“Maybe someday.”

But he kept it all inside his head

What he saw he left unsaid

And though he wanted to

He couldn't talk to you

He couldn't find the way

But he would always say

Your eyes started spilling more tears with Steve’s words. Bucky loved you. Bucky loved you. That information should have made you happy, but it just filled you with more grief. Silent sobs were felt through your whole body. “Oh sweet girl, what’s wrong?” Steve immediately got up to hug you, pulling your form into his body.

“We could've had a chance.” You managed to croak out. “We loved each other. We could’ve been happy together. It's strange really. We missed our opportunity.” Steve looked down at you and prodded you to continue your thoughts. “Stevie, I had so many reasons listed out in my head as to why I shouldn’t have told him. Maybe he thought of me as a sister, or wasn’t ready for a relationship. But to find out that we could’ve been happy together… it hurts worse than any of those options. We never told each other, and kept it inside of our heads. And now he’s gone.”

Steve continued to hold you throughout your breakdown. Your tears soaked his tee shirt, but he didn’t mind. And it was on that day in March of 2023, that the two of you mourned James Buchanan Barnes.

But we're a million worlds apart

And I don't know how I would even start

If I could tell her

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

If someone had told Bucky that he would pass out in one battle and wake up to yet another one five years in the future, he probably would’ve hurt them. However, the only people he thought of hurting right now were Thanos and his stupid goonies. Blasting another creature to the ground, he grunted and pulled a hair tie off his wrist. Thank God Shuri forced him to carry them with him all the time, because his hair really was unmanageable. Tying half of his hair up in a small bun at the back of his head, he wondered what the hell was happening. No one had told him anything before they came onto this destructive wasteland. T’Challa just gave him a hand to help him off the ground, and told him that Steve needed his help.

Suddenly, a flash of navy blue sailed past him and it was like he was seeing you for the first time again. He stared at you, dumbfounded. Though he had only been gone for a few hours(in his point of view), you looked older, more mature, and a lot more tired. Your hair had been cut shorter, but you were still as beautiful as ever.

You brushed off some dust and looked around. The rest of your team had come back. Though you were in the middle of a battle, you couldn’t stop smiling. Tears were blocking your vision, but your emotions were on a rollercoaster right now, and you wanted all of it to be over. You saw Doctor Strange lifting up a storm along with many other wizards. Actually, were they wizards? You had no clue. Tony and Pepper fought side by side in the skies, and even Peter was holding the gauntlet as he rode on a pegasus’ back. But what caught most of your attention was the tall brunette, blue-eyed man staring right back at you.

“Bucky?” Tears found a path down your face, but you really didn’t care anymore. You ran towards him, aliens be damned. They could wait. After all, you had to wait five years.

Bucky saw you run towards him and he sprinted towards you with the same fervor, hot, salty tears falling from his eyes. His heart was filled with relief as he took you in.

And how do you say

I love you

Finally meeting each other in the middle, you grasped his face and brought your lips to his. He immediately gripped your waist and tugged you as close as he could to your body. This kiss was needy and heated, filled with hurry and passion. His tongue ran along your bottom lip, and you opened yourself up to him. When you finally pulled back for air, your heart was beating, fast.

“I love you, Bucky. So goddamn much.” Tears continued to flow down your cheeks, but you laughed, because after all these years, he was real, alive, and right in front of you.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than I can say.” He took his vibranium hand to wipe tears off your cheek, and pulled you back in for another kiss. This one, unlike the first one, was full of pure emotion, and the two of you put much more love into it. You smiled against his lips, and soon enough he did too. Because right now, in the middle of a battle, you found each other, and for now that was enough. No thoughts about the future, or the past. Just raw, pure, real love.

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booksimp · 3 years

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Begin Again - Azriel - Part One

Synopsis: Azriel and Alora broke up six months ago. Alora still isn’t sure exactly why Azriel shut her out, and she can’t stand to be in the same room as him. With Nesta’s help, Alora has been avoiding Azriel at group events since the breakup. Inspired by “Into You” by Julia Michaels.

“So he’s gonna be there then?” I whisper into the phone, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

“Actually, the asshole’s already here. I’m sorry, Alora. He was supposed to be away for work until next week.”

Nesta’s voice is hushed, her irritation obvious. I sigh, my breath creating a cloud of ice in the air around me. I stop walking and turn on my heel, heading back the way I’d come. I had been walking to Feyre and Rhysand’s baby shower, gift for their little one in hand. But Azriel, my ex-fiancee, has decided to make an unscheduled appearance. I scowl to myself and shove the wrapped parcel into my coat pocket. Rhys and Feyre are some of my dearest friends, and I was really looking forward to being there today.

“It’s okay, Nesta. I’ll just give Feyre her gift later. Can you tell them I’m sorry, something just… came up?”.”

I sigh again, hating that I have to miss their big day and even worse, lie to them about it. Though I’m sure they see right through it, since Feyre knows every dirty detail about the breakup.

Nesta has been acting as my personal Azriel detector since he and I broke up six months ago. I’m beyond grateful for her help, but I know the responsibility of it is starting to wear on her patience.

“You know you’ll have to be in the same room as him eventually, right? You guys have a lot of friends in common.” Nesta says frankly. I flinch slightly, but I know better than to take her words personally. Nesta is nothing if not painfully forthright.

“I know. I just can’t be in the same room as him and Mor right now. I can’t see how he looks at her.” I pause to shudder, flashing back to the night I’d found them dancing at Rita’s, a mere six weeks after Azriel and I ended. She was all over him, and he was grinning like a fool. I hadn’t seen him smile like that for quite awhile. I suppose I should be happy he found his smile again, even if it wasn’t with me.

“I’ve been thinking of moving back home to San Diego.” I blurt, as if getting it out faster will make it easier. Nesta is one of my best friends, but she still scares the shit out of me. I know she’ll like the idea of me leaving about as much as a bull loves the color red.

For a few beats, Nesta is entirely silent. I chew my lip nervously, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I wait for my turn to use the crosswalk. I’ve lived in Chicago for three years now, since I moved here to pursue a career in publishing. I met Nesta and her sisters almost immediately. Soon after, they introduced me to their friends, and we’ve all been inseparable ever since.

“You’re not actually fucking serious, are you? You can’t just run away because that idiot broke your heart. This is your home.” Nesta growls, and I hear a door shut from her end of the line. Oh shit, she really has something to say if she felt the need to find a more private venue. Nesta isn’t one to hide her outbursts. Seeing as I’m not in the mood to get my ass chewed and spit back out, I retreat. Strategically, of course.

“I’ll let you get back to the baby shower. I have to go anyway.”

Nesta snorts, and I can hear the scowl in her voice.

“Okay, coward. We’ll talk tomorrow, I’m coming over.”

I roll my eyes and pocket my cell phone. If there was ever a way to describe Nesta, its ‘Tough love’. I walk the three blocks to my apartment in a huff, trudging through ankle deep snow all the while. I take my frustration out on fluffy piles of snow, kicking at them as I walk. By the time I’m locking the door behind me, my socks are soaked and I’m shivering despite my massive winter coat. You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl.

I take a burning hot shower, dress in my warmest pajamas, and I’m curled up in bed in no time. I’m halfway through White Christmas when a text pings on my phone.

Azriel: Nesta says you’re moving back to SD. Can we talk?

Instantly, I’m cold as death beneath my plethora of fluffy Christmas blankets. That all too familiar pang in my chest returns in full force, so insistent that I can’t seem to catch my breath. Without meaning to, I’d read the text in his voice. I haven’t heard his voice in months, but it haunts me, a ghost I can never exorcise. I hear it in my dreams, in crowded rooms, in the harmony of some of our favorite songs. A second text pops up.

Azriel: Please, Alora. I know that you’re seeing this. You can’t keep shutting me out. I’m sorry, okay?

I scoff indignantly, my vision going red. I can’t shut him out? Him? I spent months trying to get him to talk to me, to tell me what was so obviously eating him up inside. Instead of letting me in, he pushed me as far from him as possible. And then, there was The Mor Incident. I knew he’d had a massive crush on her in college, but I thought it was long over. How naive of me.

For weeks after I moved out, Azriel tried to contact me everyday. He would text and call constantly, and ask our friends to get me to talk to him. At first, I was too hurt to respond.I needed my own time and space for a while. And when I saw him with Mor, I decided he’d never get a response from me. I knew what I needed to know. If anyone deserves to be iced out, it's the man who proposed to me and changed his mind about it like he was changing his order at starbucks.

Azriel: Talk to me. What can I do?

I grind my teeth and explode up out of my bed, too angry to even sit still. I pace my bedroom, my stomps probably heard by my downstairs neighbor. What can he do? For shit’s sake, if only he’d asked himself that question six months ago. A deluge of memories flood through my mind, dragging me beneath their frigid depths. Our one sided battles, where I begged and pleaded for him to let me in, and he refused. The nights he slept on the couch, or at Cassian’s. But the one that hurts the most, is the last one.

“Jesus christ, just talk to me! Please, Az. I just need you to talk to me.” I plead, tears running freely down my cheeks.

Azriel keeps his back to me as he hurls clothes into a duffel bag, the muscles of his shoulders tensed to the point of breaking.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Lora.”

His voice, that deep, melodic voice I love so much, is empty. Devoid of all feeling, all the love that used to shine through in every word he spoke to me. My chest feels like he’s cracked it open, and scraped me empty. Stolen all the warmth, all the joy. The fireplace crackles nearby, and yet I don’t feel a lick of its flame.

“There’s everything to talk about! I don’t even know why you’re leaving. You’ve been in pain, but you won’t tell me why. You won’t let me help.” I’m yelling now, but he still hasn’t so much as looked my way. A dark, heartrending thought creeps in.

“ Are-are you leaving me?” The question comes out in a broken whisper. I can hear the heartbreak in my own voice, and he curses under his breath.

Finally, he turns to face me. His face is nearly as empty as his voice, save for the deep purple circles beneath his eyes. Those gorgeous, hazel eyes that are filled with a nameless agony he refuses to share with me. His hair is more tousled than usual, his shirt wrinkled, shoulders slumped. He looks like a man defeated.

“Fuck baby, of course I’m not leaving you. I just- I need some time. To clear my head.”

His eyes finally meet mine for a second, and he reaches for me. His fingers barely brush my cheek before he yanks them away, fisting them at his side.

I’m close on his heels as he storms into the living room, towards the front door.

“But you are, Az. You’re choosing to leave instead of talk to me. We’re supposed to be partners, remember? We're getting married, Az .” I’m desperate now, my voice climbing an octave for every step he takes away from me.

He stops with his hand on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder at me. But he refuses to meet my gaze again. Like he can’t bear to look at me.

“Maybe we shouldn’t.”

His words hit me like a punch to the stomach, and all the breath leaves my body. A trembling begins in my hands. I feel untethered, like a boat abandoned at sea.

“You don’t want to get married?” I rasp, hugging my arms around myself. Cold is seeping into my bones, my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.

Azriel struggles for words a few moments longer, a battle raging in the eyes I love most. He turns to me again and I see the tears building in them. I search his face for an explanation, silently begging him. Stay. Please stay. His voice is thick with emotion when he speaks.

“We can talk about it later. I’m gonna stay with Cassian tonight.”

He turns towards the door once more, but I can’t stop myself from asking the question that's been buzzing in my head for weeks.

“Is that really where you’re going, Az?”My voice is clipped, cold to my own ears. He pauses, confusion clear on his face.

“Are you sure there’s not someone else you’re seeing when you ‘go to Cassian’s’ ?” I demand, placing a hand on the dining table to my right.

If he gives me the answer I’m expecting, I may well need the support. Azriel’s face goes blank with shock, and he leans back against the door, not able to stand on his own.

“Jesus, Lor. I’m not fucking cheating on you.” He spits out, as he hoists the duffel bag over his shoulder.

My relief is short lived.

He wrenches the front door open, and the ancient thing groans like it might very well come off its hinges. In that moment, something snaps inside me.

“If you walk out that door, you might as well be leaving me. If you walk out right now, we’re done.”

I expect the words to finally wake him up, to reach where he’s hidden himself away, and bring my Azriel back. The Azriel that planned a picnic for our first date, or ran through the ER with me in his arms when my appendix burst. The Azriel that asked me to marry him, then made love to me under the stars.

But wherever that Az is, he’s far, far away.

“I need to go. I’m sorry, Lor”

After a moment of hesitation, he walks out the door. The sound of it closing like that of the lid of a coffin, sealing me inside. Alone.

I stay up all night, waiting for him to come back. Praying that he comes back. I lay alone in our bed, the sheets suddenly frigid and too abundant. All the extra leg room is a slap in the face. I watch the flames in the fireplace dying as the sun rises. Until all that’s left of that once roaring fire are embers. I watch until those too burn out, and go cold.

I blink, the sound of another message breaking me free of the torturous cycle of memories. I wipe traitorous tears from my cheeks and retrieve my phone from where I discarded it.

Nesta: Hey, I might’ve let slip to Elain that you were thinking of moving home. And of course she told Lucien, who told Azriel. Apparently, he wasn’t pleased. I’m sorry, Lor.

I sigh, type a quick reply and check the time. 9:58pm. Jesus, today has felt like a lifetime. I look around my apartment, at how dark and empty it's become as night has fallen. When I moved in, a week after Az left, I couldn't bring myself to decorate it. Because that would mean that this is home now, and not the house Azriel and I bought together. It would mean that the beautiful victorian in the suburbs was as gone as the life we could’ve lived in it. So, six months later, boxes sit in the corners. The walls are bare, the fireplace unlit even on the coldest of nights. And every night since has been glacial. Suddenly, the loneliness is nearly suffocating. I can’t spend another night just staring at the solitary wasteland my life has become.

All of my friends are together already, and he’s there. So going out alone it is.

I blast music as I get ready in a rush, effectively drowning out every unwanted thought. I go a little heavy on the eyeliner, hopefully concealing any evidence of tears. I slip into my newest dress, gifted to me by Feyre on my birthday. It's the perfect balance of elegant and sexy. A lovely slip of wine colored silk, skin tight and just the right amount of revealing. Looking at myself in the mirror, I smile for the first time all night.

Half an hour later, I’m shooting whiskey at Rita’s, scouring the dance floor for my next conquest. Probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but I digress. The vast room is dark, the only lights being flashing rainbows of color timed to the music. Thick smoke snakes around the dancers, thanks to a mixture of incense and hidden fog machines. The scent of patchouli, sweat, and alcohol tickles my nose. Peculiarly enough, it's not a bad combination.

As I’m scanning the crowd, nursing a glass of scotch, a pair of unusual green eyes catch my gaze. He’s easily six feet tall, dark haired, and moderately handsome. He’s sitting with his friends, but no longer paying attention to the conversation. Instead, his eyes are shamelessly undressing me, lingering on my exposed legs. When he eventually meets my eyes again, I give him a slow, inviting smile. It only takes him a few moments to cross the bar, and sit on the stool beside mine.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone on a saturday night?”

I barely restrain an eye roll at his creative opening line. Instead, I lean closer and give him an obvious lookover. He’s definitely fit, his tight black shirt revealing a broad chest and toned abdomen. But I can’t help but note the lack of tattoos and scars. Once I’m done comparing him to Azriel, I meet his eager eyes again.

“I’m not exactly alone now, am I?”

The man smirks, and places a hand on my thigh.

The next morning, I hurry my house guest out the door as soon as he wakes up. He tries to get my number, but I carefully maneuver my way out of that one. The sex was good, but not that good.

I shower and dress, then scarf down a quick breakfast. As I’m drinking my second cup of coffee, I finally look around at my sad excuse of an apartment. It's not that the actual space isn’t nice. The hardwood floors are new and shiny looking, the walls a neutral gray, the countertops a gleaming marble. But like last night, it's overwhelmingly empty.

I take a deep breath and decide today is the day. Hesitantly, I walk to the closest box and start cutting away the packing tape. Each stroke of the scissors is like another nail in the coffin of my old life. I ignore the tears that burn in my eyes and keep cutting. With my heart racing and eyes closed, I reach my hand in and grab the first object I touch. I take three deep breaths in an effort to center myself, and look down at what’s in my hand.

“Oh for fucks sake.” I exclaim, my heart squeezing painfully.

The cellophane wrapped bundle of blank wedding invitations glimmers in the morning sunlight, like the fangs of a poisonous snake. Beautiful, but deadly. With a cry, I hurl the invitations across the room. They land with a satisfying thunk against the far wall. I plop down next to the box, letting my head fall into my hands. The wound in my chest is raw and throbbing, an ever present pain.

Of course it had to be the wedding invitations. It couldn’t be something easy, like a throw pillow or a bunch of CD’s.

I lean my head back against the wall, and let my eyes fall closed. Would this ever stop hurting? Would there come a day where I wake up, and I don’t reach for him?

I’m staring at the box like the dangerous, wicked thing it is when a knock at the door rescues me from my own pity party.

“Thank fuck.” I mutter to myself, eagerly jumping to my feet and practically running to the door. Nesta had said she’d be coming over today, and I thank my lucky stars at her timing. At least this way, I won’t have to unpack my old life alone. Nesta will help me. I’ll cry, she’ll make me laugh, and we’ll get drunk. Very drunk, knowing us. Maybe we’ll call Elain and Feyre. They’ll spend the night, and tomorrow will be easier. I’ll start looking at apartments in San Diego. As I’m opening the door, I take my first easy breath in days.

“Thank god, Nes I need-”

But it isn’t Nesta on the other side of the door. It's Azriel.

“Hey, Lora. Can I come in?”

#acotar #azriel #sarah j. maas #the night court #rhysand #fanfic #azrielfanfic #smut #acotarsmut #acotar fic

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laurawritesandgames · 4 years

Text

For Beetlelands Week 2020

Title: Write Like the Wind

Fandom: Beetlejuice (Musical)

Rating: T

Ships: Beetlejuice/Adam/Barbara

Prompt: One Bed

Summary: Adam wants to do something for nerd-kind now that he has ghostly powers. Beetlejuice and Barbara help out. Spoilers for The Winds of Winter.

When Beetlejuice returned from the Netherworld, he came back powerful. Barbara wasn’t exactly sure how—the story changed with each telling.

But he returned with enough power to teleport her and Adam pretty much anywhere he could visualize. Thanks to Google Street View, he could visualize quite a few things.

Being able to teleport was very helpful when Adam had a specific request.

The ghosts and demon appeared inside a very fancy home, with sunlight streaming in the windows. Beetlejuice was hovering between Barbara and Adam, holding their hands. Barbara suspected this wasn’t strictly part of his teleportation ability, but it was a nice excuse to hold hands.

The demon shimmered in and out briefly, wincing.

“Everything okay?” Barbara asked.

“Teleporting all the way to New Mexico is a lot. We’re definitely gonna need to stop by a bolt-hole on the way back.” According to Beetlejuice, undead travellers could recharge in places with a lot of “death energy”—graveyards, usually, or famous battlefields.

The clicking of a keyboard drew the three of them to an office where a large, grey-haired man sat in front of his computer.

Adam sucked in a breath. “There he is,” he whispered.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. “Sexy, you’re dead. He can’t hear you.” Sure enough, the writer hadn’t turned around at the sound of Beetlejuice’s voice.

“Oh.” Adam looked a bit disappointed. “I guess I just assumed that he’d be attuned to the supernatural. He’s a master of the sci-fi/fantasy genre! Anyway, let’s go see what he’s working on.” He crossed his fingers as the three of them huddled around the author’s computer screen.

Barbara felt a bit awkward reading over someone’s shoulder, and looked politely aside. She’d never gotten into sci-fi and fantasy the way Adam had; he’d know better than she would what they were looking at.

Her husband’s face fell. “Wild Cards?!” he spluttered. “Wild freaking Cards! I know he only edits the anthologies, but they’re a distraction!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Just write the books, George!”

“I can take over his computer and threaten to start deleting files until the books are done!” Beetlejuice crowed. “Make it seem like he’s got a computer virus!”

Adam’s gaze flicked between Beetlejuice and the author’s computer a few times.

Barbara cleared her throat.

“No, of course not,” Adam said quickly. “Thanks for saving me from myself, sweetie.” He kissed her cheek. He focused on the author, holding out his hand. “Sorry about this.”

The author stopped what he was doing. He saved then exited out of the document. Adam searched through the computer files for a moment then made the author open up a document titled The Winds of Winter.

The document opened after a few moments. ‘Want to pick up where you left off?’ Word asked helpfully, and the author clicked on it. There were a bunch of unfamiliar words and names on the page that showed up.

No sense in me reading this. Barbara decided to look around a famous author’s office. She’d expected him to have a bunch of memorabilia from the TV show, but the furnishings were really quite ordinary. Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of bookshelves filled with books.

There was silence from the author, whose fingers were poised over the keyboard.

“C’mon, Sexy, get writing.” Beetlejuice hovered in mid-air, bobbing slightly. He was also eyeing the author’s office, but he was probably wondering where to put spiders.

“Er, there’s no way I can give him partial control, can I? I can’t write the next book!”

“Not how it works, newb.”

Adam sighed. “Okay. Um, my thoughts definitely won’t be his, but maybe I can make a start. Barbara, you took that course in creative writing in college, right? Do you have any tips?” Adam was an amazing man with many good qualities, but pure creativity wasn’t one of them.

“I can try, but I wasn’t writing award-winning fantasy novels back in college.” Barbara dredged up some memories of the TV show. “Maybe you should make the White Walkers show up! You know, inject some tension.”

“It’s an Arianne Martel chapter.”

Barbara had no idea what that meant. “Um…have a dragon show up?”

“I appreciate the thought, but Arianne is going to treat with Young Griff, and the entire point is that he’s a supposed Targaryen that doesn’t have dragons.”

Beetlejuice spoke up. “Have some brothers and sisters bone. Shove a little smut in there.”

“Not only does that not work in this chapter, I’m also not comfortable with that.”

“Or skip to a Dany chapter,” Barbara suggested. “I just want good things for her. How’s she doing, anyway?”

“Not well.” Adam made the author pull up a Dany chapter. He watched the blinking cursor for a few moments, frowning in thought.

Beetlejuice added, “You could write a bunch of dialogue in what’s basically a white room and see where it takes you. That’s an A-plus writing strategy, right there.”

Adam sighed, rubbing his forehead. After a few more moments of intense concentration, he looked away from the computer screen.

The author shook his head, blinking a few times.

“Maybe just having the document open will prompt him to write?” Adam asked hopefully.

The author closed out of The Winds of Winter and went back to a document called Wild Cards_edits.

Adam’s shoulders slumped.

Beetlejuice hovered closer. “Just casually mentioning that we can take out the phone, snap some pics of these new chapters, and threaten to leak them if he doesn’t write the books.”

“Photos of chapters over his shoulder?” Barbara said. “That’s pretty terrifying.”

The demon chuckled darkly.

“Ah. And that was exactly the point.” Beetlejuice might have changed a lot since his return from the Netherworld, but his love of fear and chaos that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“No, Beetlejuice,” Adam said. “It wouldn’t work anyway. What kind of writing would you get if someone was bullied into it?”

“Bleh, you’re no fun. Where to next, Sexy? That Rothfuss guy?”

“Let’s just go home.”

“Have to make a quick stop first, but okay.” Beetlejuice grabbed their hands and teleported them away.

They landed in someplace pitch black. Beetlejuice lit a match of neon green fire, revealing a small underground crypt barely large enough for the three of them. Every surface was draped with dust and cobwebs. A half-open coffin showed patchy, stained velvet. If there was a door to this crypt, the match didn’t reveal it.

Beetlejuice tilted his head. “Ahhh, that’s better.” He frowned slightly, as if listening to something. Barbara couldn’t hear anything. “Yep, think it’s still sandworm free! Lemme just recharge for a while.”

“You’ve been here before?” she asked.

“Nah, but I saw drawings from some ghost hunters back in the Netherworld. Ghost hunters can go topside to bring ghosts back, and they need places to rest, too.”

“So, ghost hunters are ghosts who hunt other ghosts?”

“Yeah, and they’re the worst. The Bureau of the Dead won’t let anyone go topside unless they’re a boot-licker. But it was good to know a few of their tricks when I got banished up here.”

Barbara glanced at Adam, who normally would’ve loved Netherworld lore. It wasn’t every day that Beetlejuice opened up about a place that was, in his words, “total Meh-ville.” But Adam wasn’t even listening. The gloomy atmosphere of the crypt fit his gloomy expression perfectly.

“Hey,” Barbara said softly. When Adam turned her way, she squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to.”

“I guess art just has to happen at its own pace. You can’t force it. I just feel bad for all the other dead readers who’ll never get to read the end of the series. All they’ll have is the TV show’s ending.” He snorted in disgust.

“Maybe you planted a seed. Who knows? Inspiration is a funny thing.”

“And there’s always fanfic,” Beetlejuice added.

“It’s not the same,” Adam said with a sigh.

“Heh, speaking of fanfic….” Beetlejuice hopped into the coffin. “Oh noooo. There’s only one bed!”

Barbara and Adam stared at him. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Beetlejuice huffed. “Oh, come on. None of you ever read a romance fic? Hell, a romance novel?”

“No,” Adam said.

“Not really my thing,” Barbara added. She was a fan of biographies and autobiographies of famous people, personally. “And, also? Not a bed. It’s a coffin. And sleeping in a coffin is also not my thing.”

“Jesus, so picky.” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, and the coffin became their bed at home. “Get over here.” He hesitated then said, “Please.” Barbara and Adam had had conversations with him about asking instead of demanding; happily, it looked like those conversations were sticking.

Beetlejuice had just done them a huge favour, and a little cuddling might cheer Adam up. Barbara went to join Beetlejuice, shooting a questioning glance at Adam. He followed them, though he was still brooding.

She and Beetlejuice let Adam slide between them as the three sorted themselves out. (Sometimes, Beetlejuice would throw in extra limbs or a few clones just for the added challenge.) After some scooching and wriggling, Barbara’s cheek rested on Adam’s shoulder as she stroked his chest gently and held his left hand. Beetlejuice had one arm over the two of them and was, for some reason, nibbling on Adam’s hair, which sometimes became kissing the top of his head. After a while, you got used to a certain amount of weirdness.

Gradually, Adam began to relax. First, the tension left his shoulders. Then, he cracked his neck and his jaw untightened. (He’d needed to wear a mouthguard when he slept when he was alive. He was always grinding his teeth.)

“Maybe…” he murmured. “Maybe I could write the ending to the books. It’ll be fanfic, but it’ll be something, at least. I can work on that project while the Deetzes are asleep. I’ve never written fic before, but I could try. It’s not like I need to eat or sleep. And I’ve been looking for a new project ever since I finished the model.” His model of the town had a place of pride in the attic, which the Maitlands had cleaned out and repurposed into an arts and crafts room. They still kept up with their hobbies, but they had fewer now that they were busy rehabilitating Beetlejuice and parenting Lydia.

“I’m sure it’ll be great, hon.” Barbara kissed his cheek. “I’ll help however I can.”

“And I can tell you all about what fic tropes you can put in!” Beetlejuice said. “Or what fic tropes we can do ourselves.” He must’ve been thinking about some sexual ones, for he chortled and squeezed Adam’s butt. “Gotta keep the rating PG-13 for Beetlelands Week, but…you know which ones.” He winked at no one in particular, it seemed. Sometimes, he pretended he had an audience; Barbara and Adam just ignored it.

Beetlejuice moved to nuzzling Adam’s throat. After a few moments, he began patting Barbara’s hair.

Barbara giggled. “Aren’t you supposed to be recharging?”

“It’s called multitasking, baby.” Idly, he commented, “Shit, fluff is hard to end. How do you even end something that by its nature has low stakes and minimal conflict?”

What was he talking about? Barbara shrugged.

Adam thoughtfully said, “Maybe with a kiss?”

“Hah!” Barbara couldn’t help but grin when Beetlejuice laughed like that. This wasn’t an evil cackle or a dark chuckle, but an open, cheerful sound that she’d been hearing more and more since they’d started dating. “Perfect! You’re so ready to be a fic writer, Sexy!”

Beetlejuice kissed Adam on the lips, and the cuddling in a false bed in an underground crypt continued.

Not for the first time, Barbara reflected, My afterlife is so weird.

But it did have its perks.

#beetlelandsweek2020 #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice #beetlelands #adam maitland #barbara maitland #adam x barbara x beetlejuice

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