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lowkeychenle · 5 months

Text

Irrevocably (3) (M)

Description: Following the night of the party, all you want to do is be alone. Chenle, on the other hand, has other ideas, and is suddenly hellbent on proving to you he'll be better for you

Content Warnings: Angst (previous content warnings from other parts do apply, please check those out before you continue). Smut: explicit, rough, unprotected sex (let's make sure to use protection y'alllll), multiple rounds, why is chenle always pussy drunk i don't understand, use of pet names baby and pretty girl, temperature play (ice), oral (both), cockwarming (did y'all really think I could end a fic on a BAD NOTE when it's CHENLE WEEK?! no bye)

Word Count: 9,105

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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Taglist: @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan

You wish you could say things changed for you. That you miraculously felt better after you broke down in front of Chenle. Maybe you’d be in a magical world of bliss at this point if that were the case. He’d finally realize all of the bullshit he did and beg for your forgiveness, but a man like him is too prideful to admit his mistakes. You know that now.

He stayed with you until you were calm enough to think rationally, but as soon as your thinking ability came back, you hightailed away from him as fast as you could. Thankfully, Jisung hadn’t been drinking, so he offered to take you home.

He was probably dying to know—not only why Chenle stormed after you and Mark, only for Mark and Chenle’s girlfriend to both stomp off in anger, swearing they’d never speak to either of you again. Although, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. Everyone is suddenly painfully aware that you and Chenle have some sort of history that’s more than what you’d let on.

The first text from Chenle came that night. Apparently, he decided it was time to unblock you.

Chenle: I’m so sorry

All you can do is snort and drop your phone into your lap. You make sure to actually open the message so he sees you’ve read it without responding. He doesn’t deserve anymore of your time. Even if it is to apologize. You want to tear the world down when you see the two hearts next to his name, one in your favorite color, and one in his.

“You okay?” Jisung asks as he pulls up to your building. “I know we’re all friends with Chenle, but you’re important to us, too, okay? Don’t hold anything in if you’re hurting.”

Your throat is dry, and you’re sure your face is still red and puffy from all the crying you did. “Thanks, Ji. I really don’t feel like talking at all tonight. I’m sorry.”

“As long as you know I’m here if you need me.”

You nod once at him and thank him quietly before getting out of his car. Without a single look back, you head into your building. You’re not sure what to expect. Considering how Chenle’s been acting lately, his sad apology attempt is most likely all you’ll get. He’ll go back after his girlfriend, and you’ll end up blocked all over again before the end of the week.

Once you’re inside your house, you have the urge to curl into a ball on the couch with your favorite blanket and never leave the protection of the walls around you. With the door locked, nobody will ever be able to bother you.

Hours turn into days and days into weeks, and the most you’ve done is go to the grocery store once. Delivery has become your savior, but even that doesn’t sit right with you. To your surprise, Chenle continued to message you periodically.

Chenle: You have every right to be pissed at me. I know. All I want is to explain myself, okay?

Chenle: I fucked up so bad I know I did

Chenle: I need you in my life (Y/N)

You’re even more surprised when you don’t hear a single peep from Mark. Chenle was texting you at least once a day, and it seemed that as many times as he sent something to you, you were reaching out to Mark.

You love Chenle. There’s no denying it any longer, but you know better than to love someone who’s not emotionally available to you. Chenle already tore you down to the ground once.

Chenle: I’m not gonna give up until you talk to me. Even if it’s just five minutes

Chenle: I fucking miss you

Chenle: in a real way…i’m not missing anyone. I’m missing you. Please.

Chenle: I don’t even know what to say next, but I’m gonna keep texting you until you respond to me

On week three, he even went as far as to knock on your door. You hadn’t left or ordered any delivery, so you were confused as to why someone was there. Looking out the peephole, your breath faltered at the sight of Chenle. He had no right to show up. You hadn’t responded for a reason, and you’ll apparently have to move apartments to stay away from him.

“I know you’re there,” he says, voice carrying to you. “(Y/N), I really just want to talk to you. I don’t know how many times I can tell you I’m sorry before you believe me.”

You almost laugh and give away how close you are. It doesn’t matter how many times he says it, it’ll take much more than that for you to even consider talking to him. You watch him closely as his face scrunches up and he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not giving up. Ever. You’ll see. I need you and we both know it.”

The door must be thin, because when you let out a shuddering breath at his words, he perks up. It’s almost as if he’s looking right at you through the wood, like he knows exactly where you are.

“Just let me in,” he asks again. “I know what I did was wrong, and I don’t want to ask you to forgive me, but I do want to explain myself. If anything, it’ll give you some closure knowing this wasn’t your fault.”

Your heart rate escalates to the point you’re sure it’ll shatter upon impact with your ribcage. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you angrily brush it away. He doesn’t deserve your time, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to be in your safe space.

“Please. You won’t even have to say anything. Let me say my piece and then I’ll go, okay?”

This isn’t even the same Chenle you knew, you tell yourself. Nothing has changed. All he wants is leverage.

The tone of his voice makes it hard to believe that, but you steel your resolve. You have to ignore him.

After that, he slumps in defeat, sighs, and walks away. You let out a pent up breath, relieved he decided to go.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

When dinner time rolls around, you don’t have any groceries since you’ve been holed up for weeks now. The only logical response is to order pizza. Plus, after the emotional wreckage Chenle left you in, you’ve earned it.

It takes about forty-five minutes for the food to arrive, and you gladly throw the door open. You recoil in shock at the sight of Chenle holding the box.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You scoff.

“I gave the dude a $50 bill and he just gave it to me. I really just want to talk—”

“That’s not the problem, Chenle,” you cut him off, stomping off toward your kitchen. “You continue to disrespect boundaries and me, and it’s not okay. I’m having trouble figuring out why you can’t see that.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You stand on one side of the island, and he sets the box down on the opposite end, resting his palms against it.

“You deserve an explanation.” His gaze scans over you, guilt written all over his face.

“Another thing you don’t get. If I wanted or needed an explanation, I would’ve asked you. Actually, I did, and you not giving it to me was the answer. You’ve ruined everything for me. I can’t even talk to any of the guys without feeling like they’re pitying me.” You run your fingers through your hair. “You hurt me, and you’re doing it again by showing up when I said I didn’t want anything to do with you. You’re selfish. You only care about yourself and making up your image in my eyes so I don’t hate you.”

“Do you?” he whispers. “Hate me?”

“That doesn’t concern you anymore.”

“Either way, I know you should. I’m not here to make myself look better, okay? I don’t want you to excuse my behavior because it was beyond fucked up, but I want you to know that it wasn’t anything about you that made things work out this way.”

You pause, averting away from the pleading look on his face. “What could you possibly have going on to justify all of this bullshit?”

“It’s not a justification,” he clarifies. “I know it was wrong. All of it. I know I’m a shitty person for putting you through that.”

He takes your silence as approval to continue.

“Honestly, I miss you so fucking much. Before all of this, you were my best friend, and I know I was yours. I never meant for it to get this messed up, you know? I…Towards the end of our, um, situation, I realized I was in love with you. Real love. Love that made me want you in ways I couldn’t, because I already knew there was no way you’d feel the same.

“And so I gave up. I had to press the fucking panic button and get as far away from you as possible. Jia showed up at the right time, and I threw everything I had into her instead. I didn’t tell her about what we’d done, because I also thought that meant I’d have to admit to her what came along with it.

“Things got…serious, I guess. She was around my family and they all loved her. You know how important they are to me, so I felt so much pressure to maintain this relationship because they’d never been so excited about me being with a girl before. So yeah, when we broke up, my first instinct was to come to you. I love you, and it was the first time I felt really happy in months.

“But when she called me, (Y/N), I felt like I didn’t have a choice. You wouldn’t ever want me in the way I needed, my family loved her, and everything fell apart. It wasn’t until she made me block you that I really saw what it was like without you in my life. When I first started dating her, we still talked and hung out all the time, so it was…okay. As long as I could have you both, I was okay.

“And seeing you with Mark fucked me up so bad. I wanted to take you away from him and keep you for myself, but in my head, that never meant you were on the backburner. Everything was you, and even the idea of Mark having you in the ways I did broke me into pieces.

“And I was talking to Jia recently, just to apologize to her for wasting months of her life. She told me that the night everything blew up, she slept with Mark. They were both pissed and wanted revenge, I guess, but I wasn’t even upset. I didn’t care. But if it had been you, I…Nobody has ever had my heart the way you do.”

Tears stream down your face, but you refuse to acknowledge their existence. Chenle’s eyes are welled up, his jaw clenched tight once he finishes his words.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you choke out, turning away from him.

“I know,” he agrees without hesitation. “I know.”

He makes his way around the counter, and you take a step back.

“Please don’t touch me.” You shake your head.

“I won’t,” he murmurs, standing so close in proximity to you, you smell his cologne. The scent invades your senses, and you suddenly have trouble breathing.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

You recoil in shock for the second time in the past hour when he lowers himself to his knees. He looks up at you, totally defeated as he opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice catches in his throat. “I’m not asking for us to be together, and I’m not asking for anything close to what we had before. I just want us to be friends again. I need you in my life. No matter where that spot is.”

“God, Chenle, get off the floor.” You wipe angrily at the dampness on your cheeks.

“I need you. Please.”

When you look at him, you hate how you see him. How he looks like the Chenle you knew before all of this happened. The sight in front of you makes you want to kiss him and tell him you love him too, but you’re well aware all of this could be an act. Maybe he gave this same speech to Jia, and you’re the leftover—

“Jia’s gone. I promise. You’re more important to me, okay? Whatever you want or need, I’ll do it.” The pleading gleam in his gaze has your frozen heart slowly melting.

You can’t give in. Friendship could be good for the two of you, but if you give him anymore now, you fear it’ll be detrimental for you in the future.

“Friends. That’s it.” You watch him closely as the relief floods over him.

“Thank you.” He stands up and brushes his jeans off. “I won’t do that to you again. I fucking swear.”

“We’re not immediately going back to normal,” you tell him, confidently meeting his stare for the first time in a long time. “You have to prove yourself to me. That you care about me as a person and not as something to take your stress out on. No more out of place jealousy, no more butting into things that have nothing to do with you. Our past doesn’t exist anymore.”

“I’m not going to let you down,” Chenle insists. “I swear I won’t.”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

One week later, 9:35 p.m., September 15th, 2023, Jaemin’s house

You arrived at the party by yourself, but the majority of the group was already there. Jaemin sees you first, letting out a loud cheer when he makes eye contact with you. It’s the first time you agreed to come out after everything that happened, so they all view it as a big deal.

You laugh as he hugs you, and then pulls you down to sit next to him. Thankfully, no one brings up what happened last month, and you’re able to have a good time with your friends without you feeling like they secretly pity you for all of the shit Chenle pulled.

Speaking of him, he hasn’t arrived yet, but you know he’s coming. He’d never miss one of Jaemin’s parties. That, and he told you this morning in his daily good morning text that he was excited to see you tonight. The entire week, you’d been in contact with him, and you almost hated how normal it felt to sink back into a friendship with him. It’s how you remember him before he started dating Jia, and all you can do is hope that it lasts.

In fact, his text was ‘good morning bighead, it’ll be nice to see you at jaem’s tonight.’

He’s clearly very eloquent.

Although, it did make you laugh. And respond back with how his head is much bigger than yours.

Your guard is still up. You don’t trust him. But it’s not like he can’t build that back by showing you he’s serious. As much as you hate to admit it, your hopes are up as high as the steel wall he’s pulling down piece by piece.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you tell Jaemin, who gives you a thumbs up and delves into a conversation with Haechan. Something about global warming, but you don’t stay around long enough to hear the entirety of it.

Once you return, you notice the extra person. Chenle arrived while you were in the kitchen, and the pain in your chest at seeing him is miniscule. You want him in all the ways you had him—more, even—but you know it’s best for both of you to work your way up. After all, he could still be lying. But seeing him alone and not with Jia also adds to your hopes—maybe he’s being serious. Maybe people can change, and you should give him the benefit of the doubt.

You make a bold move, a show of faith, perhaps, when you go sit down next to Chenle. There’s a decent amount of space between you two, but you don’t miss the way his smile widens.

The night rages on around you, but you’re acutely aware of the way Chenle gets a little closer to you with every drink one of you goes to get, and eventually, you’re laughing together while making fun of Jisung.

Everything is as it should be, and everytime Chenle’s not looking right at you, you’re smiling in his direction, knowing this is who he should’ve been all along.

11:32 p.m., September 17th, 2023, your apartment

“And then, Haechan said Mark and Jia are actually dating now.” Chenle’s voice travels through your phone resting on your chest while you stare up at the ceiling.

Without meaning to, you let out a laugh. “I mean, maybe it’ll work for them. They both deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He’s silent for a moment. “You, too, you know. You deserve to be happy.”

“Everyone does,” you reply. “Sometimes, good people do bad things, Le. I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

There’s shuffling on his end, like he’s settling in his blanket. “I’m glad to hear that. We haven’t really…talked about that much lately. It’s not a bad thing, ‘cause it’s probably best to shelve the past for now, but if you want to say anything to me, you don’t have to hold back.”

You contemplate. There are thousands of things you could tell Chenle right at this moment. You could tell him you’ve always loved him, too, or you could tell him how hurt you were. How he tore you up from the inside out and gave you no room to breathe. He infiltrated everything you had and turned it into his own personal playground.

God, you should be mad at him. You should hate him and hang up right now, but you won’t.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “I missed you, too. When you were gone. I’m glad you forced your way into my house with pizza to tell me everything. You were right, I was blaming myself for it.”

“Don’t ever blame yourself for my dumbass actions. I won’t lie to you, not anymore. Um, is it…okay if I ask you something?”

You frown, wondering if it’s a good idea. “Sure.”

“Did you ever feel more for me than friendship? Like when we were hooking up, did you mean all the things you’ve said to me?” He clears his throat, the tone of his voice clearly portraying his embarrassment.

“I’ve never lied to you,” you return, face heating up.

“Next time I see you, is it okay if I hug you?” Chenle whispers. “I miss you.”

“Yeah, I think that’s okay.” A tiny smile forms.

“Okay. I…I’m gonna go to sleep, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you soon?”

“Soon. Goodnight, Chenle.”

10:23 p.m., September 25th, 2023, Jisung’s house

You, Chenle, Jisung, and Jaemin decided it’d be a good night to get together and watch a movie. Jisung has a theater room, so the four of you rest in there. You sit between Jaemin and Chenle, and you quietly let them know you’ll be back in a few minutes.

You go into Jisung’s fridge to grab a water bottle.

“Don’t you have a drink in there?” Jisung’s voice startles you, and you let out a gasp.

“Christ, Sungs, don’t sneak up on me like that.” You smack your hand over your heart. “Don’t you know that’s how you put people in cardiac arrest?”

“Dramatic.” Jisung snorts and grabs a bag of candy from a cupboard. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. It’s been a while since I got to talk to you, and I’ve noticed you and Chenle are friends again.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” You grab a piece of chocolate and unwrap it before putting it in your mouth.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay. We’re your friends, too.”

“Look, I’m not sure how much you know about what happened, but that’s all over. Chenle and I…started over. And we’re friends, and I’d very much like to keep it that way.” You sip your water to wash down your candy.

“Be honest, do you just want to be his friend?” Jisung raises an eyebrow at you.

You laugh. ��That’s not really something you should be asking me.”

“I know him, okay? I’m trying to look out for you—”

“I appreciate it, Ji, but I also happen to know Chenle. When a man like him begs for forgiveness on his hands and knees, you give him a shot. I’m not dumb, and I know what that whole situation made me look like, but I never would’ve done anything to hurt Chenle’s relationship when he was in one.” You shift on your feet.

“He just won’t tell us what’s going on, and Mark and Jia aren’t your biggest fan—”

“Jisung, what the hell?” Chenle leans on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “What are you doing?”

You recognize this tone of his, and you immediately look at him and shake your head. “It’s not a big deal, Chenle, he’s just—”

“No, it is a big deal. Is this why you invited us here?” He frowns at the younger man. “You thought if you couldn’t get answers out of me, you’d get answers from her?”

“Hey, man, it’s not like that.” Jisung holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just curious.”

“You really wanna know that bad?” Chenle steps in, planting his palms on the countertop.

“It’s really okay,” you whisper to him, going as far as to wrap your fingers around his wrist.

“Yeah, I do. Because right now it looks like some girl is tearing apart our friend group.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t care what they think.” You tug him gently, but he doesn’t look at you.

“It was me. I screwed everything up. (Y/N) and I were hooking up for over a year before I met Jia. And when Jia and I started dating, we obviously stopped that. But when she broke up with me, it was because I still had all of the conversations with (Y/N), and she was pissed about it. That night, I went to (Y/N)’s house and we slept together, and I lied to Jia again. Everything that went wrong was my fault, Jisung. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Jisung blinks in shock, lips parting as he glances between the two of you. You stare down at your feet, trying not to let the way he defended you seep beneath your skin. Chenle still has a lot of work to do, but you won’t lie and say it didn’t give him some brownie points.

“So why was she with Mark?”

“After I slept with her, I left the next morning when Jia called me. And then Jia asked me to block her, and I did. So all she was doing was honestly trying to forget about me, which is still her best bet.”

Your throat dries as the memories resurface, but even now, you see the difference. The Chenle who walked out on you never would’ve admitted that to another soul. He’s taking the fall. He’s taking accountability for his actions.

“Everything would’ve been fine if I hadn’t stormed up after them at Jaemin’s party. But I couldn’t stop myself, and everyone else there knew it, too.”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry for assuming.” Jisung chews the inside of his cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, Sungs.” You give him a small smile, but Chenle’s hand slides into yours, and the way he intertwines your fingers has your heart skipping.

“Let’s get out of here,” Chenle mutters. “I’ll drop you off at home.”

You nod once at Jisung and allow the other man to pull you out of his house. The car ride is mostly silent, the soft hum of music distracting you from the way Chenle still grips your hand over the center console. You catch a glimpse of him, the street lights reflecting off his skin as they pass.

God, all you want to do is love him. You want to throw caution to the fucking wind and tell him the truth. Allow him to hold you close and feel the warmth of his embrace.

He pulls up outside your building, looking at you with a soft, tired gleam in his pretty brown eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” he says. “Jisung shouldn’t ever have done something like that.”

“It’s okay. And not your fault. I’m aware of what the situation looks like to everyone else, but it’s not their business. Thank you for standing up for me.” You squeeze him gently.

“I’ll do it for as long as you let me,” he whispers.

In your tired, vulnerable state, the rest of that wall crashes to the ground.

“Come upstairs with me?” you ask. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I…” His eyes close and he rests his head back on the seat.

“I don’t mean it like that. I just want some company.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way. Please. But I can’t.” He forces the words out, palms running down his face. “I know you think you want that now, but I don’t want to risk you getting upset about it later. And part of proving myself is knowing when a decision will hurt you. I don’t trust either of us when it comes to being alone together in a room. Your bedroom especially.”

It stings, sure, but you know he’s right. Old habits die hard, and as soon as he’s in your bed, all bets are off.

You inhale shakily. “Right. Of course.”

“I want to.” His finger guides your chin up until you’re looking at him. He smiles softly. “I’ve missed you so much that I want to be with you all the time. But that’ll come with time when I know you really trust me fully.”

You lean across the center of the car and press your lips to his cheek, lingering for a second too long before pulling away and unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Thank you, Le.”

He nods, watching you closely as you get out and head toward your building. You look over your shoulder once before entering.

His fingers trace over his skin where your lips just were, and relief has his chest deflating.

10:34 a.m., October 14th, 2023, a local coffee shop

Chenle sets a cup down in front of you before sitting down in the booth, resting his head on his palm. You type away on your computer, occasionally glancing up to him to see if he looks bored yet. He seems perfectly content, swirling his own drink around.

“So, what’s that for again?” he asks.

“Just a last minute report I’m typing out for work,” you reply absentmindedly. “Sorry, I’m almost done.”

“I’m not in any rush.” He chuckles and leans back.

You spend nearly every day with Chenle. The two of you have even graduated to spending time alone away from your other friends, and you love how much it feels exactly how it used to. The Chenle that left you has thankfully disappeared into the abyss, and your friend has come back. You two text every day, he buys you coffee, he teases you whenever he deems necessary.

As soon as you finish your report, you sigh in relief, save it, and close your laptop. “Thank you for the coffee. I definitely need it.”

“Anything that’ll give you enough energy for Jaemin’s Halloween party. What are you dressing up as?” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I still think we should coordinate.”

“I’m not telling you what I’m going as.” You stick out your tongue at him. “You’ll live.”

“Well, Jaemin wants me there early to help set up or whatever, so I will unfortunately just have to see you there.”

“Oh, that’s okay. The goal for tonight is to get as drunk as possible without blacking out.” You grin at him, to which he responds with a quirked eyebrow.

“Calm down there, bighead, you might hurt yourself.”

“Look on the brightside, if I get myself hurt, you get to swoop in and be my hero. Isn’t that exciting?” Despite the sarcastic drawl in your voice, Chenle shrugs.

“I’m supposed to save you from getting hurt, not just help you after the fact.” His phone starts ringing in his jacket, and once he grabs it, he groans. “Yeah, Jaemin?”

There’s a muffled sound from the device that has you laughing at the frantic yelling Jaemin is doing.

“It’s not even eleven yet,” Chenle points out. “I know I said I would help, but I didn’t think that meant twelve hours before the damn party starts.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “You should go!”

He glares at you and mouths, ‘not helping.’

After a few more garbled words, Chenle rolls his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll be there in like twenty minutes. You owe me, dude.” He hangs up the phone and gives you a guilty look.

“None of that.” You wave him off. “I need to get home anyway and take my daily rest.”

He snorts. “Alright. Come find me later, alright?”

“Well, duh. Who else is going to stop drunk me from making a fool of myself?”

12:54 a.m., October 15th, 2023, Jaemin’s house

The world spins around you, but the happiness you feel is unrivaled. You and Chenle dance together, where he twirls you in circles despite the beat not matching. He dressed up fairly simply, some dude that wears a trench coat and an odd looking hat, but for the life of you, you can’t remember the damn name.

You barely even recall what you’re dressed up as, but it’s something with a plaid-like skirt and a white top. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Not until you’re climbing up on the pool table for nostalgia’s sake, and Chenle’s practically begging you to come down.

“Your skirt is a little too short.” Chenle stands in front of you while you continue to dance.

“It’s Halloween, Chenle,” you remind him.

“In the nicest way possible, your costume isn’t exactly modest—why wouldn’t you put shorts on under that—”

The more you ignore him, the more he’s determined to get you to listen. He eventually climbs up next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your eyes are stuck on his lips, but your vision is blurring a bit too much to tell if they look as good as you think they do.

You miss him. He’s touching you, the warmth of his body ironically freezing yours in its place.

“C’mon, get down.”

“I think you should get down on your—” The world swaying cuts you off, and despite his grip on you, you stumble.

He waves someone else over, and you recognize Luigi. You shake your head and blink, realizing that it’s actually Jaemin dressed up as Luigi. Giggling, you basically drop your head on Chenle’s chest.

“I thought he was really Luigi.” You laugh and smack his arm as if that’ll ground you.

Jaemin and Chenle are talking to each other, but you’re too invested in the way Chenle’s lips look when they move to care all that much on the topic. You allow Chenle to lead you to the edge of the table, and with Jaemin’s help, you’re back safely on the ground.

“I’m taking you home.” Chenle’s lips brush against your ear as he keeps his arm around you and guides you toward the door. The sensation sends a chill down your spine, and you know he feels it through where his fingers are splayed out along the small of your back.

Everything happens in a blur—getting into his car, him driving to your apartment, him bringing you upstairs from the car. By the time you’re home, you suddenly understand exactly what Chenle said about being alone with him in your apartment.

He looks divine. Angelic. And you’re weak, needy, and drunk.

“Lele,” you murmur, leaning on the doorframe to the bathroom. “Help me take my makeup off.”

He follows you in. You know he’s weak for you, too. That it’s been so long since either of you have gotten any sort of satisfaction. You crave his touch, and the alcohol raging in your system does little to help with your inhibitions.

You bend over to grab your makeup wipes from beneath the sink, and you hear him shuffle behind you. Without another thought, you slide yourself on the counter and grab at his tie, tugging him close until he’s between your legs and pressing into you just enough to drive you crazy.

“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes dark as he takes in the situation. Your skirt riding up your thighs as you pull him closer, a short glimpse of the red lace beneath the skirt. You spread your legs a bit farther, craving to feel him right up on your lace-clad entrance.

“You have to get close to take makeup off,” you reply, giggling to yourself.

His jaw tightens, but he starts cleaning you up anyway, ignoring the way you periodically shuffle closer to the edge of the counter. When he’s almost done, you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your hips up.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, dropping what was in his hands. “(Y/N), let me finish taking your makeup off.”

You roll up once more, a soft groan leaving your lips. His hands dart down and push your thighs into the counter, halting your movements.

“C’mon,” you mumble, dropping your head against the mirror. “We both want it. You’ve been good, Lele, and I need you.”

Oh, Sober You was going to regret this. Sober You was going to kick your ass when the morning came, because you knew there’s no way Chenle’s not going to give in. The two of you are too addicted to each other not to.

He drops his head on your shoulder. “Baby, you’re drunk.”

“Please,” you whisper. “It’s been so long.”

“And we can wait a little longer,” he mentions, pushing your legs away from his waist. “Finish taking off your makeup. I’ll get you some clothes to change into.”

You groan when he disappears out of the room, but you listen to what he says. As much as your drunk mind allows you, you wash your face. When you get back to your room, he’s in a drawer you almost forgot was there. Stuff he’d left at your place, all stuffed into one tiny section of your dresser.

“C’mere,” he says to you.

You stop in front of him, the edges of your vision still blurred as you put your hand on his chest. Beneath your palm is an erratic thumping, and you know how much inner turmoil he’s dealing with.

“Chenle,” you murmur. “Help me.”

“Okay, I’ll help. Don’t move.” He untucks your shirt from your skirt, trying his best to avoid skin-to-skin contact with you. Pulling it over your head, he avoids looking down.

He reaches over for the shirt he took out of the drawer, but you grab his wrists, leading both of his hands down to your skirt.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “If you don’t knock it off, I’m gonna tie you up in a very non-sexy way.”

You giggle, wavering a bit on your feet. “Just wanted you to see what I wore for you.”

“(Y/N), I don’t want to leave you like this but I can’t stay if you keep this up. I want you so fucking bad, but I refuse to do this while you’re this drunk.” He shakes his head. “Please.”

“We’ve had drunk sex,” you defend.

“Two things were different then, too. You actually wanted me while you were sober, and we were both equally drunk. I’ve barely had anything to drink.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “Let me get you dressed so you can get some rest.”

“I do want you when I’m sober,” you continue defiantly.

“(Y/N), I’m not going to argue about this—”

“No, no.” You grab the shirt from him and put it on, almost smiling at the familiarity of wearing his clothes. “I love you. I’ve always loved you, but everything is so confusing.”

“Confusing how?” The guilty look in his eye tells you he already has an idea.

Great. Here comes the part of the night where you cry violently.

Tears well up, and you sniffle. “You hurt me so badly.”

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“And a part of me knows that.” You’re sure your words are slurred, but he grips onto them like they’re his lifeline. You grip onto his stupid trench coat. “I want to believe it, but I’m so scared it’s gonna happen again, and then all of this is really over. I fucking love you, damn it.”

“I hope you know I love you, too.” His gaze glistens as he furrows his brows. “I’m gonna work so hard to be everything you need. Promise, I’ll never stop trying to be better for you.”

“How do I believe that?” Your voice breaks, and a tear falls down his cheek.

“I…I don’t know. Just let me continue to prove myself. That’s all I ask. We’ll stay just like this until you’re ready.”

You shake him, or try to, in your drunken state while you cry. “Why do I love you? It’d be easier if I didn’t.”

He wraps his arms around you and tugs you to his chest, heart pounding in his chest. For the second time, you break down. For the second time, you’ve put yourself in a position to give him the upper hand.

But for the second time, he doesn’t use it to his advantage.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to you, stroking the back of your head. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“What if I’m never ready?” You rock back and forth in his grasp.

“Then I’ll wait forever. I promise you. No matter how you want me in your life, I’ll be there.” He kisses the top of your head, attempting to calm his own breathing. “Baby, you’re drunk. Let’s get you in bed so you can rest.”

“Don’t leave me,” you mutter, holding him tighter.

“I’m not going anywhere. C’mon.”

You listen to him, but before you get beneath your blankets, you slide your skirt down your legs. Once you’re comfortable, he grabs some more clothes for him to change into, and then he’s climbing in next to you, pulling you flush to him and kissing your head again.

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me to.”

‘Forever’ is the last thought on your mind before sleep takes over.

11:48 a.m., October 15th, 2023, your bedroom

The first thing you note when you wake up is the splitting headache raging on in your brain. Next, is the warmth of another body half-draped over you. At the sound of your groan, Chenle shifts back a bit.

“Are you awake?” he asks.

“No.”

He chuckles. “Alright, well let me know when you’re ready to get up.” He pulls you closer again, allowing you to relax against his chest.

“Wait.” You pause. “How long have you been up?”

“Uh.” He ponders on it for a moment, fingers tapping on your back. “I don’t know. Maybe two hours. Or three.”

“You haven’t gotten up yet?” You frown, pushing away from him to force yourself to sit up. Immediately, you groan and smack your hand to your forehead.

“Not sure if you remember much from last night, but I figured it’d probably be worse for you to wake up without me than with me, so I just waited.” He rests his head on his palm, tilting a bit to look at you.

As soon as he mentions it, you curse yourself a thousand times over. You really fucked up, but he’s still here.

“I’m so sorry.” You cringe. “Everything yesterday was so…”

“Don’t be sorry. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. And it felt like we had a breakthrough last night, so there’s that.” He grabs your hand, thumb rubbing against your skin. “I told you I’d do whatever it takes and I meant it.”

He meant it.

Unintentionally, you’d given him the biggest test thus far, and he passed with flying colors. He even waited for you to wake up for hours so you wouldn’t be confused or upset by his absence.

“I’m ready.” Your words surprise him, his eyebrows furrowing deeply as he scans over you.

“You…”

“For more. I’m ready for more, Chenle. I want us to be more than friends.” You fidget with your hands. “We’ve always been more than that.”

“And you promise you’re not still drunk?”

You scoff and push his shoulder. “Way to ruin the moment, dick.”

“There she is.” He grins.

“I still want to take it slow,” you clarify. “But I want to try.”

“Is it too fast if I kiss you?” he asks.

You’ve kissed this man thousands of times, but something about his question still makes you blush.

“I think you’ve probably earned it after your torture session last night.” Your headache is long since forgotten when he playfully tugs you to him.

Both of you laugh until he grabs your face and presses his lips to yours. He moves so you’re flat on the mattress, his upper half leaning over you. You melt into his kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling it ever so slightly. His breath shudders, and you feel the urge to push further, to tell him nothing is too fast anymore.

He pulls away, shaking his head. “I’m taking you on a date. Go get ready.”

You go to get up, but halfway through the motion, he tugs you back to him to kiss you one more time. His mouth works gently on yours, and after a few seconds, he lets you go.

8:47 p.m., November 22nd, 2023, Chenle’s house

Chenle’s birthday party ended a little early, mostly of his own choice. You hadn’t planned on anything happening tonight between you two, but it’d been so long since you’d felt pure, absolute bliss just by being next to him. Every day you’ve spent with him has made you two closer. The trust you have for him has grown tremendously, and as soon as you make it back to his house, you shed your coat from your shoulders.

He grabs it from you, hanging it up before he wraps his arms around you. His eyes droop from the overactivity of the day, but it doesn’t erase the smile he has when he sees you. You press a quick kiss to his lips.

“This is the best birthday ever,” he says, hands resting on your hips. “I love you.”

“We still have a few hours of your birthday left. It could go horribly wrong, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it will if you don’t tell me you love me back right now.”

You laugh, shaking your head at him. “I do love you back.”

“Oh, good to know.” He nods, squeezing you.

“Kiss me like you mean it, bighead.”

“That’s my nickname for you, get your own.” He rolls his eyes, but abides by your request.

His lips meet yours, an automatic sigh escaping you as your back arches you closer to him. You hold onto him tightly, swiping your tongue along his bottom lip. He gladly grants you access, but it’s an instant battle for dominance between the two of you.

You barely even recognize him walking you backward until you're against the wall. With a gasp, you pull away from him, his face still centimeters from yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

“Don’t.” You shake your head. “Don’t stop.”

His curse is muffled by your skin, but his grip tightens on you. He pulls you away from the wall, allowing his hands to venture down to your ass. You whine when he squeezes.

“This is a very bad joke if that’s what’s happening.” He nips your collarbone. “Are you sure?”

You move away from him, grabbing his hand and leading him toward his bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind both of you, immediately pulling you back to him and meeting your mouth with his. The need radiating from him has your stomach doing backflips. You want him just as badly, and all you want to do is pleasure him.

“Lay down, baby.” He sits you down on the edge of the bed, guiding you until he’s kneeling in front of you.

“Chenle, what are you—”

He flips your skirt up, hands trailing along your thighs, skimming the hem of your lace panties.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. Let me taste it. Please.” His eyes flick up to yours, eyebrows raising.

“It’s your birthday.”

“Best fucking birthday meal ever.”

He waits for you to nod before he practically rips the fabric from your body. His head disappears beneath your skirt, and before you know it, his tongue nudges your clit. That’s the only warning you get before he really begins.

He licks up your entrance, lapping at it like a man starved. You haven’t been touched this way in months, and it takes all of your self control not to buck your hips up against his face. The sound of your wetness fills the room, the heat making you squirm beneath him. Your skirt covers him, when all you want to do is see how much he’s enjoying himself. Fisting the sheets, you whine and cry out for him, rocking back and forth as he brings you closer and closer. Lewd sounds are muffled by the clothing you still wear, the suction between your legs making you shake.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

The next thing you know, two of his fingers slide inside you, the movement quick and easy with the way your wetness slicks even the skin of your thighs.

“Gonna make you cum like this first.” He kisses your clit as he pumps his hand faster. “Then over and over again on my cock.”

You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up and grinding on his tongue. He mirrors the sound with his lips on your core, and that’s what’s enough to finally push you over the edge. Thankfully, you’re not in an apartment right now, otherwise your neighbors would be getting a free show when you scream out his name as you finish.

You squirm under him, the only thing holding you down is the dig of his nails into your thighs. When he pulls away, his face shines with your arousal, and your insides clench down all over again. You’ve never wanted him inside you as much as you do right now, and you make it your mission to get him on the bed.

“God, pretty girl, I wanted our first time together to be sweet, but I’ve never wanted to fuck you this bad.” He pulls your shirt over your head, pushing you back until you’re flat on his mattress. He tugs your skirt down, grabbing handfuls of your breasts and squeezing.

“Me too.” You nod. “Just don’t stop.”

He pulls his shirt off, pushing his jeans and boxers down in one go before he climbs over you. Your mouths clash messily, his teeth bumping yours, but it does nothing except add to the aching need you have for him. When he situates himself between your legs, you wrap them around his waist and roll until you’re on top.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, jerking him slowly. He groans quietly, thrusting into your hand. You rub the tip along your entrance to gather your juices.

“I’m not gonna last long with you on top of me,” he admits.

“Funny that you think you’re only gonna cum once tonight.” You barely give him time to process your words before you sink down on him. Moaning, you take him slowly, relishing in the stretch of your walls.

“Fuck, look at you.” He scratches down your thighs.

You give yourself a moment to adjust once he’s fully sheathed in your hole, moving your hands up to squeeze your breasts and tweak your nipples as you grind down. Sounds spill past your lips, and you almost get lost in your own pleasure. When you see Chenle, his eyes are barely open, dark with lust as he thrusts up.

Your walls throb around him, squeezing his cock so hard you feel the way he pulses inside you. Arching your back and resting your palms on his thighs, you start moving on top of him.

“So wet,” he whispers. “You’re soaking me.”

You move faster, the sounds of your arousal emanating around the room. Chenle’s hands find your breasts, flicking your nipples much like you’d done to yourself. Then he reaches between your legs, the arch of your body giving him perfect access to your clit.

“‘M gonna cum.” He drops his head back on the bed, thumb faltering against your sensitive bud. “Fuck, fuck.”

A loud moan escapes him, and the next thing you know, he’s coating your insides with his release.

“Damn it,” he whispers. “‘M sorry, baby, I tried to hold it back.”

You put your hands on his chest, rolling your hips until he groans from the overstimulation.

“It’s okay.” You grin at him. “It’s your birthday, Le. We can have as many rounds as you want. Plenty of time to redeem yourself.”

He chuckles breathlessly, sitting up to pull you into his embrace. Kissing all over your face, he rolls you over so you’re on your back before sliding out of you.

“You asked for this,” he reminds you. “Don’t forget that later when you’ve finished so many times you don’t even remember your name.”

He meant it, too.

9:18 p.m., November 22nd, 2023

The chill of the ice cube in his mouth trailing down your body, over your breasts, even the brief few seconds he presses it against your clit, has your body shuddering at the slightest touch. The melted water left behind has goosebumps forming on your skin as he worships your body.

Thin black fabric covers your eyes, leaving every touch of his a mystery to you. The coldness is a drastic contrast to the heat of your core, and the ice cube coming in contact almost has you yelping in pain. His fingers slide back inside you, and you swear you’re slowly losing your mind. You can’t stop moaning, each sound surely making him more than proud of himself.

It’s not long before you’re writhing beneath him all over again, your arousal pouring out over the sheets as he brings you to your euphoria.

9:28 p.m., November 22nd, 2023

“That’s it, pretty girl, take it all,” he hums as you take him in your mouth. You sit on your knees beside the bed where he sits, bobbing your head up and down with the assistance of the makeshift ponytail he grips in his fist.

He hisses as he pushes you down further until his cock is seated deep in your throat, the constriction of it making him bite his lip to stop the sounds. The steady pace he sets for you has tears forming in your eyes, the choking amplifying his pleasure.

“So, so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He tugs your hair to make you moan around him. “Taking me like a good girl. I love you, pretty.”

His eyes roll back, and he quickly pulls you off him, your hollowed cheeks making a popping sound.

“Lay down, baby,” he instructs you.

10:01 p.m., November 22nd, 2023

His chest slides against yours, low, quiet moans escaping both of you as he finally makes love to you like he wanted to in the first place. Your fingers are intertwined together as his hips meet yours over and over again, sweet words whispered in your ear.

He pushes in completely, his tip kissing your cervix, and a tiny yelp escapes your lips.

“You like when I’m so deep, don’t you?” He nips your ear. “You’ll never be empty again. Can fill you with my cock whenever you want.”

“Chenle,” you whimper, your mind cloudy from however many orgasms he’s given you. You’re much too sensitive, but you still don’t want it to stop.

Your body is caked with sweat, but his is worse. His hair clings to his forehead, wet strands not a deterrence to the way he keeps thrusting into your still sopping cunt. This is what heaven feels like—the pleasure delivered to you by Chenle is peak. You’ll never feel like this with anyone but him.

His finger rubs circles on your clit, and as you shatter around him, it brings him to his end as well, filling you up for the second time tonight. By the look in his eyes, you know it won’t be the last.

11:59 p.m., November 22nd, 2023

Your body aches, but the last thing you want is for him to stop. He holds you close to his chest despite the unbearable heat between you two, hips lazily moving as he grips onto your leg wrapped around his waist.

Your moans have turned into quiet sighs of pleasure, your insides melted into practically nothing with the amount of times he’s finished in you. Nothing matters anymore, just you and him and the way your bodies stick together.

His lips lock with yours, and his movements stop altogether as he gently kisses you. Eventually, that stops too, leaving his mouth resting on yours, as your tired gazes meet.

“I love you,” he whispers. “More than you know.”

“I love you, too,” you tell him, giving him one last kiss.

Exhaustion creeps upon both of you, too tired to move any further as you bury your head in his chest.

“Best birthday ever,” he murmurs.

“You already said that.”

“It got even better, so.”

Everything about this feels right. You curled up in his chest, and despite him still inside you, you’ve never felt more comfortable than you do right now.

And in the morning, Chenle wakes you up with kisses all over your face, and everything within the world is right.

#nct dream #chenle #nct imagines #nct #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #chenle smut #chenle angst #chenle fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct smut #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct fluff #nct angst

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ticklishraspberries · 9 months

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You Raise Me Up (Charlie/Nick)

Summary: Nick's obsession with picking Charlie up leads to cute discoveries, which lead to even cuter confessions. (Based on an anoymous prompt!! Hope y'all enjoy it!! xo)

It all started because of Nick Nelson and his stupidly strong rugby arms. Somehow, Nick has convinced himself that picking Charlie up and carrying him is his obligation as a boyfriend.

So, it’s become a very common occurrence for Charlie to be lifted off his feet, a surprised gasp followed by giggles, clinging to Nick like a koala.

And because Nick is stupidly strong, he makes it seem as easy as breathing to lift Charlie in every which way — scooping him up in a bridal carry, over his shoulder like a fireman, or the classic piggyback.

Clearly, all those just weren’t enough for Nick, who needs to add new techniques of literally sweeping his boyfriend off his feet to his repertoire, and one day, decides that sticking his hands under Charlie’s arms js the new thing he wants to try.

Rather than a surprised sound followed by fond laughter, the reaction that Nick gets is something akin to a shriek, although Charlie will deny that.

“Are you okay?” Nick asks, pulling his hands away as though he’d been burned.

Charlie’s cheeks are pink, his eyes wide. “No—I mean, yes, I’m okay, I just—I’m really ticklish,” he splutters, the admission making his face flush more.

Nick’s worried expression quickly melts away and is replaced by a mischievous grin. “Oh, you are?”

The giggling starts before he’s even been touched. “Nick, please, I can’t,” he babbles, but he doesn’t make a move to escape. If he really wanted to, he could take off running and by the time Nick caught him, they’d likely be breathless and too exhausted for such antics, but something like curiosity, maybe even excitement, keeps Charlie rooted to the spot.

He goes down easily when Nick manhandles him to the ground, but he makes a show of swearing and half-heartedly kicking his legs. Once he’s flat on his back, Nick’s hands worm their way back under his arms easily, and he squeals. “Cut it out!”

“Absolutely not,” Nick replies. “This is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Charlie whines between his high-pitched laughter, the flustering compliments not at all helping him maintain a shred of dignity throughout this ordeal. “Shut up!”

A gasp of mock offense is followed by fingers scribbling with twice as much vigor, making Charlie cackle and blurt out nonsensical apologies.

The two boys end up in the grass, Nick hovering over him and kissing the residual giggles off of his lips.

Ever since, Nick has been tickling him a lot, and Charlie…Well, he doesn’t hate it half as much as he pretends to.

He’s grown up with siblings, and his friends have never shied away from giving him playful affection. He sees it as a form of closeness, bonding, and love. When Nick tickles him, it makes Charlie feel adored, but his body still kicks into the same fight-or-flight that has nearly broken Tori’s nose multiple times.

Two weeks later, they’re in Nick’s bedroom, playing Mario Kart when Nick latches onto Charlie’s knee and squeezes it until his car falls off the edge of the track, knocking him back into 8th place.

“No, stop tickling me!” he cries. “You cheater!”

Nick chuckles, saying a half-hearted apology, but he actually does stop, which surprises Charlie. Although it embarrasses him to think about, he didn’t…actually want him to stop. Even if it cost him the round of Mario Kart, which was saying something.

But they continue the game as normal, and Charlie still manages to get back up to first place despite Nick’s interference.

They cuddle in bed after, and Charlie tries not to overthink why Nick had stopped. But overthinking is his biggest talent and hobby, so the attempt is futile.

“You alright?” Nick asks, poking his cheek.

Charlie nods.

“Did I upset you when I tickled you during the game?” he asks. “I know it was technically cheating, but I think it was fair considering you still managed to beat me.”

There’s a light, teasing tone to his words, but his smile is soft and apologetic.

“No, not at all!” Charlie reassures him. “Actually, I…Well, normally you don’t do it so briefly, so I was kind of surprised that you stopped.”

Nick’s smile brightens. “Well, you did literally tell me to stop.”

Charlie flushes. “Yeah, but…I don’t know, it’s sort of just instinct to say that. It doesn’t always mean that I—that I actually want you to.”

“You are the most adorable person on this planet,” Nick says, pulling him into a tight hug. “You give me cuteness aggression. I just want to squeeze you.”

Charlie laughs, squirming weakly in the embrace. “You’re crushing me, you brute!”

Nick takes the insult as an opportunity to stick his hands under Charlie’s arms. “Now that I know you don’t mind this, I’m never gonna stop,” he whispers.

Charlie decides that he likes the sound of that.

#heartstopper season 2 #heartstopper #heartstopper fic #heartstopper tickle fic #heartstopper ticklefic #tickle fic #ticklefic #nick and charlie #raspberry writes #nick x charlie #charlie x nick

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heresthestorymorningglory · 5 months

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Hello Nurse

Summary: When hospitals are a big fat no, you find yourself a nurse friend

A/N: Listen y'all this NSFW 18+ should be par for the course at this point. So like....just don't okay?

As always, the inspo is thanks to the Goosecord and my beautiful partner in crime @ken-dom for keeping me from going completely off the deep end. (I have a Six problem)

This definitely will not be the last you see of him

Enjoy my loves! <3

The incessant pounding only got louder as you cautiously made your way down the dark stairs into the darkened front hall. It was two thirty in the morning, whoever had the gaul to be this insistent had a death wish.

You flipped the light on and yanked the door open, not bothering to check who was on the other side first; in retrospect probably not the smartest idea, but you were too tired and too annoyed to care.

“What?!” you nearly shrieked “Do you have any idea-” you stopped abruptly when you realized who was standing…leaning was probably more accurate, on your front porch.

“Six..” you breathed “Jesus you look like hell”

“I need your help” he strained, pushing himself off the door frame with a grunt just long enough to stumble inside. You were the only one he trusted, the only one he could come to.

You closed the door, turning to look at him in the light. He was covered in dirt, bruises and blood, someone else’s you had hoped, but based on the way he was swaying on his feet just standing in front of you, you wagered not. He was soaked from head to toe.

“What the hell happened?!” you tried to keep your composure, ushering him to the living room and sitting him down on the couch

“Got loud,” he whispered, “Went sideways.” He didn’t want to give you the grisly details, you didn’t need to know although he knew you were smart enough to figure it out on your own.

“Hey,” you snapped your fingers in front of his nose “Eyes open, no sleeping”

Your own sleep forgotten as you flip into nurse mode, digging the first aid kit out of the hall closet and kneeling on the floor in front of the couch.

This wasn’t the first time he had stumbled to your front door battered and bloody; no hospitals, that was his number one rule. Lucky for both of you, you worked in one…

Upon closer inspection, you noticed Six had stab wounds, all over. His arms, his thighs, his shoulders, through his hand.

“Jesus Christ” you breathed realizing this was going to take more than your first aid kit. “I know I asked what the hell happened, but don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

You pulled yourself up from the floor and went to find clean towels and washcloths from the bathroom before hanging your robe on the back of the bathroom door and pulling your scrubs from earlier back on. You grabbed your sewing kit and the bottle of bourbon you kept in the kitchen before setting it all down on the coffee table across from the couch.

He watched you flit around the room collecting things and then you disappeared down the hall, and when you came back you were in your nurse’s scrubs. He had never admitted it to anyone, but there was just something about a woman in scrubs that did it for him; hospitals were a hard no, especially in his line of work, but in finding you all those years ago he had lucked out ...but he had never told you either…

It had been almost six months since he’d seen you last, he almost considered not coming at all; he hated just barging into your life, typically in the dead of night and in need of some form of care. You never seemed to mind though, on multiple occasions he had offered apologies for doing exactly what he had tonight and every time you dismissed it with a wave of your hand before sending him on his way with a kiss on the cheek.

He had told you when you had first met that he didn’t do relationships, couldn’t, it was too risky. You had agreed, your schedule at the hospital didn’t allow for much of a personal life regardless but fate had kept putting you in the other’s path consistently since then. He found solace in the fact that no matter the time on the clock, he could show up on your front porch and you would help, no questions, no judgment, no hesitation.

“Clothes off,” you said simply and Six blinked slightly taken aback making you laugh “Unless you want me to sew you into those?”

You stood, pulling out what you needed to patch him up watching him struggle to move. You rounded the coffee table moving to stand in front of him. “Can I help?”

You had known him for years, and patching him up was never a big deal, but you had never seen him this mangled before, usually it was a cracked rib, a broken nose, or a bullet in the shoulder; nothing that required him to strip down to nothing but boxers in your living room in the middle of the night. The thought made your stomach flutter as he nodded silently.

His stomach clenched feeling your warm fingers curl against his sides, sending shooting pains all over, his heart slamming in his chest, he was amazed it had blood to pump still. You were gentle, careful not to touch any of the wounds hidden under the fabric, but he could see the worry in your face slip through your concentration but only briefly.

Six lifted his arms, just high enough as you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it gently over his head and tossing it out of the way. Looking down at your hands, they were stained red and you realized what you had initially thought to be water making his shirt damp was actually blood.

You wiped your hands on the front of your scrub top before rinsing them off with the rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit.

He stood just long enough to kick his boots and pants off before flopping heavily back on the couch. You gave him the once over, fingers brushing gently over his shoulder blades as you climbed on the couch to examine his back and sides.

He had to remind himself to breathe properly as the soft material of your scrub top brushed against his bare arm, your breath warm on his shoulder, your fingertips warm on his back as you surveyed his wounds.

“Good news is, most of these I can just Steri-Strip closed” you smiled, using his broad shoulder for leverage to push yourself up off the couch “Your hand needs stitches though”

He nodded just grateful for a place to sit and breathe for a minute; not having to have his guard up or watch his back. This was safe, you were safe.

“Were you shot?” you asked, eyes wandering over his bare chest he noticed as you took his injured hand, wiping it clean as gently as you could manage. You asked the question so cavalierly it almost made him laugh

You looked up at him when he didn’t answer immediately and he quickly dropped his gaze to his lap with a shake of his head “No, just stabbed”

“How many times?” You asked, putting the cloth aside and sanitizing your needle

“A bunch”

You rolled your eyes as you thread your needle before handing him the bottle of bourbon “You know, I have half a mind to make you go to the hospital”

“Guess I’ll just bleed out on your couch then”

"That would be a scarier threat if you didn't make it every time you stumbled through my door"

He liked the rapport he had with you, being able to joke with you made him forget about the pain for a few minutes. Nearly six months had passed and yet, you talked like he had just seen you yesterday.

“Haven’t lost your sense of humor I see” you muttered pulling his hand into the light “How did you manage not to sever something?” you asked, more to yourself than to him; focused on moving his fingers until he winced “Sorry” you smiled apologetically “This isn’t going to be a fun night for you”

He nodded, eyes closed, taking a slow breath as he leaned forward, his head dropping between his knees.

“Still with me?” you asked, hand reaching instinctively to push the hair that had fallen forward back.

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard “Don’t like blood” he said softly, but had been very aware of your fingers pushed through his hair.

You couldn’t help chuckling to yourself with a shake of your head as he sat back up. “I think you got in the wrong line of work to be afraid of blood”

“I’m not afraid of blood,” he pouted and you wondered if he knew “I just don’t like it”

“My mistake” you bit back another small laugh “You just look a little pale, do you want a bucket?”

“Ha ha” he rolled his eyes “Couldn’t possibly be pale from all the blood loss” he quipped

“Nah,” you agreed with a shake of your head “Especially with it gushing out of your hand like that…”

All the colour drained from his face then, your hand immediately snapping across the coffee table, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl you had left there earlier in the evening, sliding it in Six’s lap just in time for him to empty the contents of his stomach.

You opted to grab the trash can from the kitchen where Six threw the bowl out as you slid it next to him.

“You did that on purpose” he glared

“Maybe, wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve caught puke in my hands though”

He frowned “Ew..”

“Just another Thursday” you smiled, a line you frequently traded back and forth “But you’re probably going to get sick again, this is going to hurt”

You sat cross legged on the floor, pulling over a small end table with the reading light tilted so you could see what you were doing.

He sat and watched you examine the damage to his palm absolutely enamored with the way you worked.

“Hand first, then the worst part will be over, okay?”

He didn’t answer, just simply took a deep swig from the bourbon bottle in his good hand. You looked up at him, then set to your task, needle and thread in hand.

First poke through skin and he let out a hard breath through his nose, flinching slightly. You didn’t look up, just held his hand to the table more firmly trying to work as fast as you could manage. “I know it sucks, but you can’t move”

He didn’t answer, just continued to take slow deep breaths through his nose, grunting in pain occasionally as the needle pierced bruised flesh. As you suspected, you got about a quarter of the way through before the pain became too much, even for Six, and you had to stop so he could be sick. The middle section of the wound was the worst, but all he could manage at that point were dry heaves and bile.

“We’re almost done” you reassured him softly, he was sickly white and sweaty, but nodded with his eyes closed, trying to focus on anything but the hot stab of pain in his tendons.

It took longer than he would have liked and his pride was somewhere at the bottom of your kitchen trash can along with his dinner, but he knew you were good at your job, and he only felt like passing out once or twice but had managed to stay awake as you stitched the top of his hand.

His calloused palm was at least easier to handle once you had flipped his hand over, although he was sure, more difficult for you.

He watched intently while you worked, once you were done stitching, you held it open in yours, cleaning the closure and checking your work.

You leaned forward over the small end table, his eyes glancing down the front of your scrub top, you were naked underneath, before diverting his attention elsewhere if only to avoid getting caught.

“Hard part is done” you sat up, again cleaning the blood from your hands and stretching your back from your place on the floor. “The rest will be easy”

You shifted to sit on your feet, knelt in front of him, cleaning the biggest wound on his thigh before closing it with a strip. You couldn’t help chuckling to yourself as you stood up on your knees and he looked at you curiously

“Whoever stabbed you didn’t do a very good job”

This made him snort “I beg to differ”

“Well they’re not very deep” you noted “You’ve had worse”

He nodded, he couldn’t disagree with you there. You pulled yourself to your feet and disappeared into the kitchen coming back with a chair, setting it in front of him “Sit” you pointed “Burlesque”

He scoffed with a laugh “Absolutely not”

You sighed with hands on your hips “If you want me to patch you up and fix the knife block that is your back, sit your ass down”

He got to his feet and did as you asked, straddling the chair resting against the back. “You’re grumpy when you’re tired”

“You should see me when I’m mad” You leaned to whisper in his ear making his body prickle with goosebumps.

“I’ll pass,” he muttered, as you circled back around him; strips and alcohol in hand as his forehead rested on his arms; he was exhausted.

You instinctively reached touching his shoulder gently, hoping to provide some form of comfort.

“When was the last time you slept?” you asked softly, gently washing away the dried blood around the first gash on his shoulder

He groaned, head still resting on his forearms “What day is it?”

You bit your lip, but kept quiet; who were you to judge his sleeping habits when yours weren’t much better?

“Friday morning” you answered and he flinched as you touched the alcohol dampened pad to the cut

His eyes were closed, as he leaned against the back of the chair he straddled; alcohol biting at the first of many fresh cuts as he considered your answer, Friday morning.”Two days ago” he answered, voice amplified in the space between his chest and folded arms.

You didn’t say anything, but your concern for him was becoming more palpable by the minute. He didn’t have to be looking at you to see your face.

He breathed deeply through his nose, it hurt less somehow than through his mouth; focusing his attention on your soft touches, everything stung or throbbed or pounded except for you, your touch was soft; he wondered if you had realized you had started humming. He didn’t recognize the tune, assuming it had been one at all, but it soothed him and he felt his muscles finally start to relax.

You watched his shoulders drop, finally releasing the tension across his back that had been there since he stumbled through the door a few hours ago. You wondered if he had drifted off to sleep as you closed the last cut on his lower back before kneeling next to the chair to do the ones along his ribcage.

You didn’t want to disturb him, but were surprised to see his eyes open, studying the floor before he glanced over where you knelt. You didn’t say anything, just offered a smile, adding another dirtied pad to the pile that had accumulated on the coffee table.

You had turned back to your task at hand, but could still feel his eyes watching you; studying your movements as you closed up another cut.

Feeling his eyes on you stirred the heat in your core; you ran your tongue between your lips, you had to focus, focus on what you were doing. You closed the last gash on that side of his ribcage and moved to the other side, careful to avoid eye contact; somehow you felt like he knew, like he could read your mind, see your thoughts like a little movie projected on your forehead, exposing you and your true feelings.

Six was an attractive man, you would have to be blind not to see that, but this wasn’t supposed to be like that; you were supposed to keep it professional, do your job; at least that was the silent agreement you had made with yourself. He didn’t have girlfriends, didn’t do relationships, you reminded yourself; today he was here, tomorrow he could be dead. And a relationship with your work schedule? Please.

Who said anything about a relationship? The little voice in the back of your mind whispered Maybe it’s just some casual sex

You tried pushing the thought to the back of your mind and failed miserably.

Just let him bend you over the arm of the couch and-

“Hey, I think I have enough holes, don’t you?”

His voice snapped you out of your head and you realized you had unintentionally buried your nails into his side leaving behind little crescent welts.

“Sorry hon” you let out a slow breath collecting yourself and cleaning the next cut

The new stinging sensation of your nails digging into his skin had snapped him out of his own fantasy; a fantasy that made his cock twitch between his legs as he straddled your kitchen chair, as you knelt a mere foot away.

He turned his head away from you, stretching his arms out over the back of the chair in front of him, biting into his bicep, squeezing his eyes shut.

Usually he could control himself, keep his intrusive thoughts about you at bay until you had finished fixing him up; usually.

Tonight, it was like you were personally torturing him; like Lloyd Hansen had taught you himself.

First you had changed in to scrubs, turning yourself into his personal nurse, stoking that fantasy that he usually lived out on his own where you were in his imagination, not where he could feel your fingertips in real time, couldn’t feel your steady breathing in and out against his skin as you focused on cleaning out the next stab wound.

Then he had stripped down to barely nothing, the logical part of his brain knew this made sense, the part of his brain driven by lust was screaming at him to just take you, here and now, on the coffee table, on the floor it really didn’t fucking matter. There’s no way you weren’t going to notice if you carried on much longer…boxers didn’t do much for concealment.

“Hey,” he looked up, feeling your hand push through his unkempt hair “You okay?”

You were standing now, he hadn’t even heard you get up but he nodded. “Are you done?”

You scoffed with a laugh “Sweetie, somebody turned you into a human pin cushion and they did a really bad job about it. “I’m trying to keep you from turning into a walking infection”

“And is it working?” his voice was hoarse with exhaustion and he could tell you were tired too, but you just offered him a smile, your beautiful smile

“It will once you turn around so I can finish the front”

His heart skipped a beat and he immediately shook his head “You’ve done enough, I can do the rest”

You cocked your head to the side with a raised eyebrow, one had on your hip “Can you?” you asked, feigning surprise

“Yes,” he mocked sitting up a little straighter

“Really?” you asked sarcastically, shifting on your bare feet. “Lift your arms above your head”

Any hint of humor had dropped from his features “What?”

“Do it,” you coaxed “If you can lift your arms over your head for thirty seconds, I’ll let you finish yourself”

“I’m not-”

That had backfired spectacularly and he knew you knew it. “I don’t-” he started and you immediately interrupted.

“I swear to god, Six” you rolled your eyes “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’d be happy too’ I’m pulling all those strips off and I will let you bleed out on my living room floor”

“And undo all your handy work?” he muttered before pulling himself up and turning to sit in the chair properly. He would just have to deal with the consequences if you did notice. Maybe you wouldn’t say anything at all; you had tact; he could hope.

“Good boy”

He couldn’t see you but he could hear the smile in your voice. You came around the back of the chair and knelt in front of him; his knees practically touching his legs were closed so tight. From his vantage point he didn’t even have to try to see down the v of your scrub top, streaks of dried blood, his dried blood down the front of your chest where you had either brushed against him or accidently wiped your dirty hands

“What do I look like, a paper doll?” you asked, your eyes meeting his, before your hands pushed his knees apart so you could scoot closer.

He closed his eyes, trying to will any semblance of his arousal away; he thanked the powers that be that he had only had a couple gashes on his chest.

He looked down, watching your hands move over his scarred flesh.

“It’s creepy when you do that” you spoke quietly, sealing the first cut closed before you looked up

He had been close enough for your noses to almost touch; your heart slammed in your chest under his blue eyed scrutiny; he was unreadable. Part of his training at some point you assumed, never crack, never show emotion.

He cleared his throat breaking eye contact before he apologized

“It’s fine, but last time I was watched that closely I was being graded”

“And did you pass?” He asked fingers flexing against his thighs as he kept a flinch at bay; he thought by now he’d be used to the sting, but apparently not.

“Eh,” you shrugged “I got by…stitched a guys fingers together once”

He could see the smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him from under your lashes.

“You’re lying” he laughed a little, but stopped almost as quickly, it hurt his ribs

“Am I?” you smiled “You’ve never seen me in a hospital, I just told you I was a nurse, maybe I lied”

His eyes narrowed slightly and he tipped his head, amused.

“Maybe I’m just some unhinged woman who has a care fetish”

“How very Annie Wilkes of you” he mused

“My sledgehammer is in the basement” you smirked “And Annie didn’t have a care fetish, she was just obsessed with the guy”

“You saying you're obsessed with me?”

You shrugged “You’re a hot mysterious man who just keeps coming back to me, you make it so easy”

You bit the inside of your cheek when you realized what you had said;out loud. The words just hung between you in the air before you cleared your throat and shook your head changing the subject.

You mentally kicked yourself for letting something so stupid slip out.

“I’ll tell you one thing, you’ve got somebody looking out for you; this many stab wounds and not one of them anything life threatening.” you paused for a beat “Twenty six, by the way; I counted, in case you wanted to break a record when you come back”

You got up on your knees, pulling his face closer to examine the cut on his forehead above his eye. “Now I know that’s not a stab”

“Fell out a window” he spoke, and the words sounded muffled in his own ears as your hands cupped his face for a moment longer before you busied them again.

He hadn’t missed the hard line you pressed your lips into as you put what was seemingly an endless supply of alcohol onto a new cotton pad.

You watched his eyes flicker from your lap watching your wrist as you reached to dab the cut on his forehead.

He jumped pulling back with a sharp hiss through his teeth “Ow”

You dropped your shoulders with a sigh, shifting yourself closer, touching the cut again. Again, he hissed with pain “Ow”

You rolled your eyes “Oh ow, you big baby,” You took his face in your hands, pulling him closer blowing gently. “I’ve never met someone who can manage two dozen stab wounds and not a scrape”

You leaned back slightly, still holding his face “Better?”

He didn’t answer, you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes this time, he was watching your lips. You ran your tongue between them before you bit down on your bottom lip, pulling it against your teeth.

The impressive hard on tenting his boxers caught your attention and you pressed your lips together.

God he wanted nothing more than to kiss you right now; he wasn’t tired anymore, or at least he hadn’t felt tired at the current moment.

“Court…” you whispered and the name sounded foreign to his ears, but it was enough for him to look up, your cheeks were flushed; the same burn of desire he felt in the pit of his stomach was reflected in your eyes and something inside him snapped then.

He stood from the chair, pulling you to your feet in one swift movement and with two large strides, you were pinned against the wall, your scrub top being pulled over your head and unceremoniously tossed to the floor before his lips moved against yours, hungry and unrelenting.

Your brain finally able to process that you weren’t on your knees in front of him anymore, you returned his kiss with your own frantic need, quite certain you would wake up at any second like any other time.

His hands made quick work of the scrub pants you had still been wearing followed soon after by his own boxers.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, his tongue pushing past your lips, exploring every inch of your mouth. A strong hand on your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as he ground his hips against yours; his hard cock unmistakable.

He broke your kiss, both of you panting heavily as you leaned your head back against the wall, his mouth sucking harshly on your neck as he dropped his head into your shoulder.

Your chest heaved as your head swam trying to get your bearings. You curled your fingers against his broad shoulder blades and he growled, actually growled against your neck, making you shiver; a shaky moan tumbling from your lips.

This wasn’t a dream, not this time, this was real.

“Jesus Christ,” you panted, swallowing hard

He pulled back to look at you, lips red and swollen, panting just as hard. “What?”

“You…I-” you stammered trying to form the words “We’re gonna-” you panted with a laugh “We’re gonna fuck aren’t we?” Not being able to think of a less crude way of putting it in the moment.

He laughed as much his injuries would allow, pushing his hair back out of his face “Well, not if you don’t want-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence” you breathed, cutting him off with a bruising kiss; taking all your strength to push yourself and him off the wall.

He guided your other leg around his waist as he stumbled backwards, adjusting to the weight, narrowly missing the coffee table as he landed hard on the couch, his heel digging into the wood floor as the couch tipped backwards, on two legs before crashing back down on all four.

You pulled back, breathing hard toward the ceiling as he left harsh bites down the length of your neck.

“Up-” you panted, hips grinding against his “Upstairs”

You wrapped yourself around him tightly, burying your face in his neck as his hands slid up your bare back, before wrapping around your middle as he heaved himself back up to his feet. He rounded the corner, groaning as your teeth sank into the tender flesh of his collarbone.

He clamored halfway up the small flight before he stopped, sinking to his knees, mouth and hands devouring every inch of you he could touch; you spread your legs to accommodate his massive frame before he thrust hard, burying himself inside you to the hilt. You arched off the staircase, your moan of pleasure echoing off the walls around you.

He thrust harder, moaning into your shoulder as he braced himself on the step, giving himself leverage as you tangled one hand is his hair, the other wrapping around his waist, your fingers careful to avoid cuts, as his back muscles flexed with the effort; Your feet had no chance of finding purchase on the staircase; your entire body jerking with the power behind each one of his thrusts. You gasped letting his body swallow you whole; desperate, needy, pathetic moans tumbling from your own lips. His grunts of effort and moans only edging you on.

“Oh god…” your whole body shuddered as you felt your orgasm creep closer “Don’t…stop” you paused trying to catch your breath “Court p-please d-don’t”

“Again,” his voice was hoarse, his breath hot against your ear “Say it, again” he panted and you melted into the stairs

“C-Court” your voice broke with effort as you couldn’t keep your orgasm at bay any longer. You clung to him as if your life had depended on it.

He kissed you needy, desperate and passionate; spilling inside you with a deep moan that got lost in your kiss. No one had ever called him by his name, not anymore, but you; you were special; and now, you were his.

You collapsed on the stairs, lungs burning with the effort it was taking just simply to breathe; shaky and shallow. Six leaned over you, catching this breath, sticky with sweat. Forehead resting against yours, arms quivering holding up his own weight. He leaned forward, kissing you gently, a stark contrast to moments ago.

He leaned back, blue eyes searching your face before he spoke “This can’t-we can’t-”

“Shh” you whispered, leaning up to kiss his forehead as you pushed his matted hair back before your hand came to rest on his shoulder “Don’t worry about it”

“But-” He sat up, allowing you room to do the same.

You shook your head pressing your fingers to his lips “Let’s just go to bed” you whispered as he pulled you to your feet.

You turned on the narrow staircase, threading your fingers through his as you pulled him behind you to your bedroom; your queen size bed had never looked so small; you could see the sun starting to peek through the drawn curtains as you climbed under the covers and he slid in behind you. His chest warm against your bare back as his arms wrapped around you.

He let out a heavy sigh; this wasn’t supposed to have happened; not like this, not ever. He squeezed you gently, breathing in your scent. His eyes heavy as he started to drift off, finally able to sleep. Nothing was ever going to happen to you, he would make damn sure of that; he would keep you safe, and kill anyone who even thought to try to jeopardize that.

#fic #six x reader #sierra six #ryan gosling #n sfw #hellllooo nurse

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howdoyousleep3 · 2 years

Text

Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: ~ 5.2 K (i have no chill, it seems) Notable Tags: Mafia Boss Steve Rogers, Daddy Kink, Age Difference, Established Relationship, Manhandling, Spanking, Slapping (pussy and face), Crying, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Light Breathplay, Office Sex, Desk Sex, Possessive Behavior, Flirty Bisexual Bucky Barnes A/N: Ugh y'all, these two. This has been in my WIP folder for so so long now and I'm thrilled to finally finish it and share it, even if it almost ended me and even if I hated it by the end because I'd been staring at it for far too long. 😅 Special thank you to those who looked it over and reassured me constantly, @vilkasdaina, @maddiewritesstucky, and @sweeterthanthis. Find more of Daddy and his Kitten's story here. Read on Ao3 here. I hope you enjoy! 🧡

You try your hardest to not let the power go to your head.

The love of your life may be the feared and respected leader of the underbelly of the east coast, but you know who he comes crawling back to each night, who has the honor of worshiping him in a way that no one has had the privilege to before.

While you try your hardest to not let said power go to your head, it never fails to do just that each and every damn time you’re reminded of your possession over each other. And if it goes right to your pussy as well as your head, who can blame you?

The moment you catch Bucky’s eye from down the hallway, you can hear the relief in his voice, can see it in the way he takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders drop.

“Fuck, doll— I’ve never been happier to see someone in my whole fuckin’ life,” he exclaims as his eyes run down the line of your body, his eyebrow arching immediately. You aren’t sure why he’s surprised; he warned you that pulling out all the stops was necessary on a day like today.

“I’m happy I could make your day,” you joke as you reach for each other in greeting, Bucky’s fingers wrapping around your nape, lips pressing tightly against your cheek. He smells like spearmint, a bit musky like he’s worked up a sweat at some point during the day. You’re almost certain it’s sweat brought on by his boss and you already feel the need to apologize on his behalf for working Bucky up over what is assuredly nothing.

“Sweetheart, if you can fix his fucking attitude you’ll make more than just my day.”

You’re sure you should be offended on some level, degraded maybe, but being called in to help improve Steve’s piss poor mood makes you feel special, makes you hot right where it counts. Knowing that others have done what they can to help improve his mood, his sharp tongue and his short patience, with no success makes you feel unique, privileged, one of a kind. It makes you hold your chin high.

You know what your Daddy needs, know that you hold the answer to what will improve everyone’s day, starting with Steve’s own. Everyone knows why you’re here, everyone knows what you can bring to the boss that no one else can, and you aren’t ashamed in the slightest.

You’re almost tempted to drop the thin, knee-length jacket you’re donning to the floor right where you stand outside Steve’s office. Then there would be no trace of doubt left behind as to why you’re here and what you’re bringing to the boss.

“Anything I should know?” you inquire softly, Bucky immediately sighing and running a hand down his face in response to your question.

“Nothin’ new, same prick as always, just maybe…times ten. Can’t get two words out without him snapping at you, not one goddamn thing is good news. Dealt with some trouble down in the borough himself, went a bit far. Might still be bloodied up from that. Didn’t even lift his spirits any.”

It’s worse than you thought. Your plan immediately shifts in your head where you stand. He doesn’t need a docile, sweet partner— he needs that final push. You nod your head, mind quickly made up, and turn towards Steve’s office doors.

“You sure you don’t wanna stick around, Buck?” you tease quietly, and it’s indeed a bad day if Bucky, although he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, shakes his head as he begins to walk away.

“Goddamn, you know I’d love to, doll. But I can’t stick around and look at his ugly fuckin’ mug for one more second; I gotta go do some damage control. He may owe me for this, but I owe you.”

Another time then.

You wouldn’t have needed Bucky’s warning to know that Steve is indeed having an awful day; the state of his office is enough of a sign that things are not going well. Chairs are misplaced, papers scattered and quite obviously unorganized on both the coffee table and his desk. Steve enjoys a calm work environment, is a man that prioritizes tasks daily, enjoys sunlight and openness, demands serenity from the aspects of his life he can control.

Steve is not having a very good day.

You don’t bother locking the door; you aren’t worried about others seeing you with the boss. You almost hope it happens; it might improve his mood even further. You make quick work of the belt on your coat, slipping it off from your shoulders and draping it along the back of a chair. The crisp air of Steve’s office slips up your spine, your neck, down your nearly nude form. It’s comforting as it spreads across your heated body, has your shoulders squaring on their own accord.

Your matching lingerie set is black and sheer, leaves nothing to the imagination with the strings of your thong resting high on your hips and your bra cupping your breasts perfectly. You leave your heels on, just as he’d like, same with your stockings. Steve is weak for the feel of their sheerness, softness, on his skin and you’ll take any sort of help you can get.

His back is turned to you, his attention placed solely on whatever it is he is looking at at the table behind his desk. Even hunched over and irritated, he exudes such natural power and dominance you can’t help the warmth that builds between your legs, the way your eyelids droop at the sight of him alone. His dark slacks, his crisp white dress shirt that’s open at the collar, the ring on his pinky and the matching gold of a watch at his wrist, the ink that litters his body with purpose— he’s so obviously a man in charge.

You want to console him, want to press your lips to his temple and hum, want to sit yourself in his lap and ground him, but from what Bucky has told you, that won’t work today. You're racking your brain of how to proceed when Steve is the one to speak up first.

You should have known that he would be more than aware of your presence. You’re the one that has snuck into his office unannounced and here he is, speaking up with a stern enough voice that it startles you.

“What are you doin’ here, kitten?”

His tone demands an answer, an honest one and a quick one. It’s an impatient tone you aren’t used to but one that fits this environment. You’re bristled at his shortness but you don’t let it show, keeping your chin high and voice firm.

“What do you think I’m doing here?” you respond with, beginning to slowly make your way in Steve’s direction, heels muted against the sprawling rug in his office, trailing your fingertip over the leather seats as you prowl. He scoffs then, a tiny noise that could be mistaken for something it isn’t, but to you it almost feels like a slap to the cheek, and not the kind you’re fond of.

You continue to take steps in his direction nonetheless.

He turns and looks over his shoulder and there’s a brief moment where you feel you’ve won, where you feel victorious in your purpose in the way he allows himself to drink you in, eyes damn near a physical touch as they roam your form. It is but a moment though, and he’s quick to turn his attention back in the other direction.

You don’t think he’s ever rejected you.

In fact, he’s always been quick to do the opposite, to make you more than aware that he craves you day and night.

You’re immediately miffed, more than so. You look like a fucking bombshell, you left work early, you’re ready to help melt the stress away from your boyfriend’s day— how dare he not drop everything and crawl in your direction?

You think you’re angry now, but then you hear him mumble a curt, “I’m a bit busy here, sweetheart,” and that’ll do it.

Fuck him.

You can’t even stop to see this situation from his point of view, can’t calm your emotions long enough to consider the circumstances that brought you here. You’re standing here in stockings and sheer lingerie and red bottoms and he wants to dismiss you? No, no. You don’t even hesitate to go for the kill, go right for what will piss him off the most.

“Oh, that’s fine,” you start, voice deceivingly angelic as you glance down at your pristine manicure, paid for by him of course. “Bucky seemed to think I could come make your day, but if you want to be a dick about it, I’ll go see if he is willing to take full advantage of all of this.”

You don’t even wait for him to say anything, digging your heel into the carpet as you turn your back on him, your body trembling all over in anger. You make sure he gets an eyeful though, the cherry on top surely being the sway of your hips, the view of your ass he can never say no to.

You make it two steps towards the door after reaching for your coat before his hands are on you.

He wraps a thick arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to curl around the front of your throat, yanking you back against his chest. You can immediately feel the way his own body trembles with caged emotion, and while it should be a comfort to you, it is anything but. It could be pent up emotions from the day, it could be ones you’re bringing out right now. It could be a combination of the two. Either way, you do not find solidarity in your shared outbursts.

The fight within you is strong. You’re ready to take him on and if he wants to go about it in such a physical way, then so be it.

“You wanna run that by me again, kitten?” he spits lowly into your ear, holding you roughly against the rigid line of his much larger body. You don’t make it easy for him, twisting and bucking as much as you can as he pulls you back further into his office, further away from the door. As physically useless as the fight is, pushing back feels good. You dig your blood red nails into his forearm, thrash against his hold.

“Yeah, sure,” you bite out like a brat, making sure to speak clearly. “If you’re not going to take advantage of me, I’m sure Bucky would love to. In fact—”

Your words are muffled by his hand, the last of them drowned out by his growl. You kick over a chair as he picks you up off the floor, knocking it to the ground as you flail, and as you reach his desk, you happily tear your teeth into Steve’s palm. He only grunts in frustration, hand coming back down to your neck in an instant, frustration evident in the way his fingers curl around the column of it.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he whispers against your temple, and you can’t stop your husky laugh as it tumbles out of your mouth.

“Daddy doesn’t mean that.”

With a noise of frustration, he has you shoved over his desk at the waist, hip bones digging sharply into the expensive oak. Your coat is long forgotten a few steps back and his hand is on your ass without pause, squeezing roughly at one cheek and then the other. The set of smacks that follow are startling, painful and succinct.

You love it.

The huff you let out is intended to be one of irritation, of shock, but instead it comes out laced with throaty pleasure. Damn Steve Rogers and the size of his hands, his strength, his intimate knowledge of everything that makes your pussy throb and your walls crumble for him and only him.

He may have you deliciously and physically restrained, but you’re still more than upset he didn’t want a taste of what you’ve brought to him, a taste of this. But he still hasn’t covered your mouth, and you’re not quite done pushing his buttons.

“Daddy loves it when my mouth is wide open. Right, Daddy? Didn’t you say something like that last night?”

You rarely speak to him this way, goading and aggressive, and you momentarily question whether or not you’re crossing a line. That is, until you feel his cock dig into the cushion of your ass cheek, the grind unintentional if his grumble turned bitten-off groan tells you anything. Perfect— you’ve just figured out how to help improve your boyfriend’s mood.

You roll your ass back into his cock, swirl your hips back against his bulge.

With a snarl, he flips you, tosses you onto your back onto his desk.

Goddamn. You pause for a moment to take note of how fucking hot Steve is when he’s angry. It’s different when it’s at you, you see this now. You’ve witnessed his anger directed at others, but you’ve not once been on the receiving end of it. Maybe you should make him angry more often.

His chest heaves as he looks down at you, stormy eyes slow to rake over your surely flushed body, a normally slicked-back lock of hair curling over his forehead. The tattoos that lace the column of his throat seem more pronounced with his open collar and his heaving chest. There isn’t a stray beard hair in sight, the salt and pepper hairs trimmed close to his skin. The pause drags on for a few seconds more and you almost feel the need to heel and spread your legs and to give in. But that’s not what Steve needs.

Instead you spread your legs and bring the point of your heel up to dig into his shoulder.

He visibly grits his teeth as he gazes down hotly at you, his hands coming to grip your waist tight enough to make you wince. But you don’t break eye contact, even as he leans into your heel, even as he digs it further into his shoulder. Fuck, you’re in love with this man.

“You think Bucky would tell me to keep my mouth closed?” you whisper without shame, leaning up onto your elbows to drive the point home. “You think he’d appreciate me coming into his office in his favorite pair of panties of mine, just about begging to be fucked?”

It’s harsh, yes, but you’re still upset and you have a job to complete; you’re not a quitter. And it pays off immediately when Steve all but growls, “You think he can give you somethin’ I can’t?”

Perfect.

You dig your foot into his chest with a hard shove.

“No.”

You can’t see the confusion in Steve’s features but you know it’s there. He can stay light on his feet all he wants but you’re hard to keep up with, you know this.

Dropping your foot from his shoulder, you wrap both of them around his waist, damn near yanking him towards you. The impressive bulge in his pants is hard as steel and you whimper softly yet unashamedly when it grinds in tight against your panty-covered pussy, eyes still on his. Feeling his need for you, it’s easy for the anger to slightly clear and for you to finally consider the kind of day he’s had, that he needs you to prove to him that this is part of your purpose as his partner.

“No, he can’t, Steven,” you sternly tell him, voice low yet demanding as you reach for the collar of his shirt, tugging. “No one can give me what you can give me.”

A spark of a flame reaches his eyes then, hitting him right where it counts, right in that possessive bone in his body. You speak into his mouth, his warm breath on your tongue causing your chest to constrict.

“But if you want to be a dick about me showing up looking hot as fuck, showing up just so you can fuck me and go about your day as the boss, then yes— I’m gonna tease you about someone else appreciating me”

Steve rolls his hips slowly, deeply, rumbles as he rakes his hands up your torso to palm roughly at your breasts over your bra, your nipples pebbling immediately. He pinches them both before his hands are moving on. You hiss, clit throbbing at the rough attention.

“You’re a real fuckin’ piece’a work. You know that?”

You dig your heels into his back when you huff, brazenly nipping at his chin.

“Of course I know that. Now, fuck me, Daddy. Take it out on me, use me to feel better. Come on.”

Steve never needs to be told twice; he’s a man of action. He takes full advantage of being told he has complete access to your body, reaching for the strings of your panties and ripping them down your legs carelessly.

“Of fucking course you wore the stockings. Knew from the moment you walked in here. With these on, you’re up to no fuckin’ good.”

He grabs and squeezes at handfuls of your thighs as he speaks and you finally cave and give into the moment with a whine, head falling back onto the desk. Steve shoves your legs apart in the air around his body, his hand coming down tightly over your bare pussy, first one time and then a few smacks after that. Fuck. The sting of it is exactly what you want, what this moment is worthy of, and you clench desperately around nothing in response.

“Motherfucker,” you damn near snarl, and where you’d normally spread your legs further and pout, you try your hardest to pull them tightly closed. Steve needs a fight, needs to burn off more energy than a normal fuck will provide him with. He proves you right once more when he pries your legs apart, uses a kind of force that you rarely see. You’re no match for his strength. Your legs are barely pressed together for two seconds before he’s got them spread yet again with a growl.

You barely get out a hiss of “Yes,” before he’s draped over you, mouth latching onto your neck. It’s so much. In your head you hadn’t got as far as this, your plan only reaching up to you convincing Steve to have his way with you, and even that hadn’t gone as planned. You hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to keep your goal and purpose in the forefront of your mind while Steve actively ravaged your body.

His mouth is brutal on your neck, the press of teeth and the suction of lips enough to leave you gasping, your hands making weak attempts at pushing him away. You feel him reach between your bodies and fumble with his belt, the zipper of his pants, and you force out an impatient noise to rile him up further.

“Come on, Daddy— give it to me,” you murmur, reaching around to dig your hands into his ass. “Show this little pussy why you’re her Daddy, why you own her.”

“Fuckin’ hell, kitten…”

He brings his hand up to his mouth, collects spit on a few of his fingers, brings them back down to his cock. He doesn’t slam his way inside of you, and while he ensures you aren’t in unwanted pain, that first deep slide is enough to shove you halfway to your climax already. The girth of him never fails to take your breath away, to send you sailing into orbit.

His deep and appreciative groan is enough to have made all of this shit worth it, the chaos that was this almost failed attempt at providing your boyfriend with stress relief. It’s also enough to send you that much closer to your orgasm.

There is no difference between the pushiness and aggression leading up to this point and this moment; Steve fucks you with unabashed emotion and need. You aren’t used to this, this sort of raw need, this force. The walls of your pussy strain to take him, to adjust. The sensation of Steve on top of you, between your legs, the whole weight of him pressing you into his desk, being selfish is foreign.

Where Steve is usually smooth and focused and giving, this version of him is anything but.

He isn’t concerned about you for a second, not your pleasure or your feelings. His hands delve up into your hair, the both of them, twisting them as he fucks roughly up into your pussy, grinding and rolling and humping. He holds you where he wants you, restricts your movements and keeps you where he can best get his dick soaked. It’s a form of bliss you’ve not once experienced, and your shared eye contact, this heavy gaze he refuses to break, makes you choke on a sob.

“Fuck it,” you bite out against his mouth, barely able to hear your words over the rush of blood in your ears, over the sound of him fucking into you with abandon. “You fuck that pussy like no one else can, Daddy. That’s Daddy’s pussy.”

Steve curses. Even as you say the words, you feel them directly in your clit, the throb of them intense. The forceful grinds with every other thrust presses the base of Steve’s cock tight against your clit, each one making you choke down a whimper. You’re shaking where you lay, nails digging encouragingly into the meat of Steve’s ass, legs spread wide, knees pressed back towards your shoulders. Steve has full access to you, as he deserves. The glide of him is sublime, the stretch of him enough to leave you panting, in and out, in and out.

Your pussy feels so good being used the way that it is. You can’t catch your breath.

You aren’t the least bit surprised when your orgasm tears through you.

“Oh shit, that’s yours, that’s Daddy’s. That pussy comes for Daddy, all for—”

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna milk me fuckin’ dry. Haven’t even been inside’a you for a minute and you’re fallin’ apart.”

You openly sob, tears springing to your eyes as the sensitive walls of your pussy suck Steve in, flutter and pulse around his girth. He doesn’t stop, cock digging into that sweet spot inside of you, movement prolonging your orgasm as you groan. Your pussy is so wet you can feel it soaking the inside of your thighs, the base of Steve’s cock.

You have half the mind to note that your plan is working, that Steve is finding his footing again, that he’s confident and feeling dominant, in charge. You can’t hold back your lax smile, and the way Steve all but scoffs at the sight of it makes you turn your face and reach for his teeth with your jaw.

“Surely that’s not all you’ve got,” you hear yourself pant shakily, your voice and the way your limbs tremble betraying you in an instant. “Come on, big daddy— show ‘em why you’re the boss.”

He’s climbing onto the desk, still inside you, without a second thought.

“Yes, yes—”

“Un-fucking-believable…”

The smile that’s spread across your face is only present for a few seconds before you’re biting it away, Steve’s hands in your hair moving, one curling to scruff you by the nape of your neck. The other tears at your bra, impatiently ripping one cup down, your breast spilling out and into his waiting hand. He squeezes at you roughly, fingers smacking down tightly over your nipple.

Your head bounces with his thrusts, only to be pulled back by Steve’s hand on your nape. He uses you like a doll, like a toy. It all makes you want to scream: the new angle allowing for Steve to fuck messiliy into you, the complete physical dominance, the animalistic noises Steve continues to let out, how wet and wrecked you feel and sound. It’s enough for tears to begin to stream down your face.

Looking back, you’ll surely blame it on how startlingly emotional you became as he fucked you mercilessly, how unprepared you were for your body and mind’s reactions. You may blame it on how cockdrunk you are, how out of your mind the feeling of Steve dicking you down so thoroughly made you.

You raise your hand and bring it down hard across his cheek.

The crack of it is so shocking to you, both in sound and sensation on your palm, that you gasp raggedly. The moment seems to have called for it, such harsh treatment, but you hold your breath when Steve grunts, hips stilling, eyes wild when his head snaps back down to look at you.

When he doesn’t say anything, you whimper, your whimper easily turning into a hiccup, too nervous to speak.

He punches his hips forward, silencing you with the stretch of him, with feeling him up in your guts. You blink back your tears as you bite down onto your lip.

“Again,” he finally rasps out, the hand on your nape slipping around to the front of your throat, squeezing. “Fuckin’ hit me again, kitten.”

That’s it for the both of you.

Your opposite hand is up in the air and you do what you can to bring it down onto Steve’s other cheek with another sob, all while he fucks into you so roughly your body scrapes across his desk with every thrust. The smack is sloppy and only slightly makes contact with his jaw, but it’s enough to send the two of you hurtling towards your orgasms.

Yours is so blinding it almost hurts, the way it bursts from your center and outwards. You can’t make a noise, a scream lodged in your throat, body making a valiant attempt at arching up into Steve’s own, shaking. You lay there and take your climax, let Daddy rob it from your body, drink it up.

You know he’s coming by the way he squeezes your throat and bites out a gritty, “Fuck.”

“You better think twice about comin’ into my office and teasin’ me with your pussy again, little girl,” he pants into your ear, voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it to be, just able to cut through the fog in your mind. “Fuck, you wanna come up into my office tellin’ me you’re gonna go let somebody else have what’s mine?”

There’s not an ounce of fight left in you as your pussy continues to pulse and quiver around his cock, as you lay there splayed for him, taking his load.

“No, no! It’s Daddy’s, s’daddy’s pussy, all for Daddy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m—”

You’re babbling nonsense, the roll of Steve’s hips not slowing, the stroke of his cock along your inner walls making you dizzy. Your voice has turned nasally, small and whiny, just like Daddy likes it. Steve’s hand trembles around your neck. You can feel his come leak out of you, how messy you feel as he continues to fuck into you, hips slowing but not halting like you’re used to.

“No,” he groans, shaking his head, his lips smearing messily against your cheek, your jaw. “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for, baby. You know me so fuckin’ well, know just what your Daddy needs. You’re perfect, fuck, a perfect goddamn angel.”

Euphoria.

There’s nothing else he could have said that would make you feel the way you do now. You’re pushing overstimulation, thighs trembling around Steve’s waist, chest heaving as you’re left sucking air into your lungs. Your body and mind have been sent to hell and back and you didn’t realize how badly you wanted to hear Steve reassure you that this was okay, that everything you’ve done and said was acceptable.

You pull him down to you with another hitch in your breath, fingers slipping through his hair, arms winding around his neck.

He begins to litter your face with kisses once he finally does slow and eventually stops the slide of his cock, hissing, body settling down onto your own with a heaving sigh. The weight of him is hefty but welcomed, the reminder of his sturdiness something that you let settle into your bones.

“Don’t be sorry, kitten. I won’t allow it. Not after that.”

You hum.

“So bossy,” is all you murmur into his beard, your legs slipping down the backs of his own, holding him close.

“I’m pretty sure you were just tellin’ me to prove I was the boss, so…”

You merely harrumph in response; you’re done arguing for the day, possibly the week.

After a few blessed, silent moments of breathing and coming down from your shared high together, you begin to let a sense of accomplishment slip through your mind. You were brought in to help, to bring Steve out of his head and to improve his mood and therefore the mood of everyone else in his presence. You’ve made a difference, have helped your Daddy, were thoroughly dicked down in the process. And even though this was more emotionally heavy than you anticipated, you feel good.

“I’m sorry,” Steve eventually breaks the silence with, pulling his head back in order to look you in the eyes as he apologizes. He always has to look you in the eyes when you’re sharing serious words. Communication is something he values highly, your constant honesty with one another a must for him and in turn you. In his line of work, how he spends his days, he can’t risk the two of you not being on the same page.

He kisses your lips softly, his hands slipping through your hair.

“I’m sorry for not giving you the attention you deserved when you walked in here, baby.”

You shake your head. “I should have been more cognizant of your mood and how your day has gone. I’m sorry too.”

He kisses you again, once and then twice, lips soft and gentle with your own.

“What I’m not going to apologize for,” he whispers then, voice deep and mischievous, “is everything that led up to you smackin’ me.”

You giggle, first softly and then louder as Steve grips your chin and doesn’t let you shy away from his eye contact. He nips at your chin.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Where the hell did that come from?”

“I don’t know! I…it just felt right. I’m so—”

“Nope,” he cuts you off quickly, nose nudging your own. “No apologizing, I already said that. You’re perfect. I’m serious— this was just what I needed.”

You sigh into his next set of kisses, exhaustion slowly seeping into your bones.

“Well, you��ll have to thank Bucky for this later.”

“I will do no such thing.”

He slips from your body then, motioning for you to stay where you are and to not move. You don’t think you could sit up without help. He comes back from the adjacent bathroom looking everything provider and Alpha and Daddy, slacks buttoned and white shirt tucked into them. He cleans you off with a warm washcloth, puts the pieces of your sexy getup that are out of place back to where they belong. His hands linger on your thighs, stroking at the softness of your stockings.

He touches you with such gentleness and care. It’s so different from the touches he gave you just moments before, the ones you can feel growing sore already.

“I love you,” you find yourself whispering once he’s pulled you into a sitting position on his desk, taking a seat behind it in his chair. He pulls you easily to the edge, takes both of your hands into his own, brings them each to his lips.

“I love you as well, sweetheart,” he purrs, hands moving to grip at your hips, to pull at them like he does when he’s feeling ready for another round. Surely he isn’t, not after that. He leans forward, kisses the top of each of your breasts.

“I was rough on you wasn’t I, kitten? Gonna have to make it up to her later, get my mouth on her and give her kisses to—”

Bucky doesn’t even knock when he enters the office, walks right in as if it’s his own. He doesn’t care that you’re practically naked, that you’ve obviously been fucked to the edge of your life, that the two of your are surely flushed and marked enough to prove what you’ve just been spending your time doing. He walks right up to Steve’s desk, hands in his pockets, casual.

“You missed the show, Buck,” Steve grumbles, pulling you closer and gathering you into his lap, not wanting your near naked body to be seen by his right hand man. As if he hasn’t seen it before. Bucky whistles low, throws a wink over your way that you catch over your shoulder.

“Oh, no no no,” Bucky rumbles knowingly. “I don’t think anyone in this house missed that show…Daddy.”

#howdoyousleep kinktober 2022 #my writing #howdoyousleep #mafia daddy steve #mafia daddy steve and reader #put your loving hand out #female reader #reader insert #this one barely got posted lol #these beans y'all! time and attention suckers!#(i'm joking yet v serious)

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v-anrouge · 1 year

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OK YALL VERY SERIOUS TOPIC ABOUT A PERSON CALLED YAKO OF ANY OF YALL FOLLOW HER ID REALLY RECOMMEND Y'ALL READ THIS AND IF U STILL SUPPORT HER AFTER BLOCK ME<3

yako used to be in a server with me and a bunch of other ppl, i don't know much about yako because by the time i joined i never got to interact with them and they were banned right after for a few reasons.

To start of small yako copied multiple of the owner's work which greatly bothered kimiko but apparently nothing was done abt it

(if yall know any of the ppl in this screenshots do not mention them or anything they have nothing to do w the drama leave them out of it i am no longer in the server)

now onto the heavier stuff under the cut

TW DEATH THREAT, MENTIONS OF HARMING CHILDREN

one day yako was on vc w a lot of the members and threatened my friend's children for absolutely NO REASON, and they only apologized like 3 or 4 hours after when people called the owner and yako was scared she was gonna be kicked out (which she was) and the apology was absolute shit too

she said it on vc so there's not many ways to prove her words but we do have screenshots first see the context (if u know who the victim is do not mention their name please they asked to be kept anonymous because they're afraid they'll get hate)

here's some screenshots of the ppl trying to get yako to shut the fuck up while it was happening

when this shit was happening yako still kept making jokes until finally everyone leaved and everyone was feeling uncomfortable because of this shit and this the "apology" yako sent to the victim after being threatned to be kicked out

this apology ia not only a terrible apology but she clearly didn't fucking mean it because she only thought abt making it HOURS after and when she knew she'd be kicked out plus u dont threaten someone's children and think a shit ass apology will cut it like what the fuck and the fact she blocked the victim right after too???

the victim has been keeping quiet about it this while time because yako is famous in this fandom but honestly we're all sick of it yako deserves to be held accountable and y'all deserve to know rhe type of person she truly is.

To all my moots that are friends with her; I'm truly sorry yall have to see this so suddenly i know it must be very hard to see this but it's the truth and if any of yall side with her you WILL be blocked immediately, this behavior has no excuse those are children and that was clearly not a joke and even if it was yako kept going even after discovering the victim had real children, if any of yall still support yako after this please block me you're disgusting.

#tw death threats #tw harming children #tw threatening children

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icarusignite · 1 year

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An Eye for an Eye (part 17)

A/N: whomp whomp not really proofread so apologies for any typos. Comments and reblogs are appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts <3

Word Count: 2605

All chapters: MASTERLIST

The flight to King's Landing was a short one, Daenys urging her dragon to go as fast as possible. Throughout the whole journey, she argued with herself about whether or not this was a foolish idea and she considered turning back multiple times. No one knew where she was going or that she had even left Dragonstone and if she was caught, she would be taken hostage for sure. She could still remember the feeling of Aemond's hand around her wrists when he had tried to take her from Strom's End. She could not run into him at any cost. She was just here for some sort of closure. To witness the fruit of Daemon's revenge. She landed Silverwing on the outskirts of the city; she couldn't risk bringing her any closer to the castle lest anyone saw her. Once she had dismounted, she spoke to her dragon in High Valyrian, sending her off until she would need to call her again. Dragons were easily recognizable creatures and a waiting dragon even more so. She made the trek to the Red Keep on foot, keeping her pace brisk. There was an urgency in her footsteps that surprised her, it wasn't as though she had an appointment to keep but something in her heart made her speed up anyways. As she walked her cloak's hood fell back and she pulled it forward to shadow her face once again. Targaryen hair was another easily recognizable thing, and hers might as well act as a beacon in the bright moonlight.

When she finally arrived at the castle, she took a moment to catch her breath. Now that she was here, she didn't know what to do. She didn't know where to go or even what to look for. She didn't know what form Daemon's revenge would take, it could as easily be a poisoned cup of wine for everyone knew Aegon's love for the drink, or it could be a silent cutthroat from Flea Bottom, someone who could slip into anyone's chambers and slit their throat. Daenys let out a frustrated breath. So it really was a foolish idea to come all the way here. She should have just kept her curiosity in check and waited for the news back at Dragonstone. Now she had made the journey for nothing and she was tired, her legs aching from the long walk. The thought of going all the way back seemed irritating and she was sure her dragon probably needed the break as well.

Then an idea emerged in her head. Since she was here she might as well pay a visit to Helaena. Dear Helaena whom she hadn't even said goodbye to. And the children, oh how Daenys missed those children. They were perhaps the only few things she missed about the Red Keep. She regretted leaving them behind and she knew that the longer this war dragged on, the further apart she would drift from them. She wondered if Helaena's youngest, Maelor, even remembered her. He was only two, and children that age rarely had any sense of object permanence. The thought made her heart twinge, for it saddened her to think that she would be just another faceless person to him. Perhaps Helaena and the children would even grow to hate her, if they didn't already. Helaena had to be hurt by her abrupt departure and lack of farewell. Daenys tried to think back on what she remembered of the princess's schedule. She would be taking her children up to the royal apartments at around this time in the evening, to put them to bed. She'd spend a few hours with them before returning to her own chambers. Yes, she'd go visit them and try to make things right, or as right as she could. She'd apologize to Helaena for leaving without seeing her and she'd forgive her. She'd tell her that she desperately hoped that this conflict over the Iron Throne wouldn't drive a wedge between them. Perhaps it was a foolish and naive thought but it brought her comfort nonetheless. She did not want to lose a friendship that meant so much to her.

That was how Daenys found herself standing under the window into the room that she knew Helaena currently occupied. She craned her head to try and get a glimpse inside but it was too high. One way to get inside would be to go through the main entrance and make her way into the chambers using the multitude of secret passageways that snaked through the Red Keep. However, that would be a time-consuming task and it put her at a greater risk of being seen. The other way was to enter through the window. The walls were generously covered in trellis and the obvious answer would be to simply climb it, but Daenys had learned, through one fateful accident from when she was a child, that the vines were not sturdy enough after the first few metres. If they were not sturdy enough to bear her weight at age seven, they definitely wouldn't now. Many would consider the task hopeless then, but if you spent enough time exploring the Red Keep as Daenys had, you'd know that there were divots and imperfections in the stone wall that acted as perfectly suitable footholds if you knew where to find them. Ignoring her protesting leg muscles, Daenys dug her hands into the stone crevices and began to haul herself upward. When she was only a short distance below the window ledge, she stopped. The window was open and she could hear voices coming from inside. Did Helaena have guests perhaps? The voice was obviously a male voice so it couldn't have been Alicent, but it sounded nothing like Otto or any of her brothers.

"Scream, and you all die."

Daenys's heart raced as she swore internally. Something was clearly wrong. Someone was in danger and she foolishly hoped, that somehow, on this night Helaena had decided to deviate from her routine and she was anywhere else in the castle except for in that room. Daenys hastily pulled herself the rest of the way up before gingerly peaking her head above the threshold to look into the room. It was dark, like all the candles had been snuffed out. Two men stood with their backs toward her and Daenys almost let out a gasp. The bulkier of the two men had his hand firmly placed on Jaehaerys's shoulder and a sword to his throat. The other held a squirming Maelor hoisted up on his hip, a dagger to the screeching boy's neck. Helaena stood opposite them, with her face toward the window, Jaehaera hiding behind her dress.

"Who are you?" there was a tremble in Helaena's voice that she tried to conceal.

"Debt collectors. An eye for an eye and a son for a son. We're here for one of your sons Your Grace," the slighter man snarled.

Daenys's blood ran cold. No. No no no. This couldn't be it. This could not possibly be the revenge that Daemon promised her mother. It could not be...and yet it was. Who else would use those words? An eye for an eye and a son for a son, the very same words that were inscribed in Daemon's message. Daenys's mind sped in a hundred different directions trying to make sense of the scene and she saw Helaena come to the same conclusion at the same time as her.

"You're here to kill my sons." Helaena's voice broke.

"We only want one. 'Tis a fair trade. Won't hurt the rest of you fine folks, not one lil' hair. Which one do you want to lose, Your Grace?" the man who spoke earlier responded.

This is what broke Helaena. She fell to her knees, trying to push her terrified daughter behind her to shield her from the horror. The air was thick with tension. Daenys watched the scene unfold, her heart in her throat. She considered leaving, for a single treacherous moment. She could climb back down, pretend that she saw nothing and fly back to Dragonstone to await the news of Aegon's dead son. It was sickening and horrific, a twisted form of justice for her brother, who wasn't even given a chance to beg for his life. This would be revenge. She could just imagine the reactions, Queen Alicent, Aemond, and Aegon; everyone would feel the loss as deeply as her own family felt Luke's. Everyone would grieve and rage and hurt as much as she did and she imagined that she would like to get drunk on their devastation. But then another, quieter thought joined the rest of her vicious ones. Helaena would hurt too. Darling sweet Helaena who brushed her hair and wove flowers in her braids when the death of her brother left her too grief-addled. Lovely, kind Helaena who brought her lively children and deposited them into her lap so they could giggle and climb all over her to help cheer up their Aunt Denny. Tenderhearted Helaena who sang lullabies to her when Luke's ghost plagued her dreams. Who most of all was not the one who killed her brother and did not deserve such pain when she had never caused anyone any pain in her entire life. The children too were innocent. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera only six and Maelor even younger. They did not deserve to lose their lives, as her brother had, to such senseless violence in a dispute started by grown men. Daenys was snapped out of her reverie by Helaena's hysterical wailing.

"No. No, please. Take me instead. Please don't hurt my children," Helaena begged through a cascade of tears.

"Who said anything about children? We're only here for one son. 'Tis a generous offer Queenie so you better hurry up and choose."

Daenys looked between the two men. She had to act fast but both men had their weapons pressed against the boys' throats and one wrong move could cause severe damage. Daenys needed to find a way to take them both out at the same time because if she engaged with only one, that would leave the other free to hurt Helaena and the children. The only thing she really had was the element of surprise. Daenys cursed herself again for not bringing more weapons, for not carrying more useful things with her. She slid her legs over the edge of the window and settled them on the carpeted floor, but as she did so, Helaena's eyes fell on her. It was a momentary glance but it was enough to fill her eyes with additional anguish and betrayal.

Betrayal?

Did Helaena think she was here with the two men, that she was part of this scheme to murder her children? Daenys felt sick.

"Please. Please I am begging you, take me instead. I'll-I'll do anything...anything...please."

"A wife's not a son Your Grace. It has to be one of your boys."

"Please, please, please. How much are you being paid to do this? Please, I'll give you anything. Please don't take my sons."

"You better hurry up and decide," the smaller man gestured toward his friend, "My friend here might grow bored and have his fun with your little girl while we wait."

Helaena made a strangled choking sound and it was the man's final comment that made Daenys snap. She crept up behind the shorter man first, standing directly behind him as he made more threats. He was the greater danger because he held Maelor and the younger boy would not be able to escape on his own. Daenys figured that afterward, she would only need to hurt his larger friend enough for Jaehaerys to slip away from his grasp. She held her breath and moved quietly enough that his companion did not notice her. No one else in the room noticed her. It certainly helped that Helaena purposely avoided looking at her, but Daenys couldn't decide if it was to avoid drawing attention to her or if it was because she just couldn't bear to look at her. She had a sinking feeling that it was the latter. She watched Helaena struggle to name a child in between blubbering sobs and waited for the man to grow tired of waiting. For the dagger in his hand to move even the slightest bit away from where it was pressed against the little prince's throat.

Then the moment struck. The man yawned and Daenys's dagger whispered across his throat in one clean stroke. He made a strangled sound and blood burst forth. He reactively pushed the dagger forward but it met resistance. Not having the strength to push further, he dropped the young prince and the dagger. Helaena was there to catch her younger son and pull him to safety. The next few moments happened in the blink of an eye. The second man turned toward his friend in surprise and Daenys used his momentary distraction to pierce one of her daggers into the hand that held his sword. She pulled out another dagger and stabbed it into the meat of his other arm. He howled, dropping the sword, and Jaehaerys twisted away from his hold.

then Daenys heard Helaena scream in the background and she wondered with wild panic if she was alright. Was one of the children hurt? She had killed the first man, she knew that for sure. One of the things you learned growing up with Daemon was how to slit a man's throat with deadly precision. It was her concern for them that made Daenys blindly lash out. She had to kill this second man before he turned his attention back to what he had come for. With no regard for her own safety, she reached out to pull her dagger free from his shoulder and buried it between his ribs, twisting until he made a wet choking sound and blood spilt from his lips.

The man was not dead though. He turned toward Daenys with fury in his eyes and she took three steps backward, trying to lead the fight as far away from Helaena and the children as possible. He reached out to grab her throat but she ducked. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and hauled her head up. Daenys slashed out with her dagger and it caught him in the ribs. He dropped her and she crawled away. He gave chase. He was large and lumbering and Daenys's smaller frame allowed her the advantage of speed, but he was much stronger. He had picked up his sword at some point. Daenys blanched. To do any real damage with her dagger, she'd have to get closer to him, and now with the sword between them, that was near impossible. He swung his sword in a wide arc and Daenys felt a stinging pain in her side. Her single eye made it harder to guage direction and coordinate her movements to strike too precisely and she did not have time to stop and take a drink from her flask. He swung again repeatedly and got her a few more times before she rolled out of the way.

Daenys took a deep breath, and threw her dagger, praying that it would hit its mark, that it would hit him somewhere, anywhere. She breathed a sigh of relief when it embedded itself in his shoulder. Not his heart, but at least it hit him. However, this only aggravated him further as he stomped toward her with renewed vigour. She stumbled back and her back hit the window sill. He closed his fist around her throat, pushing until he had her dangled out the open window, her legs kicking helplessly in the wind. She hazarded a look down and her vision swam. It would be a long fall. Suddenly she felt the left half of her face cramp painfully and she groaned. What terrible timing for her eye to act up. The pressure on her windpipe combined with the scalding sensation in her face made her lose focus.

Daenys could feel the life leaving his body and then the hand around her throat went limp.

_______________

Taglist (comment to be added/removed):

@m1tzifa1ry @blulemonades @bietchz @bugheadskid @applepyesworld @mrswhitethornbelikov @mysingularitybts @caspianobsessed @lotr-got @theekinslayer @vaf24 @feiwelinchen @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @hanabbrmpg @issybee0611 @lyannesworld @moni-cah @akinatrix @carryonmywaywardho @queenofbeingdepressed @cateyesinlove @frozenhuntress67 @bregarc @spicykimchii @stargaryenx @linevondensternen @koobratzy

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badass-daisy-99 · 9 months

Text

Unexpexted

Part 1

—Draco Malfoy x F! Hufflepuff reader—

(this is my first imagine, if its terrible I apologize😭 but if y'all have any suggestions of what you'd like to see, please feel free to let me know!🙏) 💕🌼 —This will also be multiple parts, banking on probably 3 parts, probably all fluff cause that’s about all I can write rn 😂😭—

request (ish) by @msmalfoyyyyyy - I will also have this on my Wattpad: @cassiem_99

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah! You must be the new student!" A woman exclaimed from somewhere around you.

"Yes ma'am. I'm Y/N L/N." You stuck your hand out slightly for the woman to shake your hand.

"Good afternoon miss y/n, I'm Professor McGonagall. It's lovely to meet you." She said as she took your hand.

"It's lovely to meet you as well professor." As you flashed her a small smile you heard a distant crashing noise come from the giant doors to the left of you, of which you later learn is the Great Hall. You tilt your head in confusion and open your mouth to ask Professor McGonagall what that noise was, but it appears she already knew what was coming and answered your silent question by saying "That'll be the Weasley twins. No doubt you'll ever forget them, you'll know just who they are when you see them. Come along now, we must get you sorted into your house."

Before you walked through the doors with her, she told you of the houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin; and of the Founders of the school that the houses were named after, and told you how sorting went and of the sorting hat itself, basically giving you a mini history lesson. You nodded your head taking in all that she's told you, she then told you that your robes will be assigned to your room once your house has been picked, all of the things you will need for school will also appear in your room along with a pet of your choice, since you didn't have the same list of things you'd need from Hogsmeade as the other students did, those supplies would be presented to you after your sorting rather than prior to your arrival to Hogwarts.

As she opened the doors to the Hall, you took in everything you could from the what seems to be floating ceiling candles, to the four large banquet tables in front of you, all the way to the giant stained glass window at the very end of the room, that was divided into four large pieces presented in front of you that took your breath away. The way the sun was hitting the window it cast rainbows of color all around you. At the very top of the window it showed a green snake on the left first, with a green section of glass pieces with a green 'S' in a green shield at the bottom of it. The next was a brown eagle with a blue section of glass pieces with a blue 'R' in a blue shield at the bottom, and the same repeated pattern of a red lion with a red 'G' in a shield and a yellow badger with a yellow 'H' in a yellow shield. At the bottom of those pieces there was a tree with the same animals and a few other things presented around the tree, oh how you could stare at that for hours.

You felt all eyes on you as you walked towards the stool that was placed next to the sorting hat and as you sat on the stool while the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, announced your arrival to the school. But there was one pair of gray-blue eyes that caught your eyes the most, the eyes of whom you'd later learn belonged to Draco Malfoy. And as your eyes met with his, you felt a strange connection to him as well as a strange feeling that you knew him from somewhere but you'd never seen him before in your life. In that short span of time you didn't realize that the sorting hat was placed on your head until a gravely voice started talking and pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Ah yes. Very interesting.." the hat responded. "You have a sense of loyalty to your family and your friends, yes.. but you have an anger about you that conflicts with your trust. You would be very good in Slytherin.." He paused for a moment as if to think, and you; knowing the short knowledge that you did from each house; was afraid of being placed there, you didn't want to give in to your rage and become evil. You hated when you'd get angry and your rage would fill your mind, why would you want to give in to that way? You couldn't..

"Please not Slytherin," you pleaded softly to the hat, "anything but that house, please. I don't want to be evil."

"Not Slytherin, eh?" The hat retorted " Ah, but you'd do so well.." He paused again, "But if you're sure you don't want to be there, you'd make a great fit for Huffelpuff.." He replied.

"I'd rather be there than Slytherin." You stated. And your brain seemed to match the way your heart felt about each house you learned about. You knew you were not smart enough to be a Ravenclaw, you're too stupid for that house as one kid said earlier, and you didn't like the way you felt when you were around two Gryffindor students who you met outside of Hogwarts on the grounds by the entrance of the school, and you never encountered a Slytherin student or a Hufflepuff student either. But you felt more comfortable being around a potential Hufflepuff or Hufflepuffs than you felt being called a Slytherin.

"Very well. HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat yelled, cheers erupted from all throughout the Hall, the loudest cheers coming from the Hufflepuff table. Professor McGonagall removed the hat, smiled at you, and you smiled back as you stood up and walked over to the table where your new classmates were, saying hi to everyone at the table as you sat down. Professor Dumbledore announced that it was time to eat dinner and the food appeared on the table shortly after, and it blew your mind at how much food was actually there. You started small talk to get to know your housemates as you all ate and conversed, you were looking at them as they talked, hearing them and what they had to say, but no matter how many times you tried to force your eyes to stay looking at them and not wander off so to speak; your eyes never left Dracos.

-later in your dorm-

Your first year at Hogwarts as a muggle, you aren't even a half-blood, not to mention you're not even close to being a pureblood like most of the students you've already encountered. But this year you're being placed in with the other fifth year students. You didn't ask your mother why you were going to this new school because you didn't know what or how to ask her, so you just simply agreed with her and went ahead to pack your things. You asked one of your new friends Samantha Green, or as she preferred to be called Sam, what was the difference between mudbloods, half-bloods, pure bloods, or even what you were; a normal person to yourself; but apparently a muggle to everyone else in the wizarding world as you learned.

Sam explained that if a wizard's blood is diluted with muggle blood, they are called a half blood and that they have both Muggle and Wizard ancestors. Muggleborn; a muggle; specifically means both parents are muggles but their child was born a witch or wizard. Pure-bloods have no known Muggle ancestors, because that status is kept by only marrying other pure-bloods. Many members of the old, pure-blood families look down on those who are not pure-blood, they see them as lesser people compared to themselves. If thats the case, why was Malfoy looking at you? More than the other students in the Hall at dinner, and why did you feel the connection to him that you did? As you went to bed that night you let your thoughts wander as they so often did, but one particular boy was on your mind before you fell asleep and throughout the whole night..

Draco Malfoy

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #fluff imagine #hp fandom

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2bu · 3 months

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I looked at your ocs on toyhouse again and at some of the things youve said here about pacifica and I wondered what happened to the other boyfriend she had? Pulse? U said once he was too aggressive or smth? Just kinda curious

If this is coming from a stranger, I suppose I get the curiosity but all I'll ever say at this point is that I do not want to speak about Pacifica and her ex, Pulse, because he does not belong to me, and I have not been on speaking terms with the person who owns him for a very long time now. I have no interest in being in contact with them again.

It's not my right to speculate any further on their relationship beyond canonical facts, and even then, I do not see a reason to do so as it's been a year since their relationship has ended and both parties have moved on.

However, and this is more likely, you are someone who knows me and knows Pulse's owner. I am VERY sure of who you are because you're not very good at hiding who you are, even on anon. If this is you, Raz, you need to leave me alone and stop sending me bait asks. If it's not you but someone else, such as Pulse's owner, you STILL need to stop sending me bait asks and leave me the absolute fuck alone. Y'all are blocked for a reason.

Not even a full month into the year and y'all can't leave me alone with anything related to the previous RP group I was in!

Look - stranger or not, I am not comfortable answering these sorts of asks.

I do sincerely apologize for my tone if this is one of those rare times where you're just a stranger casually browsing my accounts and you were just curious, but given the choice of words and framing of this question, I do not believe that you are a genuinely curious stranger. I sincerely believe you are someone who I have blocked across multiple platforms continuing to stalk, harass, and bait me into answering asks like this that I have said on multiple occasions that make me upset and uncomfortable.

This is the last time I will be nice about it or acknowledge these blatant bait questions in my ask box that are designed to set me up for more stalking, harassment, and fearmongering/misinformation to be spread about a black person who has LONG since left that particular scene, cut ties, and has mass-blocked people for his own safety.

Please do not ask me about Pulse and Pacifica. Do not ask me about the previous RP group I was in or users who are in/were in it. Leave me alone. I am tired of this insane nonsense coming from people who cannot let the dead horse stay dead.

Knock it off. Don't do this to me and do not do this to the people I am no longer in contact with either.

#ducky answers #and with that anonymous privileges are being revoked again. it was just two fucking days i had it on and you ruined it for everyone else.#congrats.#anonymous

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nobodysdaydreams · 5 months

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CUTTER'S LITTLE GIRLFRIEND CAN JOIN THE ERRAND BOYS IN THE AIRLOCK, I HOPE THE HEPHESTUS CREW TAKES OVER THE SHIP AND DESTROYS CUTTER, AND I KNEW THE EMPTY MAN WAS COMING BACK!

(or my reaction to Wolf359 episodes 41-43 plus the episode 43 post-credits scene).

Welcome back dear readers. I have had multiple people independently message me to say that this next reaction is a big one, and I'm not sure if that means I should be scared or excited.

Also, is it just me, or are these episodes getting longer? Like...a lot longer? This one is 43 minutes, and the season 1 episodes were about half that. Which is fine, but I might not be able to react to as many in a row, and will likely be doing housework during them. Sorry about that, but hopefully the reactions are still good.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom

Episode 41: Memoria

Thanksgiving Episode! 🦃 Kind of perfect that I'm listening to this now. But why does this feel like a flashback? Unless Lovelace is in the bathroom and they threw everyone else out the airlock?

Aw Hera...this is beautiful. St. Augustine's Confessions. That did sound familiar. As does "rub a dub dub thank for the grub!"

...what is this? Well that mood changed quickly. Oh this is dark. Oh wow she hears THEM as being distorted. She hears all of them like that all the time. That's scary.

Maxwell this is private. But oh boy am I excited for this one.

So...she's in a robot coma? "Pure Memory Consciousness" okay.

MAXWELL. Those are her memories! DO NOT DELETE HER MEMORIES!

Okay Discount Dr. Garrison.

...and now we have Minkowski's musical theater. That's nice. And yeah, Hera is nice. Minkowksi. Don't say that.

"There's a red flashy light show in the hanger bay" Doug is fantastic.

Yeah constantly dealing with your friends screaming at you to save them and not let them die is a lot of pressure. Leave Hera alone.

Maxwell, you're still here. Oh yeah...Hera's replacement. She doesn't deserve to be replaced.

Okay, I see why so many people were recommending this episode to me. Rewriting and deleting traumatic memories is something that I have written about in my fics. The funny thing is, the people who did that in my fics also started erasing memories in less willing individuals for less than benevolent purposes. But hey, surely the Wolf359 villains would nevvveeerrrr stoop so low.

Oh wow. Now it's Hera hearing DOUG'S voice in her head. 😂😂😂 Yes, Star Wars. 😂😂😂 I need to get Doug's reaction to the Sequels. It's also really cool to hear Hera's voice without the distortion.

"Shortcomings...no one is here to make friends..." she's focusing all her attention on Doug so she can hear him talk about Star Wars? 🥹💕Hilbert shut up that's wonderful.

And yes Doug, good point. She CAN hear you.

Not the count to ten without glitching thing. I don't like this. No bueno.

THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING. SHE'S A PERSON!

As someone who writes about AI, is she designed after a certain person's personality, or is she more of a "free script AI"? Either way, I wonder who designed her and what they had in mind.

"They could have made me better, they made me me". EXACTLY. "This is my life. I don't want to go. But if this is it, I'd rather go as me." TELL THEM HERA!

Oh ew. I knew it was Cutter before they even said it.

Shut up about Cutter. He doesn't know anything. And the fact that Duck and Whisky boy have a bet going is gross.

YES HERA! You can't change people!

The other half is Hera. And YOU. Because y'all have NOT been supportive crewmates. Doug has been stepping up, but everyone else needs get on board.

Maxwell. "Feeling bad is a dumb reason your code can't run". I certainly hope you don't have any friends with depression or anxiety.

Um. Uhhhh... is that her subconsciousness? Is that another Hera? OH MY GOSH DID THEY PUT THAT INSIDE HER TO STOP HER FROM REBELLING? BECAUSE SHE TRIED TO ESCAPE?

They did, didn't they. OH MY GOSH THE COUNTING! Cutter did this didn't he? He needs to go. He needs to go right now. He is such a coward.

"Access Denied" That's Cutter isn't it? Isn't it? Oh and the environment changing with Hera's emotions is a nice touch.

Oh here we are. Buried deep. Welcome to truth town.

"Just a memory" um...are you sure about that.

I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT!!!! I KNEW IT WAS CUTTER THAT SLIMEY FOOL.

The best? See. I knew Hera was the best.

Wait. What.

WHHHHAAATTTTT????

Well, well, well, well, well, well, WELL. So THIS is Cutter's Garrison. The whole time I was thinking it was Maxwell. Modeled the AI after her own brain no doubt. Weird that she feels comfortable enough to call him "Marcus". Let's un-pause the episode and see what her deal is (I get the feeling I won't like her as much as I like Garrison in TMBS).

"It Marcus. Never her. It." Oh I hate her. I hate how comfortable she is with Cutter, I hate that she uses Hera's voice, I hate that she clearly modeled the AI after HERSELF and KNOWS they are human but still choses to call them it like she's on a power trip. What's the matter? Scared one of your robot creations will end up being a better version of you? Don't worry. I get the feeling it's a very low bar. (Also you were right Sophie. The pronoun switch here is EXACTLY like what I wrote in my fic).

"Back door into the subconscious...make these things have my voice..." Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. I swear, if a robot shows up with CUTTER'S VOICE I am gonna vomit. That is HERA's voice. This lady is the friend Cutter was talking about isn't she? I bet she made all his tech too, he probably couldn't build a robot to save his life.

Oh ew is she Pryce? Ugh. That would make too much sense.

"Neural restraints but it can hear you". / "Hahaha...good...hi Unit 214. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to clip your wings. Allow me to share a thought." SHE IS DISGUSTING. REVOLTING. She clearly loves torturing her robots. I see why she and Cutter, oh I'm sorry "Marcus" get along so well. They certainly seem rather chummy.

MIRANDA PRYCE I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT.

YOU KNOW WHAT MIRANDA. YOU CAN'T DO THIS. YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

Um..."keep it boxed?" Was that the box Doug was trying to open earlier?

A yes deleted scenes...watching a completely different movie...I do love to do that in my writing.

Dr. Miranda Pryce. Hera's Voice Model. Robot Designer. Sadist. Waste of Space.

Not sure whether "Cutter's little girlfriend" or "Cutter's Garrison" is a more appropriate title for her right now. She certainly seems to be his Garrison, more so than Maxwell even, but not loving how close they seem. Not even Rachel or Kepler call Cutter "Marcus". Either way, she need to go.

Can't take it out? You can do it Hera. You are stronger than Pryce. She hasn't even been brave enough to show her face. She had to make you insecure and call you "it" just to have power over you, because she KNOWS she could never earn your respect.

YES! USE YOUR FRIENDS VOICE TO DROWN IT OUT! HECK YEAH!

PFFTTT... Doug telling her to use the force 😂 I love it.

Um...so what happened?

37 hours. Yikes. Good work Maxwell, you're earning a potential redemption faster than Duck Boy and Whisky Boy.

Yeah Hera. You will be okay. Right after we throw Cutter's little robot girlfriend out the airlock with the errand boys.

Episode 42: Time to Kill

Hopefully this episode isn't as intense.

"We'll be FINE" don't jinx it Jacobi.

oh good Doug has cards, so they don't have to play Funzo, a game that Pryce and Cutter CLEARLY MADE UP JUST TO TORTURE THE CREW BECAUSE THEY ARE SADISTS. Seriously. They are the worst. I hope they get everything that's coming to them.

And why do I get the feeling that Cutter's "inner circle" is little just him and maybe this Miranda Pryce person? I seriously doubt Kepler or Rachel made the cut.

Is Minkowski still not talking to him because of the jail time thing? She needs to get over that. He's sorry, and there are more important things going on right now.

"Nothing to hear..."

Well well well. I beg to differ. You all tried to gaslight me dear readers, but at last the truth revealed.

THE EMPTY MAN IS HERE! 🥳

"Who said anything about people?" "It's moving"

"This door is completely secure".

THE KNOCKS.

IT DID ANSWER. IT DID COPY YOU.

THE EMPTY MAN RETURNS!

An incoming hail you say????

Uh...is that...um... oh my goodness. This IS bad. One duck boy is bad enough, we can't handle two.

One is clearly an alien or an evil clone. The only sensible solution is to throw them both out of the airlock. It's sad but a sacrifice that needs to be made.

And that's right Doug. You DID tell them. Just like I said the empty man mattered, and everyone said "it doesn't Bods" but I knew better and so did my boy Doug. Welcome to truth town ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to truth town!

But um. If the aliens can um...copy people then...Lovelace...uh oh. Oh no. It doesn't even seem like she knows.

Though it does make sense. They already copied Doug's voice. Why not copy the rest of him too? Only a matter of time before copies of the others show up. At least they can't copy Hera...or can they? Hm. Would she look like Pryce then?

This is straight out of a dark fairytale where you see or hear someone who looks and sounds like your loved ones.

There's only one way to tell who the real Jacobi is.

We need a duck.

"It's trying to turn you against me" Jacobi, honey, we're already against you, you don't need any help with that.

YES DOUG! I KNEW IT! IT IS THE EMPTY MAN!

Oh right they don't know about that. But Doug is dead on the money.

The flares??? Oh I see...so that's how they do it.

And um...how about the possibility that the clones actually BELIEVE they are Duck Boy. And possibly Lovelace. It certainly sounds like they believe it.

Look. Guys. The solution is simple. Kill them both. It's tragic, and I hate to see Duck Boy go, but we have no choice. We must consider the safety of the crew.

The outside guy is hesitating on his answers.

"If there is any chance that it's A real Jacobi, we can't just leave him out there!" In all seriousness, as much as I hate to say it, Doug is right. You can't risk human life like that. But in the world of the fictional narrative, do we really need to keep any Duck Boys around?

Uh...Lovelace? Lovelace?

So this is why the episode was called time to kill. Because it was time to kill someone.

Oh gosh. The aliens might not like them after this.

Perhaps they should have let him in. Maybe that was the real Jacobi. Or a real Jacobi. Or maybe neither of them were. Or maybe none of them are their real selves. But there is one thing I know is true. The empty man is real, and at last I have my proof.

Nah, he's gone Maxwell. But at least you have a backup Duck Boy.

Just the four of us...all on our own...

But Doug. How do you know? How do you know that you are truly alone?

And that's the end of this one. I see what you mean. The show is getting good. It was already good before but… things are getting interesting…

Episode 43: Persuasion (plus an end credits scene 👀)

I'm glad Maxwell is helping Hera out. But if her allegiance comes down to Hera or Kepler, I hope she makes the right choice.

It's okay Doug. We all miss meetings sometimes.

And yeah...it's nice to know the plan for this alien contact.

"And how relaxed are you at the moment?" it's such a funny line when I imagine Hilbert and Doug as the same guy talking to himself (thank you live show).

YES! Hit him Maxwell!

"We're there for each other" Since when? Since when are Cutter's errand boys there for anyone but themselves?

Same Minkowski. Like what even is their relationship?

Hilbert is me every time Doug coughs.

"You talk about helping people, but what about the real life people around you?" Doug is speaking straight facts Hilbert.

YES! Everything Doug is saying is true.

"You lack vision." "At least I don't lack a soul". Hilbert lacks more than a soul he lacks rational common sense because he is letting one very traumatic thing color his whole view of this. Like. The decima virus will only help people if you get it out of the hands of Mr. Crazy Psycho Man (Cutter). Can you do that Hilbert? If not, your work was for basically nothing.

Oh dear. Minkowski!

Aw, she saved Maxwell. See, she's actually a GOOD boss. Unlike some people, I won't name names.

I hope they can save her.

Oh good. See? Work together, save a crewmate.

"That was some fun" We'll see how you like it when you're in that position Kepler. Try again? Oh no, no, no. How about YOU try it Kepler?

SHE CAN CALL HER HUSBAND!!!

He probably thinks she's dead or missing in action or whatever horrible lie Cutter told him. Oh but he's a journalist. I hope he puts him on blast. I hope he puts Cutter and his whole operation all over the news.

Pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up...

This is agony.

Oh she got his secretary.

HE THINKS SHE'S BEEN DEAD FOR OVER A YEAR????

...and that means Doug's daughter...and everyone else...i just- I- FOR A YEAR???...oh my goodness...

Cutter was already a dead man. But I believe this action just brought him back to life. I have another plan for him now. Something worse. Something so much worse.

Okay...so Jacobi is human...or at least he appears to be?

"You killed a man...that might catch up to you..." do you speak from experience Kepler?

"You're okay with hearing Jacobi screaming in agony as he undergoes a horrible death?" Kepler, you're okay with literally everyone else doing exactly that. Please stop trying to have the moral high ground, you're standing in the world's deepest of ditches.

We're beyond horribly wrong Doug. We are FAR beyond that.

Very specific instructions. Good work Minkowski. Doug will appreciate that.

And yep. You are dead. You've been dead for a while now.

Killing Kepler? This better not be like killing Hilbert where I got my hopes up just for him to start crying about his sister.

I better not be blasting Goodbye Earl by the Dixie Chicks for nothing.

End Credits Scene:

Oh Hilbert and Lovelace...what a pair...

Still kinda dark to manipulate their friends like that, but what else were they expecting from command?

And... wow. Those were some episodes. Normally I pick the best of the three to make my title, but this is gonna be a challenge. Let's see if I can cover all my bases.

Also if Miranda ends up being...idk Cutter's relative or something, I'll change the title, but right now I'm going just gonna call her his little girlfriend because I absolutely despise her.

#bods wolf359 reactions #wolf359 #renee minkowski #isabel lovelace #doug eiffel #alexander hilbert #hera wolf 359 #wolf 359 #w359 #hera w359 #daniel jacobi #warren kepler #wolf 359 spoilers #alana maxwell #miranda pryce #marcus cutter

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marcspectorsbooty · 2 years

Text

Cuddle O'Clock

(Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x gn!Reader)

Hurt/Comfort-ish, Fluff

TW: mentions of reader having a tough relationship with their family, panic attack, self-accusation, feelings of guilt

Description: Marc, Steven and Jake help you come down from a panic attack.

A/N: Apologies that Just A Taste isn't up yet. This one was one of my WIPs and I finished it because I had a shitty day. Here y'all go <3

Marc was good at reading you, almost to the point where it freaked you out a little bit. He had been fronting for most of the morning and had noticed how off you were. There were multiple points where he checked in with you and asked if you were okay, but you just shrugged it off and told him you were fine.

You weren’t fine and you knew it. Those texts from your family had dug a little too deep this time and you couldn’t get them off of your mind. No matter how much Marc, Steven and Jake reassured you, you couldn’t help but feel like things were still your fault. It consumed you and for most of the day, you kept to yourself, staring at your phone or fixating on things around the apartment. You wanted a distraction but nothing seemed to work.

The point came when you were tired of Marc’s curious eyes and questions, so you escaped to the shower. You sat in the tub, letting the warm water pour over your head as the tears fell from your eyes. You couldn’t help but sob, feeling all of the emotions rushing in at once.

It’s my fault, you thought. It’s all my fault.

Your fingers ran through your hair, tugging at it as your eyes burned from crying. You hadn’t even noticed that the bathroom door opened or that Marc had pulled the curtain back and turned off the water. Your head was spinning and you were far too lost in your thoughts and emotions.

“Oh, love.” Steven said, taking over. “Let’s get you dried off, yeah?”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb. It took a little bit for you to be able to stand up and step out of the tub. Steven was ready with a warm towel and a smile, singing praises into your ear about how good you were doing and that everything was going to be okay.

Once Steven dried you off, he led you into the bedroom and planted a kiss on your cheek before going hunting for comfy clothes for you. You could see the concern in his eyes and felt bad that he had to see you like this. Steven came back with a clean pair of your underwear, sweatpants, and a shirt that definitely wasn’t one of his.

Steven gave the shirt a good sniff before handing it to you and grimaced a bit. “That’s one of Jake’s, I know you like the smell of his cologne. I think it’s a bit rubbish but to each their own, I guess.”

You chuckled at Steven’s rambling, holding up the Chicago Cubs t-shirt. “Classic Jake.” You shook your head.

You got dressed, feeling the warmth and coziness of clean clothes and indulging in Jake’s scent while wearing the shirt. You had already started to feel yourself coming down, but you decided that you were going to take it easy.

Steven climbed into bed with you, pulling you close to his chest and tracing patterns into your arm. “Is it your family again? I know they can get you down sometimes, love.”

You buried your face into his chest, not wanting to answer and just wanting to hold him close. He was so good at helping you relax and that’s all you wanted to do at that point. You didn’t want to think about your problems, you just wanted them to go away.

“Don’t let their words get to you, dollface.” The familiar Chicago accent peaked through. “You’re amazing, okay?”

You looked up at Jake who shyly smiled down at you. His hand reached up to cup your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. He couldn’t help but look concerned, then again, the three of them were always concerned about you. They just wanted to help in whatever way possible.

“Thank you, Jake.” You mumbled and looked down.

“We’re worried about you. All of us are. Marc panicked a bit and called in for backup.” He admitted. “How can we help?”

“Just you being here helps.”

“Alright then, babydoll. Cuddle o’clock it is.”

Jake pulled you in tighter to his chest and kissed your hair. You nuzzled further into him, making yourself comfortable in his warm embrace. The bulk of your panic attack was over and you were finally settling in, feeling tired after feeling all of those emotions.

“Baby?” Marc called out, fronting once again.

“Mmhmm?” You hummed back, your eyes feeling heavy.

“You okay?”

“I think so. Sorry I shutdown like that.”

“Don’t be. You were upset, that’s how you coped.” Marc kissed your hair. “Just don’t be afraid to talk to us if stuff like that comes up, okay?”

“Okay.” You mumbled, feeling sleep draw you in.

“We’ve got you, baby. Steven, Jake and I will always have your back.”

#moon boys x reader #moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #steven with a v #moon knight fandom #marvel #moon knight fanfiction

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mylittleredgirl · 8 months

Text

i have now seen strange new worlds 1x3 "ghosts of illyria"! as expected, i am enjoying this show a lot :) i know una is the big headline here and i'm working up to it but:

i loved every scene with pike and spock! my guys <3

spock was really note perfect in this. ethan peck doing mister nimoy proud with that "fascinating"

hair and makeup crew on the other hand not making mister westmore proud with spock's worm on a string sideburns. those are not starfleet issue!!

uhura and kyle are both just kind of There but i am extremely happy every second they are

having to turn every light off on the ship while having a blind engineer and not doing anything with that seems like a miss

hemmer and la'an are the craziest people on that ship. like a warp core explosion and beaming up something that's ten thousand degrees are the MOST extra possible ways to resolve a problem that could probably have been handled by cranking the dial up on a tanning bed, but that's a very good thing to know about both of them

speaking of la'an. girl.

i get that they're trying to make her off-putting and kind of unlikable as a character starting point, and that they have to work REALLY HARD to do that because whenever christina chong frowns she looks like a sad kitten santa claus left on your doorstep, but babe. after the space racism and almost blowing up the ship, i feel like you could maybe work up a lukewarm apology, if genuine compassion is off the table

i do like what it says about them that la'an didn't lie to una about how she really feels, it just Ain't About You right now

una would have been making you an accessory to a federal space crime and endangered the commission she helped you to get!!! i feel like the "why didn't you tell me" goes unsaid here

let's talk about how i am IN LOVEEEEEEEE with m'benga

(i really warmed up to spunky chapel too!! they are great together)

but M'BENGA MY BELOVED

how is he so hot and also so competent and kind

and a good dad???? are you kidding me

i am. really into him right now.

SPEAKING OF HOT AND COMPETENT...

for the hero of the hour....

una is truly great and i trust her with my life

and thank god i do because y'all really love her, and i wasn't sold on her in her discovery and short trek appearances, so i was really holding out hope that i would see the light and BOY HAVE I

it's fascinating to me how little of the Una In Command episode took place on the bridge. like who's got time for that with all the new sets to explore, i get it, but i wonder about that moment when she seemed so hesitant to sit in the big chair??

she kicks so much ass and pike likes to endanger himself on the regular so this can't be a rare occurrence

OHHHHHH maybe it's because she's having Am I Worthy Of This Uniform When I Lied To Get It thoughts. ok. i get it now.

anyway. oh to be fireman carried by una for a long hero shot down an empty hallway

and yeah i WILL be replicating that manicure as soon as humanly possible

her phasering hemmer was so great i fuckin love when problems get solved that way. Just Stun That Guy

okay here me out on this one though: i am really torn about the ending, but this is more of a story choice than a character choice

so many people know about una's illyrianity now that it would be pretty impossible to keep that from pike without a conspiracy endangering the careers of multiple officers, so her telling him personally and him accepting it is the way the episode had to end, and it was a good moment for both of them

(even though? all those officers are actually STILL probably on the hook for this, come to think of it)

pike would absolutely want to know regardless, and una knows him well enough to know that he would

BUT i would REALLY have loved for this to be resolved with somehow only una and m'benga knowing, so they could keep each others' most important secrets for a while

i do realize this unravels some of the episode and takes out chapel and la'an's moments but go with me

picture m'benga saying he won't tell anyone, or "here's my medical log on what happened" and it's not that, after una has just offered him the same deal

because she IS endangering pike's captaincy by bringing him into this secret, because she must also know him well enough to know that he won't really arrest her

MOSTLY una and m'benga were fantastic together in every scene. they are both extremely competent and mature, and to have them share this... i just think it would have been potent and cool, especially if they let these threads drop for a while before giving other characters a reason to suspect

last thought: illyrians are so cool as a concept though?? terraforming yourselves? DANG how did it take us 600 hours of star trek to come up with that one!!

last last thought: are we just going to like. leave the screaming disembodied illyrian ghost friends there tho. without even trying to communicate and see if they need help. after they saved your lives????? i guess so!

deleted scenes:

hmm, i think it would have improved the episode to include the rundown on who the augments were up front, and specifying that the illyrians are a separate deal who didn't start out as humans (OR DID THEY???? like una saying "illyrians are their own people" seems to imply that they did not, but it seems kind of wild that una is an actual alien and NO ONE EVER NOTICED?)

but that guy clowned about it too hard so i see why they cut it. it could have worked well with a little more dispassionate starfleet othering and superiority though.

that said, it would have been HILARIOUS exactly as written if that guy were kevin thomas riley

imagine if they had created a canon where kevin thomas riley was on the enterprise for a wholeass decade, never getting promoted because he sucks but never sucking enough to get full on fired

upon further consideration:

OKAY I WATCHED THE UNA AND LA'AN STRAWBERRY SCENE AGAIN and it's pretty sweet actually. i can get behind this. i can ship it, i can friend-ship it, i'm in. keeping my eyes on this one.

not seeing the sexy pikeuna chemistry quite yet but i'm keeping my eye on that too

who else should i be 👀??

#trekathon #yeah ok i love everyone #god was a lot of bullet points i'm sorry #it goes better for you all when i watch the episodes late at night and then don't have the energy to communicate more than 👍

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beevean · 11 months

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Can I just say that I h a t e the Whispangle teasing from the latest issue, because of how it's making all the fans act? It's the perfect combination: 100% non-canon because SEGA does not WANT or allow any romance, but the hints and teases are about as subtle as a sleighthammer to the knees, and thus now the fans are all claiming that "OMG IT'S SO CANON EVERY OTHER SHIP WITH THEM IS NOW INVALID AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT YOU'RE A HOMOPHOBE UWU GO FUCK YOURSELF". The fact that also Silver and Blaze are literally seen holding hands in the exact same issue conveniently gets ignored, despite the fact that apparently is the standard we're needing to meet here for a ship to be """""canon""""". Must be the fact they're in front of a few trees, not a unsubtly-coloured pride flag background.

I'm salty about the general fandom mindset, sorry. Was the exact same when Sonadow promptly got declared """""canon""""" when Shadow carried Sonic bridal style one time, except the fact Sonic has done the same with Amy tons of times too. I can't help but feel like fans of 'straight' ships are a LOT less insufferable about it than those of 'gay' ships, but that might just be a generalisation because this is Tumblr.

100% agree with you there, anon.

Like. Really, guys? The pride flag? Just in case we didn't get the hint enough? Funnily enough, you can even see it the other way around: Laviarray said, in his latest video, that if you removed the colors from the panel it would lose all meaning, because it's just holding hands, and it doesn't convey romantic chemistry (not helped by Whisper's expression: couldn't she look at Tangle, to signify that she matters to her?).

As I said, Whispangle lost all sympathy for me after their little drama. The two did not interact after their own miniseries, which apparently takes place between #16 and #17; then they meet again and Tangle decides to propose the Diamond Cutters' name as their own team name when it wasn't her place at all (and putting Whisper in an uncomfortable position in front of people who aren't aware of her trauma); then the incident is resolved with Tangle being like "i'm sowwy i didn't mean to i just thought your dead friends were so cool 🥺" and Whisper writing a whole ass multiple-tweet apology that amounts to "I sincerely apologize for my PTSD, I recognize that it's very inconvenient for you, from now on I will try to be a better person, therefore I will allow you to get what you want and use the name of my dead friends for your personal comfort"?

I. Don't see what y'all are seeing. Do we have to play that old game of "imagine if Tangle was a boy and this was a boring straight ship"?

To be fair, at least Whisper and Tangle holding hands isn't quite as irritating as the Sonadow bride carrying, or even worse Sonic giving bedroom eyes to Shadow in #6: Sonic and Shadow are such disgusting pricks to each other than the people who seriously see chemistry between them basically out themselves as people who did not read IDW, and are just going with out of context panels.

Not even going to talk about that little discourse of "if you ship Tangle and Whisper with men you're lesbophobic". That's stupid. It's so stupid that I feel stupid even explaining why it's stupid. Then again, it's Twitter, so what do I expect.

As for your last point, it does feel that way. I think it's because gay ships are immensely more popular on Tumblr/Twitter in general so it attracts more assholes, and because gay ships aren't allowed to simply exist, but are touted as Representation and thus Extremely Important Activism To Take Super Seriously. Which, guys, chill. It's just two anthros looking at each other. Have fun and stop pretending you're doing something important: shipping is just a game.

#fans don't look #if i wanted to swing a bat at the hornet's nest i could compare whispangle to bumblebee form rwby #but eh can't be bothered

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angstsfordays · 2 years

Text

Save me, Save you [5/?]

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Enhanced! Avenger Reader

Summary: Your fights mostly belonged on the grounds while he worked mostly in the mystic and cosmic realms. Even though you both fought together in the infinity war to stop Thanos, you and Stephen Strange hardly ever interacted with one another. It only took one incidental misunderstanding between the two of you to bring both of you closer than ever. For two people who do not believe that they could find love, all we can say is that love finds you unexpectedly.

Chapter synopsis: Reader and Stephen try to navigate the beginning of their unexpected partnership. Stephen plays his part more seriously than reader thought.

Warnings: An almost bad word coming out! Slow burn🔥 Classic fake dating shenanigans!

Word count: 4.7k

Notes: Chapter 5 is finally here! 😊 I'm sorry for the wait as real-life duties call and I had multiple deadlines to meet at work. 🥲 Hence, I could only post this chapter out over a week later! Hope y'all liked it and let me know what you think! We get to have a bit of action here! 🤪

Love,

Angstsfordays 💜

Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four

------------------------//---------------------------

The aftermath of everything that happened was a sheer nightmare. When you promised Sam that you will come back to the matter after he came back from Louisiana, that only settled half the problem.

The other half was trying to deal with Bucky but that surprisingly resolved on its own when Bucky grimly stated that he had things to attend to, which he then made his quick exit out of the Sanctum doors.

Wong left you and Stephen alone, but not before giving you a thumbs and a wish of luck.

Once everyone let the room, you immediately sunk down to the floor and heaved a sigh of relief. You webbed your fingers through you hair to slowly process what the hell just happened. For a moment, you forgot the other presence in the library- one which you were still interlocking fingers with.

Stephen blinked a couple of times as he recalled a flash of what transpired earlier.

“I really like him.”

“He makes me happy.”

The sound of love in your voice as you spoke those words did so much to him that you probably realised. Even though he knew you said what you had to convince Bucky Barnes, he couldn’t help but to feel a sense of happiness at hearing them.

Stephen then looked to you now muttering a string of curses under your breath as your eyes were burning a hole onto the ground beneath.

He cleared his throat to get your attention and your head immediately snapped towards him before looking down to your connected hands. Faster than lightning, you withdrew your hands and whispered an apology.

Stephen was disheartened at the loss of contact but then remembered he wanted an explanation from you. “Care to explain what happened back there?”

You winced at his very valid question.

“Well, you see Stephen, I may have decided to lie about our supposed relationship.” Eyes wandering everywhere except for the sorcerer in front of you, you were cracking your brain to try to explain yourself without making you sound like a pyscho.

“Hmm.” Stephen let out as he gestured for you to continue. You took a breath in and out to collect yourself before speaking.

“The person I talked to you about, the one I confessed my feelings too. It is Bucky.”

“Uh huh.” Stephen pretended to go along even though he had already figured it out for himself.

“During dinner last night, I may have told him and Sam I had a date. Mainly to convince Bucky I have moved on because he was seeing someone.” So that was the real reason why you started the lie, Stephen thought.

“Right.” He responded before you started rambling to explain yourself further. “I didn’t say who it was. I totally made it up.”

Hearing that you made up an imaginary date to get two guys that acted like your brothers was fair and also humorous. Stephen held back a smirk before speaking, “I see.”

“I didn’t expect Sam’s imagination to go off the charts and think you were my date!” Your tone was frantic and your pitch got higher as realization dawned upon you on how messy the situation was. What you had done was possibly the worst improvisation in the history of improvisation!

“Okay.” Stephen was getting a little concerned at how agitated you were starting to get but before he could budge in, you continued on dramatically.

“But I didn’t deny it because Bucky was right there and if I didn’t do what I did just now, he would know I am a lying ass.” You ended off your tirade with a flurry of dramatic hand gestures and looked to Stephen, hoping that he would understand and pitied your situation.

“Which you technically are.” The sarcastic yet accurate reply you had gotten from him made you blanched, because he was absolutely right and you were downright embarrassed.

“Yes, but I rather be a lying ass than a humiliated ass.” Trying to redeem yourself, you squirmed under the doubtful look that Stephen had thrown your way. You felt like a complete scam and looked towards him defeatedly.

“I’m sorry, Stephen. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. I panicked.”

“So what now?” Stephen looked at you expectedly, he wasn’t sure how you wanted to go about this but all he knew was that he would go along with whatever you wanted. Because he genuinely wanted to. Looking at him with hopeful doe eyes, Stephen was also pretty sure he would find it hard to say no to you.

“Please keep this up charade with me. At least for a month or something. Then we can tell them we ended this because we’re too busy with own schedules or it just didn’t work out and we decided that we’re best off as friends.”

The idea of fake dating would go terribly wrong, Stephen thought. His feelings for you which he was supposed to put a stop would also heighten while pretending to be your boyfriend in front of other people.

Yet, he did want to help you- even this whole situation is ridiculous. Seeing how you were trying to put up a brave front in front of Bucky left a gnawing feeling in his heart because he has been where you were.

When he attended Christine’s wedding and responded to her question on whether he was happy. He was totally not even though he said he is. Stephen was brought back to the present when you spoke up fervently.

“I could let you dump me. I don’t mind!” Oh Y/N…he thought. He didn’t like how you thought so little of yourself.

Stephen shook his head and tried to focus on the practicality of the matter as he spoke, “It’s not about that. How are we going to keep this up?”

Brows furrowing in dep thought, you came up with a plan. “I would probably meet Bucky and Sam a couple of times in the next month. It would be easy to put them off by saying what is between us is private.”

Stephen nodded in understanding but then meticulously thought about other considerations too. “But you’re forgetting Wong knows. Which means, America might know sooner or later. She would probably be invested in it seeing how she was so excited for you to date. We’re gonna be around each other quite a bit in their presence too.”

His tone became more serious, “I don’t really want to let her hopes get too high when she realises it is going to end in a month.”

You grimaced at the thought of having to lie and put up an act in front of America. “Crap, I have not even considered Am in the picture.”

You then countered justly, “But I’m sure she will understand. She shares with me how her friends get together and break up with guys easily.”

Stephen shook his head in disagreement as he reasoned, “But it’s different. It’s between us two, people that she looks up to and admires. If we break up so easily, it will have a far greater impact on her than you think.”

“Not if we’re not awkward after the ‘break up’. We can show how people can still be good friends even after one. Besides this is fake, it’s not like we’re dating for real.” The cold hard truth from your words stung Stephen. He was taking this more seriously than you, considering he was the one with more feelings for you than him. You probably had close to zero.

Stephen wanted to take his words back. As much as he wanted to help you, he wondered if this whole fake-dating would end up hurting him more. Stephen looked towards your guilt-ridden face after processing your entire discussion, you then looked back up at him with a firm stare.

“You know what. I’ve been very selfish asking you to do this for me. I would bear the consequences of my actions, I can tell the truth to Bucky, Sam and Wong. You shouldn’t have to play along to my bad decisions.”

“Y/N….” Worry came out from Stephen as he stares at your crestfallen expression. You put on your most optimistic face to reassure him as you saw Stephen looking upon you with concern.

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” You tried to make a joke about yourself to lighten the atmosphere. It was this moment where Stephen decided to not hold back.

“No, you are not.” He replied adamantly. Stephen hated seeing you so upset and hurt.

“Y/N…I am going to help you get through this.”

You couldn’t believe your ears and took a moment to process Stephen’s words. He actually agreed to help you! Breaking into a wide toothy grin, you started shaking excitedly.

“You mean it?” Your heart was hammering to hear Stephen’s confirmation and once he nodded in response, you stretched out your arms to gesture for a hug.

Stephen took a step forward to return your hug. He was relieved to see your cheery self once more and savoured in the close contact you two were having.

You held Stephen closely to show your appreciation and pulled back to show him your biggest smile.

“Thanks Stephen, you’re my literal hero!”

Taken back by your statement, Stephen was at a loss for words. His hands were getting clammy with nerves and his heart started pounding. To be the hero of an Avenger like you or even just to be your hero brought new meaning to him.

He always claimed himself to be an all-knowing and all-important person- protecting the fabric of reality and time. Yet, to be your hero just by getting you out of a messy situation brought a greater sense of accomplishment.

To be the reason for your smile and your happiness brought him far more pride than he ever had in his whole career as a surgeon or sorcerer.

------------------------//---------------------------

Stephen and you had decided to work out some rules regarding your entire dating fake situation that day. The two of you agreed that you would do no more than hand holding, hugs and friendly kisses in front of people.

The two of you had a cover story of bumping each other on the streets well over a month ago and started to hang out outside of the Sanctum. You both decided to wait and keep your relationship under wraps until it was more established- which did not happen due to the incidental expose with Sam and Bucky.

Stephen and you decided to find the right timing to ‘confess’ to America and wanted to make sure it came from the two of you first. You both believed Wong wouldn’t be the sort to tell everyone so you wanted to try keeping this relationship as close to your inner circle.

The wider it gets only meant more things to cover up. You shuddered at the thought.

Making your way to the Sanctum Sanctorum, you nervously got off your bike and parked it.

You hadn’t been this nervous even on your first visit, but just thinking about how things might or did change.

Entering the familiar lobby area of the Sanctum, you made your way to find America. You took the familiar steps to the residential wing of the Sanctum- each step you took was heavy as did your heart.

“Y/N?” A familiar comforting voice was heard behind you. The door of Stephen’s study opened and you saw him stepping out of the room. Cloakie followed closely behind and was about to latch him onto Stephen’s shoulders before it was made aware of your presence.

The ancient relic left Stephen hanging and swoosh to your side, wrapping you in a warm embrace. You giggled at its affectionate gesture and ran a hand up and down its softness.

Stephen looked towards the both of you with a mixture of annoyance and adoration.

“I’m jealous.” Your attention was brought back to Stephen standing hands folded with a teasing look.

Both you and Cloakie turned your attention to the Sorcerer. “Hmm? Of what?”

Taking steps towards you, Stephen smirked as he spoke, “I called you first, but your attention is on Cloak.”

“Oh, but he’s so cute!” You returned with a teasing expression. Cloakie then proceed to wrap itself even tighter in response to show its fondness for you.

“And I’m not?” Stephen took a cheeky jab at you and you can’t help to have a feeling that he was acting differently but not in a bad way. You know beneath his hard exterior, Stephen can be light-hearted and even sassy too.

“You’re acting odd?” Your statement came off more like a question. Stephen grinned at your confused expression before saying, “Just playing the part of the jealous boyfriend.”

“Of Cloak?” You added on doubtfully with a raised brow.

“Why not? Anyone who steals the attention of my girlfriend would incur my jealousy.” Stephen answered in a matter-of-fact tone. You rolled your eyes at this pretend play of his and decided to play along.

“Oh right. Got it.” Taking one more step brought you and Stephen chest to chest, you looked up to Stephen with apologetic eyes and a pout. “I’m sorry babe.”

Stephen’s heart jumped a little at the little nickname you added to your apology. He had to control himself from grinning out like a fool. “Is that what you’re going for?”

Giving him a quizzical look, you asked, “Then what should I call you?”

“Yours.” Stephen’s low baritone voice enunciating that one single word caused your insides to flip upside down. Why were you feeling this way?

Your lashes fluttered to look up at Stephen who was watching you with a cheeky grin. Your brows furrowed in light annoyance.

Thinking of the best comeback you can make, you retorted, “Unbelievable the all-stoic and nonchalant Stephen Strange is such a cringe.” Your words only served to make Stephen’s grin wider.

“I can be if I want to. Is it too much?” He laughed as he took a step back, creating a slight distance that only disappointed you. Why were you feeling sad that he moved back?

Shaking your head to rid of any deviating thoughts, you murmured with a passive voice. “It’s weird but not too much.”

Stephen was puzzled to see a change in your demeanour but he continued to speak, “Well, we should get some practice in if we wanted to convince Wong. He is shockingly intuitive and we must be on our toes.”

Nodding in agreement, you fiddled with the sides of your leather jacket nervously at the idea of pretending to keep up the dating act.

After everything has finally processed, you realized that you’re actually fake dating Stephen and while you thought this would be a breeze, you started to have some doubts of your own.

“Well, I shall not keep you any further. I got a class to teach soon so I will see you on the grounds later?” Gesturing for Cloak to return to him, the relic huffed before waving goodbye to you and then settling on Stephen’s shoulders.

You nodded as Stephen threw a disarming smile your way before he opened up the portal to Kamar-Taj. What was this unnerving feeling that you were experiencing?

------------------------//---------------------------

After training America for an hour or so, Wong came over to ask you for a favour. One of the Masters that was in charge of fight trainings called in sick- something about having too much Korean BBQ the previous night.

You agreed to help and brought America along to the class. As it was an advanced class involving the teachings of using a weapon, America had to sit this class out. Nevertheless, she joined in as an audience at the side and was excited to see you- her beloved mentor in full action.

As your eyes hovered over the small group of Masters-in-training, one guy caught your attention as you felt his stare almost burning into the side of your head.

You recognised him as one of the handsome recruits from the Hong Kong Sanctum and when both of your eyes met, the corner of his lips went up into a charming smile.

You weren’t sure entirely how to react so you returned a polite smile before conducting the class. Each Master had to use their magic energy to conjure a weapon that was of their own choice, you tried to guide them on how they could best utilise these weapons best for both attacks and defence.

You had everyone practiced in pairings to figure out the workings of their weapon choices before calling for a break. Everyone dispersed to use the toilet, grab some water or went for a change in scenery.

A voice called out to you and your head turned to the handsome recruit who smiled at you previously. Looking at him closer, you could observe his striking features more intimately.

He had a head full of black and neat cropped hair, his handsomeness wore a devilishly and boyish look. He was definitely younger than you with the puppy like smile he was throwing your way.

You had to admit he was stunning but you did not forget to be professional. Walking closer to him, you acknowledged his call out to you and asked him how you could help him.

“Master Y/N?” He called you with an endearing tone which taken you aback.

“Oh, I’m not a Master.” Shaking your head and hand, you tried to hold in your laughter at the misunderstanding before explaining yourself. “I’m just subbing for Master Fukuhara. I’m not a Master here actually.”

The young recruit who introduced himself as Daniel Cheung widened his eyes at your statement and chuckled nervously before speaking, “I’ve been here for a month and I always see you training that girl over there. How come she is so special?”

“Oh, Wong asked me to train America specifically for combat and not in the Mystic Arts. I can’t actually do any magic.”

Daniel’s face was painted with surprise at your explanation while you continued to speak.

“I used to be an agent. So I have experiences with different types of weapons, that’s why I’m here.”

Daniel blinked innocently at your revelation, “Like a spy?”

You nodded while giggling at his question, “Something like that?”.

Daniel looked at you with awe before a confusion dawned upon him. “I saw you with powers though. I didn’t know a spy has powers. If they’re not magic, what are they?”

“I don’t know how to explain, I’m just born with them. They’re energy based and have more physical rather than magical impact.” You extended a hand to light up some energy sparks in your hand, manipulating it like a mini fireworks show.

Excitement lit up Daniel’s face. “That’s cool! You’re like me! Sort of! My ancestry stems from a long line of Masters so magic has been kind of within me too.”

You smiled like a mum at his cuteness and did wonder why he would choose to study Mystic Arts at a young age.

Most of the Masters here were definitely much older and the youngest would at least be around your age.

“I just want to say, I think you are so cool when I see you training on the grounds. I actually look forward to seeing you every time too.” Hearing what Daniel said got you flustered and you did not know how to receive the compliment except with an awkward smile.

He’s cute but could you really see yourself with someone like him? Not quite. Little do you know- cold and brooding types with a hidden warm side have always attracted you.

America was approaching you with your water bottle but stopped short in her tracks as your conversation with Daniel fell within her range.

She could not believe her ears and eyes as to what was happening. Y/N was finally getting some action and of all places, it’s at Kamar-Taj! She was trying so hard to squeal aloud and had to resort to doing it on the inside.

“Oh, uh, that’s really unexpected. Thank you for the compliment, that’s sweet of you.” Smiling politely, you found yourself feeling nervous.

“You know what’s sweeter?” You blinked wide-eyed at Daniel’s question, causing him to chuckle at your confusion.

“Yu, me and a cup of boba? I know this new place that just opened up.” Your eyes started blinking faster and your mind was whirling to process what could follow Daniel’s statement.

You had a gut feeling and the words came out of you sooner than you thought. “Oh, I don’t think-”

Daniel ignored your stuttering and went on with a hopeful look in his eyes, “I saw you bringing over some sweet drinks for the other Masters the other day and figured that boba might be to your liking?”

America could see you acting all fidgety and wanted to chid you for being awkward. Where was all the confidence and swag that you had from the time that she had known you?

You always carried yourself with positive and calming energy that infected the people around you. Yet, here you were completely the opposite as you looked flustered.

America wanted to step into help give you a boost of confidence and be your wing woman. However, What she didn’t realised was another person witnessing this exchange too- one in blue robes and donning a red cloak relic.

Stephen ended his class early and later learnt from Wong that you had agreed to help sub a class. He was curious to see how it went and had managed to catch five minutes of it from the side before you called for a break.

He was going to call out to you before another person got ahead of him. His eyes narrowed to the young-looking recruit whom he recognised as one from the Hong Kong division.

“Would you like to hang out sometime? Maybe tonight after class if you’re not too busy?”

A rush of emotions and thoughts flooded Stephen as his eyes fleeted between you standing awkwardly and bashful while the young recruit was trying to take his shot at you.

What did that young man just say? Why were you not saying anything back? Stephen immediately thought back to days ago where you were caught ogling at the handsome recruits.

Dread started to set into Stephen’s mind. Did you actually liked the guy enough and wanted to have your chance?

You couldn’t actually agree right? The two of you have yet to talk about the possibility of what ifs- if one of you wanted to start dating other people. Well more you than Stephen, he most definitely was not interested in others.

You didn’t even have any actual feelings for him so you would want to have night out with some young handsome lad? While Stephen’s mind was thinking of all possibilities, his gaze went back to you.

He caught your eye as you immediately turned towards him with a wide-eyed look. You bit your lips nervously and looked back to Daniel who was waiting for your eager response. Stephen and you may not have known each other for a long time, but he dared to say he knew you well enough to sense how you were feeling.

Taking long strides, Stephen placed himself right beside you and you were taken aback by the sudden proximity. Stephen puffed out his chest in a show of confidence before looking at Daniel then you.

“Y/N, I hate to interrupt but I need your help.”

“Help with what?” You asked with a baffled look before catching the twinkling in Stephen’s cerulean eyes. Without speaking, you knew what he was doing and you were so eternally grateful for him getting you out of a sticky situation (again).

“Something that requires your help.” He enunciated each word clearly.

You looked towards Daniel who was unaware of what the two of you were up to before playing along. “Ah, right of course. I would be glad to help you.”

Turning to Daniel with an apologetic look, you put on your most sorry face. “Sorry, I gotta help Stephen with something important.”

In contrary, Daniel’s face was full of optimism. “Oh yeah of course. But we’re still on tonight?”

“What?” You let out a croak. Jealousy was brimming inside Stephen as he witnessed this foolish young man’s persistence. Couldn’t he see that you were clearly uncomfortable? This man was taking advantage of your niceness.

Unfortunately for him, Stephen was anything but nice.

“For Boba?” Silence followed after as the three of you looked between each other. Meanwhile, America felt like she was watching in the scene of a Netflix series. The tension in the situation was so sharp it could pop just like a balloon.

She really wished she could have some popcorn at this moment.

“Recruit…?” Stephen inquired with a hint of contempt.

“Cheung. Master Strange. Daniel Cheung.”

“Ah, yes. Y/N cannot make it for tonight. She will be busy with me.” Responding with a matter of fact tone, you feel one of Stephen’s arm suddenly placed around your shoulders.

Your eyes bulged at the physical contact. It wasn’t anything you’re uncomfortable with but he definitely wasn’t the touchy feely sort in front of others.

“Okay…” Daniel pondered seriously for a moment before glancing at you with a grin. “Tomorrow then?”

If it was physically possible, Stephen’s eyes would roll to the back of his head at how dense this boy was.

“Recruit Cheung. She would not be free tomorrow, the day after, not on the weekends, not next week and not anytime soon.” Stephen’s change in tone had you in shock. You were not surprised by his unfriendliness but at where you thought he might be heading with his words.

“What? Why?”

Stephen spoke to Daniel haughtily. “Because every moment she has besides work and training will be with me.”

With a smug look on his face, Stephen stated with finality. “We’re together.”

You started sputtering once you heard the words that came out of his mouth. No, Stephen! You’re supposed to keep the fake dating within the small circle- that means Bucky, Sam, Wong and eventually America!

Daniel was clearly flustered as he looked between the two of you and under the watchful eye of Stephen, he gathered the courage to speak up, “But when I see the two of you on the grounds, it didn’t seem like you were together.”

“It’s called professionalism.” Stephen rebuffed the recruit’s claim with ease. Daniel looked flabbergasted but then an invisible light bulb seemed to go off in his head.

“Ah, are you trying to help her out? Because if I were to be honest, you two don’t seem to look like a couple.”

Daniel then turned to you with a supposed understanding look. “Y/N, I know that me asking you out of the blue might have taken you by surprise but I swear that I only have good intentions.”

Stephen was clutching his fist tightly (with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your shoulder) as he was astonished at how overly confident this young lad was. “Are you serious? I just said we are together.”

“And somehow, I don’t believe it. You’re all brooding and cold while she is all sunshine.”

Stephen was seething at how Recruit Cheung was testing his patience. The hand around your shoulder slid down before reaching to interlock with one of yours.

“What are you doing?!” You mouthed to him in panic. Stephen didn’t respond but instead started at you endearingly for a moment.

Stephen’s emotions were taking over him. This was definitely not part of your fake dating plan but he was sure as hell to prove something to Daniel Cheung.

What did he even mean by you two not looking like you belonged together?!

He saw the panic in your eyes but he knew it was too late to reverse what he said (although he was more than capable to do a simple memory erasure spell).

He just had to wing it.

Leaning down to you, Stephen planted his lips on yours and his other hand immediately went to cradle the side of your face. You were in shock at what he was doing and wanted to pull yourself away but when you felt his hot breath on your lips, your body involuntarily responded back.

What in the world were you doing?!

You let go of your hand in Stephen’s hold and placed them on his firm chest. As you felt his lips putting more pressure onto yours, you snaked both hands from his chest to around his neck. Stephen’s free hand pulled you closer by the waist and the two of you were deep in your lip lock for a few more seconds.

Stephen couldn’t believe that you were responding in kind and when your thumb brushed against his beard, it elicited an involuntary soft moan from his lips that also caused your stomach to somersault.

“What the fuc-” America let out before Wong’s voice cut into the scene. It woke both you and Stephen out of your trance. You pulled away and a soft pop could be heard from both Stephen and your lips while doing so.

You jumped at the sight of the sudden crowd of people gathering around and looked towards bashful looking Stephen whose eyes were anywhere were towards you.

Why would he even try to kiss you like that? You were still reeling from the shock of what happened before a voice shrieked.

“YOU TWO ARE DATING?!” You and Stephen looked towards the teenage girl who had a mixture of shock and giddy excitement on her face.

As all eyes were on you and Stephen, you realised that your sticky situation had gotten stickier and that now probably most of Kamar-Taj would believe that you two were dating.

------------------------//---------------------------

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