#i actually have few concepts I tossed on paper for a bit until | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quoththe-ravenn · 2 years

Note

drooled a lil over that amazing ask,,, but WOW that wasn't what i was thinking and in some ways i am both happy and surprised- surppy? haprised?? ANYWAY my inital thought was something like m!whitney and m!corrupt sydney who kinda teamed up on a more innocent lil pc (idk the dialogue def suggested a more innocent pc in my eyes, and no i dont have a corruption kink </3) and like corrupt syd wanted to do the dirty w pc to see if she would get like punished or something for doing the dirty with someone other than whitney idk 😭 i wasnt thinking too straight i just kept thinking "corrupt sydney corrupt sydney!!!!"

GAHHH YES actually this was a concept @froppiesyte and I were tossing around a little while ago. Anyways, sorry this took a while, I had to wait until I had time to actually sit down at my laptop and write. <3

M!Whitney x Afab!PC x M!Sydney

Tw: Noncon, Corruption, Virginity

Sydney liked to pride himself on being observant. Sometimes a little too observant; his wandering eyes were the reason that he'd been changed forever, after all.

It was how he had caught onto the bullies feelings for you. The way Whitney would stare after you longingly when you passed him in the halls, how his eyes would scan a room he just entered in search of you. How he'd affectionately brush your hair behind your ear while pinning you against the wall, a show for his friends and an excuse to touch you all rolled into one.

He also noticed how possessive the bully had become of you. How he fought hard to keep your innocence about you. It was quite strange, the way Whitney avoided using you the way he would anyone else. His excuses were top tier whenever his friends questioned him, as well.

He wanted to wait for the perfect moment to ruin your life. Wanted to wait for the perfect day to watch as your mascara rolled down your cheeks, to see the fear in your eyes.

Sydney could tell it was all a farce. Whitney never planned on hurting you like that. No, Sydney knew what the bully was really trying to do was figure out the best way to get you alone so he could fuck you any way he wanted, to be the only one to see you come undone under him.

It made Sydney giggle to think about it.

You walk into the library after school; you always spent Wednesday's with Sydney, helping him take stock of the shelves and returned books, checking carefully for any damage to the papers.

Today, Sydney couldn't keep his eyes off of you. More importantly, your body. Your shirt was torn in a few places, putting those delectable breasts on display. Your skirt was a bit shorter than usual, which told Sydney that you hadn't been able to come up with the money to repair your normal school skirt.

The two of you sit next to each other, silently working on your respective tasks. Sydney leans over, places a hand on your thigh under the pretense of grabbing a pen. You stiffen, the feeling of his hand on your bare skin foreign to you.

He gives you a warm smile, instantly putting your nerves at ease. "Sorry about that." You give a small smile back, then press your lips together as you look back down at his hand still on your leg. You don't want to cause a fuss, Sydney has always been so kind to you after all. He probably doesn't even realize he's doing it.

You jolt when his hand shifts slightly, moving a bit further up your thigh. He doesn't notice, his eyes focused on whatever he's writing. The warmth is distracting, rendering it impossible to remember what you had been doing moments ago.

A small gasp escapes you, your back straightening when his finger brushes against your crotch through your underwear. You grip his wrist, wide eyes meeting his amused ones. "Syd, wh-what are you doing?"

Sydney doesn't stop, instead moving his hand higher to properly press against your folds. You clamp your thighs together, capturing the wandering digits. It only adds to the friction, making you squirm. Sydney's grinning now. "Nothing, just a harmless little game. You trust me, don't you?"

A distressed noise leaves your lips as he pushes aside the fabric. But, this is Sydney. You do trust him. He's never done anything to hurt you before. Sparing a glance around the library, you nod, slightly relaxing your legs.

The pleased look Sydney gives you could make you melt. He turns your chairs to face each other, the hand not occupying your sex wrapping around your waist and pulling you a bit closer. When he slides a finger inside of you, your hands move to grip his biceps of their own accord.

"Sydney I... I..." He shushes you, slowly pushing his finger in and out of you. The sensation is dizzying, making your insides tighten in a way you've never felt before. Your body leans forward, breathing erratic.

He curls his finger, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. You feel him kiss the side of your head, his fingers brushing against that spot over and over and over again until you're squeezing your eyes shut at the overwhelming pressure that's built up in you. "There you go, it's okay. Let it out, I've got you." Sydney's calming words push you over the edge of your personal Niagara Falls.

Your moan is so loud and lewd you're surprised it didn't alert the janitor to your location. Your face is flushed, body shivering as you come back down to earth.

You look questioningly at Sydney as he stands, yelping when he pulls you up with him. His lips are on your neck, biting and licking. He pushes his hips into yours, pressing you roughly against the counter. "Sydney, wait. Don't-" You gasp, a particularly rough bite effectively silencing you.

He lifts your leg, captures your lips with his. Your eyes widen; You've never kissed anyone before, and Sydney just stole it without a thought. You feel something press against you down there.

You pull away from the kiss, pushing Sydney as hard as you can to try and get him off of you. "Stop, I don't want this Sydney, p-please!" It's as if Sydney doesn't hear you, his arm snaking around your waist and lifting you onto the counter.

Fingers brush against your clit again as Sydney pushes aside your underwear. You feel a pressure against your hole, and a screaming sob rips from you at the burning feeling of it pushing inside of you.

"Stop! Stop it hurts! Please!" Tears stream from your cheeks, landing with a splash on the surface beneath you. You desperately cling to Sydney's shoulders, unsure if you want to push him away or hold him closer.

Despite the roughness as he entered you, his following thrusts are slow, almost gentle in a way. It doesn't stop the pain, however.

The sound of the library door opening behind you makes anxiety bloom like a petunia in your chest. "Sydney, stop, someone's here! They're going to see, please st-ahhh!" A moan breathes out of you when his finger rubs a circle against your sensitive bud.

Oh no, the person most definitely heard that. You cover your mouth with your hand, desperately hoping to muffle the noises your making. Sydney thrusts in again, pulling you flush to his body.

"What the fuck," Whitney's voice rings out behind you. A heartbreaking sob sounds loudly, and it takes a minute for you to realize it came from you.

"Whitney, please!" You beg, crying out when Sydney thrusts harder into you at the words. His pace picks up, slamming into you until the three of you are surrounded by the lewd smacking of your hips.

Whitney stays silent, you look back at him to see his eyes narrowed. You plead with your eyes for him to save you. He's done it before, with his friends right? He'll do the same now, won't he?

But his focus isn't on you, it's on the boy who is currently assaulting you. You look up to notice Sydney looking back, a devilish grin on his face. "G-good of you to join us, Whit- ah- Whitney," Sydney's words are breathless, mocking.

Whitney scowls at the blonde, feet staying planted to their spot.

Sydney's hands grip your rear and pulls you against him. He hits that same spot his fingers had found earlier. It immediately unravels you, making your insides clench and your mind drift away from the situation.

You only realize you'd been screaming when Sydney's hand covers your mouth. Tears fall fresh, slickening his hand on your skin. You want this to stop, you don't want to be seen like this, by Sydney or Whitney.

You can't say that though, because Sydney keeps his hand pressed to your lips, pushing so hard you can taste blood.

Whitney and Sydney are talking, you realize. About what, you're not sure. It makes you nervous when you realize Whitney's got his pants down, his hand stroking lazily over his penis.

"It's okay, my love. We're just going to be kind and give Whitney a show. Then afterwards, you're going to be a good little slut and help him get off. Doesn't that just sound like a fair trade?"

It most certainly does not. Especially since you're not sure what he even means by those words.

But by their attitudes, you can only guess that you won't be leaving any time soon.

#gahh okay this got weird bc my brain powered down in the middle of it #but whatever i wanted to get it out today bc i love the concept so much #thank you stalker anon for the ask i hope you enjoy!!!!#asks #stalker anon #degrees of lewdity #sydney the fallen #whitney the bully #raven writes #requests #tw noncon #tw corruption #tw virginity

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shirecorn · 3 years

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how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

#shire screams #art tips #ask #art block #long post

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Legs

Pairing | Brie Larson x reader

Summary | your housemate Brie wants to be left alone so that she can focus on doing yoga, however, you want her to pay attention to you.

Warnings | includes smut, tribbing, sexual tension, mouth spitting, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Situating her leg into a stretched position, Brie strained her muscles upon the yoga mat, positioning her arms in front of her, as her air pods played her playlist for these particular workouts.

Though, with her music blaring directly into her ear canal, she could not hear your footsteps streak through the hallway, as you carried the bag of groceries.

As you peeked into the living room, you licked your lips at the sight of your roommate, there was sweat straining in the dips of her muscles, and she absentmindedly licked some that was resting on the top of her lip.

Brie looked good, it had always been clear that she was fuelled by her work and career to stay in shape, but damn.

Tilting your head, your heart almost jumped out of your chest as her face turned towards you, surprised by her blatant expression that had seemingly sensed your presence all along.

Shaking your head, you left the room, going to put away the groceries, and take a cold drink of water, to cool yourself off, despite the lack of exercise that you had committed to.

As you were gulping and quenching your thirst that the sight of your roommate had brought on, you heard the kitchen door open, and in policy, you turned, watching as Brie damped her towel, and patted her forehead with it. It was as though she has forgotten that there was a bathroom just the room beside.

“It’s rude to stare y/n.” She cocked her brow at you, watching as you tensed up at her words. “If you wanted me to teach you yoga, you could have just asked.”

A smirk riddled its way onto her face, causing your breath to hitch, knowing that she was teasing you, and was getting a hell of a kick out of it.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted.” You bit your lip, feeling your veins flush with surpassed embarrassment. “I have groceries to put away though, so maybe another time.”

“Or you could join me afterwards, and I can show you the way to bend your body into the correct positions. But if not, then I suggest you don’t disturb me again, otherwise it won’t be worthwhile.”

She reached into the paper bag, pulling out an apple, biting in it, before walking away with it in her hand, leaving you once more to your lonesome.

Altogether, her exit was a relief and a displeasure. You pondered on her previous words as you grabbed each individual item, putting it where it belonged, before you concluded yourself to a great decision.

You would accompany her in the ways of bodily art, and learn how to cope with seeing so much of her skin and restraining from doing anything rash.

You hung your coat up by the front door, before going to your room to change into more flexible attire. Brie did not seem surprised in the slightest to see that you had indeed taken her up on the offer, and chosen to join her.

“What do I do?” You asked her, paying much attention to the way she splayed her strong legs far behind herself, managing to balance her weight with their self forced partition.

In attempt, you tried to shadow her movements, copying them with your own limbs, you could only imagine how awkward you looked whilst doing so.

There was no coordination within your movements, which caused Brie to incessantly roll her eyes at you.

That made you more aware of what you were doing, and thus, you tried to change the direction of your knees, causing the blonde to audibly sigh.

“Let me help you, then we might actually get somewhere.” The actress insisted, collapsing her form so that she could sit beside you, as she grasped at your hips, roughly moving them to tilt upwards.

The action on her part caused a moan of emotional surrender to pivot out your lips, and once you realised what you had just done, your eyes went wide.

However, Brie remained the same, still touching you as she stroked her marvellous hands across your waist, that was slumping under her physical pressure.

“You have great structure, if you had been silent for the last few months, maybe I’d have noticed. Perfect for doing more than yoga.”

“Are you hitting on me?” The question came out as a sonorous gasp, Brie’s hands raking down to drag over your ass, causing you to lose your balance, and flop against the floor.

If the situation was any different, you were sure that you’d feel embarrassed though right now, you were more focused on how tentative she was treating your body.

It was no secret, that when you had first decided to room within the same residence, the two of you happened to clash. At first, you had thought it to be your personalities repelling each other’s, yet after time, it became clear that the two of you easily managed to frustrate the other.

And soon it became clear that such annoyance has turned into a sexual categorisation of stress, it flowering like a budding rose, naturally consuming itself in the air with its scent, although, the affects pricked like the rope of thorns, leaving you with a false facade of resentment towards the beauty of your two’s relationship.

“Always so naive, and I think instead of bracing me with various, pointless and dumb questions, you should do as I say, and keep quiet, unless you are moaning for me. Am I understood y/n?”

Biting back a whimper, you nodded, bracing yourself on your forearms as you rolled over to be on your back, closely watching her and whatever she had in mind.

“Take that sports bra off, it’s doing nothing for your figure.” Her tone was more of a snap, her penetrating eyes scouring into you as you did as she asked, lifting the article of clothing over your head, and tossing it onto her yoga mat.

Next your leggings were told to be dismissed of, causing you to become very aware of how you ahead decided to forgo panties, having priorly thought of how you it had entered your mind that it would be easier to move into tight and confusing positions if you were bare underneath.

And in some way you had been right, considering that you were being told to strip anyways. It seemed that Brie seemed rather impressed to see your cunt uncovered.

She licked her lips, and for a moment, you thought that she was going to move forwards, and eat you. But you found yourself to be rather wrong, when she pushed you down, and straddled you.

Her head moved down, suffocating your mouth with her own. Using her tongue, she pried past your lips, enforcing you to moan within her mouth, frowning as she leant back, only to grasp the sides of your mouth, and drop a bead of spit into it.

Without any hesitation, you swallowed, hardly keeping your mouth closed as she trailed her fingertips down, only to rub circles upon your clit, making your body writhe from the stimulated sensation. “Brie- fuck.”

“Want me to show you my favourite position?” She asked endearingly, and for just a second, you were confused, thinking that the two of you had moved past the concept of yoga.

And then you realised, when she unclothed herself, leaving you in a state of admirable awe, what the position was. Brie pushed your legs to acquire her body between, turning it to the side, as she raised her cunt directly over yours.

Slowly she lowered herself, situating her pussy against yours, both of your clits evoking a wave of sincere pleasure out of you. Her leg went over the top of your thigh, planting it on the ground beside, rutting her hips to blend your juices in a sweet matrimony.

“I always knew you’d feel this good.” Brie huffed, placing her hands upon both of your tits, one on each, to aid herself with leverage for her movements.

A slight sound could be heard, induced by the pressing of your cunts, as she rode your cunts, your lips spread open by her own. It coaxed noises of complete euphoria out of you, as you tugged on your own hair, almost pulling a few strands out.

“Holy shit Brie, so fuckin’ good. Mmm.” A light scream stumbled out of your moth afterwards, being a say all to you being close to reaching your peak.

“Be a good girl and cum. Cum you annoying bitch.” She squeezed your breasts harsher, bringing you somewhat pain, as you fell over the edge. “Good girl baby, so wet.”

She ground harder, until she too released upon your pussy, giving a couple more fluid motions until she moved off of you, pulling her juicy cunt away from your own, and rolling beside you, going to tug her clothes on. “We may have to practice yoga together more often.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, finally upholding your tight grasp upon your hair. It was a definite consumption to satisfy your frustration with her again, after all, you were roommates, and that meant plenty of opportunities.

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lilyofthesword-writes · 3 years

Text

The Intern (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: Loki takes an interest in the latest of a long line of Stark’s interns.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (Can be read as platonic, if preferred)

Word Count: 2,809

Disclaimers/Warnings: None. Just a bit of fluff.

A/N: This wound up turning into something entirely different from the original concept. Just kinda went with what felt right. Also trying desperately to remember working with an Arduino board to make this at least semi-accurate.

Masterlist

Loki traipsed aimlessly through the Tower, his overly-friendly insomnia having kept him up past four in the morning again. Nothing seemed to help him sleep and he constantly grew bored laying around in his room waiting for exhaustion to overtake him. Wandering about seemed as good as anything. Sometimes he would come across something interesting. It seems now would be that time.

He rounded the corner and found himself gazing through the wall-length windows of Tony Stark’s lab. The armor-less Iron Man was passed out in a chair, head haphazardly lolling on a table. Usually, he was still working and would be until at least seven a.m. before Pepper would literally drag him to bed.

Movement at the other end of the room caught his eye. There you were, pulling a blanket out of the cupboard. You crossed the lab and placed the well-used cloth over Stark’s shoulders before returning to your work. Sliding your safety glasses on, you put all your focus into soldering some wires to a board.

What in the nine realms were you doing here at this hour? The sun hadn’t even reached the horizon yet. None of his previous interns ever started their days before nine. Albeit, they had barely lasted a week while you broke a record at just over a month, but the point still stood. Why were you here?

“Are you just going to stand there like a creeper, Loki, or are you going to come in and hang out?” you called out, not even bothering to tear your eyes away from the wiring.

Well, this excursion could prove to be interesting. Loki slithered through the doorway to stand opposite of you at your table.

“So what are you doing up this early?” you murmured. If it weren’t for you glancing up at him, someone may have thought it was more of a question for yourself.

Loki huffed a laugh. “I could ask you the same question.”

That elicited a quirky smile from you. “Woke up way before my alarm and couldn’t fall back asleep. Figured I’d start my day early.” You gestured toward Stark with the soldering iron. “This one over here is pretty lenient on the hours.”

“I would hope so,” Loki chuckled, “considering his own schedule.”

“A schedule that consists of planned energy drink breaks. Definitely one of the more interesting employers out there.”

“I suppose you could say that,” he mumbled, leaning heavily on his forearms propped on the table.

You set down the soldering iron in its stand and shut if off. “So I answered your question. How about you?”

“I simply could not sleep,” he nonchalantly replied.

“Hmm...” you hummed. “Lemme guess. A member of Insomniacs Anonymous?”

His chuckle reverberated through the room. This was probably one of the reasons Stark kept you around. You certainly had a particular snarky confident air about you.

Yet the corners of your mouth suddenly hung low and your brow scrunched together. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Pardon?” He was confused at your change in demeanor.

“It’s not as simple as you couldn’t sleep. There’s more to it.”

Loki’s lips parted in astonishment. Here you were in your first true encounter with him and you read him like an open book. What had you been told?

“I won’t make you say anything.” You held your hands up in a placating manner. “You probably don’t want to, and that’s okay. However.” You grabbed the notepad next to you and scribbled something on it, ripping off the paper and sliding it towards him. “If you’re ever bored and I’m not here, you can text me. I’ll probably answer.”

He reluctantly took the note that had your number written on it. “I cannot say I am very adept with these cellular devices.”

“Pretty sure you’re clever enough to figure it out,” you grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “But seriously, no pressure. The offer is always out there.”

“Wha?!” Stark snorted himself awake, his eyes shooting around wildly. “Rudolf? What’re you doing here?” He eyed Loki suspiciously. “You’re not going to scare away my intern, are you? That’s my job.”

You laughed, keeping Loki from spitting a venomous retort. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to try a lot harder if that’s what you’re going for, Stark.”

“Obviously. You haven’t run off yet. I’m surprised.” He took the blanket that was wrapped around him and began folding it. “Pleasantly surprised.”

“Sure, sure!” You waved him off.

Stark looked at his watch and swiped a hand through his purposely messy bed head. “It’s that time already. I better get breakfast before Pepper finds me... Alright!” He clapped. “Both of you, let’s go! Time for grub!”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up across his forehead. Was Stark actually having him join the two of you for breakfast?

“Yes, you too, Reindeer Games! One, I don’t want you in the lab alone.” That earned him Loki’s scowl. “Two, you seem to be behaving, so why not have you eat with us.”

You nudged Stark’s arm while shooting Loki an inconspicuous wink. “Awww, look at you! Already getting into Dad Mode and little Morgan hasn’t even entered the world yet.”

He nudged you back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Now come on. I’m starving!”

You continued to tease him as you followed him out of the lab with Loki close behind.

Loki lay in bed a few nights later, lost in thought. He could not get you out of his head. You had spoken with him like you would anyone else, deflected and stood up for him despite hardly knowing him. In the few years since he had been thrown to Midgard as punishment, Thor was the only one to show him a sliver of kindness, but even he held some hesitation. You did not. Your earlier interaction was genuine. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

In his perpetual deliberation, he had avoided the lab since that morning. Not that he didn’t like you. It was the uncertainty that kept him away, but that wouldn’t last much longer.

His phone settled lax in his hand, your name illuminating the screen. You had been right about him being able to learn how to text. Now it was a matter of completing the action. Tossing the phone to his other hand, he glared at the bright screen. His message had already been written. All he had to do was select “Send”. The clock at the top of the screen read two a.m. Surely, you would be asleep... But what if you weren’t?

With a huff, he pinched his eyes shut and hit the button, the swooshing sound seemingly echoing off the walls. The following silence was deafening. Luckily for him, the reply swoosh fell inline shortly after.

You: Hey, Loki. Can’t sleep?

Loki: How did you know who this was without me saying?

You: I can’t think of anyone else who would text me at this hour. ;)

Loki: I apologize if I woke you.

You: Nah. Already up. Trouble staying asleep. So what’re you up to?

Loki: Texting you.

You: Other than that, Mischief

Loki: Thinking.

You: Yeah? About what?

Loki: Possibly meandering through the Tower, again.

You: Liar ;)

Loki: Pardon?

You: You were obviously thinking about me.

Loki: What makes you say that?

You: You had to be. At least in the context that it would be better to text me than exploring.

Loki: Fair enough. Now, how do you know I am not planning to choose both?

You: You got me there.

—

Loki met you at the lab later that morning. The familiar sight of Stark was passed out, snuggling his face to a countertop, greeted you both.

Shaking your head, you huffed a laugh as you passed through the doorway. “Can’t really reprimand him when my sleep schedule is just as bad.”

Loki’s lips curled into a light smirk but didn’t speak a word lest Stark awaken and force him to leave. Despite your two hour texting session, he had been looking forward to joining you here.

“Thanks for meeting me here, by the way,” you called out to him as still stood just at the edge of the lab. “A little company while working is kind of nice. Gets too quiet when Stark finally shuts down.”

Taking a seat across from you, Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Would that not be considered a blessing?”

You stifled a chuckle as you flipped on the soldering iron and pulled out what roughly looked like a vambrace. The board you had been working on previously was molded to the shape. “If that happened by the end of my workday, yes. This early in the morning? Not so much. It’s boring if not a little eerie.”

“I see... So I am only here for your entertainment,” he feigned offense.

You gasped dramatically, “Me? Never!”

Laughing with you, Loki made himself a bit more comfortable as he watched you work. At the moment, you were adding tiny capacitors and securing them into place.

“If I may, what are you trying to accomplish?”

“Well,” you started, glancing up at him. “It’s a new piece of armor. Other than that, I technically shouldn’t say much else.”

“Right... Classified information?”

There was a twinkle of mischief in your eyes as you looked at him again. “It is a secret, but nothing quite as official as that.”

Loki leaned across the tabletop, supporting his chin in his hand. “So there is no harm in you revealing your project,” he tested.

“Harm? No. However, there will be disappointment on my end if you figure it out.”

“I accept this challenge,” he grinned playfully.

You smirked back,“As you wish, Mischief. I won’t make this easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Darling.”

The next several weeks chaotically blurred together. At first, you allowed Loki to observe your project as you worked on it. Once the vambrace began to take on a more unique form, you were hiding it in the mornings, opting to take on a different assignment when he was in the room. The design was strikingly Asgardian, leading him to believe the new armor was for Thor. He just needed to figure out what it did. He spoke with his brother on multiple occasions but was unable to glean anything from him. Either he had no clue or suddenly learned to lie well enough to fool Loki, the latter highly doubtful.

Apart from politely harassing you via text, Loki took to locating your hiding spots, something that proved difficult when the lab was almost always occupied by you, Stark or Banner at varying times. Stark was helping you keep this little secret, a sparkle in his eyes whenever he shooed Loki from the room when he was caught investigating. Even Banner was in on it, albeit reluctantly.

Then there was that Doctor Strange who was showing up every few days, joining you all in the lab much to Loki’s chagrin. By that point, Stark had banned him from the entire floor. The project must have been coming to a close if you all were trying to cover it up so desperately. But why Strange? Was he imbuing the vambrace with magic to protect Thor better? (Not that he really needed it.) His curiosity was certainly getting the better of him, going so far as to shape-shift as one of you three when Strange wasn’t around to get into the room. Somehow, Friday always knew and alerted the lab’s occupants who would send him back to the elevator.

It was early one morning as he was perusing the contents of the shared kitchen that you initiated contact with him. He was surprised since he had been the one to text you first lately to see if you would spill your secret.

You: Hey. Can you stop by the lab?

Loki: Oh? I thought I was banned.

You: Lifted as of a few minutes ago. So?

Loki: I suppose I might be able to grace you with my presence.

You: So kind of you, my King ;)

His heart skipped a beat at you calling him “your King”. You only used it in a teasing fashion when he was acting high and mighty. Even then, it still flustered him.

Loki made his way to the elevator, deeming it a bit devious to take the long way to the lab. You had made him wait all this time. It was your turn.

The doors reopened on the lab floor, revealing that his ploy to annoy had worked. You were leaned against the wall next to the elevator, waiting for his arrival.

“Finally! Come on!”

You audaciously grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the room with an impatient grin. Stopping him near your normal workstation, you demanded he close his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he responded incredulously, ripping his arm from your grasp.

“Please, Loki...” Your pleading eyes grew larger as you pouted at him.

Stark groaned, “Just do it, Reindeer Games, or I’ll cover them for you.”

Loki’s lips reared into a snarl as he glared at the billionaire before relenting and clenching his eyelids shut. Norns, how he hated those nicknames.

“Okay!” Excitement laced your voice. “Would you hold up your dominant hand?”

“Making more demands, Darling?”

“I did ask nicely this time.”

“That you did,” he chuckled a complied, holding out a hand.

“Perfect!”

He felt a metallic weight placed on his forearm before it was clasped together with a comfortable tightness.

“Okay. You can look now!”

The sight of the vambrace on his arm left Loki’s mouth agape. The main black of the piece was lined with gold Asgardian knot designs with runes placed in a handful of the empty spaces. Near his wrist, an artificial emerald was embedded in the armor. If he had to be completely honest, the aesthetics could rival much of the armor back home.

“Well, Kid. It looks like you rendered him speechless.” Stark nudged your arm.

Loki’s gaze shot up to the two of you. Stark was leaning against the workstation while you had hoisted yourself to sit atop it, nothing but grins on either of your faces.

“What is this-”

You cut him off, “It’s for you. We noticed after some of your missions where you had to use your seiðr more than usual, you’d end up exhausted before getting back to the Quinjet. The new armor should help with that. It’s supposed to amplify your magic without draining you.”

Stark shoved you lightheartedly, again. “The kid noticed. Told ‘em if they could come up with something that could work, I’d give whatever resources needed for the project.”

“So what do you think? I mean we still need to undergo more testing and calibrations before you can use it in the field, but-”

“You made this?” Loki locked barely tearing eyes with you. “For me?”

“Yup! Kid designed the whole thing!” Stark kept you from answering. “Minus the bits we had to bring Strange in for the wizard-y things, this was a solo run. Did a pretty good job. Not sure I could have done much better.”

“Stark...” you grumbled, clearly not used to the praise.

“This is...” Loki tore his gaze away back to the vambrace. “I don’t... I don’t know what to say.” His voice was just loud enough for you to hear.

“A ‘thank you’ would be a good start. Now maybe this little intern will get more sleep,” Stark blundered before checking his watch. “Well, it’s about time for my morning scolding. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me!”

With that he whisked himself out of the room and to the elevator, leaving you and Loki in a terribly awkward silence.

“Hey...” you started. “If you don’t like it, we can scrap the design. It’s not a big deal-”

“Thank you.” His pupils were filled with a sincere gratefulness that few had ever seen before. “This is... This is simply splendid.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

Loki spun on his heel to fully face you, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of you. “I mean it, Darling. This... No one has ever done something like this for me before. I would be honored to be your test subject,” he ended with a smirk.

“Well, if that’s the case,” you grinned right back at him, “I’d say let’s get some breakfast first. There will be plenty of time to optimize the vambrace later.”

Pulling back enough to release you from his cage of arms, he gestured for you to lead the way. “After you,” he breathed.

Hopping down from the table, you held out a hand for him. Hesitantly, Loki took it while running a thumb over your knuckles as you pulled him to the elevator with you.

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sukifans · 4 years

Text

IT’S ALL LATIN TO ME

ZUKO X READER COLLEGE!SMAU

⏎ MASTERLIST // part III « IV. seduction siri » part V

SUMMARY: you’re a premed student at BSSU and you thought it’d be a good idea to take a latin class, but you’re in way over your head here. good thing your buddy sokka knows a classics major in your section you can study with.

WARNINGS: language, alcohol/partying

Zuko felt... oddly nervous as he pulled up to her apartment building. He sent the text to let her know he’d arrived and anxiously scrolled through his Spotify, flicking quickly through his various playlists. He knew he was far too concerned about what music to play while she was in the car with him but he wanted to get “the vibe” right, as Sokka would say. That, and it gave him something to focus on that wasn’t panicking over conversation starters in case of an awkward lull. When he saw her coming he leapt out of the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Zuko!” (Y/N) smiled when she saw him and then furrowed her brow when he hurried over to the passenger side. Her face heated when he opened her door. “Oh, my gods. You don’t have to do that,” she said as she slid into her seat.

“It’s polite,” he said simply before shutting the door and walking back to his side. In reality he was already freaking out — had he fucked it up by being weird literally seconds into this?

“Making me feel like a princess or something over here,” she laughed, face still red. He looked over at her and she closed her mouth quickly, remembering he was actually a prince. Like, for real. “Sorry.”

She shook her head with a small smile. “Is this a date, then?” she teased and the tips of his ears went red.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, it just... sounds like you’re dating the wrong kinds of guys.”

“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes and slumped down into the seat. “My type seems to be chauvinist douchebag.”

“That’s unfortunate.” He never thought he’d ever wish to be a chauvinist douchebag. Maybe her type also included awkward but well-intended ex-royalty and she just didn’t feel the need to mention it.

“Very,” she said darkly before perking up. “So are you excited for the party?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Me too. I’m really glad you decided to come.”

“Didn’t really have much of a choice since I live with Sokka,” he joked lightly. She shrugged.

“Still, I’ll be happy to see you loosen up a bit. I know I haven’t known you for very long but you always seem so tense.”

“It’ll definitely be interesting,” he deflected deftly. “I have to say, though, that I’m looking forward to seeing for myself what Suki meant when she said you’re an affectionate drunk.” He shot her an amused smirk that made her stomach feel fluttery.

“Spirits, my friends are such gossips! Yes, I get a little more touchy and I like to dance with people and tell everyone how much I love them. But one time I hit the merlot a little too hard and started feeling sexy — as one does after drinking too much wine — and tried to make out with everyone. It only happens when I drink wine, though!”

He laughed at her animated retelling, her wild gesticulations visible out of the corner of his eye. He grinned over at her after he’d pulled into the store parking lot and turned the car off. “I guess I’ll have to be sure to grab a bottle or three, then.”

She laughed, looking away to hide her flushed face. “That’s on you, then. I’ll be your responsibility for the night.”

“It’d be my honor and immense pleasure.” He waggled his eyebrows and she groaned, covering her face with her hands. He was pretty proud of himself for his flirting thus far. He’d discovered he really liked making her blush, watching the pink tinge spread from her cheeks across the bridge of her nose and creep up her temples. He made her go red again when he made purposeful eye contact with her and slipped two bottles of red wine into the cart as they stocked up on liquor.

When they got back to his and Sokka’s apartment, (Y/N) started giggling at the amount of decorations Sokka had put up — the crepe paper and streamers being the least of it. He had even done a few very interpretative portraits of Suki and hung them. She looked up at the ceiling and laughed, elbowing Zuko and nodding up at the balloons.

“I thought they said Suki was blowing the balloons up?” she said. He looked up and frowned.

“Sokka, do you have helium somewhere?” he shouted into the apartment as he unloaded the alcohol. Sokka and Suki popped out of a room.

“Not anymore,” Sokka answered. “Used it all up. Suki had to do the rest.” He pointed at a few balloons scattered on the floor.

“Where the hell did you get it?”

“Found it.”

“Wh-“ she murmured, looking over to Zuko. He just shook his head. Probably better to not ask questions.

“Katara’s on the way with Aang and Toph,” Suki said as she started pulling cups from the cabinet.

“And pizza!” Sokka added. “Don’t worry, she got Hawaiian for you two.” He shuddered, glaring at (Y/N) and Zuko.

“You like Hawaiian too?” She grinned at him and held out her fist. “That’s what’s up.”

He hesitantly tapped his knuckles against hers. The first time Sokka had tried to fist-bump him he’d just grabbed his hand and shook it. Sokka liked to torment him about it often. “It’s about the sweet and salty.”

“It’s fucked up is what it is,” said Sokka. “Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza. And don’t say tomato is a fruit.”

“But it is,” (Y/N) said.

“That’s a moot point.” She and Zuko exchanged looks and he rolled his eyes, making her giggle.

Soon after the other three arrived, with the food of course. Sokka continued to spout slander about Hawaiian pizza until Zuko put him in a headlock while (Y/N) shoved a piece of pineapple into his mouth. He piped down after that while everyone else laughed. Once they’d eaten, they finished the beers they’d been sipping on started to break into the “good shit,” as Toph so eloquently said. She made everyone drinks, pouring with a very heavy hand. It didn’t take long before they all started getting a little tipsy and Sokka started setting up beer pong on the kitchen island, pouring shots in the Solo cups.

“Okay, so,” Sokka started, “Me and Zuko, (Y/N) and Suki, and Toph and Aang. Katara, you ref as usual. The winner of the first round plays us.”

Suki and Katara shared a look. “Don’t you want to be on my team, and (Y/N) can be with Zuko?” Suki asked.

“Sorry, babe, but Zuko’s the best shot pong player here and I’m not losing.” He linked his arm with Zuko’s.

“Don’t worry, Suki; Sokka doesn’t know that I’m actually the best ‘shot pong’ player here because he’s never played against me,” (Y/N) said, resting her hand on Suki’s arm reassuringly. Suki’s concern was more about forcing Zuko and (Y/N) together, but she nodded anyways.

“Yeah?” Zuko smirked. “Is that a challenge?”

“I think it is, Sparky,” Toph said, egging them on. They would just have to push them together from a different angle and obviously Sokka would be no help.

“You’re going down, hotman.” (Y/N) set her drink down, eager at the prospect of some friendly competition.

“Maybe later, princess. I have a tournament to win first,” he said smugly, grinning at the way she went bright red. Her stomach flipped at his words and she couldn’t even think of a witty response. She downed her drink instead, shuddering when the alcohol burned her throat.

“It’s on,” she growled. Zuko had to shake himself to tear his eyes away from the intense look she was giving him – it made him a little scared, but also a little turned on.

It all started off well and good. She and Suki pretty easily beat Toph and Aang. Though Toph was blind, she was definitely the better player of the two. When it came time to play the boys, Zuko watched, mesmerized, as (Y/N) rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, shooting him a cocky smile.

“Ready to lose?” Sokka taunted, now starting to sway a little bit from the amount he’d indulged while the other game was happening.

“I don’t think that’ll be a concern, babe,” Suki said, looking on with amusement and, strangely, adoration when Sokka belched loudly and started laughing. Zuko chuckled at the look (Y/N) shot him from the other side of the island.

It was a tough game, they would both have to admit. Neither (Y/N) nor Zuko missed a cup at the start, but the alcohol began affecting the game soon after the start. Toph, Aang, and even the “impartial judge” Katara cheered when (Y/N) or Suki were able to sink a ball into a cup and groaned animatedly when Zuko or Sokka did. Eventually, both teams were down to one cup.

“Watch this,” Zuko elbowed Sokka roughly, knocking the other boy onto the floor. Undeterred, Zuko turned around and tossed the ball over his shoulder without looking. It missed tremendously, bouncing off Toph’s forehead. “Sorry, Beifong,” he laughed as she scowled in his direction. With a wink, (Y/N) easily tossed the ball into the boys’ last cup. Everyone cheered as Zuko drank, including Sokka from the floor. Suki hugged (Y/N) tightly, spinning her around as they celebrated their victory.

“Did we win?” Sokka asked, sitting up with great difficulty.

“Not this time, buddy,” said Zuko as he helped his friend stand again.

“You serious?” Sokka gasped and pushed him, causing both of them to stumble. “What the hell?! (Y/N), you’re officially my new shot pong partner from here on out!”

“Maybe. On the other hand, though, if Zuko and I teamed up we’d be unstoppable.”

“I like the sound of that,” Zuko mused and Sokka started babbling about betrayal and the “coup d’état” they were staging against him. Aang, bored of Sokka’s drunken whining, cranked up the music. (Y/N) grabbed Zuko and pulled him into a dance while Suki went to go comfort a pouting Sokka on the couch. She laughed at how stiffly he moved even when drunk, like dancing was a completely foreign concept to him. He just kind of shifted his weight from foot to foot, hardly even in time with the beat of the music. Zuko filled his cup again and hoped it would help unlock some secret rhythm or skills.

“I’m so sorry, Zu!” she giggled as she wobbled, grabbing onto his bicep for support. She’d bumped into the glass he was holding and spilled it everywhere, including across both of their shirts. Sokka looked over and cackled.

“(Y/N) made Zuko wet!” he crowed, making everyone else giggle at the pair.

“Shut up, Sokka!” Zuko laughed, chucking a kitchen towel he’d been using to mop up the mess on the floor. It hit the other boy square in the face, making a wet slapping sound against his skin. The group was nearly in tears at Sokka’s shriek of disgust. (Y/N) leaned heavily against Zuko to keep from toppling over.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” she asked of Sokka once she caught her breath.

“No,” he pouted. “Get one of Sifu Hotman’s shirts. We’re not friends anymore.”

“You are such a drama queen!” She rolled her eyes, still grinning. “You got a shirt I can borrow, Zu?”

“Yeah, sure.” He felt anxiety pulling in his gut as he led her to his bedroom. She followed closely behind, also feeling rather nervous but clutching his arm still as she wobbled. He tossed her an old t-shirt and, to his immense surprise and embarrassment, she’d already stripped off her soiled top when he turned to her. She giggled when his face went red and he quickly turned back around. Mumbling an apology, he started to pull off his own shirt.

(Y/N) stared as the fabric lifted, revealing a massive tattoo across the expanse of his muscular back. It was a beautifully intricate dragon done in red and black ink and its angry eyes seemed to follow her as she swayed on her feet.

“Whoah,” she gasped and stepped forwards.

He was about to ask what was wrong when he felt her fingertips ghost across his skin, making him shiver involuntarily. “I didn’t know you had such a dope tattoo.”

“I didn’t know it mattered,” he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of her tracing the lines. It was hard to tell whether it was the alcohol or her gentle touch that was making his head fuzzy and his skin feel hot.

“Of course it matters!” His breath caught in his throat when she slid her hands around to his front and hugged herself to him, resting her cheek against his back. “Tattoos are sexy and cool, and you’re already sexy and cool, so now you’re, like, extra sexy and cool.”

“You- you think that I’m sexy and cool?”

“And warm,” she sighed happily. He turned and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he cautiously settled his hands on her hips. He pressed his forehead against hers in an attempt to bring her face into focus.

“Well... I think you’re sexy and cool.” He hiccuped. “And warm,” he added after a moment of thought. She giggled at the way his alcohol-scented breath tickled her face.

“Hey, c’mere,” she whispered, squishing his face between her palms.

“I’m already here,” he murmured back, pulling her in by her hips anyways so their bodies touched.

“I have to tell you a secret.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “I wanna... smooch your face.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose adorably. “‘Smooch?’ You spend too much time with Sokka.”

“Why, you jealous?”

Yes. “Shut up,” he grumbled.

“Make me.”

That means she wants me to kiss her, right? She just said she wants to kiss me and “make me” always means “kiss me” in the romcoms and romance books. But maybe not. “How?”

(Y/N) laughed. “You’re cute when you’re dumb.”

“Hey!”

“What? You are.”

“I’m not dumb!”

“You’re a little dumb. What else do you need, a written invitation? An e-vite maybe? Do you want to RSVP? I’ll need to know if you’re bringing a-“ He cut off her teasing by pressing his lips to hers, squeezing her hips. She responded immediately and enthusiastically, leaning into his chest and threading her fingers through his hair. She hummed contentedly into his mouth when he slipped his hands down to grab her ass. When she pulled back he chased after her lips needily and she chuckled, patting his chest. “We’re taking a long time, they’re gonna get suspicious.”

“So what?” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her jaw instead and trailing more down her neck when she tilted her head to give him easier access. He was feeling awfully emboldened by the kiss and the considerable amount of liquid courage he’d indulged in. “Sokka introduced us with exactly this goal in mind.”

“I don’t know about exactly this goal, but that’s ‘so what.’ I couldn’t stand to see him so pleased with himself.”

He considered this and pulled himself with great effort away from his ministrations at her neck. “You’re right. He’d be unbearable.”

She looked up at him with bright eyes and swollen red lips and he wanted desperately to kiss her again. With a grin, she pulled his t-shirt over her head. He’d completely forgotten how they’d even ended up in his bedroom in the first place. “Put your shirt on and let’s go, hotman. I’m gonna kick your ass at blackjack.” She started to pull him by his hand towards the door but he yanked her back, catching her in his arms she stumbled.

“Don’t think we won’t pick this back up later, princess.” His tone made her gulp, eyes wide. He gave her a wicked grin and led her back out to everyone else as he shrugged on a new shirt.

“Finally! What took so long?” Aang said, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Don’t ask that. I don’t want to hear them talk about making out,” Toph huffed. Both Zuko and (Y/N) blushed in response, looking at the floor. Sokka started cheering and shouting and Katara punched him in the arm to get him to shut up. (Y/N) and Zuko squished in together in the empty spot on the couch as Suki started dealing playing cards. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pretended not to know how to play the game so she could tease him and show him how. They were so engrossed in each other that they missed the satisfied smirks all their friends were shooting each other.

A/N: whenever i add a read more cut on my laptop tumblr freaks out and deletes half the fic so. sorry lmao. anyways this makes me miss drinking with my friends. woulda hugged the homies a little tighter if i knew it was gonna be like this 🥺😪

TAGS: @theblueslytherin @beifongsss @coconutsaiyan @5sos-wdw @silverreading @the-lva-way @cupofnctea @khaleesi-of-assassins @bloomkings @pyromaniac-olive @lil-lex1 @sokkas--boomerang @cece-lives-here @coldlilheart @royahllty @astralsaf @not-a-glad-gladiator @damianwaynerocks @darkskin-buttercup @emogril @plutaars @duh-dobrik @harajukukitsune @kangaroobunny @harmlessoffering @rosetheshapeshifter @past-2am @welovediaaxx @dailytrashypanda @thenutellabreadsticks @sara5208 @whalerus @fanworrior @andrevvminyrd @travvestys @rosesandpines @cipheress-to-k-pop @starryzxko @justab-eautifulmess @mochminnie @whoevenfrickenknows @asianequation @booksandwonderlands @thesstuff @dekumiya @ya-fwiend-rainbow @spookities @394pitterpatterpotter394 @rockinearthbending-marauders @beardsplittler @kurt-nightcrawler @sifucuteness

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ginnyweasleymybeloved · 3 years

Text

cocktails / ginny weasley

Ginny my beloved <3 welcome to my being-so-gay-for-ginny-weasley blog 🥰💓

summary: your girlfriend comes home from quidditch practice to find you prancing around the kitchen, making cocktails.

word count: 2k

warning(s): kissing, alcohol, characters are in their 20s, fluffy

let me know what you think, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

♡

Ginny had just made her way home from a quidditch practice that had run on for almost five hours and it was safe to say that she was completely exhausted.

The red head couldn’t wait to get home to you. Although she loved and was extremely grateful for her (very successful) professional quidditch career, after the Saturday practice surpassed the three hour mark she’d been fantasising about throwing herself into your waiting arms and having a good moan about how tedious the day’s training had been.

It was strange really; the concept of having everything she wanted. The idea that she could go out to a job that she actually liked and that paid well and then come home to the person she loved most in the world, in a place that she felt genuinely comfortable. And yet everyday that’s what she was met with. She’d come hom from a strenuous day of training, completely worn out. And there you’d be; back from a long day’s work yourself, with the kettle already boiled with two cups ready and with fresh, warm towels folded for her in the bathroom, ready for her to dry herself with after she’d enjoyed her post-practice shower. Tonight was slightly different however.

Once Ginny had finally trudged through the doorway of your shared flat, she’d been met with your cheerful face grinning mischievously at her from the kitchen. Without wasting much time she kicked off her shoes and made her way into the kitchen, a single eyebrow raised in question.

“Welcome home!” You sang cheerily, prancing around the kitchen, picking up bottles and pouring copious amounts of the liquid into the blender that usually resided in the back of the bottom cupboard.

Ginny let out an airy laugh, “What’re you doing?” She asked monotonously, acting as if she wasn’t captivated by the way you seemed to float about the kitchen.

“Making cocktails.” You stated simply, turning to face her as you did so. There she stood, arms crossed below her chest and a knowing grin on her face- it was the grin she always wore when she knew she was about to tell you off for one thing or another. “And! Before your start-“ You began as you pulled her into your arms, “I made you an alcohol free one. So you can have one and still not break your ridiculous training... diet thingy.” You warned with a similar knowing look to her own, your arms were wound tightly around her waist, as her’s snaked around your shoulders and pulled you flush against her chest.

“So you can and you will have one, Ginerva.” Your voice was final and Ginny let out a short laugh, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and pulling your closer still.

“Mm. And what’s in this concoction, if I may ask?” With a sweet smile, you pressed a quick kiss to her lips before answering her.

“Cranberry juice, pineapple juice and orange juice.” You informed, placing another-longer, kiss to her lips; a kiss which she happily returned. Ginny’s lips moved fiercely against yours, pushing you against the counter until she pulled away from you, “How thoughtful.”

“Thought you might enjoy it. Y’know, after training all weekend.” You supplied as you shifted your gaze towards the kitchen tiles shyly, holding her securely nonetheless.

Before you could worry about whether or not she liked your plan for a cocktail night, her fingers were beneath your chin and gently turning it up so your pretty eyes could meet her’s. “I love it. I love you.” Ginny reassured you as she took your face in her hands and kissed you again. The faint taste of peach schnapps hitting her lips as she slid her steady hands down to grasp your hips, the sweetness let her know that you’d been making yourself a Sex on the Beach before she’d gotten home.

Truthfully, the regime that came with her career wasn’t always her favourite thing, but knowing that you would go out of your way to make sure she was included in your shenanigans, despite her strict diet plan, made her hate it a tiny bit less.

“Will you still love me tomorrow when I’m ridiculously hungover?” She laughed at the question and squeezed your hips softly.

“Of course,” she stated, accentuating the statement by pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, “And, I’ll still love you later tonight when you drag me up and force me to dance with you,” her lips pressed against your right cheek. “And, when you start giggling like a lunatic,” Her lips moved to your left cheek and you couldn’t stop the dopey smile that grew upon your lips when she went on, “And, in a shocking turn of events, I’ll still be completely and amazingly in love with you when I’m holding your hair back while you’re getting sick.” Finally, her lips found yours again.

Your hands cupped her cheeks as she slipped her tongue into your mouth, moving it perfectly against yours and letting out a satisfied hum when you tilted your head into the kiss. After a few minutes, the two of you reluctantly separated, Ginny chased your lips with a number of short kisses before releasing you from her grasp.

“I love you too, even when you stink of sweat.” You said, scrunching your nose up to tease her further, you went on, “Like you do right now.”

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes and reached her hand up to pinch your flushed cheek, “Oi.”

Swatting her hand away lightly, you turned around and continued fixing up the drinks that had been momentarily abandoned on the kitchen counter.

“Go take a shower, love. You’ve been training all day and your pretend cocktail will taste better after you unwind.” You told her, throwing a handful of ice into the blender.

Ginny watched you fondly as you began to hum the tune to whatever song had just popped into your head. She let out a quiet laugh before nodding her head softly and padding into the bathroom, “See you in a few minutes.”

When she entered the bathroom she noticed that her towel was already hung neatly from the heated rail on the wall and that a fresh pair of pyjama shorts and her favourite t-shirt (which she’d stolen from you) was folded on the lid of the laundry hamper, a bright yellow post-it note rested on top of the t-shirt Ginny had claimed as her own after the first time the two of you had spent the night together two years ago. With a grin, Ginny peeled the note off the material and quickly read the note you’d scribbled for her. Regardless of what was on the note, the sight of your messy scrawl across the paper was enough to bring a smile to her lips.

‘the longer you take to shower the drunker i’ll be when you come back! so don’t keep me waiting ;) xoxo

p.s. i love you <3

p.p.s. use your own conditioner, moocher.’

Ginny snorted at your last comment. She did have a tendency to favour your conditioner over her own, it was coconut scented and reminded her of you, plus, there was the added bonus that it made her hair silkier than her’s did. But one thing Ginny would admit was that she did not use hair products sparingly, if her entire head wasn’t lathered in bubbles then she wasn’t using enough.

A smirk creeped onto her lips when she eventually stepped into the shower, her eyes sparkled with mischief when they landed on your conditioner. She inspected the bottle, it was half full. Ginny nodded happily to herself, she was definitely not using her own conditioner. After a few minutes, the red head head was stepping out of the shower and getting dressed into the clothes you’d laid out.

When Ginny finally sauntered back into the kitchen you were sat on the kitchen counter, cocktail in one hand and a CD case in the other, there was music playing from the old radio on the windowsill and you didn’t even lift your eyes from the CD case when you grumbled, “I can smell coconut from here, Ginerva.”

Ginny only shrugged and inserted her body between your legs, her hands sliding up your thighs before wrapping them loosely around your waist as she looked up at you with an unapologetic grin, “You can’t blame me, love. The smell of it reminds me of you.”

You let out a soft sigh, tossing the CD case onto the counter and placing your glass down too, you let your legs wrap around her waist and brought both of your hands up and threaded them through her damp hair. Ginny stared at you adoringly as you let yourself cling to her. It was the moments like these that she loved the most, when she could just hold you and take in your face, when she could simply enjoy the feeling of your fingers massaging her scalp and your legs holding her snugly against your warm body. She absolutely lives for the moments when it was just her and the woman she loved, moments like now.

“How was work today?” Ginny asked softly, her hands now running soothingly up and down your back. You let out a groan, dropping your head into the crook of her neck.

“Long. Those brothers of yours are nightmares.” You complained. You’d been working for Fred and George Weasley at their joke shop for just over two year and you loved it and the twins, however sometimes the two could be extremely hard work. That’s not to say you didn’t adore your job, because you did, it’s where you’d met Ginny in the first place. But as the twins’ most trusted employee, the pair of them sometimes relied on you to control their chaos. Today’s shift had been one of those times and to put it simply, you’d come home needing a drink.

Ginny let out a knowing sigh of her own before she pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “I know, love. What was it today?”

You pulled your head back to look at her again, a pout on your lips that had Ginny itching to kiss it away, “George said he’d been working on a potion that could change the colour of pygmy puffs and so he insisted we try it, so, of course since I’m the only one who doesn’t harass the poor little things I had to feed them the concoction!” You explained, picking up your drink and taking a long sip before you went on, “And shockingly, it ended up not changing their fur but made them shrink! And Fred thought it was just the funniest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life but they were so small that they were slipping through the bars of their cages! I spent three hours hunting down teeny tiny pygmy puffs!” Ginny gave you a sympathetic look, she was biting back a smile however, she could imagine the scene in her head and she had to agree with Fred; it did seem quite funny.

“Go ahead and laugh, Gins. You and those twins are way too similar.” With that Ginny let out a barking laugh, her head falling against your chest as she struggled to catch her breath through her joyous laughs. Even if her laughter was at your expense, you could’ve listened to the sound forever.

Ginny pulled herself together after another moment and you rolled your eyes as she wiped away the tears from her own, “Oh hush, it wasn’t that funny.”

“Sorry, love. But it is. It is that funny.” She began to giggle again and you scrunched your nose in distaste, grabbing the mocktail you’d made for her and pressed the glass against her chest,

“Just be quiet and drink your juice.”

#ginny weasley #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley x you #ginny weasley x y/n #fred weasly x reader #george weasley x reader #harry potter x reader

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3pirouette · 3 years

Text

Fic: Hello, Darling (1/1)

Title: Hello, Darling By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Instead, he reached for his phone. He hit the only button that seemed to matter at the moment.

Her voice was warm. “Hello, darling.”

“Peg,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Oh, your voice is just what I needed.”

Angst. Satisfies the Fake Dating a square for the Steggy Bingo Bash. AU, obviously.

A/N: Timeline is as close to sort-of right as I can make it for an AU. 2017 is post Civil War, 2016 is during Civil War, 2014 is during AOU, other time stamps should be self-explanatory. I hope this makes as much sense for everyone else as it does to me- this concept was a little hard to get on paper. I wrote this in about... 2 hours? Couldn’t sleep until I got this out of my brain. Also, I’m sorry. Please get some tissues. More AN at the end.

~*~ 2017

Steve flopped on the bed, wiping his forehead. They’d been training, hard, and he was drained. He and Natasha were spending their days whipping the new iteration of the team into shape and spent their nights sweet talking whatever government officials would listen to them while still trying to stay off the grid.

Their position in multiple areas was shaky, to say the least.

When he couldn’t sleep, which was most of the time, he wrote letters to Bucky, who was still in stasis in Wakanda. The letter writing was a calming ritual, and made him feel closer to his friend when he was doing it, but when he saved the letter instead of sending it, it left him feeling a little more alone than when he started.

He didn’t want to move tonight. He felt empty and exhausted and so very, very much like the small man he used to be on the rickety old bed.

He looked at the second-hand laptop, closed and charging on his desk, and turned away. He couldn’t take that feeling tonight.

Instead, he reached for his phone. He hit the only button that seemed to matter at the moment.

Her voice was warm. “Hello, darling.”

“Peg,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Oh, your voice is just what I needed.”

Her voice was warm, and there was a smile in it. “Well, I’m just a phone call away, as always.”

“Yeah,” he replied, just a hint of sadness seeping through. He took a deep breath and shifted up on the pillows, closing his eyes and holding the phone tighter to his ear. “We were training again today.”

“How are they pulling together?” She asked, bright and interested. “Has Wanda gained more control?”

“Every day,” he replied quickly, a smile quirking at his face. “She’s more powerful than I think any of us were prepared for, even her. She’s still doubting herself, though.”

Peggy chuckled through the phone. “After what she went through, I’d doubt myself if I were her, too.”

Steve rolled to the side, pulling a pillow tight into his arms. “True.”

“Give her time,” Peggy soothed him. “Think about how long it took you to get the hang of your new body.”

He laughed out loud at that. “What, all thirty seconds or so?”

“I seem to recall you crashing through a store’s front window display fairly immediately.” Her laugh was like bells, light and happy. “Though that was followed by months of tests, followed by months of kick lines.”

Steve groaned at the memories. “The tights… and those boots.”

“I rather liked the tights,” Peggy flirted. “Though, the point of my mentioning, is that it took you rather a few months in the field to figure out you could lift a tank, and that became one of your favorite tricks. Give the poor girl some slack.”

“Actually, fitting my entire body behind my shield was one of my favorites.”

“I still don’t know how you do that.” She sighed. “But it is quite a trick.”

“She is getting the hang of it,” Steve relented. “It’s just been… hard.”

“I can hear the weariness in your voice.” She was soft and gentle. Steve closed his eyes and pretended he was wrapping himself around her. “Have you been taking care of yourself?” She sighed when he didn’t answer. “Steve…”

“I don’t know how…” he drifted off, changing course mid-sentence. “I’m tired, Peg. I’m tired of fighting and running but that’s… that’s all that’s left.” He rolled to his back, throwing his free arm over his head, some of the plaster of the wall of the old boarding house falling on his forehead. He wiped it away with a heavy groan of frustration. “Back then, I had so many plans. After the war…”

“We shan’t be going there, darling.” Her voice left no room for argument.

He was quiet for a moment, the emotion boiling up in him. When he finally spoke, his words were soft. “I miss you. I miss you so, so much.”

The pause was almost too long, and it broke him just a little bit more. “I’m here, Steve. Only a phone call away.”

He sat up, frustrated. “For a little while I had it- I had everything. I had you, I had Buck, I had new friends, and I could… I was…”

“You were almost happy,” she whispered. “We’ve said these words too many times.”

“I don’t…” He took a deep breath and let his head fall to his hand. “I don’t know how to move past it. I can pretend I’m ok, but… but I’m not.” He laughed to himself. “I wouldn’t be calling you if I were ok.”

“I’m here for you, Steve,” she replied sharply. “You call me when you need to call me, when you want to call me. Good or bad. I just wish… I wish there was more good.”

“Me, too.” He cleared his throat, sitting up. “Tell me something good, Peg.”

He thought he could hear a smile in her voice. “Pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, eh, Rogers? Well, then, I can tell you that yesterday I came across a very silly video of a sneezing baby Panda and no matter what your mood, I promise you’ll feel better if you watch it.”

He pulled the phone away from his cheek when it vibrated in his hand, the video popping up on his screen. He laughed, despite himself.

“You always know exactly what I need,” he mumbled out loud.

Her chuckle was soft, just like he remembered. “Lucky, I guess.”

“I love you so, so much, Peg.” He turned serious. “I wish… I wish I could see you.”

“I love you, too, my darling.” She replied softly. “And I’m only ever just a phone call away.”

He could feel the familiar pangs of depression swirling, and knew talking longer would do him no good. Not tonight. “I should… I should go.”

“Good night then, my love.” Peggy’s words were so full of love he could scarcely believe it. “Don’t wait too long to call again.”

He didn’t answer her, just nodded to himself. “Good night, Peg.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear, looked at it, and tossed it across the bed. Like his letters to Bucky, sometimes he felt worse after talking with her. He laid back on the bed, the springs creaking under him.

He wasn’t going to sleep tonight, not with the way his gut was roiling and the loss so close to the surface. Her voice was always a double-edged sword. Some nights, it was enough to bring him back to life, to remind him of whatever little purpose he felt he had left.

Sometimes, it was only filled with loss and the could-have-beens and should-have-beens.

Sometimes, he wished Tony had never given her back to him.

~*~ 1988

“Anthony, get this blasted thing out of my face.”

“Come on, Aunt Peg, no one is better at telling me what to do than you are.”

Peggy looked up from where she sat at the table in what was supposed to be a dining room, but was often used as an extended work space when Peggy and Howard had to pull long nights. “Under no circumstances.”

Tony pulled a chair up next to her and held out the tape recorder towards her. “Under all circumstances.” He started ticking it off on his fingers. “When I almost blew up the garage when I was eight. First time I got caught with a girl in my room. First time I got caught with booze in my room. First time I tried to create a jet pack. Who yelled at me? You did.”

Peggy pursed her lips at him and turned in her chair. “Concerned correction.”

He smiled, shrugging. “See? Concern, correction… all things I’m going to need in the future.”

Peggy swiveled back and picked up a file, eyes firmly set on the writing though she wasn’t reading anything. “Things you need now.” She didn’t look up. “Can’t you go badger Jarvis? Edwin has far more practice at humoring you.”

He laughed and smiled sweetly, moving the tape recorder in front of her. “Indulge your Godson in an experiment?”

“I seem to indulge you Starks far more than I’d like.” She leaned back in the chair and tossed the file back on the table. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, you see, I actually need you to tell me…”

~*~ 2014

Tony hadn’t looked at these cartridges in years. He pulled FRIDAY up and loaded her, knowing the program would make do for now. He could make some upgrades, and mourn Jarvis, later.

He ran his fingers over the last few cartridges as FRIDAY was integrated into his systems and found one that he hadn’t thought about in decades. It had been so long that the ink was almost faded completely away.

He didn’t need the label to remind him what was on there. He remembered each story, each lesson, each crisp English word with a sharpness that he liked to pretend didn’t exist. It was the only AI that was as old as Jarvis.

Tony laughed out loud. There was no way Ultron would have come to be if this was the AI he’d chosen to run his life with instead of Jarvis. She never would have allowed it.

She never would have allowed half of his shenanigans. She had been right all those years ago: Jarvis had always indulged him more. Aunt Peggy had no qualms about telling him, and often stopping him, when he was about to do something stupid, whereas Jarvis would give him an exasperated sir and follow behind, helping to clean up the mess.

He could have used some of her guidance so, so many times since he built that armor. Before, too, to be honest. He should have revisited her AI years ago.

He should visit her in the nursing home.

He knew exactly why he didn’t.

He flipped the cartridge onto his work desk and slid the rest back into their box to be stored. Save the world first, tongue lashing from his Godmother second.

~*~ 2015

The icon showed up on his phone one day without explanation. Two hours later the text from Tony was nearly as mysterious.

Click the icon and you’ll be routed to an update on an old project, kind of like a phone call. Totally sanctioned, of course. I think she’ll get a kick out of it.

When he told her one day in the nursing home, she laughed.

“That boy had me record hours and hours of tape,” Peggy smiled. “I wondered if he ever got around to making it. I would have rather liked to have another one of myself around while I was still running SHIELD.”

“So, you did know,” Steve asked, “that Tony made an AI of you?”

Peggy looked at him, her eyes sharp and disapproving. “Of course, I knew. And while I didn’t ever say it, I was quite insulted that he eventually chose Jarvis over me.” She sat up in her hospital bed, gray hair falling in waves around her face. “Dial it up, let’s see what he got right, shall we?”

~*~ 2016

He was still in his suit and tie, his cheeks puffy with the tears he only let himself shed in the privacy of his hotel room. The church had been hard, but letting the coffin settle into the cold dirt had been harder.

She was gone.

And he was alone.

He picked up his phone, intent on checking his flight for the morning when an icon he scrolled past daily caught his eye.

He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the screen, temped.

He checked his flight, but it was perfunctory and he couldn’t recall, by the time his thumb hit the other icon, if it was still on time or not.

Slowly he lifted the phone to his ear. He knew from the few times he’d called at the nursing home with her that there wouldn’t be a ring tone, and that he had to be the first one to talk. “Hello?”

“Steve?”

Her voice through the line was young and vibrant, the way her remembered it from all those years back: red rimmed lips and bright eyes in just the vibration of sound.

He lost his breath.

“I’m so glad you called,” her voice was happy, bright.

He’d just left her in the ground, and yet…

Yet…

“Peggy.” He barely got the word out, the emotion choking him.

“Are you alright, Steve?”

“No, I…” he couldn’t speak. He didn’t want to continue, but couldn’t tear himself away.

“I’m right here, Steve.” Her voice was warm and welcoming, like honey and home and everything he was missing. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

He was quiet for a moment. He contemplated hanging up and deleting the icon.

Instead, he spoke, his words broken and full of loss. “I miss you.”

Her voice wrapped around him through the phone, “And I miss you, darling. But I’m right here. I’m just a phone call away, any time you like.”

He nearly laughed the way her words warmed him. She was so real- had always been every time he talked to the AI.

But she wasn’t real- just an amalgamation of information Tony had stored for decades.

He held the phone away for a second, contemplating his choices. He wanted to walk away, but the loss was still so raw. He pulled the phone back to his ear.

Just for today.

He told himself he’d pretend just for today.

Over the phone, he could pretend she wasn’t dead. Could pretend she hadn’t aged and lived on without him.

Just for today, just until he could get past this pain, he could pretend.

“I guess,” he cleared his throat, trying to banish the thickness in it from the tears, “I guess I should call more often, then.”

“Absolutely. I will accept nothing less, Captain.”

He smiled and sat on the bed, tears falling from his eyes as he listened to her voice.

It was just for today.

~*~ End Notes: Saved this to the end to avoid giving this away. Deeply inspired by Hayley Atwell’s episode of Black Mirror, “Be Right Back.” If you haven’t seen it, you should.

#Steggy Fic #Angst #Steggy Bingo Bash #3P's Fic #Steggy #Cannon character death #fulfills the fake dating prompt only if you squint #but I couldn't get the idea out of my head

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thebadboyfanclub · 3 years

Text

Sounds Like Heaven (Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Y’all though I would leave... nah ah I’m back. Anyway this was requested by an anon and I wanted to kind of twist it, cause I do believe that the whole “I’m on my period and can’t lift a finger” not only is it overdone but it’s also not really believable since there are those cases of immense and unbearable pain but most women have learned how to deal with it so we overdose on pills and just move on... anyway enjoy!

“Klaus for the millionth time I am completely capable to take care of myself”

“I know that, but when do you ever let me take care of you? So be a doll, sit back and relax”

(Y/n) was always very stubborn, specifically when it had to do with Klaus seeing her as fragile. He was this invisible big hybrid that no one could really kill and she was just this mere human that he had to keep an eye out cause even a thin piece of paper could slice her skin. She had never really understood the concept of mortality until she met him, before he strolled into her life she saw herself as this strong, independent being that could take anything, yet now she had Klaus running behind her to make sure she was alright while he could take a stake to the heart on any given day without the fear of death.

“So I bought this tea for you, it’s supposed to relax you and its infused with lavender and vanilla, do you like it?”

He asked her as he passed her the mug with the said tea. (Y/n) was in her “lady days” as Klaus would call it, which she found really weird, a vampire that has lived over decades didn’t want to say period. Klaus had seen how uncomfortable she got and how she would get random pains in her stomach, the part that was more concerning to him was during nightfall, where she would try and sleep but end tossing and turning for what felt like hours until she found a position that was comfortable and stopped the cramps. So this time he made it his mission to make her feel better and ensure that she is well taken care of.

(Y/n) took a small sip and let her taste buds judge the new hot liquid that went down her throat. She smiled at him as she let her back touch the pillows once again, nuzzling in the comfortable fluffy blankets with content

“Tastes like vanilla with caramel”

“Good, Excellent. Enjoy your tea dearest, I will make you some delicious dinner”

Klaus was aware of how much (y/n) hated soup, it made her feel like she was in a hospital or reminded her how her mom would force her to eat it when she was sick, so now as an adult soup was the devil to her. With that information he decided on making her some mashed potatoes that she seemed to find very comforting and steak with gravy, what could be more filling than that?

(Y/n)’s dinner was quite small, she wasn’t this millionaire that could afford mansions because she was alive over a century, yet that came in handy since she got to enjoy her TV series and also watch Klaus’s back while he prepared dinner. She slowly sipped on her tea and observed him as he ran around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, mixing them and putting stuff in the oven.

“Whatever it is that you are cooking it smells heavenly”

“I’m glad you like it love, just give me a few minutes to prepare my presentation”

(Y/n) giggled at how invested Klaus was at making her this dish. If you had told her that she would find a man that would prepare a meal for her because he wanted her to be happy and full during her period a year ago, she would have laughed in your face. Klaus wiped the plate to make sure there was no spills or anything unnecessary, he served it with some cold lemon tea, (y/n) wasn’t a big fan of alcoholic beverages during her meals.

She clapped in an excited manner when she saw the tray coming to her. Her eyes where already on the plate, seeing that he had cooked her one of her favorites, of course he knew exactly what to do to cheer her up. As soon as he placed it right in front of her she took the knife and fork and dug started slicing the tender meat an took some of the mashed potatoes to smear it on her bit, when the first bite touched her tongue a little “mmmmhhh” was heard from her.

“Oh it’s so good”

“Still got it”

“Oh yes you do, you should open a restaurant”

“Well since my sweet is in that said industry maybe when you become misses Mikaelson we can open one together”

(Y/n) was one of the few people that actually loved to work in customer service, specifically in restaurants. She loved to get closer to the customers and be part of their great meal, that’s how they had met so Klaus never minded it, although he did mind when he saw her after a particularly difficult shift, hearing her groan as she took her shoes off and complained that she smelled like food. That part to him was quite hilarious, to him she was always... edible, one way or another.

“Don’t patronize me Sir, cause I might take you up on that offer”

“I hope you do, Rebekah would be more than delighted to plan our wedding”

“Would you be okay with me walking around our mansion being pretty and hiring maids and chefs to do everything?”

“Would I be okay with having you be the madam of our household? Dearest, that sounds like heaven”

(Y/n) put her fork down for a quick minute so she can pucker up her lips and let him place a kiss to show him her appreciation. Of course she had thought of marriage, immortality with him did not sound so bad when Klaus and his family would be around, her and Rebekah had grown to be get pretty close and Elijah was always kind and helpful with her, almost like the older brother she always wanted.

“Come now eat up, I have prepared some raspberry bavarian cream for desert”

“When did you learn how to do that?”

“To be quite honest, I saw your shampoo was with raspberry so I thought you might enjoy it”

“You spoil me way too much”

She said as she picked up the cutlery again but instead of cutting one bite for herself she offered it to him. He opened his mouth for her to feed him and smiled as they looked at each other, they were already acting like a married couple that was still on the honeymoon phase, still their honeymoon phase should have ended long time ago, now there they were still acting like 15 year old’s around one another.

“Of course I spoil you, what other reason do you have for staying with me?”

“I can think of a few, wait a few days and I can get in more depth over them”

“Naughty little girl... I will write that down on my agenda, for now I have to go and prepare your dessert. Get ready to be amazed”

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@akshi8278

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sweet-rintarou · 3 years

Text

Today was the day that you were to meet with the person you'll be establishing a relationship. Understand how it's worded that way, changing the entire concept of how a relationship work. It shouldn't be a business tactic, in order to bring media attention onto those in the relationship, but should be a way to join two different people in a romantic sense, filled with trust and genuine feelings between one another.

You've had your fair share of relationships, none of which were ever done to benefit one or the other, nor were they ever done in a way that mutual feelings were absent. You don't claim to still be in love with any of your exes, nor is there any bad blood, so your concept of love and romantic relationship is quite vanilla.

Now, the game has changed. You weren't ready, hell, who the fuck would be ready to have to date someone only for publicity? To risk having the secret be released to the media, it would ruin your name and you were highly aware of it. No matter how anyone wants to try to put it, Japan was still behind when it comes to gender equality, it was traditional and placed men on a higher pedestal. You knew that if word got out that you both faked a relationship to gain attention to each of your agendas, that you would receive more backlash than your "significant other".

"We'll always protect you, Y/n," Suga reassured you when you decided to voice out your concern after being out. It was now nine, the next day, and you had to meet with the CEO again at noon.

"And fans will understand," Terushima added, "even though there'll be people that are rude for no reason, there will always be those that truly care for you, and will back you up for anything."

You couldn't necessarily talk, most of your replies were of gratitude or heavy sighs. Ever since the conflict with Semi, it seemed that the world was going against you, that everything that were to occur in your life was going absolutely crazy, and nothing seems to be working out. You felt as if most of the negative attention was caused by you, and only you.

As noon came around, your feet dragged heavily against the marbled floor. The weight of what was to come prevented you from walking with the usual bounce of life that you used to sport. Once you entered the meeting room, you only spotted the CEO, his assistant, and two other people you didn't recognize. Everyone besides the five of you were in formal clothing—suit and tie—so it was safe to assume that the person you were to be together with was not here.

Seated across from the two you didn't know, the CEO cleared his throat.

"Alright, these are the representative of who you will be meeting with, Ms. Y/n," he started off, "unfortunately he is unable to attend, but because I also like surprises, I'll disclose his identity later on."

I hate surprised.

"Before we get into signing the agreement, there are obviously a set of rules that must be established between the two parties, which are us, Rei Records, and the second party of Ryo Agency.

"First and foremost; the fact that the relationship is only for business purposes should never be disclosed to anyone other the present parties, your "significant other" included–" you couldn't help but gag a bit "–no disclosing this to close friends or families, the media obviously."

"Second; the period of this agreement will last for 6 months, this will fit with the timeline of Silver Lining's album release, album promotion, with a national tour, and Ryo Agency's agenda of their client's movie release, movie promotion and tour as well."

So he's an actor. Admittedly, you weren't too caught up with the latest news in the entertainment industry other than the music industry of course, so your knowledge of any actors around your age was limited to those you've seen in western film productions.

Semi rose his hand, "Isn't a bit unfair that Y/n hasn't met with the guy? I'm sure he already knows who she is, right?"

"No, actually, neither of you know what each other look like, we haven't disclosed either of your identities to one another." The response garnered dumbfounded looks from the five of us.

"We can assure you that he is a decent man, there is no toxicity from his behaviour to our knowledge," CEO Yashimoto reassured, although it did little to calm your anxious thoughts. He continued, "You will meet with the young man tonight, at the agency's restaurant, there will be no paparazzi as this should be a chance for you two to get to know each other."

"Which agency?"

"This agency," his assistant snapped, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Anyway, your relationship will be publicised on Friday, which is two days from now."

Without allowing you to say anything, his assistant—you honestly don't bother to learn his name—pulled out sheets of paper, placing it in front of CEO Yashimoto and the opposite agency, the five of you only able to observe the exchange.

"Alright, you all may leave, and Y/n, be ready to be picked up at six."

"How is it six already?!" You screamed. The CEO's assistant knocking incessantly on your hotel door.

"What if I grab him and toss him out the window, do you think anyone will know?" Terushima asked, eyes wide with genuine curiosity. The four of you stared in concern.

"You know it's the thought that counts." Heaving an exasperated sigh–which sounded more like a grunt–you changed into presentable clothes before exiting the hotel room, your bandmates watching your back, clearly upset as well. I cannot cry, but fuck, do I want to.

With only a glare, the assistant guided you to the car and the drive to the restaurant was quiet and awkward.

Monoma opened the door for you, allowing you to step out and he led the way towards the restaurant. Your hands were prepared to type the name once the words left his mouth, but his lips were sealed shut until you reached the entrance of the restaurant.

"Table under Yashimoto," he told the hostess, to which she led us to the table in the far back. A figure was clearly sitting in one of the seats, but you could barely recognize or make out the features with your deteriorating eyesight.

"Yo, Monoma, what's the guy's name?" He only casted a side-glance.

"I lied," he said, "with the fact that your phone is out now, I don't know where you'll send what I'm about to say."

"It's to my friends, no need to be so uptight," you retorted. "Fuck, fine." Stuffing your phone into your pocket, you'll just have to tell them when you get back.

"Hello," ignoring your presence, Monoma shifted his attention to the brunette by the table, to which the latter stood up upon the arrival of you. "This is Y/n L/n, the girl you were arranged with."

"Y/n, this is—"

"Oikawa. Tooru Oikawa," the brunette introduced himself, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

silver lining | w. ushijima smau

previous | masterlist | next

part twenty-four

—tooru

author's note: lmao now that we have oikawa in the story there will be more crack between him, y/n and ushi :3 and fair warning, the next few parts will be in written format, so be prepared

taglist: @alienvarmint @amberalisa @naughtylittleweeb @tycrackculture @someone-you-dontknow @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @stargirlara @brownsugartease-blog @leviathans-watching @kenjiru @ushiwakaismybae @elianetsantana @kagebunshiin @koushiwrites @marajillana @wannakeillmyself @bokuto-buns @smolcactusqwq @ihateccmber @changkyun-not @mischevious-pixie @mochi-the-uwu @haengbokpixie @kiritokunuwu @kittyddandnyla @runningwitches @cevanswhre @mint-mai @that-random-emo-girl @franko-pop @bigchaosenergy @luhvsnoir @shadowpurr @milkyyamatobio @fueledbyapplepi (send an ask if you want to be added)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu smau #angst #haikyuu fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x you #band! reader #florist! ushijima #band au #ushijima imagine #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi smau #social media au #silver lining sweet rintarou

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Harringrove April Day 26- Easy

Nobody ever said it was going to be easy.

Actually they told him expressly that it wouldn’t be. They explained it all in the hospital, he’d never get off the tank as long as he lived, or get his energy or all of his memories or his muscle mass back, and he’d be lucky if he ever grew out of needing braces to keep his chest together.

Still, they never really mentioned anything about emergency surgeries because another hole opened in his heart or almost bleeding out because he was on blood thinners, or that he’d have flare ups of pain so severe he was left bedridden for days.

When he signed the discharge papers and came back home with Max, he had really thought it was over, that he’d just rest for a little while longer and he’d be back to himself. But he’s not. He’s weak and he’s hurting and he's sick all the damn time, so distinctly not himself it’s disorienting.

So he holes himself up in his bedroom, hiding from the truth, and in part from what’s on the other side of the door. He locks himself in and pretends things aren’t really the way they are.

Max tries to get him off his ass every now and again, but she doesn’t really get it, how bad things are inside of Billy’s body. The way she saw it, her brother had survived by some miracle, but now, even after a whole year had passed, he still wasn't getting better.

She doesn’t mean to be mean, he knows that, but she regurgitates what Neil says about him, calls him lazy and selfish and ungrateful for not participating in his second chance at life.

Billy blames himself for that. Shutting her out was bound to make her turn to her family for answers they wouldn’t give without bias, making her believe those things to be true while he was barely scraping by in isolation, but it stings all the same.

Not that the things Max said about him were anything new. He knew when he stopped being able to walk for a few minutes without getting winded that he was lazy, knew when Max knocked on his door and he made up excuses not to open it and let her in he was being selfish, and he knew when the days just kept flying by and he wasn’t showing a single sign of improvement that he was wasting his life away.

In August of ‘87, Billy decides he’s fed up with it.

He goes on their stupid family vacation like he’d missed out on the last few years, going to some amusement park in PA.

It doesn’t go too swell, he coughs up blood in the bathroom and he doesn’t ride anything because of his heart, and he’s sweating like crazy in the late summer heat, his body so weak he’s having to take constant breaks- but Max smiles so wide at him, and even though he looks like hell in all the pictures they take, feels even worse, his little sister is beaming.

So he does it again. He starts going out with her to do anything, the movies, shopping, the park, willing to put aside his own well being just to see her happy again. She had almost lost him, he owed it to her to be there now.

But they say all good things must come to an end, and this is no exception. His third month into this, this forcing himself out of the house and pretending he doesn’t throw up the second they get back home or that he didn’t have to tighten his brace every other day because it feels like his back is going to crack in two, Billy gets caught.

It’s a lot harder to hide your pain from a group of almost a dozen instead of just one little sister over her head in excitement that her brother hadn’t died, and they sniff him out like a herd of hungry sharks.

One of Max’s little nerd friends wants to go to a parade, which sounds like it’s going to be okay, but apparently Hawkins is big on their Memorial Day parades, and they have to walk quite a bit to get to what the brats considered to be a good spot.

And apparently kids these days pregame parades, showing at least an hour early just to sit in the beating down sun, in a large crowd of people, sitting on the curb. It shouldn’t take a genius to realize that’s not really Billy’s scene, and quite frankly, it doesn’t.

Because it’s Steve who pulls him aside (into the shade, thank heavens) and asks him, genuine concern on his face, “Are you alright, Billy?”

And like, he’s not, but Max looks over, frowning when she notices he isn't there, and it’s for her that he’s even doing this, so he lies through his teeth, “Alright as I’ll ever be.” But that doesn’t sound as convincing as he means for it to. Sounds more like his worst nightmare.

Steve doesn’t even say anything else to him, just gives a little heads up to the kids “Me and Billy are going back to my car. I forgot something and he volunteered to come with so I didn’t get lost on the way back.”

A chorus of uninterested okays and a fleeting moment of eye contact with Max, and Billy’s being dragged along, literally dragged, his legs feeling too heavy to put much effort into walking, back to the BMW a few streets away.

It’s not like he didn’t notice that the heat was bothering him, but he didn’t really think about how bad it was until he was in the air conditioned back seat of Steve’s car, his hair pulled up with a random scrunchie one of the girls must have left in the backseat.

Steve in the front seat tosses him back a water bottle he must’ve bought on the way back, and looks at him expectantly. “So? You gonna tell me what happened out there?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Billy shrugs, trying to blow him off, but maybe his word choice could’ve been better, because then Steve’s asking him, concerned, “Does this happen a lot?”

There’s no hiding it, so he agrees, “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Dude, that’s not- you’re going to-“ Steve starts, but gets cut off when Billy says, frustrated before this conversation had really even begun, having had it dozens of times with himself as he tried and failed to get out of bed, “I’m going to what, Harrington? I’m going to get myself killed. Going to let everybody down because there was just one more thing Billy Hargrove couldn’t do?”

“Actually, that’s exactly what I was going to say. I mean, who gives a shit about everybody, but what about Max? Don't you want to do it for her?”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“Pretty sure the last thing Max wants is for you to get any sicker. She wants her brother to be around for longer.”

“Yeah, well there’s not much of me left is there?” Billy switches the subject, cornered by Steve’s unexpected confrontation, “Fucking- You don’t even know me man, why are you being all preachy?”

“Because I saw the look on Max’s face when you hit the floor, and every day after that for sixth months when you still wouldn’t wake up, and I saw it when you started pushing her away.” Steve says seriously, his voice stern, like he was talking to one of the little brats instead of one of his peers, one of his friends, “Billy you have to at least try.”

“It’s not that fucking easy!” Billy snaps back, “You don’t think I’ve tried to get better? Think I haven’t tried to be who everyone thinks I can be?”

“I’m not saying that it is easy! I’m just saying you need to let yourself heal more. You’re not going to be better overnight and nobody expects that from you.” Steve softens up a bit, to offer, “These kids might not really get it but I’m trying to. Let me understand you. Let me help you.”

And that, that’s the realest anyone has been with Billy since all this shit went down. How’s he supposed to keep his tough guy shit up either? He can’t, so he admits, “I just feel like I have to do everything, you know. I’m not supposed to still be weak. I want to be again, you know?”

“I don’t, and I’m not going to pretend I do, but, but I do know that what you need to do is just take it easy, Billy. You’ve got time now.” Maybe without thinking too much about it, or thinking about it lots, he reaches into the backseat and puts his hand on Billy’s knee, “One day you’ll be better enough to do whatever you want, but for now you’ve just gotta take your time.”

Time. What a strange concept for somebody like Billy.

Every moment he spent recovering in his bed, felt like it was wasted, never did he see it as a chance to do more later. Never would he have thought that Steve would be the one giving him advice about it either, and here they were.

But for now, maybe Billy would take it a little easier, even if Max would be a little disappointed. She would understand, and that was what was most important. He still had lots of things he wanted to do, things he would start that very day, when he leaned forward into the front seat, and kissed Steve Harrington.

#harringrove #harringroveapril #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#I want to make it expressly clear that this is NOT anti Max #this is based on my personal reaction to trauma #which is to ignore it because you don’t understand it #aka this is yet another autistic Max fic #also sorry this is so late lol it’s barely the 26th anymore I just got suuuper busy today #not proof read apologies in advance

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sondepoch · 4 years

Text

An Angel’s Sin (Simeon x Reader)

There’s more to the relationship between demons and angels than being simple opposites, but after an afternoon with Simeon, it becomes clear that their interpretation of sin is a pivotal point in their differences. Spurred on by the conversation, you teasingly encourage Simeon to sin, but you quickly find that you’ve asked for more than what you initially expected. Though, with this particular angel, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

They got it wrong.

Well, not entirely. But whoever discovered the concepts of angels and demons definitely didn't get it all right.

You shuffle in your seat, trying to keep your head out of sight so that your teacher can't see you openly ignoring his lecture as you stare out the window. Hey, it's not like you even need to pay attention. You're in Human Studies right now. Yeah. You, a human, actually have to take this class. And the teacher is currently going over what you learned in fourth grade, so you can afford to slack off.

But anyway, you think, mind drifting back to your previous train of thought. They definitely got it wrong.

You suppose you should commend your human ancestors for even figuring out that demons and angels exist in the first place. According to Solomon, it had been discovered through a trail of clues left behind from witches when they forged pacts with demons. Considering the obscure nature of casting sites, it's almost a wonder that people managed to understand anything at all.

Well, most of it was speculation. You muse, absentmindedly twisting your pen in your fingers. The same speculation that caused them to get everything so horribly incorrect.

You sigh.

For one, demons aren't evil.

You'd sensed it when you first arrived in the House of Lamentation, and the feeling persisted as you continued to bond with the various brothers, but there's no denying it now.

Demons are a lot of things: chaotic, messy, obnoxious, and rude, but they're not inherently evil as all the holy texts say.

Just last night, Satan cornered Lucifer in the dining hall with a plate of spaghetti while Belphegor threw meatballs at the firstborn, the two demons teaming up in the first demonstration of their "Lucifer Sucks" club while Beelzebub cried in the background over all the food wastage. Reckless, yes, and somewhat amusing to watch. But evil? Not even a little bit.

You smile at the memory, glancing at the clock.

There's barely a minute left in this period before you get to head to your next class: one of the only classes you have with Simeon. And while you usually look forward to Angel Studies, today you're excited for another reason. Someone like Solomon might be better for an objective analysis, but you want to hear what the angel has to say on the topic of demons and their innate nature.

The bell rings, and a smile blooms on your lips as you practically jump out of your seat.

You normally walk quicker to this class than all the rest, having developed a mild (read: intense) crush on the chocolate-haired boy, so no one bats an eyelid when you dart out of the classroom, practically skipping your way through the halls.

I wonder if he brought food today. The thought causes your stomach to grumble in anticipation. The two of you bonded long ago over your shared boredom in Angel Studies—Simeon, because he knows the subject better than the teacher, and you, because the Celestial Realm really isn't all that interesting. Conveniently seated next to each other from the very first day, you'd caught on early that Simeon was sneaking snacks into class. When he caught you staring, he'd offered you a cookie with a sheepish smile.

Everything after that point is history.

That single cookie had been the catalyst for conversation, laughter, and more food. Almost every day, Simeon now strolls into Angel Studies with half his binder stuffed with various treats prepared by Luke, ready to share them with you. What's not to love about the arrangement?

A soft smile blooms on your face as you enter the classroom, pleasantly surprised to find Simeon already seated in the back.

"Hey," You call, tossing a notebook onto the desk. Simeon turns to face you, a warm smile etched on his lips.

Typically, you two would take advantage of the beginnings of class to make plans for later in the day, like to review the material for Demon Studies (the hardest course for both of you) or to simply chill at Purgatory Hall; but today, the teacher walks in and immediately begins ranting about the lack of effort students are putting into his class and how upset it is making him.

From the corner of your eye, you glance at Simeon, who's shooting you that mischievous smirk of his, subtly sliding you a container under the table. You gasp in delight when you glance down, seeing the unmistakable outline of four delicious lemon squares through the glass covering.

You almost want to open the box and try a piece now, but your teacher's ranting has finally subsided, and it's too quiet for you to do such a thing without being noticed. You watch as the elderly demon finally sighs and crosses his arms, evidently ready to actually assign you your work for the period.

"So, to showcase your efforts, I want you to teach yourselves this next unit. You are to open your textbooks and read the passage: The Angel Trials of the Seventh Archbishop. I then want you to complete an analysis of the contrasting moral arguments that led to such controversy, and a concluding paragraph pointing out your personal beliefs on the matter. This is due next week, and this time I will not be accepting late papers."

You let out a sigh of relief when the teacher finally sits down, a silent instruction for all the students to begin their assignment. Where the other demons open their textbooks, though, you turn to Simeon. He's better than any book could hope to be. Not just in his natural gift for explaining, but with those abs? Nothing else stands a chance.

"So," You begin, voice low so that your teacher won't hear the whispering. "The trials of the seventh archbishop. Wanna summarize?" You ask with a giggle.

"Oh, please. You'd tune me out in my first sentence." Simeon chuckles. He has the truth of it. Since birth, you've been gifted with the rather unhelpful habit of zoning out whenever people begin explaining things you're not interested in, whether you want to or not. But after two study sessions with the angel, he'd quickly figured out the one way to keep you drawn in: food. Specifically, Luke's homemade chocolate chip cookies. "I'll explain it to you at Purgatory Hall this afternoon. Luke was planning on baking cookies anyway, so he won't mind."

You smile at the angel, thanking him for his offer.

You don't know what it is about having a cookie in your mouth while someone explains, but something about the deliciousness of the treat silences all the background noise in your mind, leaving you fully able to focus on Simeon while he explains whatever. In fact, Simeon is pretty much the only reason you're not failing your classes right now.

You sigh in contentment.

He truly is an angel.

A smart angel, at that.

"Hey Simeon," You say, suddenly remembering what you'd spent all of last period thinking about. "Why do humans depict demons as beings of pure evil and angels as beings of true good?"

The angel's eyes widen. He stares at you in pure surprise, lips forming a small o-shape before you awkwardly cough. "Sorry, sorry!" He apologizes, instantly snapping out of it. "It's just...I'm surprised. Solomon said it took him years before he realized the truth about the three realms... it's amazing that you're questioning it after only having been here a few months."

You shoot Simeon a questioning look. "The truth about the three realms?"

You have no clue what this boy is on about.

"Ah, sorry," He apologizes again, taking a second to gather his composure. You've learned that he can be quite a good teacher when he tries, so you know that he's about to go full explanation-mode on you. "Your question is valid, little lamb. When humans discovered the concepts of angels and demons, they didn't fully understand the meaning behind those ideas, which led them to make their own conclusions about our nature."

"And?"

"And those conclusions were wrong." Simeon chuckles, stealing the container of lemon squares off your lap to break one in half, offering you a piece while he continues. "It's something that people don't usually notice on their own. That's why I was so impressed that you'd picked up on it."

You smile at the boy, taking a bite of the treat in your hand. "Well, it's not like I noticed it very early. Up until now, I think I mostly bought into the whole idea that demons are evil."

"And now?"

"Well, I live with seven demons. How can I dislike them? They have their flaws, but I've seen more good than evil in them."

Simeon smiles at you, the same beaming grin that lets you know that he's proud of whatever deduction you've reached. "You're right. The human interpretation of angels and demons has never been very precise. We angels tend to love it, since it paints us in a good light...but a part of the reason why demons in the Devildom are so biased against humans is partially because you began it all, by depicting demons as emblems of pure evil."

"So then, what's the difference between an angel and a demon, if your supposed differences don't lie along the lines of good and evil?" There it is. The question that you've been thinking about this whole time.

Simeon smiles, taking another bite of the lemon square in his hand.

"Angels and demons...are merely two sides to the same coin. Two journeys to the same destination. Two halves to a whole that remains incomplete without both. We're nearly identical, in truth. Anatomically speaking, angel wings and demon wings are no different. And the way that demon horns materialize out of nowhere is akin to a halo's appearance. It's just that where angels believe in light, demons believe in dark."

"But isn't that it? That light is good, and dark is bad?" Simeon was making sense at first, but now you're more than a little confused.

"Not at all," Simeon says. He laughs his usual cute laugh. "Assigning moral values to natural features like light and dark has always been a human construct. A flawed construct, at that. Whether you're in the Celestial Realm or the Devildom, light and dark are two things that cannot exist without each other. They are entirely unrelated to good and evil."

"But isn't it natural that darkness is associated with fear, and things that are generally bad?" You pause for a minute, trying to find your words. "Light is comparable to sunlight, which directly supports life and growth. Whereas too much darkness will lead to deficiencies and...um...a worsened mental state?"

"I see your point, but the analogy is flawed. Just as not enough sunlight will kill a plant, too much sunlight will do the same. How can light be inherently good? Or the dark inherently bad?" Simeon pauses, letting his words sink in. "A blind man lives his entire life knowing only the darkness, but does that make his existence one shrouded in evil?"

Simeon pauses, letting his words sink in. By the time they have, you're left awestruck.

How have you never considered this before? It's always seemed so natural that halos and sunshine were equated to good, and horns and darkness were a sister to evil. But if what Simeon is saying is true...

"So there's no real difference between angels and demons, then, is there?"

"Not quite." Simeon hesitates, seemingly uncertain of how to put his thoughts into words. "I told you before that angels and demons are like two different journeys to the same destination. Our lives end with the ultimate purpose of serving the rulers of our respective realms, but the way we do it is where our differences come in."

"Elaborate?"

"Demons believe in more strongly in self servitude. They believe that by giving oneself their innate desires, that will result in a more satisfactory life and will better enable them to serve the demon lord. Angels believe in serving the realm before themselves. We devote ourselves to principles like virtue and servitude in hopes of reaching personal happiness."

"So then, if all that is true..." You hesitate, not sure if Simeon will laugh at your next words or not. "Then, does that mean that angels can sin, too?"

"Of course." A devious grin crosses Simeon's face. "The level of sin that an angel may allow themselves is different than what a demon would do, but certainly."

"I don't believe you," You say, smiling. Simeon? Sin? Yes, the angel dresses like a stripper, but the sheer notion of him doing anything bad seems so impossible. "I can't imagine you sinning."

"Well," Amusement flickers through Simeon's eyes, the teal-eyed boy, staring at you through a pause pregnant with thought. "Why don't I show you today? Let's skip Demon Studies today."

"Oh my god," You murmur, trying to choke back a laugh. "That's your big idea of sinning? Skipping class?" You flash the angel a grin as the bell rings, but honestly, you're surprised that he's even willing to go that far. You've yet to see any demons skipping class, so for an angel to play school delinquent? That's quite something.

"Oh hush," Simeon murmurs, gathering his things. He breaks off another piece of a lemon square before gathering his materials in preparation for the next class. "Just meet me in the courtyard, alright? I'll show you just how much an angel can sin."

"Alright," You agree, turning to gather your own materials.

The rest of the day passes quickly. Lunch is entertaining, but given that you sit with the demon brothers, lunch is never not entertaining. Today, Mammon managed to convince the lunch she-demon to double his meal portion. He then attempted to sell his extra foodstuffs to Beel, whereupon the secondborn was instantly shut down by Belphegor. Lucifer caught wind of the situation and threatened to string Mammon up for a hundred years, only calming down when you stepped in to deescalate the situation.

You couldn't fully focus on the demon brother's antics, though. Because across the lunchroom, at a table not too far from your own, sat Simeon, quirking his eyebrows mischievously as if to remind you of your plans for ditching Demon Studies.

The courtyard, he seemed to mouth out. You nodded at him, a confirmation that you'd be there. And at the time, he'd nodded back, his usual reassuring smile on his face, the entire exchange going unnoticed by any of your tablemates.

So where the heck is Simeon?

You glance at your D.D.D., checking to see how many minutes have passed since Demon Studies began. Six. Six whole minutes.

It can't take that long to get here from Simeon's previous classroom, right? What if the angel got cold feet over ditching and decided to go to class? What if he's not coming? What if Lucifer finds you skipping and strings you up for a hundred years?

"Little lamb!"

The voice unclogs a dam of relief that floods through your body. "There you are!" You exclaim, turning around to face Simeon. "I thought you'd decided not to cut class, after all."

"And leave you all alone?" Simeon asks, walking over to the bench you're on. It's comfortably under the shade of a nice, leafy tree, so the sunlight doesn't obstruct either of your eyes when you look at each other. "Why, that's a bigger sin than ditching in itself."

You smile at the angel's words, the boy never failing to bring a fresh shade of pink to your cheeks with his endless compliments. If they were to come from anyone else, you might assume them to be a form of flirting, but you doubt the angel knows the true effect of his words on you.

"Alright, so let me hear it. Tell me about all the sins you've committed!" You exclaim, clapping your hands together in excitement. You haven't forgotten the primary reason why you agreed to skip class in the first place.

"Oh, little lamb." Simeon pats your head. "Have you ever written down every single thing you've done that could be considered celestially questionable?"

Your silence says more than words can.

"I thought so." Simeon smiles. "It would be impossible for me to tell you of my every wrongdoing, or all my sins. But if you want to know a more recent example..."

"Yes!" Your voice is eager, anticipation lifting your spirits like the cool breeze of wind that rustles Simeon's fluffy hair. What kind of sins does an angel commit? Simeon told you earlier that angels consider sin differently from what demons and humans will consider sin, so you're dying to know what this mystery is. Your voice rings out clear in the courtyard: "Tell me!'

"Well," Simeon begins, angling his body toward you so that he can look at you as he tells his tale. "I'm sure you know that the Archangel Michael was the one who decided upon sending Luke and me down here as envoys of the Celestial Realm for Diavolo's program."

You nod.

"What you may not have realized is that my purpose here lies exclusively in guiding Luke, and ensuring that his exposure to demons at such a young age is not corrupting his angelic beliefs. I'm sure you can tell that we don't need to worry about that, but Michael made it clear that those were my only duties." Simeon frowns lightly, casually lifting a lock of your loose hair with his fingers and examining it as he speaks. It's a gesture he's always done, but it's never felt as intimate as now. "Michael made it especially clear that he did not wish for me to allow myself to be involved with anyone."

"Involved?" You ask, wondering if the word carries the same connotation in the Celestial Realm as it does in the human world.

"Involved," Simeon responds, and the way he says the word is enough for you to know that yes: it very much does mean the same thing.

"And...did you?" You ask. You try not to let it show, but inwardly, your brain is going wild. If Simeon is already with someone, you may as well just give up on your feelings now. No one would give up a man as perfect as him—with those godlike abs and naturally charismatic personality, and he's too good to break anyone's heart.

"Not yet," Simeon says. "My orders were clear. Though, as of recent, someone has been encouraging me to sin." His eyes are twinkling.

You feel your ears grow warm at that. "Hey!"

"So I think I might just disobey that order. What do you think, hm?" Simeon asks. He turns his gaze away from the lock of hair between your fingers, looking you straight in the eyes. Hair dropped, he uses his index finger to tilt your face towards his when you try to look away. As you stare into his eyes, you notice that the rich sapphires seem to be hiding a darker blue. But...the darkness isn't akin to evil. If there's one thing you've learned, it's that.

No, the deep blue of Simeon's eyes is speaking a different message entirely: desire.

"Should I 'involve' myself with the person I so want? Should I..." Simeon leans forward, letting his next words out softly into your ear so that you alone can hear this angel say these words of blasphemy. "Should I sin?"

You're left wordless. Or is it breathless? You can't tell. Simeon's close proximity to you no longer feels innocent. The finger he had on your cheek is now under your chin, keeping your gaze locked onto him as he awaits the answer to his question.

And you know.

You know he's aware of what he's been doing to you all this time, with his little touches and lingering looks and sweet smiles. And you can't even be embarrassed that he's so openly been pulling you further into the arms of your attraction for him, because with the way he's looking into your eyes, there's no denying that he feels it, too.

"Yes," You whisper, the wind gently carrying the word to his ears. And the second he hears your response, his restraint vanishes, and his lips are on yours.

Soft. That's your first thought. Soft, and gentle. Chaste, and beautiful.

The kiss is calm, serene as the boy himself. There's no unnecessary movement, no dramatic moaning, no senseless biting. It's just his lips, on yours, letting you feel the soothing wave of emotion and affection he has for you. His lips, on yours, and the tender hand that reaches up to cup your cheek. His lips, on yours, and the quiet pull of the moment, with the tranquil breeze dancing around you two as it touches every spot in the courtyard but where you stand, leaving the two of you blissfully alone in the moment of intimacy.

And then Simeon pulls away, and you feel the wind flitting in between you two once more. A light laugh escapes the angel's lips as he smiles down at you, gently moving to rest his forehead atop yours.

"Was it worth sinning?" You ask cheekily, interlacing your fingers with Simeon's other hand, savoring the brief squeeze he gives them.

"Absolutely," He whispers, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Would you let me do it again?"

"Yes," You murmur, and then the distance between you two vanishes, the world stopped once more.

When he pulls away, all either of you can hear is his quiet whisper as he asks your permission to do it again, to steal just one more kiss from your lips, and your immediate reply that grants him the sin.

Only when you finally tell him that he doesn't need to ask does he stop requesting your explicit assent, and then the moment truly never seems to end, the brief breaths of air you take between kisses forgotten and replaced by new touches, new affection, new warmth.

How much time passes by before you gain the courage to cup Simeon's cheeks, touching the smooth skin you've spent so many hours daydreaming about? How long is it before his spare arm snakes around your waist and pulls you even closer to him? You cannot keep track. Even time seems to have stopped as Simeon embraces what he's spent so long denying himself, granting himself the rare mercy of an angel's sin: the most beautiful sin of them all.

You pull him closer, lips pressing against his, a quiet message to not let this stop: not just the moment, but the act. The closeness. The intimacy.

And the way Simeon squeezes your hand, it's as if he's responding. Telling you that the kisses won't end today, or tomorrow, or anytime soon. It's a quiet promise to stay with you, to be with you, to sin, and to do it all as long as it's with you.

You smile into his lips.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 3.9k

Notes: My favorite part of this entire fic was the beginning where I described Satan cornering Lucifer with spaghetti and Belphie providing backup via meatballs - it really took all my restraint not to abandon this and write a crack fic about that

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

Text

Happiness Continues

Part 1: The Conception

Summary: Y/n has been feeling stressed with moving and big things happening at work. After a stupid argument with her husband, they both find a way to help her blow off some steam.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.7K+

Warnings: Language, verbal argument, sexual tension and teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Author’s Note: Now it’s time to officially dive back into the lives of my favorite idiots. Can’t wait to go on this journey with you guys again. Special shout out to my constant hype woman @waywardbeanie who willing squeals with me all the time and my beautiful beta @emoryhemsworth I couldn’t do it without all of you too, so please, let me know what you think. Feedback is golden! xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The highway whizzed passed outside her window as she made her way home. Y/n had one hand on the steering wheel as the other rubbed small circles into her temple. It was a Sunday after all, and she had to go into the warehouse. Et Cetera was working on launching a new skincare line, and one of the new machines had caught fire. It was just the icing on top of her already tipping cake. It felt like the only thing she had been doing for the past few weeks was putting out fires, whether it was at work or at home.

The only thing getting her through the current shit storm that was today was the Memorial Day barbeque celebration at Jared and Gen’s later. Well, actually it was starting about now, but she needed to get home and grab her bathing suit before she could go anywhere. She was pissy that work was making her late, but she had to try and remember that it would all be worth it once the line launched.

As Y/n pulled into the driveway of her and Jensen’s home, she could see the garage door was open, his black Land Rover pulled out and ready to go. Y/n replaced its spot inside with her car, jumping from the cool cab into the sweltering heat of Texas.

Y/n went for the door leading to their mudroom before remembering that the hall was packed tight with boxes, ready for the movers to come and whisk them away. She made a detour back down the drive and into the house through the front door.

The television played softly somewhere in the background and Y/n assumed Jensen was on his ass in front of it, considering that was where she often found him nowadays. He was enjoying his time off a little too much, but after fifteen years, she couldn’t say he didn’t deserve to. She stopped to take off her heels before venturing further inside, carrying them and her purse in one hand.

“Jay?” She called out, hoping to find her husband ready to pack the car and go. But as she entered the kitchen, the cooler sat open on the floor, empty of anything, even ice. The woman bit her tongue before moving on towards their bedroom, the sound of the television growing as she neared.

Passing by his home office, she stopped short, peering through the cracked door. Inside, the room looked as it had been untouched. The books were still lining the large shelves and his desk was strewn with papers and various contracts.

The sight was all she needed to boil over. Granted, she didn’t have a far way to go considering having to go into work on Sunday had already riled her up. Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stormed into their room, finding Jensen perched on the edge of the bed. He had their beach bag seemingly packed already behind him, but it was no help to him now. His wife was already steaming.

“Hey honey,” he smiled, the grin fading as she stalked passed him without a word. Y/n tossed her heels into their nearly empty closet before continuing to their bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Jensen cocked his head to the side as he stared after where she had disappeared. He knew when she left this morning she was in less than a stellar mood, but he was, unfortunately, completely clueless as to what had her in a mood now.

“Babe?” He shut off the television and went over to the door, rapping his knuckles against the wood lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Not now.” Her voice was soft from the other side, a slight echo to it as it reverberated in the empty bathroom.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He tried the handle of the door, surprisingly finding it locked. His brows knit together, as his wife never locked the door on him. “Y/n/n?”

“Don’t,” the door swung open then, revealing her now sans the suit she had gone into work in, and only in her panties. “I cannot talk to you right now.”

“What the hell did I do?” Jensen followed her as she pushed past him, pulling her bathing suit from its place in her drawers and exchanging her panties for the bikini.

“I have been asking you for a week, a week Jensen, to pack up your office, and this morning I have to go into work to deal with an emergency. I figured that'd be the perfect time for you to get it done, but no! You couldn’t even be bothered to fill the damn cooler for this party!”

Her husband backtracked, blinking at her sudden outburst. “It takes two seconds to fill the cooler, I was waiting until you got home, and my office will take no time at all.”

“Jensen, the movers will be here tomorrow. Tomorrow!” She repeated for emphasis as she pulled a tank and a pair of shorts over her swimsuit. “And we have a party to go to. Are you gonna get all of that done before ten in the morning?”

“I have time. They have plenty of other things to move first.”

Y/n clenched her fingers into a fist before relaxing them with a deep breath. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have done it this morning or even yesterday. Why do you insist on making me more anxious than I already am?”

“Oh, come on. You know I don’t do that on purpose. I’m sorry that it’s not helping you, but it’s all going to be okay,” he tried, his apology only ticking her off more than she already was.

“Whatever, I’ll just get over it. Come on, we have a party to go to.” Her tone was clipped and Jensen knew he was still in the dog house. But he also knew his wife well enough to know now was not the time to push her. The two of them could talk about it later.

He left her to finish getting ready and went to pack the cooler with beer and water and loaded it in the car. Y/n followed him out of the house not even a minute later, their swim bag over her shoulder. The couple climbed into the car in silence, and that’s how they remained the whole drive to Jared’s.

All the other guests had arrived already when they pulled into the driveway. Jensen sighed as he watched his wife jump out of the car without a word. He hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, hoping that her nosy family didn’t pick up on the anger rolling off of her.

He unloaded the cooler and dragged it along behind him, though the garage and out to the poolside. Setting down under some shade, he wasted no time in reaching in and cracking open a bottle of craft beer.

“What did you do?” Jared’s voice had him nearly choking on the fizzy liquid as it went down his throat. He didn’t even hear his brother-in-law come up behind him.

“What makes you think I’ve done something?” Jensen knew he was being far too defensive, but fuck Jared and his perceptiveness. He had known this would happen.

“Uh, you two didn’t walk back here hand in hand forgetting there are other people in the world.” Jared had that inquisitorial look in his eye, the same one that nearly had Jensen shitting his pants when he and Y/n had been running around.

“Okay, first off, we don’t forget there are other people around. And secondly,” Jensen sighed before continuing, “she’s just stressed and taking it out on me.”

“Uh-huh, what did you do?”

“I didn’t pack up the office this morning when she had to run into work, so sue me.”

“Ah, dude, the movers are coming tomorrow.” Jared wrinkled his nose, but Jensen could see the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“I swear to god, you need to go somewhere else, away from me.” Jensen shoved his friend's shoulder, causing Jared to burst out laughing as he sauntered away. The actor shook his head as he reached for another beer to bring his wife.

As he made his way further into the backyard, he found Y/n sitting at the deck table, having already discarded her tank top. She was chatting with her sisters-in-law, a smile on her face until she noticed him walking her way. But she didn’t make a move to stop him as he neared, instead accepting the beer from him and leaning into his touch when he kissed the crown of her head. It was her way of telling him that she was okay, she only needed a little time, and he could accept that.

What he couldn’t accept was her blatant teasing throughout the day. Now, he knew she was pissed at him, but she was playing a very dangerous game right now. It started out innocent enough when she had asked him to rub sunblock on her back. She’d laid out along the lounger and Jensen had knelt beside her, rubbing the cream into her skin. It was the small moan she let out as his fingers dug into her muscles that had his breath hitching in his throat. She was careful to keep it low enough that only he would hear but loud enough to set him on edge.

Her next trick came in the form of flaunting herself in front of him, over and over again. Jumping into the water right in front of him and coming out to lean down for something, giving him the perfect view down her bathing suit. Jared knocked him upside the head one time when he caught Jensen staring and then adjusting himself, quirking an accusatory eyebrow up at his not so subtle action. Jensen supposed he deserved it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He finished God only knew what number beer as he glared at her retreating figure. It was clear to him that her actions were no accident now, she knew exactly what she was doing.

It wasn’t until the watermelon incident that he knew just how much she was riling herself up in all this too. Jensen was in the pool with the kids, having fun tossing the boys in the water between him and Jared. The girls were readying the food for dinner, and Y/n had decided to steal a piece of watermelon. His wife sat down in the chair, biting into the soft flesh of the melon. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the juice dripped down her chin and landed on the swell of her breast. Y/n made eye contact, smiling at him as she wiped it away with her finger and placed the sweet liquid on her tongue, sucking her finger between her lips for a moment too long. He had to fight back an eye roll, instead deciding to narrow his eyes at her, his tongue licking along his lip and pulling it between his teeth. It seemed to do the trick as he noticed the subtle way she clenched her thighs before crossing her legs. Now he had her right where he wanted her, all primed for the perfect payback.

“What are you up to?” Gen appeared next to Y/n as she watched the interaction between the couple.

“I’m eating watermelon.”

“And making a mess.”

“That’s one of the joys of eating watermelon in your suit, you don’t have to worry about where the juice goes.” Y/n turned away from her husband’s heated stare to look at the small brunette next to her.

“Okay,” she raised her hands up, “I do not want to know.” Gen backed away from where her sister-in-law was laughing. No, she really did not want to know.

Her last harebrained scheme to get her husband going came as the night was coming to an end and she had more alcohol coursing through her veins than was necessary. The sun was disappearing behind the trees and the boys had lit a bonfire. Jensen found a spot on one of the loungers near the fire, his long legs crossed at the ankle in front of him. Y/n came out of the house behind him with his sweater hanging off her shoulders, that glint in her eye still present as she walked over to where he was.

“You have the bug spray?” She asked him politely.

“Maybe,” he tilted his head at her as she looked around him for it. Spotting it on the patio below, she reached over him, placing her hand for balance on his thigh. Jensen grunted as she stretched across him and snatched the spray bottle, watching her every move. As she moved to stand back up, a devilish smile crossed his features before he grabbed her wrist and caused her to stumble into his lap.

“Don’t use too much,” his voice was nearly a growl as it reverberated in his chest.

“Never, dear,” she replied, skimming her supporting hand across the bulge in his swim trunks as she went, feeling her husband up.

Y/n had to take a deep breath as she walked away from Jensen, the buzz from her many drinks was making her brain fuzzy and needy for her husband. Her plan hadn’t been to wind herself up along with him, but she should have known better, that two could play her little game.

After applying the spray, she sat down across the fire from her husband, Odette choosing her lap as her resting place as she made her rounds through the adults. Y/n helped her make a couple of s’mores on the fire before handing her off to her father as she headed inside for a mixed drink from Gen’s fridge.

The air conditioning caused pimples to rise on her heated skin as she entered the home and took off her sweater. Y/n stumbled slightly as she crossed the threshold inside, the numerous drinks of the day taking hold of her brain. The day wasn’t over yet, and she was determined to slip in at least one more.

By the time she reached the fridge, she heard the door behind her opening and closing again. She paid it no mind as she pulled the juice and soda from the fridge, turning on her heel and bumping the door closed with her hip.

“I know what you’re doing,” his growl had her nearly jumping out of her skin, the bottles in her arms tumbling ever so slightly before she clumsily regained her grip on them.

“Jesus.” Y/n set the bottle down on the island in the kitchen, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Jensen stepped closer to her, invading her personal space, and squaring his shoulders to make himself even bigger than he already was. He knew just how much it made her weak in the knees when he displayed his size difference over her, and he was using that knowledge to his advantage.

“Come on babe, you can’t play me.” His voice was low, the sound of it reverberating deep in his chest, sending shivers down her spine. “I’ve been watching you clench your thighs all day.”

“I—” The syllable barely slipped from her lips before his hands were on her, dragging her down the back hall and into the dark laundry room. The soft glow of the moonlight and a far off street lamp illuminated the room just enough for them to see each other.

Jensen pushed her body against the dryer as he closed the door behind them both. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low lighting, giving him enough time to lift her onto the machine and slot himself between her open thighs.

“I’m still pissed at you,” she murmured as he dove into her neck, placing soft open-mouthed kisses against her sensitive skin.

“So you’re torturing me then?”

“You tick me off, I tick you off. I think it’s only fair.” Her words were a whimper on her lips when Jensen nipped against her collar bone. Y/n ran her hands up his bare back, his skin still heated from the Texas sun. The woman could feel his muscles rippling under her fingertips as he ground his arousal into her core.

“Mmm, don’t think that’s how this works,” Jensen stepped back from her, her hands falling to her sides to catch herself from falling from the machine. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath as she tried to calm her hammering heart. “See, I think now’s the time to show you who’s really in charge here.”

Y/n bit her lip as she looked at her husband up and down. Y/n loved this side of him, the small upturn in his lips sent heat pooling deep in her stomach. Without breaking eye contact, she reached behind her, untying her bathing suit top and dropping it on the washer next to her. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he fought to keep his composure, but his wife knew him well enough to see the way his tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip. He was on the brink of breaking, and she had just the idea of how to push him over the edge.

“Then show me,” she purred, sucking two fingers between her lips before disappearing her hand into her bathing suit bottoms. Jensen moved like lightning, his fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her hand up near his face.

“No time for that, baby girl.” Jensen dropped his grip on her, moving to pull her bottoms from her body. Y/n lifted her hips to help him and Jensen placed the barely-there material with the other piece of her bikini. He took back his place in between her legs, attacking her mouth with fervor. Y/n could taste the beer he had been drinking all day on his lips, the taste all-consuming of every other flavor she so loved of her husband, but she didn’t care at this point. She’d been trying to rile him up all day, in turn doing the same thing to herself, and now she wanted the release she knew her husband could provide her.

He had one hand on her hip and the other was cradling the base of her skull, keeping her as close to his body as he could. The soft moans escaping her body only drove him crazier than he already was. Y/n ran her nails down his back, slipping her hands underneath the elastic of his bathing suit and squeezing the taut muscles of his ass.

“Fuck me, please,” she begged, far past caring for any decorum at that moment. He already had her naked and wet in her brother’s laundry room, her whole family just outside enjoying a bonfire as the night came to an end.

“God, anything for you, baby,” Jensen murmured against her lips as she moved her hands to pull his erection from its confines. Y/n guided him to her entrance, a collective sigh falling from their lips as he bottomed out inside her. He stilled as her body adjusted to him, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he breathed deeply. A surprised gasp popped from her mouth as he pulled out and fucked into her in one swift movement before easily finding his rhythm.

The laundry room filled with the couple’s collective breaths and the soft creaking of the machine she was placed on. The air grew thick around them as they both frantically chased after their release that they had been building up all day. Y/n’s hands were roaming across the heated skin of Jensen’s back, looking for purchase anywhere she could.

Every muscle in her body was clenching as he drove himself home time and time again. “Jay, fuck—” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for from him, all she knew was that she was almost there.

“I know honey, I’ve got you.” His voice was low, rumbling deep in his chest as he licked over the shell of her ear. Everything about him was invading her senses, making her forget anything but her husband. Jensen adjusted his hold on his wife, giving himself access to rub tight quick circles to her clit. Before she could react to his touch, she felt her body falling, every muscle shaking around him. Her orgasm pulled him into his shortly afterward, his hot seed coating her walls as his cock twitched inside her. Jensen shuddered under her fingertips, his shaky breaths like music to her ears. Her husband fell into her chest, nuzzling his nose into her collar as he waiting for his breathing to even out.

“Someone’s gonna come looking for us,” Y/n chuckled as she combed her fingers through his hair. She could feel his smile against her skin before he huffed out a breath.

“Yeah, and I really don’t feel like being murdered by your brothers tonight.” Jensen placed a kiss to the underside of her jaw before standing up and separating himself from her. He adjusted himself quickly before grabbing her suit for her. Y/n struggled to get the wet garment back on, needing the help of her husband to straighten the material back out.

Jensen peeked out the door into the dark hallway to ensure the coast was clear before they exited the laundry room. He slipped his fingers between hers and pulled her along with him and back out to enjoy the fire.

“Well, well, well, look who is holding hands again.” Jeff piped up from the other side of the fire. He had his youngest dead asleep in his lap as he chuckled at his baby sister.

“Oh,” Y/n laughed as Jensen fell back into his original seat, pulling his wife down with him to sit across his lap. “Can’t stay mad at this face for too long.” Leaning down, she pinched his chin between two fingers and brought his lips to hers, the couple both smiling into the kiss.

Part 2: 5 Weeks Pregnant

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annabethy · 3 years

Text

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 7: wrapping presents

Character can’t wrap gifts to save their life. Character B is their neighbor and can help,, percabeth

Percy should have known what went into being a single dad. He thought he did well enough, all things considered. By no means was he perfect, but he loves his daughter more than anything, and he always does his best.

Still, he did not ever thing that his biggest struggle as a parent would be wrapping presents for Christmas.

The pile of gifts he bought for his daughter sit in front of him, staring right into his soul. It’s embarrassing, because in his twenty-six years of life, he really hadn’t learned to wrap a present. It’s not like it’s a difficult concept — he is just severely incapable of making anything look pretty with wrapping paper.

Percy sighs and leans back, defeated. He tosses the tape dispenser recklessly in front of himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly. When he looks at the clock, he is both confused and personally offended that it could possibly be three in the morning on Christmas and he still has nothing done. It’s no one’s fault but his own, because he had time to get it done but decided to wait until approximately three hours before he knew his kid would be awake to attempt and fail miserably at wrapping presents.

He considers just giving up and not wrapping them at all — it’s not like she would really care — but then he remembers the pure excitement he would get as a child while peeling the paper off the presents, and he can’t bear to take that away from her.

He tries to think of a solution, but nothing comes to mind. He’s ready to just accept that he’s screwed up, but then it comes like a whisper in the back of his mind. He knows for a fact that his neighbor is a goddess at wrapping presents because he saw her hauling them in from the car earlier for her own daughter. He tries to tell himself to absolutely not wake her up at three in the morning, but the thought of sitting here struggling any longer makes him cave, and he finds himself standing on her porch minutes later in the freezing New York air.

He hesitates, then knocks lightly. It feels like forever awaiting a response, and he’s just about to give up and turn around when he hears the lock click open, and he is met with the sight of his neighbor looking thoroughly concerned.

“It’s three in the morning,” is the first thing she says.

Percy can’t help but stare at her for a good second. He doesn’t think they’ve talked more than once or twice since she moved in a few years ago, but maybe they should have because then maybe he would’ve known how pretty she actually was. Even on the brink of sleep, she managed to look put-together in her plain black leggings and oversized knitted sweater. Her hair was loose down her back, falling in cute ruffled ringlets, and he wants to reach out to smooth them down like he’s always done for his daughter.

Percy shifts nervously. “I know. I just – there’s an emergency?”

Annabeth blinks. Her hand is resting on the door handle like she’s about to slam it shut at any second. “Is everything okay?”

“No, yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Okay…” She looks around behind him, peering into the darkness like she expects there to be a hidden camera crew. “Are you going to tell me what the emergency is, or…?”

“You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“You’re standing on my porch in the middle of the night on Christmas. I already think this is stupid.”

Percy scratches his neck, a heat slowly rising to his cheeks. “I got my daughter a ton of presents. And I also have a ton of wrapping paper. I just can’t seem to put two and two together and actually wrap the presents.”

“You haven’t wrapped any presents?”

“No.”

Annabeth looks thoroughly appalled by his statement. He can’t be too surprised. From the few times they have interacted, he’s always had the impression that she has her shit together. It’s part of the thing that’s always held him at a distance from her. He hated the way thinking of her felt.

Right now, he decides, he hates this feeling of uselessness even more.

“Can you help me wrap presents?”

Annabeth chokes on a laugh, wrapping her arms around herself. “What?”

“I really need help wrapping presents. Like, it’s bad. My living room is a mess, and I’m pretty sure my daughter is going to be awake in less than three hours.

“Hold on,” she says, holding up a hand. She looks more amused than anything now, which brings his nerves down. “You mean to tell me that you left your three-year-old daughter home alone so that you can come to my house at three in the morning on Christmas to ask for help wrapping presents?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, Percy.”

“Listen.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Just be happy I didn’t show up with cookies and milk,” he says.

“The only thing that would make this better is if you did bring cookies and milk,” she replies.

Percy runs his fingers through his hair. “Can you help me or not?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a subtle smile splayed on her face. “Give me a minute.”

She goes back inside for a moment, and Percy just stands there waiting for her until she reappears. When she does, she’s holding a pack of stickers that he recognizes as those fancy Christmas labels.

“Assuming you don’t have any of these?” she asks, stepping past him.

“Now you’re just insulting me,” he says playfully, following her back along the sidewalk to his house. He opens his front door for her to step inside, and she does so for what she thinks is the first time.

Annabeth stops at the sight of his living room. “What happened!?”

“Wrapping paper and I are not friends.”

“I can see that,” she comments, setting her stuff down in the center of the room. She turns towards him while reaching up to tie her hair in a low bun. She cracks her knuckles dramatically, and she says, “Let’s get to work.”

Percy tries to help at first, but at some point, she swats his hand after using almost an entire roll of wrapping paper on just one present. He ends up sitting next to her as moral support, simply commenting on everything his delirious mind has to offer.

She looks… like a princess, is the best that Percy can come up with. She’s his own personal superhero, saving his ass on Christmas day, and she looks great doing it too. So warm and cute and small, the perfect size for holding in his arms, for cuddling, and kissing, and — what was he saying?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” he asks.

“No!” She snatches away the scissors, waving them in his face. “I know you said you were bad at wrapping presents, but this is just…”

Percy smiles and leans his weight back on his hands. “Can I at least get you something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“Coming right up,” he says, getting to his feet. “Anything specific?”

“Whatever’s fine,” she says.

From the kitchen, he can see her working. She’s sprawled out on the floor taping a piece of wrapping paper with snowflakes on it onto a pink scooter. She looks so concentrated, her tongue sticking out through her lips as she focuses, and he is compelled to kiss away the scrunch on her forehead. It’s weird, because he’s never had a true conversation with her, but he finds himself wishing that he had sooner.

The coffee finishes brewing, and he brings it back to her side, holding it in front of her face. She hums in appreciation, dropping what’s in her hands to grasp the sides of the mug. As she takes a sip, she sighs and gives him a soft grin.

“Nothing like the taste of coffee in the middle of the night,” she says, setting it down. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” And as he sits down next to her again, he notices that the presents are all nearly wrapped. “This means a lot to me, Annabeth. I don’t know what else I would have done.”

“Don’t worry about it. Wrapping presents is my passion.”

He smirks. “So you’re that type of mom.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jackson?” She raises a brow. “I’d like to remind you that that type of mom is currently doing your parenting for you.”

“It’s not a bad thing!” he insists. “It’s cute that you like wrapping presents.”

“Wrapping presents is not cute. It is a serious competitive sport. Cutthroat competition.”

“See? Cute.”

Annabeth laughs, shoving his knee with her socked foot. She takes the mug of coffee back in her hands and takes a long sip. “Look who’s talking.”

“Oh?” he teases. “I’m cute?”

“Sure,” she says, shrugging and nodding towards a small barbie box. “How could I not find it adorable that you are physically incapable of wrapping a square box?”

“So by cute, you mean easy to bully?” he asks, sniffing.

“Yeah, but you’re also just really cute in general.”

“How nice of you,” he says sarcastically.

“I’m serious, though. How have we never had a conversation before?”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It means that you know what you’re doing, and I don’t.”

She laughs in his face. “I do not know what I’m doing in the slightest.”

“At least you can wrap presents.”

“You just have to practice,” she says. “Come here. I’ll help you do the last one.”

As Percy slides in next to her, she puts the scissors into his hands and scoots in even closer. He can feel her body heat radiating against his chest as she leans into him. She points out where for him to cut, and he follows her directions. He’s distracted by the way she smells. It’s dizzying, feeling her those close. She guides his hands with the paper, carefully tucking the paper into perfect creases, taping the wrapping taught.

It’s hands-down the best present he’s ever wrapped, though it was still Annabeth doing most of the work.

“There you go,” she says, smiling. “And now you know how to wrap a present.”

Instead of responding, he looks around the room. The sun is just beginning to rise in the skyline, the black space around them hinting at dawn. When he looks at the time, he realizes that it’s a little bit past six. It doesn’t feel like that much time has passed, but somehow it has.

Annabeth helps him clean up quickly and shove the presents underneath the tree. She comments on a few of the homemade ornaments, mentioning how much she loves the ones with the little handprints made with patchy glitter.

She’s looking at the tree, but Percy, he notices, is looking right at her, and he can’t bring himself to look away. She turns around again, shoots him a smile, and makes her way to the door. Percy follows her to walk her out. As he opens the door, she steps outside, and with the snowy background, he’s never seen a more perfect picture.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. It was surprisingly fun.” They stare at each other, unsure of what they’re supposed to say next, but then she says, “I should get back. She’s going to be waking up soon.”

“Was she home alone?”

Annabeth shakes her head, biting her lip in a smile. “A friend was home.”

Percy nods, and then he thinks he wants to see her again. “Do you have anything to do later today? After opening presents and stuff?”

She pretends to think, a subtle glow to her skin. “I can’t say that I do.”

“You’re welcome to come over,” he offers. “The girls could play together, and you could try my Christmas cookies.”

“I hope they’re better than your wrapping,” she teases.

“You’ll have to come over and find out.”

“Hm. I guess I will.” Annabeth steps away but seems to think better of it as she moves closer again. She smiles at him, lifts onto her toes, and kisses him once. It’s short and sweet but leaves him wanting to pull her closer to him when she pulls away. She doesn’t say anything as she turns on her heel back to her house, leaving Percy melting in a puddle behind her.

Maybe, he thinks, it was a good thing that he didn’t know how to wrap presents. And if she was going to make him learn anyways, which he quickly learns she would, well…

Percy certainly doesn’t mind one bit.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #my writing

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