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shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

Drunk Yandere Levi taking reader from behind-

huarushdifbkhbfkdafjkafnkas

okeyabhase

(What to expect - NSFW, noncon, dubcon, punishment, slapping, spanking. Clit torture, sex under the influence (alcohol), slight bondage.)

Levi slammed the door, waking you from your fitful sleep.

Your bleary eyes found the clock - 3:28 AM.

The sounds of him rummaging around his office reached your ears, the man having a full bedroom suite attached to his workspace - he was a Captain after all.

“Ssshhitty fuckin’ bratsss, can’t even-nn ffuck!” A crash sounded, followed by the man swearing heavily. His words were slurred slightly, lazy, when they normally were cutting and swift in delivery.

He was drunk.

You curled up on the bed as much as you could, tugging on the long chain connecting your wrist to the headboard to move it to a more comfortable position.

It chafed your wrist, the cuff tight and unforgiving, biting into your skin and bruising your flesh.

No use mentioning it to Levi. The man was aware of the issue, had caught your wrist several times so he could examine the raw red tissue, wrinkling his nose, running his thumb against it and watching you flinch. You’d seen a flash of regret in his eyes, just a hint, but then he steeled himself, dropping your wrist and leaving the room, slamming the door shut on his way out.

A loud thump was heard, closer now, Levi slowly making his way to the bedroom, to you.

You’d never seen your Captain drunk before.

From what you could hear, the man was struggling with his shoes, mumbling something about the “f-fff-f-fucking laces.”

When the door was pushed open, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to even your breathing as you feigned sleep.

Levi stumbled around the room in the dark, clothes rustling, most likely stripping to change into nightclothes.

You know there had been some sort of meeting tonight with the Military Police and the Scouting Regiment, but it was supposed to be over hours ago. Levi and Erwin had probably gone for drinks afterwards, which means the meeting had gone bad.

Really bad.

The bed creaked as Levi sat down heavily, swearing under his breath about this or that, before you felt his body turn towards you.

He was watching you, eyes slipping over your form curled under the blankets, rising and falling with each steady breath.

You prayed that he’d let you sleep. Prayed that Levi would lie down, fall asleep. Prayed that he wouldn’t bother you, touch you with his clean, calloused hands that felt dirty upon your skin.

No such luck.

Hands pulled back the covers, ghosting over your arms as soon as they were bared to the chilled air, making you inhale sharply at the feel of his icy digits. HIs hands were so cold, contrasting against his warm, alcohol-laden breath puffing against your cheek.

It was useless to pretend to be asleep any longer.

Opening your eyes, it was apparent that Levi was drunk, his cheeks flushed, eyes hooded and dark, his movements clumsy as he tried to pull you upright.

“Get-get up (Y/N),”

“Levi...” You sat up slowly, trying to shrink back from his grabby palms, his lusty gaze.

“Come ‘ere, I wanna.... wanna....” His words trailed off, Levi too focused on your breasts underneath your nightgown to form a coherent thought.

Reluctantly, you moved towards him, shuffling forward with a crippling pang of anxiety. Levi was never this unsteady, hands petting over your arms, the man suddenly leaning forward to plant his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Ah, ssmell good, all ff-fuckin’ clean.” He straightened up again, words slurred, before grabbing your thighs, wrenching you into his lap in one quick movement.

“Levi!” You squeaked, immediately clutching at his shoulders, the lithe man making himself comfortable with his back against the headboard, your weight draped in his lap.

He was completely naked, flesh pressing to yours. Levi was warm, heated underneath you.

Deft fingers were sliding the straps of your nightgown off your shoulders, causing you to blush furiously as the man tried to bare your chest.

Even after all this time, you were still shy of his gaze, uneasy with those light grey eyes scrutinizing you.

“Please stop, you’re drunk.”

“Ss-stop it.” The man barked, fixing you with a hard glare. He wanted you to move your hands from where you had shifted them, using them to keep your nightgown pressed to your chest. “Let me-let me see.”

Biting your lip, you dropped your hands, nightgown falling to pool around your waist. Breasts now bared to the night air, your nipples peaked softly, further attracting Levi’s attention.

“Good, good girl.” The man praised, his calloused palms cupping both mounds, feeling their weight.

You stayed still, felt the man play with your breasts, lifting them, squishing them together, plucking at your nipples. He leaned forward to lick a stripe over one of them, snickering to himself when you gasped.

An almost unheard noise, Levi’s laughter. It made you pause, blinking down at him while the man smiled to himself, apparently pleased.

Levi dropped one hand to the fabric around your waist, pushing it up until he could reach underneath, petting sloppily at your panty-covered sex, fingers missing their mark in his drunken haze.

“Take these-this stuff off.” He commanded, snapping the waistband of your panties with a finger, irritated that they were in the way.

Reluctantly, you started to shift from his lap, only to have Levi hiss, hand tightening around your breast as he gripped your thigh, keeping you on top of him. “Don’t leave, stay rightt here.”

“O-oh, okay.” Figuring he had changed his mind, you settled back onto your rear, Levi’s hand leaving your thigh to paw at your panties again.

“I want-get this... off.” The man was frustrated now, furrowing his brows as he tried to concentrate enough to say the correct words.

“Um, Levi, if you want them off I have to move.” You whispered. A small part of you hoped that the man would leave it be, maybe just want some heavy petting before he passed out. You wondered if Levi had ever experienced a hangover before.

“Ngh, ff-f-fucking-fucking-” No more words, just Levi finally remembering that he could slip your panties to the side, let his fingers press against your cunt.

“You’re gonna-gonna ride me. Do it.” The man slurred.

“Please, Levi. You aren’t thinking straight, you’re drunk, it’s late. Lets just... go to bed? Please?”

Levi shook his head from side to side like a petulant child, lips pulled into a frown. “Nooo, do what I-I want. You are-you’re mine.” He grabbed your jaw, pulling you so he could look into your eyes, hissing. “Mine.”

The grip around your jaw was scaring you, eyes wide as you clutched at his wrist, wanting to pry his hands off you. His hand felt too close to your neck.

But the man wouldn’t budge.

He was waiting, staring at you with half-opened eyes.

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it, ‘m sorry.” You wheezed, and only then did Levi release you.

A shuddery breath left your lungs as you reached down, fumbling for his cock. You wanted to cry as you lifted your hips, lining his length up with your pussy, pressing the bulbous head to your entrance.

“Mm, ffuck.”

Levi’s encouraging groan made your walls clench around nothing, and you cursed your body for it’s reaction, squeezing your eyes shut as you mentally readied yourself.

It hurt, the initial stretch. His cock wasn’t girthy, nor necessarily long, but it was nonetheless a cock, hard and full. Levi didn’t seem to be in the mood tonight to wait for you to stretch yourself out, but the dry slide of him into your cunt made you tremble in pain.

“Levi, it hurts, please, it hurts. No more.”

The tip was barely inside.

Levi rolled his head to the side, brain slowly comprehending your words, before he huffed, reaching for the side table next to the bed, pulling open the little drawer underneath it.

A small bottle of oil was patted against your thigh, Levi holding it out for you to take.

His cock was quickly lubed, Levi’s hands fondling your tits as you slicked up his length with the oil, before you resumed your previous position, tip of his cock pressed to your cunt.

An uncomfortable noise left your lungs as you sank down, a high whine as the stretch from before returned. At least it wasn’t dry now, no prickly pull on your walls, just a constant pressure as his cock filled you.

Levi was breathing hard, despite not doing any of the work, hands clutching at your body greedily.

When you finally fell flush against the base, legs almost cramping from holding you up for so long, you held onto Levi’s shoulders, dipping forward to lean against his chest to give yourself rest.

But the man was impatient, his drunken brain hiding his common sense, his decency, his normal behavior behind impulsive desires and selfish wants.

“C’mon, f-fuckin’ move.”

A half hearted slap against your thigh had you shuddering, knowing the force Levi could apply behind his slaps if he felt you were ignoring him. Better to listen and obey, even if you were still catching your breath, adjusting to the intrusion.

You lifted your hips, Levi’s cock sliding out until you felt the tip almost slip free, before you rocked down, taking him completely.

There was a slow buildup until you found a comfortable rhythm, Levi squeezing his eyes shut and holding onto your tits on a particularly deep press of his cock into your wet cunt, his head falling back to the headboard with a soft thunk.

He was panting, his hips moving underneath you without rhythm, just chasing his release. Levi’s eyes opened blearily, looking up at you with-

“I love you.”

His voice was thick, tired, raspy from talking all evening and using alcohol to drown his vexation towards the Military Police. Levi’s eyes widened just a little bit at his confession, as did yours.

That was never a phrase that had been said. You didn’t know why Levi was doing this to you, perhaps out of some twisted sense of devotion, or maybe because he liked seeing you suffer. You supposed that maybe you were just a cadet chosen out of the crowd to cater to Captain Levi’s more human needs, like intimacy. His methods were never questioned, and you were afraid to poke around for answers.

He’d never said something like that before.

It was shocking, yes, your hips stuttering a moment. But ultimately you brushed it aside, the man was drunk after all, rambling.

You tore your eyes away from his face, closing them as you changed the angle of your hips, his cock hitting a spot inside you that made your pussy throb.

“Oh fuck, ah, mhm-” It was starting to feel good, pleasure pooling in your tummy, and you began to slam yourself down harder, moving faster and faster.

You just needed a bit more-

Taking a hand off Levi’s shoulder, you reached down for your clit, easily sliding your fingers between your bodies. Your clit was already wet, your cunt drooling around Levi’s length, the oil smeared across your thighs.

It was easy to touch yourself the way you liked, and before you knew it, you were working yourself to completion with a cry, furiously rubbing at your clit as you rocked on Levi’s cock.

Panting, you slowly came to a stop, seated on his length, hand still trapped between your bodies, but no longer playing with yourself.

Opening your eyes, you were met with addled fury.

“You weren’t-weren’t suppose-sed to ffucking cum.” He slurred, hands leaving your breasts to clamp onto your hips.

The look in his eyes made you feel cold, yet a hot blush of shame colored your cheeks.

“Get-move-” He panted, almost throwing you off of him, pushing you to the bed with strong hands.

You scrambled to sit upright, chest heaving, pleasurable orgasm long gone and forgotten as you faced Levi.

But the man was grabbing you before you could move, flipping you over and shoving your face into the comforter, shuffling to his knees behind you.

“Wait! Levi-wait, stop!” You tried, but your cries were muffled by the comforter, Levi’s hand steady on the back of your head. His other hand circled underneath your hips, the man grunting as he pulled you up, your knees shoved underneath you.

As soon as you recognized the position, Levi was guiding himself to your pussy, still leaning over your back.

He didn’t hold back, fucking into you messily, no rhythm, just a series of sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts while he panted by your ear.

“Stupid-stupid brat, ugh. You w-were supposed to make me cum first, you-you know the f-fucking rules, ah-!”

Levi straightened up, taking his hand off of your head so he could deliver a brutal smack to your rear, making you yelp in pain, jerking forward.

“Stay-stay the ffuck still you b-brat.”

Another slap, and another, and then Levi was delivering a flurry of spanks, his hand connecting to your rear on each of his thrusts, your eyes squeezing shut, tears dripping down your cheeks.

“Levi!” You whimpered, flinching as his speed increased, the man pounding into you from behind seemingly uncaring of your suffering.

But then he snaking his hand around your hips, fingers fiddling through your folds, slipping against his cock as he struggled to find your clit, his coordination shot with all the booze flowing through his system.

“Sshhut up.”

No more spanking, but you were quickly writhing when Levi finally found you clit, pinching it cruelly between his fingers, pulling.

It hurt so bad, you bucked your hips back, away from his hand, but that only served to spear you further onto his cock. You were weeping, clutching at the blankets, head turned to the side so you could breathe, whimpering for Levi to stop.

But he didn’t.

The pain was becoming too much, sharp and stabbing and it felt like he was trying to break skin with how hard he was pinching. You yelped, a hand shooting down to push at his own, but Levi was too strong to be moved, even when he was drunk and blundering.

“Levi! LeVI STO-OP!” You sobbed, flailing as he pounded you harder. You struggled to support yourself on your hands, trying to rise to your knees so you could scoot away from his assault, or at least cause him to slow down.

And then he was slamming deep, grinding his hips into you in little circles as he came, finally releasing your abused clit from his awful fingers.

The man groaned as he painted your inside with his release, hips still twitching. You sniffled, trying to wipe the snot and tears from your messy face, before ultimately giving up.

Levi pulled out promptly, tugging one of your arms to pull you back towards him as he sank onto his back on the bed. You followed him reluctantly, cringing as you felt his cum slip down your thighs, wincing when your sore, aching clit was stimulated by the press of your thighs.

Pulled down next to him, Levi uncharacteristically nuzzled your neck, snuggling up to you, wrapping his arms around your body.

“Hm, love you sso much.”

And he wasn’t even worried about the mess.

#levi #levi aot #yandere levi #Levi Heichou #Captain Levi #shingeki no kyoujin levi #AoT #aot smut #yandere aot #dark aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin smut #Levi smut #Levi ackerman #levi attack on titan

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Monsters - Four

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Language, Fluff, Sickness, Minor Injuries, Trigger warning kinda but not as bad as the last chapter

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: here you go! I say fuck a posting schedule lol

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

~*~

You sleep for a long time.

Nearly three days.

Bucky grows increasingly worried with each day that goes by that you don’t open your eyes. It gets to the point where he’s tempted to call a doctor, but he has no idea how he would explain it to them.

You finally wake up, in the afternoon of the third day, and Bucky is so relieved he could cry.

“Hey,” he whispers, helping you sit up when he sees you start to struggle. You look around curiously, confused until your eyes land on the gauze wrapped around your arms.

You look up at him, bottom lip wobbling, and he shakes his head, shushing you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” During the days when you were unconscious, it was a struggle to keep the soldier at bay. He won the fight every night though, the guilt weighing heavier than the desire to fuck.

“Why didn't you let me die?” You whimper, sorrow in your eyes. He rests his forehead against your shoulder and sighs.

“You called me a monster, and I got mad because I didn’t want you to be right. And then I proved your point. I just... the monster is there, inside of me. I can usually keep him at bay but... I know it’s not an excuse, and I may never make it up to you, but I didn’t want to hurt you the way that I did. I... it’s like I wasn’t in control of my own hands.” You don’t reply, keeping your eyes on your arms.

“I’m gonna go make you some soup. You’ve been asleep for three days. You need to eat. And drink. Okay?” You nod glumly, still emotionally numb as your mind tries to block out everything that happened.

Bucky’s only gone for a few minutes before he returns with a steaming bowl of soup and a plastic cup full of water. He hands you the water first, and your hands shake as you grab it. You take a small sip the grimace as your stomach flips.

“I know you probably don’t want to, but you’ve gotta eat just a little bit. Okay?” You nod and let him spoon feed you the soup. It’s good. Chicken noodle, from what you can tell, but no matter how good it tastes or how warm it feels going down, your stomach doesn’t want it.

You gag, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Bucky curses, putting the soup on the side table and grabbing you in his arms. He rushes into the bathroom but he’s not fast enough. What little you ate comes rushing back up, spewing out of your mouth and all over yourself and a little on him.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying not to get too grossed out.

Your head lolls back, eyes rolling as a dizzy spell overwhelms you. He sets you down carefully on the counter, peeling the sweater off of you and tossing it into the hamper in the corner. You take shallow breaths, body aching.

He turns the shower on then rids himself of his clothes before doing the same to you. The two of you are naked in no time, and then he’s bringing you into the shower, the water a little too cool for your liking, but you don’t have it in you to complain.

He holds you upright, hands supporting your weight as the water pelts down on the two of you. You feel like everything is spinning, so you lay your head against his chest and take deep breaths in through your mouth. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs your back gently.

“You’re okay.” He grabs a loofa and squirts some body wash on it, then starts gently washing your body.

His actions are innocent enough until he gets between your legs. It’s like you can sense the switch when he goes from Bucky to Soldier.

His hands grip you just a little firmer, his breathing is a little harder, his eyes dark and slightly glazed over. He pushes you against the wall gingerly, and you’re surprised by how gentle he’s being.

He hikes your legs up, one knee held over each of his arms. You lie there, half-conscious as the water rains down on you.

He slides his cock through your folds a few times before impaling you, stretching you on his thick length. He grunts softly in your ear, muttering softly in Russian as he fucks you. His thrusts aren't rough and hard, they’re long and precise, each one making your cunt instinctively clench on him.

You keep your eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep, but he keeps fucking you until he cums, spilling inside of you with a low groan. He stays sheathed inside of you, palms splayed on the tile by your hips, and you close your eyes tightly as another dizzy spell hits you.

He sighs and you know that Bucky is back. He pulls out of you and carefully lowers you to the ground before picking you up again and taking you out of the shower. He sits you on the counter once more, turns the shower off, then dries your body with a fluffy grey towel.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. You don’t reply. You don’t think you could speak if you wanted to. Your head won’t stop spinning.

He picks you up and brings you into his room again, laying you down on the bed and tucking you in. “I’m gonna go get you a garbage can, in case you need to go again,” he whispers, smoothing your hair around your face.

Your eyes are already closed and he sighs, hating the fact that he caused this. What’s worse, is that the soldier took over while he was trying to make it up to you. He took advantage of your vulnerable state.

He sets a new cup of water on the nightstand and a garbage can on the floor, hoping that you get better soon.

~*~

You do.

It’s nearly two weeks of consuming next to no food or water and throwing up multiple times a day, but you eventually start recovering, and for that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

You’re sitting in his bed, sipping on some tea, when he comes into the room.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, hand resting on your knee through the blanket. You shrug, not meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize enough.” You shrug again.

“I can tell.” He’s confused and you sigh, “I can tell when it’s not you. When it’s... him.” He raises his eyebrows and you look down, chewing your bottom lip for a moment before you muster up enough courage to speak.

“When... when you touch me... it’s softer. You might say mean things, but your hands don’t squeeze too hard. And when it’s him touching me... he holds me really really tight.” He raises his eyebrows, having had no idea that that was a thing.

“So I know when it’s you and when it’s him. And I know that you haven’t touched me since...” you trail off and he nods, scratching the nape of his neck. “It wasn’t all me,” he whispers again, trying to explain himself. “It was me at first, but then... it’s like he was controlling me.” You nod, not looking up.

“I don’t remember all of it, but I know your voice sounded different. Angrier.” He cups your cheek gently, cursing himself when you flinch away.

“Since then I haven’t been nearly as bad,” he whispers. “I can tell. The soldier... when he comes now he’s more gentle. He’s not nearly as rough as before.” He nods, happy that this is at least working.

You lean back against the headboard and close your eyes, exhausted beyond belief.

“It’s gonna take some time for you to heal up fully, but you’re making great progress. In a few days, you’ll be eating solid’s again. And then you’ll be up and walking around again.” You nod, eager to be healthy again.

He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back down, licking his lips.

“When I picked you... I didn't think they’d really go through with it. I thought it would’ve been another plan that never got to see the light of day. But then you were here and... I... I was in shock. You’re even more beautiful in person. And you’re so strong and resilient.” You look up, eyes finding his pretty pink lips.

“I know I haven’t been good to you, but can I please kiss you?” You nod meekly, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

It’s everything a kiss with him should be, and so much more. His hands rest on your neck, thumbs gently rubbing the corner of your jaw, right below your ears.

You pull away after a moment more and rest your forehead against his, a small smile gracing your lips.

“This is how things should be,” he whispers, stroking your hair gently. You nod, hands coming up to hold onto his wrists.

“Yeah.” The word is whispered so softly from your lips, that if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips then pulls away. “You should rest,” he whispers, leaning back to look at you. You hesitantly meet his eyes, and when you don’t see the darkness and anger that was there before, you nod.

“Yeah, okay.” You lay down and relax, smiling to yourself as he gently traces over your cheek, his fingers soft and feather-light, a drastic change from his touches three weeks ago.

~*~

It’s a week later when you can walk again, a week after that when he feels comfortable enough to leave you alone, with access to very few things.

He’s on the jet home, mind on you as the rest of the team celebrates a mission gone well.

“You were great out there, James,” Natasha says with a smile, patting his shoulder. He grins at her, cheeks turning pink.

“I see your new remedy is working?” Steve asks, grinning from ear to ear. Bucky scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Nat looks between the two super-soldiers, brows furrowed.

“What kind of remedy is that?” Bucky shakes his head at the redhead. “Just something Fury recommended. Didn’t think I could do it but here we are.” She nods, looking up into his eyes with a gentle smile.

“I’m glad it’s working. It’s good to see you back to normal. I missed the normal you.” He nods, sighing softly as his mind goes to you. “Yeah, I’ve missed it too.” She rests her hand on his shoulder then sighs, letting it slide off and rest in front of her.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” He furrows his brows in confusion. “What’s tonight?”

“Stark’s throwing a little celebration. It’s just gonna be us there. But he wants to celebrate such a clean streak of missions.” He mulls it over, then eventually decides that you’ll be fine if he stays out for another night. You’ve proven that you’re not going to harm yourself anymore, and you seem like you’re starting to genuinely enjoy the arrangement.

“It’d mean a lot to me if you came,” She says, being vulnerable for a moment with him. He raises his eyebrows then nods, knowing not to take her vulnerability lightly. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

The night consists of soft music, card games, and drinks, all courtesy of one Tony Stark. Bucky spends a fair portion of the night beside Natasha, the two of them laughing and talking together for hours as they each have drink after drink.

Eventually, when things start winding down and Bucky’s walking her to her room, he brings up a painful topic.

“That night… when I tried to… you know... “ She looks up at him, smiling gently as he tries to express his feelings. “I’m sorry. It… it wasn’t me. And I know that that’s no excuse, but I mean it. But I’m starting to control the monster more.” She cups his cheeks, leans up on her toes, and presses a kiss to his lips.

“I know you’d never willingly hurt me. And I don’t blame you for what the soldier does. I know that the two of you aren’t the same person.” He wraps his arms around her and kisses her deeper, tongue brushing against her plump pink lips. She pulls him backwards until they’re in her room, and closes the door, panting against his mouth as his hands wander over her form.

Her curves are inviting, and he can’t help but grab her ass. She moans into his mouth and the two of them tumble to the bed, Bucky ready to apologize physically for all the things the soldier did, the things that he’s been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on her.

#bucky x nat #Dark Series #dark!fic #dark #dark!bucky barnes #steve x reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark au #Steve rogers x reader Dark!fic #dark!marvel #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x reader #tw suidice

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ackerslut · 3 years

Text

should i stay (or should i go)

ao3

Varian sits on the cold-stone steps.

His own screams still echo in his ears. It’s only been a few hours since-since-

But it feels like it’s been a lifetime.

The sun is slowly rising, heating up the well-beaten town roads, and shining windows and the very steps Varian’s been sitting on for the past three hours. It peeks over the walls of the city, rays unfurling out in every direction. It’s a familiar sight, one he’d seen in the sky every morning until his imprisonment and one that he’s seen in Rapunzel’s magic...everything. He’s seen her hair and her eyes and her smile glow both metaphorically and literally as bright as the star lighting their planet.

He thinks he hates it.

Behind him, the castle looms like a thousand eyes watching, waiting to devour. He feels like it’s going to collapse on him, swallow him up. It’s a far cry from how he used to feel about Corona Castle. Before, it used to be a sanctuary, a warm, welcoming place that he could go to for a friend or protection. Now, Varian sees it for what it is. A prison.

The sun may be warming the town, but the palace shadow cast over Varian chills him to the bone.

The castle has been Varian’s prison for about a year. Well, until yesterday, at least. It’s been a prison for those deserving, like Andrew and his gang of thugs, and a prison for those undeserving, like Rapunzel last night and Eugene many years ago. Varian doesn’t know if he was deserving of that cell or not, but now? Now, it doesn’t matter, because Rapunzel had dragged him out, dragged him out of the prison he’d been thrown in physically by her father’s decree and dragged prison he’d thrown himself in metaphorically since the day of the amber, dragged him out into her light, demanding that-that-

Rapunzel.

He doesn’t hold it against her, not really.

Not anymore.

When she’d taken him back to Olde Corona and put a bucket in his hands and said stop me if you have to and whispered in a voice not hers, Varian had been terrified, but had listened. Had trusted. When the amber broke into a million pieces, revealing a truth that Varian had known for a very long time, his terror faded into numbness.

He doesn’t remember much of the journey back to Corona, just that Rapunzel had spoken in very soft voices and said very gentle things to him that he can’t remember.

Rapunzel had been rushed off the minute she entered the city. King Fredrick and Queen Arianna’s memories were still pretty fried, so all of their duties had fallen to the exhausted princess. She had tried to keep Varian with her, but with the townfolk still angry at him and the millions of orders and duties Rapunzel now had to delegate, Varian had quietly reassured her that he was fine for the time being and would find her later.

She had been reluctant. Perhaps, if Varian had been more present he would have remembered the last time she’d left him in the name of duty, but right now? He didn’t really care.

So here he is, on the stone steps of the palace, watching the sunrise on the first day empty of his dad.

(He known. Of course he’d known. Varian wasn’t an idiot.)

As the sun lights up the town, its people also start rising. The place is soon filled with noise as shops open and repairmen work and children play and women gossip and men argue and animals clop through the town.

“Hey,” a low voice says behind him. Varian glances briefly over his shoulder. It’s Lance. Varian’s spoken to the guy a couple of times but doesn’t really know who he is besides Eugene’s childhood best friend. Varian doesn’t have the energy to even try to drudge up any kind of a response, so he turns back to looking at the sky.

The guy doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of response though. He settles down with approximately a foot’s distance between him and Varian. He has a dish of stacked cucumber sandwiches in one hand. He offers one to Varian who just stares at him. Shrugging, Lance retracts his hand, instead giving the sandwich to a subdued Ruddiger, who’s curled around Varian’s feet.

“It’s a little cold out here to be without a jacket,” Lance says, after a long pause.

Varian shrugs. He’s aware, intellectually, that he’s cold right now, but the rest of him doesn’t really feel it.

“Might be warmer inside,” Lance presses on, regardless.

Varian stares down at his shoes, at Ruddiger, shivering on them. He nudges the raccoon gently with one foot. His companion chirps at him, pulling at his pant leg with one paw. Ruddiger doesn’t deserve to be cold just because Varian wants to die out here. Varian stands up.

Lance stands up with him, casual expression falling away to relief. He places a hand on Varian’s shoulder and gently guides him inside. Ruddiger follows the two at a close distance. The inside of the castle is still undergoing repairs. The floor is broken and burned and the walls are scratched and torn and the place vaguely smells like chemicals.

Varian is carefully lead past all that, upstairs, toward where Varian knows the guest chambers are. This particular part of the castle looks mostly untouched. If Varian could feel something right now, it would be relief. He’s had enough of destruction to last him a lifetime.

Eugene meets them in the hallway. He stops short when he sees Varian, expression going carefully blank. Ruddiger makes a sound, low in his throat. Lance firmly grips Varian’s shoulder. He can’t tell if it’s meant to be reassuring or to hold him in place. It doesn’t matter. Varian’s done running.

“I think Varian should get some sleep,” Lance says when Eugene stays silent.

Varian doesn’t offer an opinion on that. He stares up at Eugene. The guy looks tired-really tired like today is just the last day in a string of very bad days....which honestly sounds about accurate when reading between the lines of what Rapunzel had let slip. Varian knows something happened between them and Cass, but things had been too chaotic to glen any kind of answer and now-

Now Varian doesn’t really care.

Eugene must see something in Varian’s expression-probably his lack of expression-because something in his tense stance changes minutely. He gives a short nod, indicating a door to their left. Lance says something back to him, something that Varian misses, and then he’s pushing Varian through the door, into the room.

Varian’s only ever been in one of the castle bedrooms-Rapunzel’s at once point, he thinks-and even though this is far smaller, it’s still twice as grand as anywhere he’s ever stayed. The windows a huge and the ceiling is vaulted and the bed could fit like seven people in it easily. The carpet is an expensive blue shag that Varian kind of wants to collapse onto and never get up again, but Lance would probably just peel him off the floor and give him that worried expression again so he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at the room and then back to Lance.

“You should sleep,” Lance reiterates. “We can sort everything when you wake up.”

Varian doesn’t want to know what that means, so he just nods and slowly makes his way toward the bed. When Lance still doesn’t leave, Varian obediently perches on the edge of it. That seems to put Lance’s mind at ease, because then he finally leaves, telling Varian he’ll be back in a few hours. Once the door clicks shut, Varian jumps back onto his feet.

The bed’s too soft.

Varian sits down on the ornate chaise by the massive lit fireplace. It’s comfortable enough that he melts into the cushions, but not too comfortable like the bed. With Ruddiger curled up on his lap, he watches the fire for a while until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, and then it’s with great reluctance that he lets himself fall asleep.

When Varian wakes up, there’s a blanket draped over him. The fire is almost embers and judging by the position of the sun, it’s midday. On the end table, by the chaise, there’s a tray of...it smells like breakfast food. Varian pulls the cloth up to reveal a full breakfast-porridge, bread rolls, eggs, bacon, toast, juice, milk, water... It’s almost like someone couldn’t decide what to get him. Or, more likely, rich people actually have enough money to afford this kind of breakfast every single morning.

At that thought, something sour curls in Varian’s stomach. He drops the towel back onto the tray, but not before he grabs a few bread rolls to stuff his pockets with. He tosses some bacon to Ruddiger, who devours it immediately.

The hallway is deserted when he leaves the room. Varian wanders down the length of it, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. They still echo obnoxiously in the empty corridor along with Ruddiger’s quiet noises, but it’s the thought that counts. Varian makes his way down two flights of stairs, several corridors, and a courtyard before he finally comes across someone in one of the long, twisting halls.

It’s Rapunzel. Her usual immaculately braided hair is a mess and her eyes a red-rimmed like she’s been crying. She’s wearing different clothes than she had been earlier, much to Varian’s relief, indicating that she’s at least had time to change and maybe rest. It’s weird, caring about her after all this time. Anger is an emotion too strong for Varian to tangibly hold onto right now, though. It’s probably best to let it lie.

When her eyes meet Varian, her face kinda...falls.

Varian stops in his tracks. The two are about eight feet apart, silently staring at each other. Then,

“Varian,” Rapunzel says, voice quiet. There’s a warm undertone to it Varian doesn’t understand. “I hope you got some sleep,” she says, hesitantly, confirming Varian’s theory that it wasn’t her who’d given him the blanket. Probably Lance, then.

Varian just nods in response, hands clenched together in front of him. Ruddiger crawls up Varian’s side until he’s curled around his neck, face resting on his shoulder. The weight is comforting, grounding. Varian absentmindedly reaches up to pet him.

Rapunzel sighs. “I've been looking for you,” she goes on, taking a step toward him. Varian wants to take a step back, but forces his feet to stay planted. “Are you-”

“What happens now?” Varian can't keep the question from bursting out. His voice is cracked from disuse. “I-just tell me. Please.” He breaks on the please.

Rapunzel’s face softens. “Well,” she says, closing the distance between them and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I was hoping you'd stay with me.”

And that's the final straw. The grain of salt that tips the scales. Because it's bad enough that Rapunzel has gone to hell and back for him in the past twenty-four hours, bad enough that he's somehow gained the forgiveness of the one person who doesn't owe him anything, but for Rapunzel to offer her home, her life, to him?

Varian bursts into tears, hands coming up to hide his face.

“Oh-oh Varian-don't-” the hand on his shoulder squeezes and then pulls. “I'm sorry,” Rapunzel says, nonsensically as she folds him into her arms.

“You're not the one who needs to be sorry,” Varian sobs. “I-I knew, I knew, I knew, but I still-I still did it all even though I knew-”

Rapunzel shushes him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair. “Varian, it's okay.”

“It's not okay!” he shouts, pulling away, furiously scrubbing at his cheeks. “None of it is okay!”

Rapunzel’s eyes are glassy, like she's on the verge of tears herself. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it's not-it's not.” She anxiously twists her dress in her hands. “But it's also not okay that you're hurting. Please, just-” Rapunzel lets out a whoosh of air. “Stay with me.”

Varian deflates. “I-what about your parents?” he mutters. He crosses his arms. “Your dad-”

“Is still amnesiac,” Rapunzel counters. “Let me worry about my parents. I just-...you’re my friend Varian. Let me make it up to you.”

Varian presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. He laughs. It sounds broken and gnashed. “Make it up to me,” he chokes. “I-there's literally nothing for you to make up for.”

“Isn't there?” Rapunzel's face is grave. It reminds him of last night after the incantation, after-

Varian takes a steadying breath. “Of course there isn't,” he says. Promises. Lies. “Of course there isn’t,” he repeats, like if it says it enough times he’ll believe it.

Rapunzel doesn’t. She smiles, sadly, but doesn’t call him out. “Then you’ll stay,” she says. Confirms.

Varian shuts his eyes, against her smile, against her forgiveness against her love and her stubbornness and her gentleness and her hypocrisy. “Okay,” he says, testing the word on his tongue. He opens his eyes. Rapunzel looks so relieved she might start crying this time. Varian doesn’t want that, doesn’t know how to handle someone else being an emotional mess right now, so he reaches out for her, slides his hand into hers.

“Okay,” he says again, more firmly. “I’ll stay.”

#quirin dies au #varian #rapunzel #lance strongbow #tangled the series #tts #tts au #my fic #tangled the series fanfic #tts fanfic

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touchmycoat · 3 years

Note

Oh boy 33 for that post you reblogged is giving me 79 vibes 👀 so

((Smut dialogue prompts))

33. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Word Count: 1227 porn!AU universe

When Yue Qi got home, Shen Jiu's bedroom door was closed, and he could hear soft murmurs and moans coming from the other side. Taking a moment to swallow down his own antsy impatience, Yue Qi took care to be quiet when he closed the front door behind him.

It was another forty minutes or so before the noises stopped altogether, and Yue Qi heard the bedroom door lock click loose. By then, Yue Qi had already pulled down the living room blinds and slipped on a cock ring. He'd thought about putting it on before going into work that morning, but had opted then to wait for Shen Jiu's dictation. Now, however, he'd felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin without it (especially with Xiao Jiu breathing so heavily on the other side of that door), so could only hope he wasn't stepping on any of Xiao Jiu's plans.

(And he would have a plan. Even when Xiao Jiu said he didn't have a plan, it was a plan. A plan to make Yue Qi do all the hard work, for once. For fuck's sake Qi-ge, if you don't tell me what you want right now I'm leaving.)

(Yue Qi had orgasmed hard enough that night to black out, and Xiao Jiu had been so beautifully smug about it for days after.)

"Qi-ge? I'll be out in a minute."

"Mh," Yue Qi managed to say, trying to be normal by waiting in the kitchen instead of hovering by Shen Jiu's door. "Take your time."

Shen Jiu must have heard something in his voice anyways, because the shuffling inside stopped. In the silence that followed, Yue Qi felt something definitively switching on in the air, and swallowed.

"Qi-ge?" Xiao Jiu always sounded so silken and dangerous, even muffled through the door. "C'mere."

With a shaky inhale, Yue Qi obeyed. Each step toward Shen Jiu's door felt further out of his own body and deeper into the ocean.

"You want to tell me what you're wearing?"

"I—"

"I'm not talking about your suit," Shen Jiu interrupted, tone displeased like he was demanding Yue Qi to stop the bullshit already. "Or boring shirt, or boring tie. I'm asking you what. You're. Wearing."

Yue Qi could've dropped to his knees. Could've thrown himself begging against the door but couldn't do even that without Xiao Jiu giving him permission. So instead he could only murmur:

"A cock ring."

Sir almost slipped out as punctuation. Shen Jiu softly snorted on the other side.

"Well good for you," Shen Jiu said like he was saying you better be ready to reap the consequences then. "Something got you hot and bothered, hm?"

"I missed you."

That whisper was a slip-up—not a mistake, but for the most part unintentional. It made Shen Jiu pause for another beat behind the door.

Then, Shen Jiu said, "come closer."

Yue Qi pressed his forehead against the wood of the door, and could feel, certain as anything, Xiao Jiu against him on the other side.

"Get your cock out," Shen Jiu ordered quietly, "and touch yourself. I don't just want you desperate, I want you in pain."

Yue Qi kept obeying, pulling out his length and fisting it at a rate that would have guaranteed an orgasm in three minutes, had the cock ring not been in place. And Shen Jiu was still talking.

"Show me how much you missed me."

Yue Qi's mouth opened, and pants spilled out. Spit too, when he needed just a little bit of slip on his cock—but not too much. Xiao Jiu wanted him in pain, after all, furiously red and burning in every way for Xiao Jiu's touch.

"Can you come?"

"No," Yue Qi groaned.

"Good," Xiao Jiu laughed. "Heavens Qi-ge, it hasn't even been two full days."

But how could Yue Qi help it? Ever since Shen Jiu's silent disappearance the day before, Yue Qi's veins had been aching with the force of trying to contain all his surging blood inside.

"You should've told me," Shen Jiu continued, affecting regret, as Yue Qi's abdomen stung with the clench of a failed orgasm. A ragged gasp tore through Yue Qi's throat. "I would've prepared if I'd known. Pinch yourself. Like I would."

Yue Qi did, harsh and merciless on the head of his cock, on the inside of his thigh.

"I wouldn't have taken all those requests just now," Shen Jiu hummed. "They had me fuck myself with the stainless steel toy, you know. The one that's even bigger than you."

Forehead knocking into the door almost violently, Yue Qi allowed himself one painful squeeze and wet inhale, before continuing his strokes.

"I'm all wet and loose now. I can't let you fuck me in this state, you'd have no respect for me tomorrow morning. You'll just have to wait until I've tightened back up."

"Xiao Jiu..." Yue Qi whimpered, breathless and desperate.

"Does Qi-ge want to come?"

He knew the correct answer to that. It just so happened to be the honest one as well.

"Not without touching you," came sobbing out of him, and he could hear Xiao Jiu moan, low and pleased, on the other side. There also came another sound, fast and wet, like Xiao Jiu was plunging well-lubricated fingers in and out of himself at a pace that matched Yue Qi.

"If only I could see you," Xiao Jiu suddenly hissed, the coquettish flirtation from before completely gone in an instant. This was his Xiao Jiu in full, and the change in tone was enough to tug another clench of agonizing non-orgasm out of Yue Qi's dick. "We should've done this outside, out in the hallway where anybody can walk by and see how hard and desperate you are, and I can watch you give me a show through the peephole."

Yue Qi was cramping and burning and gouging at the wood in front of him, knowing nothing but the immolating need to get to Xiao Jiu on the other side of this godforsaken door.

"Xiao Jiu, please, I need you."

Xiao Jiu was panting too, sharp and short.

"Okay Qi-ge."

The doorknob clicked open.

Afterwards, Xiao Jiu slapped away Yue Qi's attempt to pull out, instead further flattening himself onto the bed and pulling Yue Qi's body over him like a blanket. Cock still nestled inside, Yue Qi sighed contentedly and allowed himself to go limp.

Sometimes Shen Jiu liked to near-smother himself like this. It was nerve-wracking at first, squishing his Xiao Jiu, but Yue Qi had since then learned to cooperate.

"You missed me that badly, huh?" Shen Jiu murmured with a smug snicker.

"And you lied to me about the toy," Yue Qi chastised, feeling a little bit wronged and bad because of how hard his first thrust into Shen Jiu had been because of that lie.

"Of course I did," Shen Jiu scoffed. "How else would I get you to fuck me hard enough?"

"...You missed me that badly, hm?" Yue Qi hummed into his shoulder. Politely, he didn't look at Xiao Jiu's neck and ears going red, but drew the line when Xiao Jiu tried to squirm out of his grip. With all of Yue Qi's weight bearing down on him, Shen Jiu gave up quickly.

"Smug bastard," he muttered. "Didn't miss you at all."

Yue Qi didn't answer, just offered a soft kiss to the side of Shen Jiu's neck. When there came no resistance, Yue Qi hummed happily some more and began rolling his hips again—gently though, with little purpose.

He had no doubt Xiao Jiu would have another plan again, for when they woke up.

#qijiu #yqy #shen jiu #svsss #my fic #almost lost this whole thing WHOOP #damn why are they so hot #THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT ANON #it def had 79 vibes #blessings on this slutty slutty monday #prompt fill

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babyybitchhhwrites · 4 years

Text

Shikamaru x Reader 18+

Title: Sleeping In

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 6413

Warnings: Cunnilingus, barebacking, creampie

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482461

♥♥♥♥

Rather than the blaring noise of your alarm, it was the soft nudge of Shikamaru moving against your back that woke you up. A soft rustle of the sheets followed by a dip in the mattress and then the unconscious huff of a man only partially cognizant filtered through the still morning air, drawing you further out of your peaceful slumber.

Groggy and half asleep yourself, you blearily cracked your eyes open to peer over at the clock standing like an ominous sentry among the clutter on the bedside table. There was a little over fifteen minutes left until it would start screaming at you to get up, you realized with some amount of dread. You wanted to drift back off for the remaining time you had but you were already awake and regretfully aware of your surroundings so there was little hope of accomplishing that. It certainly didn’t help that the looming obligation of having to go in to work at the Hokage’s office made you feel ten times more tired than you would have if this had been one of your days off. Being an adult really sucked sometimes.

Shikamaru seemed to settle behind you then and you felt his arm curl around your middle as he snuggled as close to you as he physically could. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling into the pillow as that anxious feeling immediately dissolved as if it were little more than sugar in warm water; thoroughly smothered under the reassuring weight of his body curling around yours like a contented house cat laying in its favorite sunbeam. You instinctively knew you could face anything the world had to throw at you with him at your back like this.

Issuing a low hum of appreciation into the quiet room, you rolled your ass against the flat plane of his hips by way of greeting. He shifted, seemed to realize that you weren’t asleep anymore, and his arm protectively tightened around you in response.

“It’s not time to get up yet, baby.” Shikamaru’s voice was rough and gravelly with lingering traces of sleep and the warm puff of air from his mouth tickled the nape of your neck, making goosebumps erupt across your skin.

You drew a contentedly slow breath, basking in his presence pressed up against you like this. “I know.” You murmured, with just a hint of forlorn melancholy for effect. “I don’t want to go though. Not in fifteen minutes. Not ever.”

“Then don’t.” Was his all too simple answer to your conundrum.

You quietly laughed as you reached under the blankets to cover his bony knuckles with your palm. The body heat coming off him was almost enough to make you forget that the likelihood of finding snow outside was exceedingly high even with spring fast approaching. He was a surprisingly effective substitute for a space heater for being as skinny as he was.

“I have to. Tsunade-sama is expecting that report to be finished today. Plus, there’s that meeting with the councilors.”

Shikamaru snorted and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling into you. “As fun as that sounds, I’m going to enjoy my day off. I have no intention of leaving this bed before noon.” He let out a quiet sigh before adding, much more softly, “I wish you could stay with me.”

“I do too.”

A quiet moment passed over the bedroom and the only sound you could make out was the steady whisper of breathing. Slow and shallow. Rhythmic. It very nearly lulled you into dozing off again, which you wouldn’t have complained about, but Shikamaru’s thumb tracing nonsensical patterns just above your belly button managed to keep you tethered to reality. The rough callus tickled, only a little bit, and you knew that getting anymore sleep was well and truly a lost cause now. Resigned, you languidly stretched after a prolonged moment only to issue a quiet groan at the resulting series of pops down your spine.

“You could always tell them you’re sick.” He helpfully suggested, dragging his hand down over your abdomen to slip between your parted thighs. You tensed slightly but didn’t protest even when the pressure of his palm cupping possessively around your pussy made an interested spark ignite deep inside your gut. “My dad doesn’t actually need you there to do the paperwork for him. He’s perfectly capable of managing on his own for one day.”

Giggling, you brought your topmost leg down to effectively trap his fingers where they were. “Shikamaru ... are you encouraging me to lie to your own father?”

“Only if it keeps you here in bed with me.”

You rolled your eyes at the far wall but couldn’t exactly deny that the offer was tempting. Just enticing enough to make you seriously consider it. But Shikaku would have your ass if he found out you’d been dishonest with him just to lay up with his son all day and that was to say absolutely nothing about how Tsunade would react. You weren’t so sure you were brave enough to test your luck against the two of them but your resolve started to crumble when Shikamaru rolled the heel of his palm against your clit, just the right amount of teasing pressure to leave you wanting more.

His powers of persuasion were simply too much to contend with sometimes.

“Let’s say I agree to this.” You intoned distractedly. “Are you going to protect me from the Hokage’s wrath tomorrow?”

“To my dying breath.” The sly tone lacing his now much more alert voice attested to the fact that he was already sure of his victory. The absolute ass.

“And your father?” You pushed, trying to convince him as much as yourself that this wasn’t the best-laid plan he’d ever come up with.

Shikamaru’s mouth curled against your shoulder and he laughed. “It doesn’t matter who it is. I’d never let anyone hurt you.” A brief kiss pressed into you through the thin material of your t-shirt, succeeding in its intended purpose of making you want him even more than you already did. “You should know that better than anyone else by now.”

You wanted to curse him for doing this to you but you were nothing if not a slave to your own desire for him. Blindly reaching back to tangle your fingers in his loose hair, you swiveled your hips down against his hand in a slow grind that left you feeling just shy of needy.

He chuckled into your back, contentedly letting you tug at his scalp while he rolled his wrist in time with your tense, halting movements. The pressure sent exquisite jolts of pleasure racing through your body and it didn’t take long at all for the two of you to find an easy rhythm with one another; pushing, pulling and grinding together in tandem. You could feel the spot between your legs steadily dampening as your arousal swelled and you moaned when you felt the rising nudge of his cock against your lower back just a brief moment later. A silent reminder that he wanted you just as bad.

“You’re going to be the death of me at this rate ...”

Releasing a clipped exhale, Shikamaru leaned into you with his weight and half rolled you over so that he was draped across the length of your back. The change in position had you spreading your legs and bracing your topmost knee on the mattress for leverage. Pivoting your hips was made all the easier now and you rode his palm in earnest, grasping at the sheets with an increasingly tighter grip that had them bunching under your fingers.

“That’s funny,” He whispered against the outer shell of your ear, rubbing the hard length of his cock against your upturned ass enticingly slowly. “Sometimes I think the same thing about you.”

You keened, very softly. The pressure Shikamaru was exerting on your eagerly throbbing cunt doubled down at the low noise of wanting you’d issued and he responded with a soft groan of his own. Turning his head, he dipped his mouth down to kiss the side of your neck; pausing every so often to give your thrumming pulse a teasing lovebite. It had you squirming underneath him, desperate for the full brunt of his attention without your clothes in the way.

“Shikamaru ... nngh.”

Grunting in acknowledgment, he started humping you a little more earnestly. His enthusiasm picked up as the red hot desire you were mutually stoking in one another gradually mounted, dragging the hard weight of his cock over the swell of your ass so earnestly that a shudder rippled down his spine. The bed creaked softly as the sharp contours of Shikamaru’s pelvis drove into the plush cushion of your thighs and pushed you forward, bowing your back underneath him. You whimpered in delight and pressed your face into the pillows, arching up to eagerly meet his next thrust.

“Don’t hide from me, baby,” He rasped, making your pussy clench in anticipation. “Let me hear those pretty sounds, okay?”

You swallowed hard and tentatively lifted your head. “Aahn .... don’t - nngh - tease me ...”

He drew a pointed breath but the sudden blaring from the alarm beat him to the punch and you both started.

“Shit!”

Shikamaru’s fingers jolted against your cunt and quickly withdrew, shoving the blankets out of the way as he brought his hand up to reach over onto the bedside table. He slammed the button to silence the damn thing so hard that for a split second you actually wondered if he’d broken it. The strange sound it made upon abruptly cutting off didn’t exactly bode well for its longevity.

That thought was short lived though and you promptly forgot all about it when he pulled back to go up on his knees, taking the comforter with him as he tugged at the waistband of your sleep shorts. One good pull was all it took to have them bunched just under the swell of your ass and a fresh wave of pleasant tingles ran up your spine when you felt the chilly morning air hit your exposed backside. The warmth of his hands descended upon the plump globes almost immediately, squeezing and kneading them in a pinching grip that made your breath hitch.

“Seriously though,” You sighed, sounding far more sultry than you’d intended as you peered over your shoulder at him. “We’ll both be on the chopping block if we get caught like this.”

Scoffing, Shikamaru lifted his gaze to fix you with a wry look even as he curled his hands around your hips and easily flipped you over onto your back without much resistance on your part. “We were always going to be in deep shit if we got caught like this so there’s really not any higher risk involved. What with you being the Jounin commanders secretary and me his son, after all. Talk about a conflict of interest.”

He grabbed at the front of your shorts then and you curled your legs up so he could tug them down and off. They were carelessly tossed over the edge of the bed and he promptly lowered himself to nestle between your thighs, jostling you slightly with the movement. You felt yourself flush hot when his intentions became clear, happily relenting when he nudged your thighs further apart.

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t care anymore?” He asked mildly.

“That depends.” You murmured, your heartbeat picking up a little bit as you watched Shikamaru dip his face to press a lingering kiss to the apex of your mound. “Prove it.”

The confident smirk that slashed across his pouty mouth would’ve been enough to convince you all on its own but then he shimmied a little further down the mattress and bent close to your bare cunt. Dark lashes fluttered shut against the apples of his cheeks, savoring the moment as he tilted his head and slotted his mouth over your slit. You jolted slightly at the hot, wet warmth; lips parting on a silent groan as he kissed you, slow and steady, gradually working your labia apart with the motion. The moment his tongue flicked out to get its first taste made you twitch and hiss at the sensation, curling your toes against the sheets. His warm breath fanned out across your pelvis on a quiet sound of satisfaction, feeling almost like the barely there caress of spectral fingertips. It was enough to make you completely forget your obligation to the Hokage. To his father. The whole damn village.

With a low exhale, you arched into his mouth and brought your hands down to thread them through coarse, ink-black hair. Shikamaru issued a noise of encouragement against your pussy, the hint of vibration making you clench as he leaned his scalp into the cradle of your palms. His eyes flashed open a brief moment later and he peered up the length of your body to pin you with a hooded look that was indescribably attractive, particularly while he was dragging the flat of his tongue over your clit. You trembled, brows knitting together when a roiling pang of desire shot through you.

“You’re always such a tease ...”

One of those sharp, thin brows quirked up in amusement and he nuzzled into you, opening his jaw wider. The impossibly soft, wet cavern of his mouth enveloped the tingling nub and you seethed through your teeth when he gave it a torturously slow suck. He issued another rumbling groan and did it again, slowly suckling at your cunt in a rhythm that seemed to match your heartbeat. The quick flick of his tongue intermittently lashing out to prod your clit made you groan a little harder, a little louder; and you tipped your head back against the pillows as you spread your legs wider apart for him.

“Oooh ... Shikamaru …!”

He grunted a low sound of mirth, burying his nose further into the plushy give of your mound. Tongue slipping past his teeth once again, he took his time slowly tracing circles around the sensitive pleasure button nestled between your folds while unhurriedly working his way inward. You were trembling softly by the time he brushed against the center of your clit what seemed a small eternity later and your grip on his hair tightened. Back and forth. Up and down. His attack on your body was sure and precise, alternating between feather-light strokes and grinding it down with the flat of his tongue. It had you shaking with rapidly mounting ecstasy, twitching and writhing on top of the sheets as you softly keened up at the ceiling.

“Aahhn .... Ahh! Right there ...”

Wetly smacking his lips as if you were the sweetest dessert he’d ever tasted, Shikamaru lifted his head to draw a strained, faltering breath. You watched as though through a dreamy haze as the pink of his tongue darted out to lick his lips and lap up the evidence of your arousal. Those dark, dark brown eyes roved up to regard you again, glinting with mischief and surety alike as he slowly smirked at your flustered expression.

“Who’s to say I don’t want you to cum on my cock instead of my face? Hmm?”

The way you trembled underneath him at the low, seedy promise in his voice did not go unnoticed and he chuckled softly when you fitfully tugged at his hair. Lowering his face again, Shikamaru took a long, wet lick up the length of your slit and you gasped.

“Why can’t I have both?” You mewled, jutting your pelvis to give him better access.

He offered you a shrug of his thin shoulders and affectionately nuzzled against your core, the tip of his nose just barely teasing your clit. “We have all day, love. There’s no rush.”

That little reminder that you were skipping out on work made your stomach settle like a lead weight. You started to sit up, already taking a breath to announce that you had to send a message to the Hokage’s office before everyone started to wonder at your absence, but Shikamaru was quick to curl his arms under your thighs and flatten his palms across your abdomen.

“Calm down. You’d still be getting ready right now so we have time.” He said, smiling up at you when you opened your mouth to protest. “Just relax. Let me take care of it.”

You couldn’t have missed the double entendre even if you’d wanted to and you hesitated a moment before gradually easing back onto the mattress. He looked quite smug as he made himself more comfortable, nudging even closer before closing his open mouth over the apex of your slit again. Stiffening, you slipped your hands down off his head in favor of clutching at his wide hands where they were still keeping you pinned and he promptly picked right back up where he’d left off. Your thighs started shaking almost immediately, making you suck in a faltering inhale as white hot static surged throughout your cunt and into the rest of you.

“Ooh, shit ...!”

Shikamaru issued a breathless laugh against your soaked pussy, burying his face between your thighs so he could worry your clit between his lips. The slow simmering flames burning within you roiled and heaved, making the rest of your body feel pleasantly oversensitized even as the heat of ecstasy continued to pool directly into your loins. You could tell you were edging dangerously close to the edge when your hips began twitching under his ministrations and you twisted, arching into the air even as you swiveled your hips to grind against Shikamaru’s face. Clearly recognizing your tells for exactly what they were, he withdrew his tongue and sealed his mouth around your clit and sucked. Hard.

“Aaah - nngaaah ...!” Blinding starbursts erupted across your vision as you went ramrod stiff against the bed, gasping raggedly. “Shika - aaahn!”

You were vaguely aware of his mouth curling against your soaked cunt and then he slowly leaned back, tugging on your clit until it slipped past his lips. The sharp sensation of having that throbbing little nub toyed with so relentlessly had you writhing and bracing your feet against the mattress so you could enthusiastically jut your pelvis up for more. Shikamaru was altogether uncooperative though and he turned his head to press a rough kiss to your soft inner thigh, smearing a viscous mix of arousal and spit across your skin in the process. You hissed emphatically, trembling even as you brought your knees together and sandwiched his face between your legs with a frustrated little whine.

“That’s not fair ...!”

Dragging his hands up from your hips, he gave the pliable soft meat of your thighs a tight squeeze as his attention flitted up to coolly regard you from under the fall of dark lashes. “All's fair in love and war, baby. You know that.”

You pulled your lower lip in a pout and warningly flexed your legs around his head. “Is that so?”

He offered you a cocky, lopsided grin, entirely unperturbed. “Well, I can’t say I necessarily agree with that statement in a broader sense but in this case at least, I think the point stands. Don’t act like you don’t love what I do to you.”

Unable to stop it, you smiled right back at him. He was right and both of you knew that. The slow buildup he was so adept at torturing you with would just make the explosive crescendo all the more satisfying and when he gave your leg a soft pat, you readily eased up the tension keeping your knees together.

Shikamaru pushed against the bed and rose up on his knees to loom above you. The plain black, oversized t-shirt he’d gone to bed in was yanked over his head in one smooth motion and tossed to the side, exposing the long, lean line of his body. You licked your lips hungrily, watching the muscles in his stomach dance just below the skin. He didn’t allow you much time to ogle him though, shuffling close to kneel between your parted legs before reaching out to hook his broad hands under your armpits and tug.

You giggled when he effortlessly pulled you up into a sitting position, bringing your hands up to squeeze at his narrow hips. He smiled at you, warm and unguarded as he could be only when you were alone like this. The sight of him looking so happy was enough to have your pussy and heart throbbing in equal measure, and it took everything you had not to start swooning right on the spot.

Oblivious to your thought, his long fingers came up to affectionately brush the side of your face before trailing down to grab the hem of your shirt. It came off as quickly as his had, exposing your tightly puckered nipples to the cool air, and you shuddered even as you lifted your hands to pull at the hem of his sweatpants. You’d never been so glad for elastic waistbands as you were when his straining cock popped up into the scant space separating you two, blissfully free of the restrictive clothing.

Shikamaru issued a low sound of approval, palming your breast in one hand and possessively squeezing the supple swell of flesh while the other came up to curl around your neck. You leaned into the covetous gesture as you wrapped your fingers around the hard length proudly jutting from his pelvis, tilting your face up when he leaned close to press his mouth over yours. The exchange was chaste and savory in deference to the fact that neither of you had brushed your teeth yet, and you issued a quiet groan against his lips as you steadily pumped him with a gentle roll of your wrist that made him sigh through his nose.

A soft, wet click rose up between your bodies when you tugged the meat of his foreskin down just enough to expose the glans. There was a fat drop of precum beading on the tip and you lifted your thumb to gently smooth over it, smearing the sticky slick across the head of him. Shikamaru groaned in response, breaking apart from the kiss with a low sound of wanting as he sat back on his haunches to look at you. His eyes were resting at an attractive half-mast, lips parted in a crooked, pouty ‘o’ and the faint dusting of pink on his round cheeks effectively reminded you just how much you loved him. He was easily the most attractive man you’d ever known with his smooth jawline and sharp facial features, and the fact you were lucky enough to call him yours just made your heart swell.

Reaching out to brush a loose strand of thick, coarse hair behind his ear, you gave his cock a slow tug. “I wish you could see yourself right now.”

He snorted a quiet sound of mirth and shot you a meaningful look from under the fall of his lashes. “That should have been my line. You look wrecked and all I’ve done so far is eat you out …”

“Well, you’re very good at it.” You offered him a salacious smile as you pulled, bunching the tip of his foreskin with another quiet click before rolling it down under the ridged glans in one smooth motion.

The furrow between Shikamaru’s brow deepened and he shuddered at the sensation. His gaze darted down to watch you drag your palm down towards the base until the mess of black curls there brushed your knuckles. He tightened his hold on your neck then and pulled you close, leaning forward to meet you halfway. Your foreheads bumped together and the two of you stayed like that, alternating between looking into the others face and peering down at what you were doing to his cock.

“Now who’s being the tease?” He huffed, lightly brushing the rough pad of his thumb over your tightly puckered nipple.

You arched into the touch with a sharp inhale. “You’re welcome to come take me whenever you want …”

Mouth curling in a lopsided smirk, Shikamaru sent you a long look from just a scant few inches away. You could see the familiar glint of fond endearment reflecting back at you and when he drew a haltingly slow breath that made his shoulders lift, you licked your lips in anticipation. “When you say things like that, it makes it hard for me not to act like a brute.”

“I might like it.”

He laughed, low and quiet; angling close to brush the tip of his nose against yours. You returned the gesture, never once breaking eye contact, and when he leaned further into you just a short moment later, you readily let him push you back against the pillows. Shikamaru followed you down, taking his rightful spot on top of you as he seamlessly slotted his hips between your thighs. You felt his straining cock nudge your cunt, tracking more arousal across your labia when it slipped through your drenched folds. A faltering groan rolled off your tongue as you brought your arms up to link them around his neck, trying to pull him down to rest against you, but he continued to hover over you with one hand braced against the mattress.

The other slipped into the tight space between you two, reaching not for his cock but for your sopping wet cunt. You jolted slightly when you felt the pads of two fingers press down on your clit, drawing tight circles around it, and the high strung arousal from only a few minutes ago immediately came rushing back at full force in a blinding surge.

“Ahh!”

Biting down on your lower lip to stifle your cries of pleasure, you tilted your head back to fix him with an imploring look. Shikamaru attentively regarded you for a prolonged beat, watching the way your face twisted in pleasure while your body twitched against him, and the strand of hair you’d tucked behind his ear only a short while ago slowly slipped forward to hang over his temple again. You wanted to reach up and push it back, curl your fingers against his scalp and hold it in place, but with a twist of his wrist he was suddenly prodding at your entrance and you couldn’t think straight.

“Shikamaru!” You blurted, digging your nails into his back.

A sly edge crept across his expression and camped there as he breached your entrance with the tips of his fingers in torturous slow motion before suddenly withdrawing them. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.” He repeated the same action twice more, just barely dipping into your body and then immediately pulling back out. It had you clenching down on nothing and letting loose a frazzled groan into the statically charged air.

“I need to cum on your cock,” You choked out, trying once again to pull him down on top of you. “Please …”

Shikamaru acquiesced this time and a reverberating groan rumbled deep in his chest as he settled against you, the pliable swell of your breasts squishing against the firm expanse of pecs. You invitingly arched against him even as you brought your legs up to hook them around the small of his back, trying to nudge him closer with the balls of your feet. Shikamaru’s attention was focused on guiding himself to your waiting entrance though and you both seethed in unison when the glans started to sink inside. The stretch gradually grew more intense one torturous fraction at a time until you were blinking through a film of stinging tears, your mouth hanging open in stricken ecstasy. The further he reached inside your body, the harder it was to stay grounded and you finally threw your head back with a half choked moan just as he settled against you at long last.

“God,” He breathed out, sounding like even that much was a struggle. “You have no idea how good you look when I’m inside you, baby. You really don’t.”

You drew a shuddering inhale. “It feels good …!”

“I gathered as much.” Shikamaru murmured laughingly as he bent close to press a bruising kiss to your jaw, his narrow chest working against yours. “I’ll start to get a big head if you’re not careful.”

“You already had a big head.” Whimpering softly, you turned to shove your face into his shoulder and muffle the last bit. “And I don’t mean your ego.”

That didn’t stop him from hearing it though and Shikamaru issued another breathless laugh as he flattened himself flush against you, working his arms between your back and the mattress. “Mean girl.” He mumbled in a fond tone.

You smiled against his skin, feeling like you were floating somewhere between this plane and the next as he slowly angled his hips back. The drag of his stiff cock against your spongy inner wall made you feel lightheaded and dizzy, head lolling on the pillow as you braced for what was coming next. You were much too far gone, lost in the rosey daze of carnal pleasure, to realize that you should have left about ten minutes ago and the thought never even crossed your mind when he pushed back in straight down to the base. A grunt on his end and a staggered gasp on yours with an accompanying wet squelch of your body sucking him in deep. That was all you could focus on at the moment and you clung to him as he started up a steady rhythm of push and pull, the soft thunk of your headboard meeting the wall helping set the tempo.

Shoving his face into the crook of your neck, Shikamaru seethed with every downward lunge while his fingers dug into your ribs hard enough to bruise. The onslaught of stimuli was overwhelming in the best possible way and you heaved for air as the space between your bodies quickly grew stiflingly hot and sweaty. It made your flesh stick to his, abrasively pulling at the soft expanse of your tummy where it was pressed flat to the hard line of his stomach. Your breasts were in the same boat and you mewled when you felt the soft skin of his nipple drag across yours, sending explosive shockwaves racing down the curve of your spine.

You writhed under him and locked your ankles together over the small of his back, clutching at him in your desperation. Shikamaru’s quiet groans rose in pitch when your pussy clamped down on him with a warning tremor so strong that it seemed to bleed right through you and into him. Slowing to a shuddering halt, he took a moment to steady himself and he used the opportunity to grind against your soaked core with a stuttering pivot of his hips. The coarse hair at the base of his cock teased your clit with the motion, making you teeter that much more closely to the brink of release and the added pressure on your quaking guts instantly had you shaking uncontrollably around him.

“Shika - aaahn! Shikamaru! I’m gonna’ cum! Please! Nnnghh … don’t stop!”

Sucking in a haggard breath, he resumed his earlier thrusting with noticeably more urgent enthusiasm. He wanted you to find release on his cock, basked in the knowledge that he could make you shatter with his own body the same way some men took pride in the knowledge that they could go for hours without ever stopping to ask if their partner had been satisfied at any point during that time. You’d been there and done that before, and as a result you hadn’t thought the sheer heights of ecstasy Shikamaru took you to could actually exist before you’d met him. It was a heady, intoxicating feeling to know your pleasure was so important to him and you happily let the cresting waves of building tension swallow you up even when they threatened to suffocate you with the sheer intensity of the sensation.

The headboard was now banging against the wall loudly enough that there would be no mistaking the reason, and you idly hoped your neighbor was away on a mission. You weren’t so sure if you could survive the embarrassment of receiving a formal noise complaint, particularly not when the pressure in your throbbing cunt doubled down and you suddenly realized that you were wailing Shikamaru’s name up at the ceiling.

“Shhh. It’s okay, baby.” He rasped, panting into your neck so vigorously that you could actually feel the moisture beading between the two of you. “I - nnghn. I’ve got you! Cum on my cock so I can fill you up, okay?”

The mental image of him releasing deep inside you added on to the potent memory of him doing just that many times before made you seize, releasing such a stricken shriek of delight that you sounded possessed to your own ears. There was no stopping it though and you heaved once, twice - the tense muscles of your fluttering pussy staying locked in dizzying overload for the beat of two seconds - and then the coil snapped. You jerked under Shikamaru so hard that the bed slammed into the wall with enough force to make the contents of the nightstand clatter. You probably would have shot right off his dick if he’d let you but, true to his word, he held tight. Keeping his arms linked around your convulsing body, he fucked you right through your orgasm and into his own until your cunt was a pulppy, churning mess and he was shooting ropes of hot spunk against your cervix. His off kilter groaning rose in pitch and joined yours, the two of you shaking against one another for what felt like a small eternity.

Shikamaru was the first to come down and he went boneless on top of you, trying to catch his breath even as he nuzzled into while you rode out the lingering tremors of orgasm. Your shuddering passage clamped around him in rapidly weakening contractions a few more times before stilling altogether and you let out a flusteredly gratified puff of air that made his hair shift against your cheek. Slowly letting up the tension keeping your legs curled around his waist, you let them slide down the backs of his slim thighs to hook in the bends of his knees. Both of you were sweaty, tangled up messes but the contentment radiating around you was practically palpable. You’d never dreamed sex could be so satisfying.

It was the plush give of Shikamaru’s lips on your neck that finally drew you back to reality and you turned your head, pressing a kiss of your own to the outer shell of his ear. You felt his lips curl into a smug grin and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling too. It was infectious.

“I think you’re slowly getting louder and louder.” He murmured softly.

“Shut up.” You laughed, bringing one hand up to tangle in his hair and cradle the back of his skull while the other looped across his broad shoulders.

Shikamaru breathed a deep sigh of contentment as he shifted on top of you, seemingly getting more comfortable. A few minutes passed in this fashion and it seemed inevitable that the two of you would drift off in each other's arms when an abrupt knock at your front door startled you both awake.

“I’ll get it.” He grumbled and sat up, though not without a yawn to go with his compliance.

You giggled, rolling over onto your side so you could watch him stumble out of bed and back into his sweatpants. The urge to reach out and playfully smack his ass had just gotten the better of you when another knock sounded at the door, but this time it was accompanied by a voice.

Shikaku-taichou’s voice.

You’d recognize it anywhere and you froze, arm still stretched out on its aborted mission. Shikamaru’s expression visibly paled as he shot you a quick, surreptitious glance and you both seemed to realize that neither of you had sent word to the Hokage’s office regarding your absence at the same time. The twin looks of dawning horror probably would’ve been quite comical had the circumstances been any different.

“I’ll answer the door,” You whispered, heart in your throat as you jumped up to find your clothes. The thick, goopy mess between your legs promptly made itself known and you winced. “Hurry up and hide, just let me handle this.”

“Oh, like that’s going to do any good.” Shikamaru snipped as he frantically looked around for his discarded shirt. “That’s the Jounin commander out there and my father! If it was that easy to hide from him, he wouldn’t be your boss right now.”

You threw your hands up in frustration and spun around to face him, suddenly finding yourself standing chest to chest with your (secret) boyfriend. The two of you hesitated, regarding each other for a quiet moment of uncertainty. “What do we do?” You finally asked him in a small voice.

Shikamaru opened his mouth to speak but it was Shikaku’s words drifting through the front door that answered your question, much to your mortifying shame.

“Look, I know my son is in there with you so you don’t need to try and hide it. I’ve known about you guys for some time now, actually. Just let me in so we can talk, alright?”

He didn’t sound particularly upset, more tiredly weary than anything else, but you still felt certain you’d die from embarrassment alone. A brief look at Shikamaru quickly assured you that you weren’t the only one feeling that way and you reached out to comfortingly take his hand. You’d never seen his face so beat red in all the time you’d known him. Even the time he’d slipped on ice and landed flat on his ass when he’d been trying to show off in front of you hadn’t made him look quite this humiliated.

“It’ll be okay.” You assured him in a soft tone. “Let’s just talk to him, okay?”

Forcibly shrugging off his shellshocked daze, Shikamaru peered into your face for a long moment while those big brown eyes darted back and forth over your features in search of an answer. Then, so imperceptibly you almost missed it, he squeezed your fingers with a cautiously optimistic smile. “Okay. Let’s tallk.”

#naruto #shikamaru x reader #shikamara nara #self insert bullshit #My writing

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truth-from-lies-in-fiction · 3 years

Text

Making it Count

To celebrate their final Christmas before graduating from Auradon Prep, the Rotten Four take an impromptu trip to a cabin on the edges of a snow-covered forest. But will they be able to stop fighting long enough to enjoy each other's company, or are things coming to an end for the VKs?

-Written as a Secret Santa gift for @bunny-lou. Bunny-Lou, it’s been a pleasure being your Secret Santa for a second year in a row. I’ve really enjoyed tapping back into the bond shared by the VKs, and I hope you’ll enjoy the results. I apologize this is being posted a couple days past Christmas; my computer crashed two days before Christmas, and I’ve been playing catch-up since. I’m so glad to read that you had an amazing holiday, and I hope this week continues to be amazing for you. Happy holidays, my dear! And to @descendantsgiftexchange, thank you for all the work you do in putting this together every year.

~*~

Mal winds the borrowed van through a landscape of frost, squinting to see through tufts of falling snow. Muted moonlight shines through the windshield, guiding her and the Rotten Four on this, the journey to their final prep school Christmas.

They sit in silence.

Jay leans against the rear passenger window, furrowing his forehead in silent thought.

Carlos, seated on the other side, toys with the remnants of a candy wrapper and stares into nothingness.

Evie, on Mal’s right, sends glances skittering throughout the car. Toward the boys. Toward the falling snow. Toward Mal, who has not looked at her since they slid into the warmth of the van two hours earlier.

Or since the fight they’d shared just before that.

Mal bunches her fingers around the steering wheel, trying to push the words, the looks, the feelings of that fight from her mind. Trying and failing miserably. She squeezes the wheel until her knuckles turn white, while the image of Evie’s biting, betrayed glare pushes through her mind.

What do you mean you aren’t going to college? Evie’s words had pinched together like the punches of a sewing machine. We promised we’d go together.

Mal had hidden her gaze behind a fall of her hair. Anything to avoid that burning look in Evie’s eyes. College just isn’t for me. The lie tasted spoiled and burnt, like scorched milk meant to be sweet. She swallowed it down and turned her back. Maybe it’s time we were apart, Evie.

Apart? Evie curled her fingers around Mal’s arm. You’ve been pushing me away all year, and now you’re ready to run?

Evie’s voice broke on the final word, and a fissure went through Mal’s heart.

She opened her mouth to answer, but the truth died on her tongue. The boys will be here soon. She pulled her arm away. Get ready. I’ll warm up the van.

Now, as Mal turns the van around another curve leading to their rented cabin, the truth is bitter and hollow upon her tongue. She ignores Evie’s penetrating stare, the one strong enough to slip beneath her skin, and keeps her gaze focused on the tufts of snow illuminating this, one of the darkest nights of the year.

~*~

They round another turn taking them to the cabin, and Carlos scrunches the candy wrapper in his fist.

Jay still won’t look at him. Or talk to him. Or do anything but grunt, like he did when Carlos slid into the bucket seat beside him in the van.

Carlos tosses him a glance now. “Be good to get inside.”

Jay shrugs and offers a grunt.

Carlos sighs. “We’ll have to get a fire going. You know, to keep the place warm. Ben says the heat won’t kick on until tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Jay runs his fingers along his tourney stick.

That stupid tourney stick. Carlos stuffs the candy wrapper into his jacket pocket along with his fist. That thing gets more attention than I do nowadays.

Jay lifts the stick in the space between seats and studies its tip, chipped from the previous year’s tourney championship. “Should probably get this thing fixed.”

Six words. More than he’s spoken to me in days. Carlos leans closer. “You’ll need it in good shape for when you join the kingdom’s tourney league after graduation.”

Jay frowns at the stick. “Nah. League’ll give me a new one.”

“Oh.”

Jay drops the stick onto the floor, then turns his head to stare outside at the silhouettes of mountains lining the road.

Carlos searches for something, anything to say, to keep this conversation going. Words form on his lips, then fizzle and fade. What do you say to a guy who’s decided you’re not good enough for him? He slinks into his seat. I’ve already said everything I can, and all he does is grunt.

He turns his head to stare outside his own window at the lines of towering fir trees, a direct contrast to Jay’s mountain ranges.

~*~

Jay pushes from his seat the moment Mal parks at the edges of Sherwood Forest, where the cabin is a dark shape within a grove of pine trees. He stumbles and his toes collide with his tourney stick, kicking it half-beneath the seat in front. Grumbling, he bends to retrieve it.

“Here.” Carlos slides to his knees and reaches for the stick.

Their fingers touch. Touch and linger.

A warmth like a brush fire flickers beneath Jay’s fingertips.

Carlos glances up, right into his eyes, and their gazes connect.

Jay snatches his hand away, flashing on the faces of his soon-to-be tourney teammates, who most definitely do not feel brush fires when they touch other guys.

Breaking eye contact with Carlos, he tugs his hand through his hair. “Leave it, man. Not like I’m gonna be playing tourney in the snow.”

“Are you –?”

Carlos doesn’t have time to ask whatever question he’s gonna ask because Jay steps over him and hops out of the van.

The girls are outside, staring in that annoying way they do, with questions and accusations written in their eyes.

Those two see everything. Jay walks past them. “Do me a favor and bring my bag inside,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m going looking for firewood.”

“Wow, Jay.” Mal’s voice is hexed with the kind of wicked vindictiveness she’d possessed back on the Isle. “Did you actually use up breath talking to us?”

Jay bunches his shoulders around his ears. “Don’t get used to it.”

He marches into the woods, leaving bootprints in the snow. His final words hang heavy in the frigid air, reminding him why they decided this trip was a good idea. Bonding and all that.

Trips like these are dangerous. They lead to unwanted touches and unasked-for stares. Jay snatches a thick branch from the ground, then another. Next year, we go our separate ways. We start our own lives. And no way am I agreeing to any more impromptu trips like this one.

For some reason, the thought leaves a hollow space in his chest.

~*~

Evie shivers awake in the early morning, tangled in a set of the cabin’s cotton sheets. The room is freezing. So cold, it makes her skin ache. She rolls over onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest, and stares through the window into the Christmas Eve morning.

The fir trees are still, the moon muted behind the fall of snow. Holly branches scratch the windowpane, their crimson berries the only splash of color in this winter world.

Evie’s mind ticks back to the Isle. A holly bush grew there, too. I’ll always remember.

Remember the year she cut its branches and placed them around the Rotten Four’s Clubhouse. For festive cheer, she’d said when Mal had arched a pointed eyebrow.

In the back-then, Mal had rolled her eyes and muttered something beneath her breath. But she’d stared at Evie’s decorations for longer than a heartbeat, her mouth scrunched up in that way it’s always scrunched when her mind and heart are full of secrets she doesn’t want to share.

The next day, more holly had been added, filling in the spaces left by Evie’s holly. Adding an artistic flair to Evie’s designer touch.

When Evie asked her about it, Mal’s cheeks turned pink. If we’re going to decorate for Christmas, we might as well make it count, she said, staring at her boots.

Jay and Carlos stared at the holly, too. The day after that, a Christmas tree appeared in the Clubhouse. Like you said, Jay said, hammering the tree into a cross of wooden planks while Carlos held it steady, might as well make it count.

Evie’s heart had felt lighter than Gossamer fabric. It was the first time they’d all come together after their first adventures on the Isle. The first time they’d spent Christmas together, too, gathered around the tree, telling stories and making jokes.

Nothing like how we are this year. In the here-and-now, Evie rolls over onto her back and stares at the ceiling. Nothing like how things will ever be again.

After they’d arrived at the cabin and Jay had made the fire, they’d spent about twenty minutes together before they’d all escaped to different rooms. Why don’t we sleep out here by the fire? she’d asked, but the boys had made excuses and Mal had given her an imperceptible dragon-eyed stare before each of three doors had shut and the locks had clicked.

Evie sighs. Her heart is a leaden weight, pressing her down into the mattress. Our last Christmas before we all go our separate ways, and they want to treat it like it’s nothing more than a burden.

She tosses her gaze back to the holly and her mind back to memories of that first Christmas on the Isle. Resolve bubbles like warm water beneath her skin. I won’t let them.

She kicks her blankets off and springs from the bed.

She dresses in her warmest clothes – a full-length blue jacket, knee-high blue boots and wooly blue mittens – and hushes from the room, clicking the door closed behind her.

In the living room, the dying fire glows with its final orange embers. She slides a poker from the stand beside the fireplace and pokes at the embers, making them flicker and flare. Selecting a few thick branches, she places them into the fledgling flames. The orange tongues lick at the wood, and the fire blazes back to life.

She slides off her mittens and raises her hands to the fire, brushing them together above the flames. Warmth washes across her skin, soothing her aches. Much better than the chill that’s pervaded this place since last night.

With a sigh, she casts a glance toward Mal’s closed door. Her mind flickers back to the dragon-eyed stare Mal had offered just before she’d closed her door, and to the biting green glare she’d given when she’d confessed that she hadn’t applied to college.

The warmth washing across Evie’s skin turns cold, making her shiver.

Mal hasn’t given her looks like that since they lived on the Isle, when Evie was her nuisance and Mal was almost a stranger. Not Evie’s best friend. Not the girl Evie had woken up to every day for two years.

How am I supposed to wake up knowing she isn’t there? She turns her gaze from Mal’s door and stares into the flames. Doesn’t she realize how important she is?

An ache forms deep inside, in a place the warmth can’t reach. Evie turns her back on the fire with its broken promises of heat and gazes around at the cabin.

There are no decorations here. Nothing to mark the fact that today is Christmas Eve, or that the Rotten Four are spending the holiday together.

At least I can do something about that. Evie shoves her hands back into her mittens. She grabs a few tools from some drawers and a closet, and then she disappears into the early December morning, her boots crunching pathways through the snow.

Three hours later, when her friends finally crack open their doors, shivering and rubbing at their eyes, the cabin is transformed. A Christmas tree perches in the middle of the living room, its emerald pine needles a warm contrast to the oranges and reds of the fire. Holly branches skirt along the mantle and the walls. A wreath of holly and berries rests upon the door. And several crimson candles flicker along the shelves.

Evie gazes at each of her friends: at Carlos, whose mouth hangs open, his gaze flicking to each of the decorations; at Jay, who takes a stumbling step into the room, a low whistle sounding from his throat; and at Mal, who gazes back not with a biting glare, but with a glance of warmth edged with something that makes Evie’s heart sprint.

The chill she’d felt deep inside flickers into a promise of heat. “Making it count,” she whispers, holding out her hands.

Mal winks. “Nice work.”

~*~

Things change. Become more bearable.

The girls sit together on the couch, stringing holly berries and popcorn onto strands to hang around the tree. And Carlos joins Jay in the kitchen on a mission to bake their weight in sugar cookies.

Breathing in the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon, Carlos pushes a wooden spoon through the mixture that will become dough.

Jay hovers over his shoulder, his warmth a caress against Carlos’ back. “Tasty,” he drawls, his voice in Carlos’ ear.

Carlos knocks back a breath. Does he realize what he’s doing? “Should be,” he says, shifting a little to put some distance between them. Last thing we need is another fight.

A mischievous chuckle sounds from Jay’s throat. He slides his hand into the bowl and pulls up a finger of dough mixture.

Carlos holds up his hands. “Come on, man. That’s for the oven, not –”

Jay lunges and streaks the mixture along Carlos’ jaw. “Whatcha gonna do about it, buddy?”

Carlos tosses down his wooden spoon. “Fight back,” he growls and reaches for the bowl.

Jay holds it up high. “Too bad you never grew those extra inches,” he says, patting Carlos’ head.

A thrill of electricity bunches in Carlos’ stomach. It’s just like always. Jay hassling me. Me hassling back. He reaches up and traps Jay’s hand before Jay can give his head any more pats.

With Jay’s hand cupped beneath his own, a flare of warmth radiates between their skin.

Jay stops.

Stops moving.

Stops laughing.

Stops breathing.

“Jay…” Carlos murmurs.

Jay blinks and snatches his hand away. “Come on,” he says, slamming the bowl onto the counter. “Let’s finish mixing this so we can eat.“

Just like that, the chill returns. Jay won’t look at him. Won’t talk to him. And when Carlos slides up beside him to finish stirring the dough, Jay shifts away.

“Fine, Jay.” Carlos kicks out at a cabinet, making a hollow wooden sound. “Whatever you want.”

On the couch in front of the fire, Evie is a warmth curled into Mal’s side. They sit together, stringing holly berries and popcorn to decorate the tree. Mal’s finger stings from three separate pricks of the needle, but her pain is a dull whisper quieted by Evie’s touch.

Mal slides a berry onto her thread. “I still can’t believe you did all this. How long did it take?”

“A few hours.” Evie pokes her needle through a piece of popcorn. “It was worth it, though.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm.” The corners of her lips curl into the beginnings of a smile. “I’d wake up even earlier just to see that look in your eyes, M.”

The warmth of the fire washes over Mal’s face. “What look?”

Evie spells her with a glance from the corner of her eyes, which have turned molten in the firelight. “The one you’re giving me right now. The one that’s happy and soul-deep and just for me.”

They gaze at each other for several scattered beats of Mal’s heart as the crackling fire does havoc on Mal’s body heat.

Mal slips from her jacket, leaving it on the couch, and drops her gaze to her strand of popcorn-and-holly-berries. “I didn’t know I had such a look,” is the lie that slides from her tongue before she can replace it with something truthful.

Of course she knows. She knows her looks, and she knows that she has exactly three of them for Evie.

The first, she offers when they’re watching TV or sharing Auradon gossip. The look of friendship.

The second, she punished her with last night when she wouldn’t let the college thing go. The look of dragon fire.

The third, she offers in the crimson firelight when Evie’s nestled in a ball by her side and heat that can’t just be firelight is warming Mal from head-to-toe. The look of all-things-dangerous.

Evie’s gaze is slip-beneath-Mal’s-skin penetrating.

In the background, there is a clatter as the boys’ conversation becomes louder. “It was just a touch, Jay,” Carlos says, his voice edged.

“Keep it to yourself, man.” Jay slams open the oven.

But all Mal knows is the sensation of Evie’s stare. A sensation that sprinkles goose bumps along her skin. It’s so intense that Mal looks away and slides another berry onto her needle.

The needle slips. The tip pokes into Mal’s skin. “Ouch.”

Evie drops her strand of popcorn-and-berries onto her lap and slides her hand around Mal’s, kneading Mal’s injury with the tips of her fingers. “What am I going to do without you?” she whispers, so low her words might be lost to the other sounds of the day. “When I go to college and you don’t?”

Great. The college thing. Again. She tugs her hand from Evie’s and stabs the needle back into the berry. “Drop it, Evie.”

“Why?” Evie covers Mal’s needle with her hand. “We should really talk about it. You broke your prom –”

Mal tugs her hand away. “I said ‘drop it,’ Evie.”

A bang echoes from the kitchen. “Dammit, Carlos. You just ruined the dough.”

“You distracted me. I wouldn’t have dropped it if you hadn’t kept snatching your hand away every time I tried to touch the bowl.”

The argument is lost on Evie, who’s still staring at Mal. “Fine.” Her nostrils flare. “We won’t talk about it.” She jumps to her feet. “Just tell me one thing, Mal. Why did you lie to me about college?”

“That’s still talking about it, Evie!” A flare of dragon fire burns through Mal’s blood, and she jumps to her feet, too. Her strand of popcorn-and-berries falls to the floor. “And I didn’t lie!”

Evie throws out her arms. “Obviously, you did, or you’d be joining me in September.”

A ball of dough flies into the living room, smacking the branches of the Christmas tree. “What the hell are you doing, Jay?” Carlos cries.

Another bit of dough slams into the wall beside the fireplace, sliding onto a thatch of holly. “If we can’t eat it, you might as well wear it.”

Mal and Evie whip toward the sound.

The boys tumble into the living room, Carlos tugging at the bowl in Jay’s hands. The dough inside the bowl swishes this way and that. Carlos slams into the couch, and the bowl flies out of Jay’s hands. The dough soars up toward the ceiling, landing with a smack on the ground by Mal’s feet.

Mal stares at the dough. “So this is Christmas.” She jerks her gaze from the dough to the boys to the girl-with-the-power-to-make-her-blood-boil-and-her-heart-sprint. “Our very last together as the Rotten Four, and we’re throwing dough at each other and accusing each other of lies.”

Carlos blushes and stares at his feet.

Jay stares outside at the shivering pines, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Evie stares at each of her decorations, her mouth puckered into a scowl.

Mal stomps her foot, smashing the dough beneath her boot. “What is going on, you guys?”

Carlos grits his teeth and raises his gaze to meet Mal’s. “For months, Jay’s been stealing touches with me. Until three weeks ago, when he signed onto the kingdom’s tourney league. Now, he won’t even look at me.”

Jay pushes his fists into his pockets, but his gaze remains glued to the trees.

Evie glares at a bunch of holly, where a glob of dough hangs heavy on the leaves. “You know why I’m upset, M. We were supposed to go through college together, and you didn’t even apply.”

Mal swipes the dough from the floor. “Here’s what I know,” she says, balling it in her fists. “Jay, you’ve been walking around with a swagger since you got accepted to the league.”

Jay whips his gaze to Mal, opening his mouth to argue.

Mal holds up her hand. “Don’t. You know it’s true. You’ve barely spoken a word to me and Evie since.”

Jay twists his mouth into a jagged line, and a hint of pink colors his face.

Mal tosses the dough back into the bowl, which spins in a circle on the ground. She stares at its movement. “Evie, I didn’t lie,” she whispers. “I did apply. I just didn’t get in.” The truth burns her throat, a searing brand of shame. “I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to major in, so I left it blank. Colleges like girls who know what they want.”

She cannot look at Evie.

Not even when Evie moves toward her, a soft “M…” drifting like a caress from her lips.

Mal shakes her head. “That’s what I know,” she says. “And honestly, I have no idea how to fix any of this. It’s our last Christmas together, and we’ve fallen apart.” She turns her gaze to the front door, with its promise of ushering in a solitary winter world. “And I really can’t be in this room with any of you right now.”

She steps away from her friends. She steps away from the living room and out the front door. She away steps from the warmth of the fire, leaving it behind for the cold of the winter woods.

The chill blankets her skin and leaves her numb.

~*~

Emotions war through Jay’s blood. He pushes his fisted knuckles into the seams of his jacket and steps to the window.

Mal’s standing outside at the bottom of a snowy hill, staring up at the steel-grey sky. Not even wearing a coat. A bite of guilt gnaws at his gut.

Carlos and Evie are behind him, pinning with the weight of their stares.

They have no idea what to say to me. A sigh drifts up from somewhere deep inside of him. Moment of truth. “You guys ever been afraid?”

Silence stretches between them. He can’t see their faces, but he knows his friends are giving each other looks, trying to figure out how to answer.

He’s never once admitted to being afraid, not even when they fought other gangs on the Isle. The truth hangs heavy in the air.

“Sure,” Evie says, her voice gentle with a hint of warmth. “I’m afraid now, with each of us going in different directions.”

“Exactly.” Jay turns from the window and points at her. “Before now, we knew what the future held. Classes at Auradon. Meals in the kitchens.”

“Games and comfort in our rooms.” Carlos lifts a corner of his lips, offering a half-smile.

The gesture strikes a match of heat in Jay’s chest. “Exactly,” he repeats, his voice softer now. “Everything planned out.”

Evie steps to the window. “Things can’t be that way forever, though.” She raises her hand to the windowpane, cupping the glass with her palm. “We grow up. Do our own thing. Life moves on. So do we.”

Carlos’ half-smile falls, and something hollow echoes through Jay’s heart. Without thought, he reaches for Carlos’ hand.

Carlos jerks his gaze toward Jay, arching a brow.

This time, Jay doesn’t look away. “I’ve been a jerk,” he says. “Too worried about the unknown to focus on the here-and-now.” He tucks their fingers together, the beginnings of wildfire kindled in their touch. “I’m sorry, man.”

Carlos’ smile springs back to life, full and beaming. “’Bout time you admitted it.” He knocks his shoulder against Jay’s arm.

Jay chuckles, then turns his gaze to Evie. “I’m sorry, E. To you and Mal. You’re my friends. I need you in my life.”

Evie spins from the window. “That’s a good thing. Because you’re stuck with us.”

“Swear it?”

Evie nods. “On everything wicked and rotten.”

Jay grins. “Good.” He glances back out at the December forest, where Mal has perched herself on top of a snow-crusted rock, a sketch pad open on her lap. “Someone’s gotta go talk to her.”

“I will,” Evie says.

Jay grabs Mal’s coat off the couch and hands it to Evie. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Of course.” Evie takes the coat and steps out of the cabin into the snow.

With a gleam in his eye, Carlos brushes Jay’s jaw with a kiss. “Nicely done,” he whispers.

His words are punctuated by a clinking sound coming from the vents, followed by a blast of heat. Jay blames it entirely for the flame warming his cheeks.

He ducks his head as a goofy grin splits his face. “Whatever.”

~*~

The snow swirls down in drifts of white, nipping at Evie’s cheeks and nose. Her breath comes out in puffs of frost. She bows her head against the cold and warms her hands beneath Mal’s leather jacket, crunching a path toward the hill behind the cabin.

Mal comes into sight, her purple hair a splash of color among so much white.

She sits on a rock beneath a towering pine tree, its branches white with snow. Her hand is a flurry of motion along her sketchpad, her pencil weightless in her fingertips. Her fingers glide upon the page, drawing lines and angles and shapes that match her surroundings.

Her shoulders are hunched, curved in to protect her from the cold. But her lips are tilted upward, her features calm and peaceful.

A hum of warmth radiates through Evie’s chest. Mal-the-Artist has emerged in the forest, a snow nymph with a pencil-in-hand, bringing the winter woods to life in a sketch. How could I have ever thought she’d be happy doing anything but this?

Even in the back-then, when Mal hung more holly around the Clubhouse, it was because she wanted to add to the decorative flair. She wanted to make it count with her own artistic touch.

Evie takes a step toward her best friend, and the snow crunches beneath her boot.

Mal glances up. Her smile teeters. “Hey.”

“Please don’t stop.” Evie’s words push together in a rush. “I like watching you draw.”

Mal’s gaze drifts to her sketch, where a few snowflakes have fallen. She brushes them away with a caress of her hand. “No, it’s okay,” she says, running her fingers along a penciled pine tree. “You were right before. We really should talk.”

“Okay.” Evie crunches a path to Mal. “I have your jacket.” Taking a seat on the frigid rock, which makes her legs ache, she slides Mal’s jacket over Mal’s shoulders. “It’s freezing out here, M. What were you thinking?”

Mal clings to the halves of her coat, tightening it around her body, as Evie’s words fill the space in the silence that follows. Words that mean so many things.

What were you thinking, sitting out here in the cold?

What were you thinking, not telling me you weren’t accepted to college?

What were you thinking, pushing me away when you could have told me the truth?

Evie slides her hand over Mal’s, warming Mal’s frigid fingers beneath her palm. “Did you really think you couldn’t tell me the truth? That I would have liked you any less?”

Mal cringes and closes her eyes. “You were so excited, E. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

An ache pierces Evie’s heart. She slides her free hand to Mal’s cheek, smoothing her thumb along the crease where Mal’s eyes close. “You could never disappoint me. You’re M and I’m E, and that’s the way it will always be.”

Mal trembles on a breath. “Even if I never go to college?”

Evie’s thumb stills. “Look at me, M.”

Mal blinks her eyes opened, gifting Evie with the sight of a green more vibrant than the forest’s pine trees. “I tried, Evie. I really did. But…”

Evie nods at Mal’s sketchbook. “But you never really wanted college, did you? Or school. You want to spend your life creating art.”

Mal’s gaze drops to her sketchbook. The splendor of the winter forest gazes back, scripted with the strokes of a pencil. “I wanted this,” she whispers, smoothing the sketch beneath her hand. “And,” she says, gazing back up at Evie, “I wanted you.”

Their gazes meet for one frosted breath, then two, as a thrill of electricity sings through Evie’s blood.

She leans forward and touches her lips to Mal’s. “You’ve got me,” she murmurs into the kiss.

A sound half-dragon, half-fae pushes from Mal’s throat, and she cups the back of Evie’s head with her hand, deepening the kiss.

Several sprints of her heart later, Evie leans her forehead against Mal’s. “We’ll figure things out. Together.”

“Promise?”

Evie nods, tapping another kiss onto Mal’s lips. “I do.”

Mal wraps her arms around Evie, hugging her long enough to erase the chill of winter.

Lost in Mal’s touch, Evie almost doesn’t hear the crunch of snow. But it becomes louder, and someone clears their throat.

Mal and Evie glance up from their rock to discover the boys standing there, holding the ropes to two sleds apiece, four altogether.

“It’s Christmas,” Carlos says, gesturing back at the sleds.

Jay tilts his chin toward the hill. “And since there’s a hill, we thought maybe we could celebrate VK style.”

“VK style, huh?” Mal rises from the rock, sliding her sketch pad and pencil into the back pocket of her pants. “Does this mean you’re done being a jerk, Jay?”

Evie bounces to her feet. “I’m supposed to tell you that he’s sorry.”

Mal tilts her head, daring Jay with a flash of her eyes. “Are you?”

“Definitely.” Jay nods. “I was afraid.”

“You?” Mal arches an eyebrow. “Afraid?”

“Yup.” Jay puffs out his chest, as if admitting this truth has made him prouder, somehow. “And you know what? I really don’t have to be. I’ve got you guys.”

Mal’s features soften, the artist within transforming the rough angles of her expression into softer lines. “Of course you do. We’ve got each other.”

“Yeah, we do.” Carlos holds out his free hand, making a fist. “To staying together.”

Evie joins her fist with Carlos. “To staying friends.”

Jay adds his fist. “To forever and all that counts.”

Mal studies their hands, narrowing her eyes as if thinking about it.

“C’mon, M.” Evie bumps Mal’s hip with her own. “VKs forever?”

Mal rolls her eyes. “You guys drive me crazy.” She moves her hand into the circle. “But okay. Friends again. Friends forever. You know, and all that counts.” Her lips twist into a smile. “Because we’re rotten…”

“…to the core,” the trio finishes.

The Rotten Four bump fists, sealing forever with a chorus of cheers.

~*~

The stars fan out across the sky, one of them shining brighter than all the rest, as Mal takes to the top of the hill with her friends. Together, they slide into their sleds. Mal slides her hand into Evie’s. Carlos slides his hand into Jay’s. They exchange gazes, and then they release a collective whoop and slide down the hill in the Christmas snow.

“VKs forever!” Jay shouts.

“Friends forever!” Carlos echoes.

“To making it count!” Evie cries.

A feeling of weightlessness soars through Mal’s stomach. She has no idea what the future holds for any of them. Carlos hasn’t even gotten his college letters yet, and she and Evie have to decide on living arrangements. But for tonight, as the stars shine bright within the sky, they have each other. And really, that’s enough.

#descendants #malvie #mevie #mal/evie #jaylos #vks #rotten four #christmas #descendants fic #malvie fic #jaylos fic #secret santa

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wizardofahz · 4 years

Text

Introducing Grim

A/N: Just a little bit of silly to get back into writing. This is a follow up to Fulfilling the Lie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I think someone’s going to die.”

The panic in Nia’s voice has Kara shooting straight up out of bed though she manages to stop before crashing into the ceiling. Still hovering in the air, she asks, “Did you have a dream? Are you okay? Where are you?”

It’s the middle of the night--3:52 AM according to her phone--which makes the dream scenario most likely. Hopefully that means Nia is safe at home. Still, Kara mentally prepares herself to change into her super suit and fly out the window.

“I’m at home,” Nia responds, speaking a mile a minute. “I dreamed that there was this big black dog, like you know the Grim in Harry Potter? The omen of death? And I think Alex was there, but I don’t-- I didn’t get the sense that she was in danger? But I don’t know. It’s the Grim, right? I keep thinking about Ron’s Uncle Bilius and how he saw a Grim and died. And I know that’s Harry Potter, but, I mean, the messages in my dreams come in symbols, right? So maybe my powers are finally trying to communicate with me in a language that I’ll understand, and maybe that means that someone else is going to die even though I saw Alex, and--”

“Oh,” Kara says once Nia’s words register. All the adrenaline dissipates from Kara’s body, and she sinks back down onto her bed. “No, you dreamed about Alex’s cat.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Nia sighs with relief. “I was really worried. Like I said, I didn’t think Alex was going to die, but I’d really hate to be wrong about that. You know how hard it can be to interpret my dreams.”

“I get it,” Kara says, and she means it. If there was any sign that something would happen to Alex, anything at all, and there was something Kara could do to stop it, she would. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too,” Nia says with a shaky laugh. “All that freaking out, and it was just Alex’s cat.” A brief silence. “Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“Since when does Alex have a cat?”

Oh, right. After they left the animal shelter, their day had been a whirlwind of pet supply shops and cat-proofing the apartment, and with Alex and Grim’s matching lack of enthusiasm for attention, they hadn’t really told anyone other than Eliza, J’onn, and Kelly. Oops. Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. Almost literally. “Today, or I guess, technically yesterday. It’s a long story, but his name is Grim.”

“Okay,” Nia says in a tone that indicates that she doesn’t really understand but she’s willing to go along with it for the moment. “No one’s going to get hurt, and that’s what matters.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kara mutters, thinking about the unfortunate mismatch between sharp claws and soft human flesh.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

...

Kara’s breakthrough moment with Grim comes entirely by accident.

Her mission for the evening is to keep Grim away from the kitchen while Alex and Kelly finish preparing dinner. Unaware that Kara is an invulnerable Kryptonian, Kelly had given her an apologetic look upon hearing her assignment. Kara doesn’t mind the teeth and the claws. She just hopes Grim doesn’t get too mad at her. She’s still trying to get on his good side.

“I’m sorry. You can’t,” Kara says, intercepting Grim as he wanders in the direction of the kitchen. She crouches in front of him and tries to redirect him. “Alex is busy. How about the cat tower? Want to climb on that instead?”

He does not.

After a few repetitions of this, Kara brings Grim to the couch, holding him in her lap as he tries to wiggle free. He meows his discontent and begins to claw at her.

“No, no, no,” Kara whispers quickly, grabbing a blanket and pushing it between them. “You can’t. Kelly doesn’t know.”

Normally accustomed to a Kara who’s willing to play scratching post, Grim looks up at her in consternation. He paws at her tentatively, testing her reaction. His claws sink into the blanket instead. He pushes into her and then pauses as if processing the feeling. He flexes, stretching his toes out before grabbing the soft material again.

Kara joins him, running her hands through the blanket as well. “I know. It’s nice, right?”

Grim begins to knead the blanket in earnest.

“They’re so cute,” Kara hears Kelly whisper from the other side of the kitchen island.

“Yeah,” Alex whispers back.

It’s one word, and a quiet one at that, but it’s so full of love and happiness. Kara knows how important family harmony is to Alex, and Grim is part of the family now. She knows, without Alex having to say anything, that Alex has been waiting for this moment.

She is going to hug Alex as soon as she can.

...

J’onn J’onzz is a cheater. Of this, Alex is convinced.

After meeting Grim, he initially keeps his distance, but after a while, J’onn seems to know exactly when Grim will tolerate being pet--not to mention exactly where he wants to be pet--and when he’s feeling antisocial. Alex has no doubt that J’onn is reading Grim’s mind.

Because of this, J’onn and Grim establish an understanding faster than anyone other than Alex.

That is until her mom arrives.

“Mom, this is Grim,” Alex says. Grim is currently in her arms for everyone’s safety and comfort, but Alex kneels and places him on the ground between them.

Eliza kneels opposite her. “Hi, Grim. It’s nice to meet you.”

Grim looks to Alex, who nods with approval. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s just Mom.”

Grim takes a tentative step towards Eliza. She reaches out a hand to let him sniff her, and it’s not long before she’s allowed to pet him, scratching him gently behind the ears.

“What? How?” Kara whines. “That’s not fair.”

“Apparently Alex is only deferential to Eliza,” J’onn says. “He can sense it.”

Alex’s eyes narrow. There it is, evidence of her suspicions. “How do you know that? Are you reading my cat’s mind?”

“I may not work for the DEO anymore, but I still find it prudent to investigate and track potential threats.”

“Hey!”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Eliza says, joining Alex in coming to Grim’s defense. Years of raising Alex has taught Eliza to recognize when someone is reaching their limit. “It’s okay, sweetie. You can go.”

Grim scampers off for the moment, but he returns to her regularly throughout her visit for more head scratchings.

...

Trust has to be earned.

As a therapist, Kelly is very well aware of this. She has a lot of practice ensuring that her patients grow to trust that they will be listened to and not judged.

The problem is that she has done this by communicating in English, a language that Alex’s cat Grim does not speak, and Kelly, being allergic to cats as she is, does not have a lot of experience speaking cat.

“I’m not trying to hurt her,” she insists to Grim, who is scowling at her from Alex’s side.

Kelly is using her lunch break to check on Alex, who has had a long couple of days vigilante-ing. Sure enough, upon letting herself into the apartment, she was met with the sight of Alex asleep on the couch, still in her outfit with the tight suit and boots on.

Kelly had simply thought to wake Alex just long enough to get her to change and into bed, but Grim seems to be taking offense to the idea of disturbing Alex’s rest.

Ironically one of his growls nudges Alex into consciousness. She drowsily blinks a couple of times before recognizing her visitor.

“Kelly?”

“Hey,” Kelly says gently. “I thought you might want to change out of that outfit and get into bed. You know, be more comfortable?”

Alex looks down the length of her body. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea.” She instinctively reaches for Grim. “Come on, dude.”

When she slides into bed, Grim settles beside her again.

“Do you need anything?” Kelly asks before she leaves. “I can refill Grim’s bowl. I noticed it was empty.”

“Ye--” Alex yawns. “--ah, that’d be great. Thanks. You’re the best.”

After several repeat occurrences, Kelly can tell that Grim is growing to trust her more.

The ultimate show of acceptance comes when she’s staying at Alex’s because of a cold. She wakes up feeling better but with a weight on her chest. That weight is Grim, curled up and purring up a storm.

Kelly smiles and reaches out a hand to pet him. “Thanks, Grim.”

...

Grim backs away from Nia with a hiss.

“Maybe try again with a little less enthusiasm,” Kelly says. “Less is better with him.”

Alex keeps an eye on the three as she talks to Brainy. She has finally been coaxed into bringing Grim to game night to meet the rest of the Super Friends. She trusts Kelly to make sure Grim is all right, the only reason she isn’t glued to his side.

Brainy is a question machine. He asks if Alex met Streaky, the differences between Grim and Streaky, the differences in cat personalities, inherent cat behaviors, and the logistics of cat care. Alex is sure Brainy has additional questions, but Kara and J’onn are approaching from the kitchen area with the drinks, and Grim is starting to look overwhelmed by all the people.

Alex is about to rescue him when she catches the look on Lena’s face.

Lena is looking at Grim with an expression of horror in multiple senses of the word, maybe half foreboding horror like one watching a horror movie and half distasteful horror like someone being given a rancid fruit and being told it is an exquisite solid wine.

Alex finds that latter half offensive.

“You cannot use my cat as an excuse to restart Non Nocere,” Alex says, startling Lena.

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Lena says, her voice entirely lacking in conviction. In fact, her face says that if she hadn’t been thinking about it before, she’s started thinking about it now.

William is running late, and by the time he arrives, Grim has disappeared into the shadows.

That’s not to say that William doesn’t meet him.

Sort of.

When William goes to the bathroom, the sound of the door closing is followed by a scream of surprise from William and a series of yowls from Grim.

Kara and Alex run for the bathroom and skid to a stop as William stumbles out of it.

“Kara, you were right about the cat.”

...

By the time Andrea comes to her first game night, Grim has gotten used to socializing and learned how to let people know he’s had enough in a non-threatening manner.

Kara helps Lena welcome her to the group and introduce her to the few people she has yet to meet. Alex and Grim give Andrea identical wary looks. It is one of the cutest things Kara’s ever seen. That doesn’t stop her from steering Andrea to the other side of the room.

“Uh, maybe you should sit over here.”

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #nia nal #eliza danvers #j'onn j'onzz #kelly olsen #et al.#moments in the life of superfam #i'm sorry i barely stopped being lazy enough to write this #i still have enough laziness to not tag all appropriate parties

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mikkeneko · 4 years

Text

oh how the turn tables: Fic recs of Jaskier saving Geralt

I’ve read a lot of good fics in the Witcher fandom -- including a prodigious and excellent amount of Jaskier whump -- but I realized that some of the ones I like best are the ones where the chairs are switched, and Jaskier has to take care of Geralt for a change. Either by easing his way through social trouble, taking care of him after a fight gone bad, or anything else that threatens to bring the Witcher low. It also doubles as an (incomplete) list of my favorite fics and authors in the fandom!

I would of course greatly appreciate additions to this post (among others I’m certain there was another fic where Geralt took a Cat potion and then had to exit the cave immediately, and Jaskier cared for him while he was blind from it, that I’d love to find again.) Please add away!

Links only at the top, full summaries and excerpts beyond the cut.

An Incomplete Happiness - BlossomsintheMist, M, 22k

How to Care for your Witcher - Funkspiel, T, 13k

faith in transience - unconscious, E, 12k

Ivy on the Hill - chaya, E, 20k

The Witcher Wolf - im_fairly_witty, T, 10k

a dying curse (you are, as of all your kind, no more than a beast) - mikkeneko, T, 10k

home is nowhere, therefore you - Ark, E, 18k

Meet Death Sitting - bomberqueen17, M, 46k

An Incomplete Happiness - Geralt is nearly killed while on a hunt and relies on Jaskier to drag him back to the safety and comfort of a town and treat his wounds. Complete.

“You are awfully nonchalant,” Jaskier said, a levity in his voice that sounded forced.

“Without you here, I’d be sleeping under a bush with Roach beside me for warmth,” Geralt said after a moment. “I’d sleep there for about four days, hoping it didn’t keep raining, until the fever ran its course, and hope I had water and food enough in my pack, because otherwise I’d have to crawl far enough to find fresh water and then collapse there. It’s happened before.” It would again. “And still, I’d live. If it was worse than that, I’d let Roach find me aid, and hope I lived.”

How to Care for your Witcher - An episodic fic with each chapter focusing on another fix that Geralt gets into, that Jaskier tries to help him with. Ongoing.

Geralt licked his lips – dry and cracked, another side effect of some of his potions, Jaskier had noticed over time. The bard reached for his canteen as smoothly as he could without jarring the other man. He unscrewed the top slowly, quietly, but not entirely, and gently pressed it into Geralt’s hands. The witcher appeared as grateful for the bottle as he was for the fact that Jaskier had left the littlest bit of it left for him to unscrew on his own; the smallest illusion of self-control. Jaskier watched the way he drank from the skin of water and realized with a feeling akin to a stone dropping in his stomach that all this time Geralt had been thirsty and had not been able to see enough to find his own canteen in his pack. He had likely quenched the worst of it while cleaning himself in the river, but he had never asked for help after. Not once. And Jaskier had missed the significance of the few times the Witcher’s hands had subtly fumbled around his saddle, searching for it.

faith in transience - Geralt gets poisoned by a drug that makes him susceptible to suggestion. Fortunately, the one making the suggestions is Jaskier. Complete.

With the effects of the potions rattling his bones and the venom intertwining he can’t fucking think. He has to lie down. Meditate. Focus his energy on regulating the magic and the pain until his metabolism flushes it out. If it goes uncontrolled it could kill him.

“Geralt? Geralt, can you hear me?” The voice on the other side of the landslide is faint and thready with anxiety.

If he sleeps here he would awaken cold, starving, and exhausted, and potentially even more poisoned if these corpses bloat and pop. He would survive. But perhaps it isn’t the most efficient choice.

Perhaps it’s a choice he may have made were the bard not here. Jaskier’s voice buries deep in his gut and tugs at him like it has magical properties of its own. Like the slaughter, it’s instinctual. Go to him.

Ivy on the Hill - Geralt has been doing his best to keep Jaskier at arm’s length, but after Jaskier saves him from death by drowning or poison or hypothermia after a bad hunt, the two become closer. Complete, with sequels.

Geralt realizes with a bolt of suppressed panic that he can't move. It's not the weight, it's the... it's something in his blood. Weight. The armored arachas was on top of him. It isn't now. This is something soft and warm, something not leaking viscera onto him.

He breathes in again. Human. Male. Sweat and fear. Underneath that, familiar musky tones. Familiar. Another image comes unbidden to his mind, of carrying Jaskier to the healer as he choked from the djinn. Jaskier's on him.

"Are you-" Jaskier lifts his head from Geralt's shoulder. His voice thrums from his chest to Geralt's, only the pendant and Jaskier's stupid chemise between them. It feels uncomfortably intimate. There's a shuffle under blankets and two warm (blessedly warm) fingers press against his throat. "Okay, that... that feels almost fast enough to be normal, which means you're awake, right?"

The Witcher Wolf - Jaskier runs across an injured wolf in a forest and is moved to help it; the wolf joins him on his travels. The wolf is Geralt, of course. Complete, with sequels.

The wolf snarled, probably just because Jaskier’s fingers had reached the matted blood.

“Alright, so here’s my terrible plan.” Jaskier said, ignoring the snarl. Another unconscious habit he’d developed from hanging around Geralt apparently. “I’m going to try and remove this arrow, which is going to hurt terribly, and then I’m going to patch you up. I’d be extremely grateful if you didn’t dismember me in any way while I do, but if you can’t help yourself I suppose that’s fair.”

a dying curse (you are, as of all your kind, no more than a beast) - When Geralt is brought low by a curse that takes his mind, Jaskier cares for him.

Geralt cocked his head to the side, a gesture so perfectly Geralt-like that he was already anticipating the snarky barb that would follow it... and nothing. Geralt said nothing. Not because he couldn't hear Jaskier, or because he had lost his voice, but...

"You can't understand me, can you?" Jaskier said softly. Geralt just stared at him, steady, wordless, empty. "You can't understand... anything."

home is nowhere, therefore you - Geralt is overwhelmed and captured by a faerie court, and Jaskier wins a boon from the queen by playing and singing all night until the sun rises. His boon, of course, is Geralt.

"Your pardon, gracious queen," Jaskier says. By the way he perspires, Geralt can tell that they're both fucked. If Geralt could groan, he'd groan. "I believe the agreement was that I might have the pick of your treasures to carry off, if I could please you with my little musics until dawn."

She narrows her eyes. Fuck. "Don't be a fool, boy. This ring will bring you fame and fortune beyond your wildest dreams."

"Be that—be that as it may," Jaskier says, and squares his shoulders, "I'm afraid I really have my heart quite set on—that." He points, his hand only a little unsteady, and indicates the low wooden footstool upon which Geralt is miserably crouched for the foreseeable future. Gasps from the watching, glittering court of riveted fairies.

Meet Death Sitting - Geralt is attacked by a particularly nasty critter and needs Jaskier first to kill it, then to find shelter for him when he’s brought low by the toxicity of the potions he took to combat it. Complete, with sequels.

“It’s a mornat,” Geralt said, nearly whispering. His eyes looked like a wounded animal’s, distant and desperate. “It gets into a living body and takes it over, kills it, and then animates it after death until it can find a new host." He had to stop to catch his breath. "If I were human it would have taken over by now, but I’m almost out of potions to hold it back. You’ve got to cut it out of me, stab the silver knife through its spine, put it in the iron pot, tie the lid on, and bury it.”

“I,” Jaskier said, staring in horror at the -- the thing , it was deforming Geralt’s torso, and Geralt looked fucking terrible, ribs standing out in a way Jaskier had never seen before. He was dying. “Won’t that kill you?”

“I might survive,” Geralt said, characteristically unconcerned. “The easier option is that you put the silver knife through my spine and then both of you run like hell.”

#the witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #gerlion #the weirdboyz #fic recs

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namsjunies · 4 years

Text

give me attention // jjk

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 2,963

tags: smut, idol au, sub jungkook, handjob, fingering (male receiving), reader’s gender/pronouns not specified

hi, it’s been a while. this isn’t very long and it’s not very elaborate but it was inspired by a video i saw a while ago that i love. please enjoy.

You’re fond of having Jungkook splayed over you as he plays a video game while your hand massages his left calf absentmindedly, your right hand occupied by your phone. Much of the first two weeks of his break had been booked with cute dates, many of them you had planned months ago while you were waiting for the appropriate time to be able to take him to new places that had popped up all over the city while he was too busy to appreciate them.

After filling yourselves with ice cream from a new nitrogen boutique around the corner, you and Jungkook returned to his apartment to take a shower and then a long bath. He’d been on top of you then, too, lying between your legs while you rubbed his head or his shoulders. Between the acoustic music wafting through the bathroom, the warmth of the water, and the comforting touch of your fingers, he had begun to doze off against your shoulder. You had just giggled softly and crossed your arm over his chest, letting him relax for a few more minutes before the water got cold and you turned your head to nuzzle your nose against his cheek.

“Alright, c’mon. I’m getting pruney and cold,” you had complained as you pressed a series of affectionate kisses against his face. Jungkook had just let out a grunt of disapproval as he blinked, but he turned his head to kiss you before he lifted himself out of the tub anyways.

You thought that his lull in energy would’ve lasted after the bath, and you would’ve both collapsed into bed and fallen asleep after a few minutes of him begging you to scratch his back or spoon him or something. But instead, after you’re both dressed in pajamas, you’re the one that immediately curls up under the comforter while he turns on his gaming console and grabs the controller.

“Seriously?” you started as he flopped onto the mattress and started up the game. He looked back at you and just gave you a lopsided grin. “You were half asleep just a second ago.”

“It’s just for a little bit. It’s barely even 11. Just, like, an hour. Then I’m all yours,” he responded.

“Jungkook,” you whined, until he sat up and crawled on top of you. He hovered over you just long enough to lean down and kiss your lips, featherlight and barely a second long, but enough to make you smile again.

“I promise. Besides, this is part of my vacation, don’t make me feel bad,” he pouted briefly, then sat back up. “I’ll be your blanket in the meantime,” he added as he turned back around.

The next thing you knew, his legs were caging you in as he draped himself, stomach down, over the length of your body.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for this,” you complained, but you didn’t push him off as he resumed his game, just readjusted your arms so they weren’t trapped under his shins.

So now, half an hour later, as much as you enjoy the warmth emanating from his body, you’re getting bored of scrolling through your phone, switching between Twitter and frustrating games while you wait for him to get tired and lie down with you properly. You drop your phone off to the side and place both your hands on his legs now.

“Jungkook,” you start again as you squeeze his calves once before you decide to settle on just rubbing his legs slowly, stopping at the crook of his knee before you decide to reach the rest of the way to stroke his thighs gently.

“I’m tired. And if that’s not convincing enough, I’m bored, so if we’re going to stay up can you at least include me?”

He barely tosses a glance over his shoulder. “When I finish this level. Please? I’m so close to getting it right. I haven’t even gotten my full hour yet,” he whines in return.

You huff in annoyance and pinch him, but you don’t say anything else. For a little bit, you try to pay attention to the game he’s playing, but video games have always evaded your understanding and you would prefer giving him all your attention, even if he’s not letting you. You’re sure that you could strip and he would still ignore you, not that you’d be able to get up with all his body weight on top of you. Your legs are starting to fall asleep with all his weight on your thighs, so you pat his leg softly. “At least pause so I can move just a little?”

“You want me to get off?”

You shake your head, “No! I like this, you’re just heavy.” As he pushes himself up onto his knees, you shove the comforter off and adjust your legs so they’re crossed, knees bent out to the side, and when Jungkook lies back down on top of you, his hips are dipping comfortably in the space between your legs. But it’s short-lived, as you slide your hands up his legs to grip the front of his thighs and urge him to scoot back onto his knees. He turns his legs out slightly so he can accommodate the change in space and so his hips can rest comfortably on your abdomen. Really, you’re seeing more of his butt than the TV screen now, but you can’t say that you mind.

He glances at you and lets out a chuckle before he turns away again. “I can’t understand how this is more comfortable for you now, but okay.”

“I’m used to having you on your knees it’s just not normally like this,” you retort, giving his butt a light spank.

“You’re gonna make me die,” he protests, wiggling back mischievously before he settles back down.

“Mhm, just focus so we can go to bed,” you grumble.

As he resumes his game, you continue to rub the backs of his thighs softly, your fingertips occasionally slipping underneath the edges of his underwear to touch his covered skin. You pull one hand away from where it had been pinching his inner thigh lightly to fluff your pillow up underneath your head so you’re leaning back more comfortably with a better angle to watch him from. More specifically, watch the way he shivers underneath your tender touches, his thighs tensing as you caress them.

“You’re so pretty,” you sigh adoringly. “I love you.”

“Just for my body?” he answers quickly, a noticeable pitch in his voice and you just smile to yourself. He’s sensitive, and even the lightest touches will tempt him.

You move your hands up to squeeze his butt playfully and nod although he can’t see you, “Is it that easy to tell?”

“When you look like this, why wouldn’t I?” you continue, as your fingers tease the waistband of his briefs. “My beautiful boy, Jungkookie, made for me.” You imagine that Jungkook is blushing, and when he looks back at you for a second, he just confirms it. His cheeks are rosy and he gives you a shy smile.

“You’re teasing,” he complains with a muffled whine as he presses his hand against his mouth to hide his grin.

“You call this teasing? No, baby, I’m just making an observation. Do you want me to tease you, though? ‘Cause it looks like you do. But you also said you wanted to play your game, so why don’t you finish this level and you don’t pay attention to what I’m doing?” you tell him, offering him a cocky grin as you pinch his waist delicately.

Jungkook looks at you skeptically, but eventually he turns back around and you hope that he’s more determined to finish now that you’ve caught his attention. You’re tempted to pull his briefs down and really start teasing him, with hope that he’d drop the game immediately in exchange for your touch. But then again, Jungkook always liked to challenge himself and you were sure he’d become determined to maintain his focus and beat the level he was on even with your hand wrapped around his cock—the thought of which is becoming increasingly more appealing to you.

You pull your hands away and lean over to the nightstand as much as you possibly can, which is fortunately just enough for you to be able to open and stick your hand in the top drawer. You sit back in your original position only after you’ve found what you’re looking for, and you’re pleased that Jungkook hadn’t looked back to see what you were doing. You let the bottle of lubricant remain neglected on your chest for the time being.

Your hands return to his thighs and you give them another light squish before you’re replacing your fingers on the waistband of his briefs. This time, you pull his underwear down over the swell of his butt and just giggle quietly as he tenses above you. But he seems to be doing what you asked because he doesn’t turn to look at you and it just makes you anticipate his inevitable ruin even more, even if he thinks he’ll be able to withstand your teasing until he beats the level.

Your hands find their home on supple flesh, and you’re more than pleased to have all this bare skin in front of you to touch. But you’d been teasing him by massaging and squeezing and pinching him for far too long and you’re eager to arrive at the main event.

Your left hand tightens on his ass while your right hand braces on the opposite cheek so you can brush your thumb over his sensitive skin from his perineum up to his pretty hole, fluttering briefly under your touch like it’s begging for you. Jungkook himself lets out a bated breath and squirms on top of you. You’re sure he didn’t think you would actually start touching him. But how could you not? With his legs spread on either side of you, giving you such a delicious view, how could you refuse what is being so gorgeously offered to you?

“Do you want me to stop?” you whisper.

Jungkook refuses to turn to face you, and you imagine the red heat burning his cheeks. All you see for yourself is a shake of his head.

Immediately, you draw your hands away one more time to grasp his underwear again and drag it further down, as much as your current positions allow you, but it’s enough for you, once he lifts himself up a little, to have access to his soft cock. You wrap your hand around him without hesitation, and you graze your thumb over the tip before you let go. Jungkook lets out a staggered breath as he settles back down and with this new position you’re thrilled to have his cock twitching on your abdomen as it hardens. Your shirt had already ridden up luckily, so the only mess you’re worried about is the precum and lube that is likely to soon be smeared over your stomach.

You then pick up the bottle you’d just discarded and open it so you can drizzle lube over his rim, enough that it drips down his balls, drips from his skin onto yours. You imagine his grip tightening on his controller as you drag your fingers over his skin to collect the excess, and you imagine his expression, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he stifles a reaction when you press in a finger tentatively. He fails to stop a whimper and you grin to yourself.

“I thought you weren’t going to let yourself be affected?” You watch him drop his head and his long hair falls into a curtain framing his face, and as much as you like watching him be so affected by the simplest touches, you want to tease him.

“Keep playing your game. Beat the level like you said you would. You can focus, right?” you continue when he doesn’t say anything. He lifts his head again and you see the game resume just as you press a second finger past his rim. The copious amounts of lube make the slide slick and easy and you receive nothing but a choked moan as your fingers stretch him.

You’re definitely no longer bored, torn between watching the way his thighs tense and relax rhythmically or how his hole clenches down on your fingers as you stretch him slowly. You feel lucky to have a boyfriend like Jungkook, so eager to jump into new things and just as eager to beg for more when he figures out that he likes it. You’re sure he feels the same to have a partner that’s willing to jump into new things with him, desires that the average man would probably never voice aloud.

His cock is plumping up nicely as you crook your fingers, and you hear another faint noise make it past his lips. You wonder how long he’ll last before he loses his restraint and becomes vocal, until he gives up on his game like you’d been trying to convince him to do.

You pull your fingers away with an embarrassing squelch and you admire his self-control as he keeps playing, even with the dark blush on his cheeks and his ears. You circle your hand around his cock this time and it twitches with the sudden onslaught of attention, precum dribbling from the tip as you stroke him, the slide wet with lube.

“So cute,” you coo as your drag your thumb over the slit of his cock, before pressing the tip of your thumb against the sensitive underside of his cock. His hips twitch this time and he keens, and you wait to see if he’ll pause his game. When he doesn’t, you continue your ministrations, pleased to hear another moan as his head drops just for a second.

“Don’t say that while you’re looking at my dick,” he says, his voice wavering with the effort of an entire sentence.

“Oh, Jungkookie, I thought we’d gotten past you being shy. How many times do I have to compliment you before you just accept it?” you sigh as your hand squeezes his cock. “I love you, my pretty boy.”

Jungkook makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a “hmph” before he forms words again. “Love you.”

Your left hand replaces itself on his cock, and your thumb makes itself busy insistently rubbing over the head of his cock. With your other hand, two fingers are nudging against his rim before pushing in again. Ahead of you, you see a “game over” screen light up the TV and the controller is being tossed towards the other side of the bed. Jungkook’s head is hung and you just smile triumphantly even if he isn’t looking at you.

“You gave up, baby?” you ask as your hands make themselves busy simultaneously, earning a drawn out whine from Jungkook in answer. “That’s too bad. I would’ve been impressed if you kept playing and won. Maybe I would’ve rewarded you.”

“This, ah, this is enough. You’re distracting,” he mumbles as his hands clench in the sheets and he drops his head against the mattress.

“I told you I was bored. How else am I supposed to entertain myself while you’re playing your game and you look so tempting?”

Jungkook gives you no response except a sharp gasp as your fingers reach his prostate. While your fingers create a steady rhythm, stabbing up against his prostate with every forward flick, your other hand is fully stroking his cock again. With the way Jungkook is whimpering quietly and the way the muscles in his legs are tight, you know he’s not going to last much longer.

Jungkook’s cock twitches once, twice before his cum is spilling into your fist and onto your stomach and you’re pleased with the moan he lets out. You continue your motions for another few seconds, milking his cock and drawing out his orgasm, but your hands retreat eventually. He sits up slowly, still straddling you, and finally rolls over onto his side of the bed. He yanks his underwear down the rest of the way and earns a disapproving frown from you when he uses the otherwise clean fabric to wipe off your stomach, your hands and the insides of his thighs before tossing it in a single motion into the hamper in the corner of the room.

“We have to get up to finish cleaning up anyways, you could’ve kept your underwear,” you laugh as he finally turns to look at you. “I wish I could’ve seen your face.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, would’ve been embarrassing,” he whines shyly, a smile taking over his red face.

You sit up and lean forward to pull him into a hug, pressing your face against the crook of his neck. “I know I keep saying it, but I love you. Everything about you. And I’ve missed you so much, I just don’t want to waste any time we have.”

“I know, you’re right,” he starts apologetically as his arms circle your waist. “But if this is your retaliation anytime I’m playing a video game, I’m just gonna play more often while I’m around you.”

“My retaliation is then gonna become actual anger,” you complain as you pull away. “Now c’mon, put on pants and I’m gonna wash my hands, then bed.”

As Jungkook starts to stand up he turns to you again and grins excitedly, “So can we go get tattoos tomorrow like you said we could? What if I get ‘ARMY’ tattooed on my hand?”

“What, so every time you’re touching me or yourself, your fans have to be apart of it, too? No way.”

#bts #sub bts #bts smut #sub bts smut #sub jungkook #jungkook smut #sub jungkook smut #sub jk #sub kook #gender neutral reader

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atc74 · 4 years

Text

Soul to Souls - Eight

Warnings: Sam is back (eeeek) and a bit of a dick, angst, another vision, impied smut, hold on, it’s gonna get a little bumpy...

Summary: Since she was four years old, Annaleigh has seen the same boy in her dreams. For twenty-five years, she grows to love the boy that has now turned into a man. Dean Winchester just lost the only family he has ever known. The guilt drives him to work harder than ever before. He works to forget the pain, until he meets Annaleigh and she turns his world upside down. What she learns changes both of their lives forever, but what will he do when he discovers the truth? Will he accept it or run back to the only life he has ever known?

Pairing: Dean x OC Annaleigh

Word Count: 2432

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, @katehuntington, thank you both for being my guides! Dividers and new cover art by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89.

A/N: This was my very first series I ever wrote four years ago in September 2016 and I am so happy and proud to bring this back home.

Soul to Souls Master List

Annaleigh had seen Sam in her visions many times throughout her life and she recognized the man in front of them. After what happened in the Stull Cemetery outside of Lawrence, she knew she would never get the chance to meet him. He was her soulmate’s brother. She had grieved for the loss of a man she would never know. Any children Dean and Anna may be blessed with would never know their Uncle Sam outside of a photograph. Now, seeing him on Bobby’s porch, she started to doubt the visions, maybe even God Himself.

Dean immediately tensed up, and his arm tightening around her waist. They stood there for what felt like forever, neither breathing or moving. Annaleigh slowly rubbed smoothing circles on his back, and Dean started to relax a little as he stared at his brother. Anna knew a thousand questions had to be running through his mind right now, because they sure as hell were running through hers.

Sam descended the stairs and joined them on the walkway. Dean stared at his brother before starting and stopping a couple of times. “How are you h-? What the h-? When did y-? How?” was finally all Dean really asked his brother. He dropped the bag and gripped his brother in a hug.

“I don’t know. We have been trying to figure that out since I got back,” Sam responded, hugging Dean just as hard.

The brothers parted, and Sam turned, looking Annaleigh up and down. “So, you must be Annaleigh. Bobby has told me about you and filled me in what has been going on since I became Lucifer’s bitch. I am happy for you and my brother.” He smiled at her, but it lacked something; something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She nodded, took a step forward and extended her hand, but Sam rushed her instead, wrapping her so tightly in his arms, she found it hard to breathe. He finally let her go, and she stumbled a little, Dean reaching out to grab her arm to steady her.

Anna looked up when she heard the screen door slam. There stood Bobby, quietly assessing the scene before him. Dean let go of her hand and bounded up the stairs. He reached for Bobby and the old, grumpy hunter smiled and threw his arms around her soulmate. “Damn good to see ya, boy.”

Bobby then set his gaze upon her as she stood there on the walk with Sam. “Well, come here, Honey. Let me get a good look atchya. See if this boy’s been treatin’ ya right.” Annaleigh ran up the stairs and embraced Bobby with all her might.

“God, I missed you. And, yeah, Bobby. He treats me right.” She looked over at Dean, a blush rising up her cheeks. Anna grabbed his hand as they headed in the house, Sam trailing behind them.

It was so good to see Dean smiling as they sat down to dinner, swapping stories and sharing memories over beer and whiskey. Even though what he and Annaleigh had together was wonderful, he still wore that weight-of-the-world look on his face when he thought she wasn’t looking. He carried the guilt of those he couldn’t save and until now, that had included his Sam. Witnessing their reunion, with Bobby, it felt like all the pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together. It felt right.

Anna excused herself to get the boys more beer. Dean reached for her hand, their fingertips grazing as she continued to the kitchen. A small smile tugged at her lips as she looked back at him. She turned her head forward again and ran smack into Sam’s huge frame.

“Oh my God, Sam! I am so sorry. I didn’t even see you there!” she gasped, before she walked around him, reaching for the handle.

Sam turned, his gaze on her. She could feel it, like it was boring a hole in the back of her skull, making her uncomfortable. “So, Annaleigh, Bobby tells me you are a prophet of the Lord. How’s that working out for you?” Bitterness seeping through his words, his frame blocking her path back to the den, to Dean.

“Sam,” Anna began as she turned around and handed him another bottle of beer after retrieving it from the fridge. “I have had visions of Dean, sometimes of you too, almost my entire life. This is not new for me. I am sorry if it makes you uneasy. It was hard for Dean to accept at first, too. Sometimes, I think it still is, a little.”

“So, I am trapped in the cage with the Devil himself, being beaten and tortured, and my brother was banging a hot redhead the whole time,” Sam said and laughed, the sound like acid on her skin.

“Now, hold on just a minute, Sam. That is not how things went down, and you’d know it if you listened to Bobby at all. You have to understand that Dean kept hunting after you went under. For months, he ran himself ragged. When he was not looking for ways to get you back, he hunted, and he hunted.” Anna felt herself getting angrier the more they talked; this is not the Sam she remembered from her visions or from her conversations with Dean. This was a Sam she hardly recognized, even if she had never met him before.

“And, he just happened upon a case in your home town, huh? How convenient.” The sarcasm felt like hatred as the words spilled out of his mouth.

“Yes, there was a case. I called Bobby, Bobby sent Dean. Do you have a problem with me, Sam?” she asked defensively, straightening up to her full height, not that five feet and a fraction of an inch was intimidating for someone of Sam’s height.

Sam laughed again, this time it was different. “I am sorry, Annaleigh. I most definitely do not have a problem with you. You are beautiful, and feisty, and clearly good for my brother. He seems happy for the first time in a very long time. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong vibe. I am still working off some effects from Hell, I guess.” He embraced her again, this time, it was softer, more brotherly.

“Hey! Hands off my girl, bitch!” Neither one of them had heard Dean enter the kitchen.

“Just getting to know her, jerk,” Sam retorted.

Dean reached for her hand, pulling her towards him. She broke away from Sam, melting into Dean’s chest, and inhaled deeply, seeking the comfort she knew she would find there. Leather, a hint of gunpowder and something spicy she still couldn’t decipher. But, it was all Dean, and now it was hers. She sighed contentedly against him as he rubbed one hand up and down her back, kissing the back of the hand he had yet to let go of.

“Hey, Red, you okay? You seem tired,” Dean asked, pulling back a little to look at her.

Anna looked up into his impossibly green eyes and shook her head, curls tumbling everywhere. “Yeah, I am tired. It must be the drive. I am going to head up to bed.” She pushed up on her tiptoes, licking at his plump bottom lip. He eagerly took the hint, bending at the knees, and kissed her slowly, tenderly, before straightening up.

“I’ll be up a little later,” Dean called after her as she climbed the stairs, she blew him a kiss, then bid Bobby and Sam a good night.

After getting ready for the night, Anna sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about what Sam had said to her. From everything she knew of Sam from Dean and Bobby, and even from her own visions, she knew something was off. Maybe this feeling accounts for the restlessness she was feeling during the drive. She hadn’t been able to put her finger on it, but something had felt off, the closer they got to their destination.

Suddenly, she found herself on the floor, shaking, her head between her knees trying to control her breathing and the searing pain in her head. Anna started seeing flashes of another vision: Dean and her, Sam, too. It looked like they were in a hospital. Somewhere in the chaos of the vision, she heard a baby cry.

The door burst open and Dean rushed into the room, followed quickly by Sam and Bobby, weapons drawn. Anna lifted her head weakly and attempted to cover herself in the skimpy pajamas she had chosen to wear to bed, as the three of them stared at her.

“Talk to me, Red! Honey, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” The questions came tumbling out of Dean’s mouth as he ran towards her, dropping to his knees as he slid to a stop right in front of her. With one arm around her waist and the other behind her knees, he lifted her off the floor, returning her to the bed gently, as if he were afraid she would break.

“Thank you,” Anna managed to get out as she tried to cover herself with a blanket. “I’m okay, really. I just got a little dizzy and must have fallen. I guess I don’t hold my liquor as well as you boys.” She tried to hide the lie with laughter, hoping none of them would notice.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her protectively. He looked toward Sam and Bobby, giving a subtle nod, and they took the hint, closing the door behind them.

“Annaleigh, tell me the truth. You only had one beer with dinner. What’s going on with you?” he asked, his jade eyes full of worry.

“Look at you, all worried about me,” she tried to joke with him.

Dean held her at arm's length. “Honey, I’m serious. What the hell happened?!” He wasn’t buying her story; it was a long shot that he would.

Anna took a deep breath, tucking a few loose curls behind her ear before she continued. “Honestly, Babe. I don’t know what happened. I was sitting here on the edge of the bed, and before I knew it, I was on the floor. My head started pounding, I was shaking, and I couldn’t control my breathing. I don’t know what caused it.” Another lie. Why am I lying to the man I have been in love with for most of my life? she thought to herself.

“I was so worried when I heard the noise. I ran up here as fast as I could. I was scared something happened to you.” He pulled her back into his arms and like magic, she instantly felt better. Her breathing had returned to normal, and the pounding in her head had receded to a dull ache.

Anna looked up at Dean. “Let’s just go to bed. I’ll be right as rain in the morning.” He nodded in agreement and released his hold on her, getting up from the bed to remove his clothes.

She turned on her side as she watched Dean strip down to his boxers. Even after all this time of seeing him, he still took her breath away, making her heart skip a beat. His legs, bowed perfectly, made her weak in the knees. Pressing her thighs together for a little relief, she continued watching him undress, her thoughts getting filthier the longer she looked. The soft hair that she couldn’t stop running her hands through...the pink and plump lips she couldn’t taste enough, as if her own life depended on kissing him...the sage colored eyes that look right into her soul....she couldn’t get enough of him. The fine lines of muscle were covered with a multitude of scars and miles of golden, freckled skin she wanted to trace with her tongue every minute of the day.

That must be where the term “drop dead gorgeous” comes from; her heart stopped and she couldn’t breathe for a moment every time she saw him. Oh girl, you got it bad alright, she thought. She smiled and shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

Dean climbed into bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling the covers up. He pressed his lips to hers so gently, it felt like feathers. Annaleigh let herself melt into him, Dean swallowing the sigh that escaped her lips. He brought his hand up to cup her face as the other wandered down to bring her leg up around his waist.

“You are so beautiful. I can’t get enough of you, ever. I will never get enough of this mouth, or those stunning blue eyes of yours. I forever want to feel your body next to mine. I want to run my fingers through your wild red hair every moment of every day,” Dean whispered against her skin as his mouth continued its exploration of her body, leaving a blazing trail in its wake.

She honestly could never have enough of this, of him, and what he could do to her body, her mind, her heart, her soul. The heights he could push her to, each time only to raise her up higher than last.

With her head on his chest, contentedly tracing patterns on his arm with one finger, she felt his breathing even out as he drifted to sleep. “I love you, Dean,” she whispered, praying and hoping he did not hear her. Annaleigh had twenty plus years of her life to get to know him and fall in love with him. She didn’t want to rush anything and scare him off. She had seen moments of their future, so she knew he would love her some day, but she also knew it might take him a little longer to get there than it took her.

They hadn’t really talked about “the future” or what life holds for them. With a hunter as your significant other, you learned to live in the moment and take each day as it rose. She knew what she had seen was not set in stone and any hunt could be his last, and not because he decided to hang it up. She knew that someday he might not come home to her. She prayed that whatever information God was feeding her through these visions was legitimate. Annaleigh could no longer imagine a life without him. She knew he had always dreamed of a family, and her hope was that one day, she could give that to him.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Soul to Souls tags: @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @iwantthedean @jensengirl83 @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @kbl1313 @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean @princessmisery666 @spnbaby-67 @shy-violet-soul @lastcallatrockysbar @winchesterxfamilybusiness @fangirlxwritesx67 @squirrelnotsam

#dean x annaleigh #dean winchester #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean x ofc #dean winchester soulmate

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iwantutobehapppier · 4 years

Text

So It Shall Be

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: While Steve left on a mission you tried to cope with the pain left over after everything was said and done. Can you handle things being as they are with Steve? Can you really sit there and be in love with him and say nothing watching him from afar?

Word Count: 3,718

Warnings: Angst, pining, they’re dumb. So dumb. Cussing probably?

A/N: Hey lovelies! Here’s part 2 to As It Was. There will be a third part. So ya know, enjoy some more angst. I didn’t fix anything. Lol Love you all!

“You know you gotta talk to her right?” Steve huffed tilting his head back to look at Bucky for a moment before turning to face forward, piloting the two of them in Quinjet. Bucky’s voice carrying from in the back as he took stock of inventory. Making sure supplies were restocked once they returned to the compound. After all, he didn’t want another ear full about him inadequately stocking after mission. Nothing was worse than a lecture from Captain Steve Rogers about mission safety.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve chose the path of playing dumb, hoping his friend would take the hint and drop it.

“You’re not good at playing it close to the chest,” Bucky continued opening up the first aid kit, plenty of supplies depleted after the ambush they had faced at the latest terrorist location. Bucky internally groaned, he hated re-stocking medical supplies, it never fit neatly.

“I mean after all you live in a dormitory full of spies,” Bucky chuckled to himself, “You really thought you could keep your nightly activities secret?”

Steve sputtered, throwing the autopilot on and marching back to face Bucky.

“What would you know about that?” Steve tried to play it cool, really he did, but there was not an ounce of cool in Steve Rogers when it came to you. It was all emotional knee jerk reactions.

The eat shit grin on Bucky’s face made Steve’s hands curl into fists, oh he knew too much. That much was certain.

“Just that your dumbass took Sharon on a date, and that beauty of an Avenger across the hall from you hasn’t said one word to you since.” Bucky paused “Also you two aren’t very good at keeping your noises to yourself,” a shudder ran through Bucky’s spine. He never wanted to hear some of the things Steve said to you during sex.

Steve’s face flushed, well, of course, Bucky knew what was going on. Steve wasn’t about to lie to Bucky either, especially since he had it all figured out. Except for the one part Steve himself didn’t understand.

“Why isn’t she talking to me?” Bucky’s jaw went slack the pure confusion laced in Steve’s words. Thank god his friend was pretty and from what Bucky had heard an adequate lover, otherwise, he was useless to women.

“Seriously punk?” Bucky’s accusatory tone bristled Steve. His hands gripping his belt buckle as he stood up straight, eyes narrowed on his friend.

“I only followed her lead,” Bucky tutted at Steve.

“Right, cause her random dates set up by Wanda with guys she has no previous connection to and no future ones thereafter,” Bucky started slamming the containers around, annoyed with his friend to an extent that rivaled the days he’d get his scrawny ass out of fights. “ Is equal to your date with a woman you have a past with.”

“You really are a punk,” Bucky’s back to Steve while he filled out the inventory sheet on a clipboard. Not wanting to look at the idiotic faces he was sure to be making. “You’ve got a gorgeous dame head over heels for you,” Steve grunted in disbelief. “And from what I unwillingly hear a bombshell in the sack,” Bucky could hear the leather of Steve’s gloves constricting at his hands balling into fists holding tightly onto his belt buckle. Man, he had it bad.

“But you just keep her at arm’s length and paradin’ another sweet dame around, who knows nothin’ about the mess you’re draggin’ her into.” Bucky shook his head setting the clipboard down. Turning back to face his friend he almost regretted his next words at the crestfallen look he had. Almost.

“What would your ma think Steve?” The blonde’s shoulders slumped at the weight of Bucky’s words. Taking in a ragged breath Steve rubs his forehead. His ma would kick his ass for not being true to himself and his emotions. Yet the fear he held at you not feeling the same kept him in limbo of talking to you. Made him act irrationally and pull an unsuspected third party into his mess. What if you never wanted anything more than sex? What if...

“How do I fix it?” Desperation emitted from Steve in suffocating waves. Bucky could see that insecure scrawny kid unsure of anything dealing with dames.

“Just talk to her!” Bucky’s exasperated tone did nothing to ease Steve’s worry.

“ETA to Compound 5 minutes,” FRIDAY announced breaking the tension filling the Quinjet

Steve stood up straight, nodding his head. Right just talk to you, talk to you about feelings, about what a fool he was and maybe, if he was lucky you’d feel the same.

~~*~~

“Please,” Wanda’s desperation pained you, “Please reconsider.” leaning against the door frame of your room you tried your best to listen, You really did but…

You had to leave the compound, it couldn’t be helped. Well it could have, Wanda certainly believed so but you didn’t have it in you. You weren’t strong enough to face this pain. You weren’t strong enough to put up the same front Steve could.

“It’s only been two weeks, and Steve has been away almost the whole time.” Wanda paced inside your room. “Wait until he gets back, I’m sure if you two would just talk-”

“-I don’t want to talk to him,” Your voice firm, and certain on that one fact. The rest of you, well the rest was weak, hurt, and screaming out to repair the comfort you had let go of with Steve. No, he let go, not you.

He decided this was only sex by his actions, and you didn’t have it in you to keep up the charade of complacency in being his friend providing all the benefits, and baring the pain that came with feelings you kept inside.

Pulling your bag over your shoulder filled with some clothes and necessities you turned around making your way down the personal quarters’ hallway with Wanda hot on your tail.

“When will you be back?” Your heart almost broke at how Wanda asked you with so much hope.

“I don’t know,” you paused and turned around to face her, she wrapped you in her arms. Resting her head on your shoulder, you could feel your resolve to leave slowly slip away.

“But you will won’t you?” You pulled yourself from her embrace and nodded your head in affirmation. Wanda held your hand in hers not willing to let go of you just yet.

“I just need some time away from the compound,” maybe being back in the city would help you escape the pain. Or at least let you get distance on the whole situation, be able to see the forest beyond the trees.

"I'll have you over once I'm settled." Wanda barely contained an excited squeal at the prospect.

"Oh! It'll be so wonderful, two hotties out in the city!" You couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at your lips. Wanda's excitement is contagious. "And girls-only sleepover! I've never had one of those."

"Ah, yeah well there will be Amir there but he keeps to himself," you cringed at Wanda's eyes narrowing in on you.

"Amir?" You didn't miss the flicking of her fingers with a red hue.

"I'm staying at his place, pre-Avengers friend." Wanda raised an eyebrow at your quick explanation.

"Only a friend?" Your frowned, your dear Wanda always wanting to pry but at least she wasn't reading your mind again.

"Wanda…" she shook her head letting go of your hand.

"It's fine you can have friends outside of me," she paused with a dramatic sigh. "I guess." With a roll of your eyes, you pull her to you once more for a tight hug.

"I'll see you soon," A quick wave of your hand you made your way into the garage to commandeer one of the many cars. Your feet slowed passing Steve’s motorcycle. Walking your fingers on the handlebars you recalled all the times you rode with him, how you had to cling to him out of fear from his reckless driving. You were half certain he had a death wish with his driving.

A shiver ran down your spine recalling the smell of his leather jacket and cologne, clinging to him late at night atop his back, the two of you speeding away from the compound together for solace under the moon out in the backwoods. You could almost feel his warm arms around you fighting the chill of the night air, the two of you sprawled out on a blanket.

Shaking your head to push the feelings curling along your skin you continue your path once more, the only thing worse than ghosts of him was the emotions the man himself invoked.

~~*~~

Panic, suffocating, unrelenting pain. Was this how you felt? Did he make you feel this way? Steve’s thoughts spiraled out. He made it back, only for you to be gone for an undetermined amount of time according to Wanda with a knowing smile. One that he didn’t like, reminded him of Bucky too much.

“She left?!” Steve tried to keep his tone calm collected, authoritative but Bucky rolled his eyes knowing full well there was nothing calm inside his best friend right now.

“Yeah, “ Wanda huffed, trying her best not to blame Steve for your departure, but it was hard. “Said she needed space,” She paused feigning ignorance, “I wonder what from?”

Steve cringed at the question, oh it was very obvious what you were needing space from. Him. You didn’t feel the same, and this was clearly your attempt to spare his feelings by just leaving. Part of him was grateful, but a larger part was mad at you for not being there so he could talk it out with you.

“She will still attend required missions Captain Rogers,” Vision offered, not sure what the tension in the room was about. It seemed odd to him, you were allowed to live where you wanted provided you did your duty as an Avenger. There was no need for the upheaval the news brought.

“Right,” Steve’s tone resigned to the truth. “The missions.” Maybe this was for the best, with you gone he could stop the daily pinning and focus on anything but you and the twisted feeling you left in his guts. He hoped.

~~*~~

Two months away and your feelings did not wane in any measure for the stupid blonde centenarian. You tried everything, going on dates, eating ice cream, spending cash you should have left in savings, watching movies like How Stella Got Her Groove Back, Legally Blonde and of course To All The Boys I Loved Before.

When the stereotypical tricks to get over a guy failed your roommate Amir was there to try his method. Drinking, stupid amounts of drinking. For sure teetering line of alcohol poisoning drinking. Being a more secular Muslim, Amir saw drinking as a challenge to his body, and in your youth, the two of you had faced the challenge head-on. But doing so at this age, well it certainly wasn’t working during your heartbreak but definitely succeeding at breaking your body down.

It was after one of these said nights you found yourself stuck in a situation you had been hoping to avoid. There was a knock on the door but the pounding in your head render you useless to even care to answer the door. But apparently, Amir was cognizant enough to see who would knock on your door at the obscene hour, you looked a the clock, 2:00 PM on a Tuesday.

Oh yeah, things were really looking up for you after leaving the compound.

Amir called your name out with uncertainty.

"What?” You whined under your bed covers, hoping your voice carried through the door.

"Why is Tony Stark at my door?" Amir’s voice was louder this time, you flipped the covers over your head.

"Fuck!" With what resembles a newly born fawn trying to walk you stumble from your bed and put on the first shirt and shorts you find on the floor. Skidding on the wood floor of your industrial city apartment you catch sight of Tony looking around, appraising your abode. No doubt preparing some witty comments.

You could make the back of Amir seeking solace in his bedroom, he cared little for your Avenger life. Whatever Tony had to say, you were sure Amir had something to counter once the Billionaire leaves.

“Tony,” When he looked at you his brow raised, you more than likely looked as terrible as you felt.

“Ah, Firecracker had I known you just wanted to drink yourself to death I would have stocked liquor cabinet at the compound accordingly.” There it was the witty comment.

“But I think this is a place that would drive you to drink to those levels,” he lifted your discarded jacket on the couch. You rip the jacket from him with a firm glare. “Who thought brick walls with a wallpaper accent wall was chic?” Oh, you hoped Amir didn’t hear that his mother had done the decorating of his apartment years ago.

“If you came here to simply mock where I choose to live you can go now.” You fold your arms over your chest.

“Oh of course not, I’d rather invite you to my place so you can see the standards at which I live to adequately belittle where you live.” You could feel your head pounding from overconsumption of alcohol and the ever-growing pest of Tony Stark.

“Come on man, why are you here?” Tony shrugged his shoulders, lackadaisy perusing your living room.

“Oh you know, I missed you,” He paused realizing there wasn’t really much of you here, “The whole team misses you really,” he turned to face you then leaned down to pick up a framed photo on a bookshelf.

“But I am here on official Avenger’s business.” He held the framed photo up, it was of you with Amir’s family at his sister’s wedding. Years ago, back when you were just a vigilante in Brooklyn and not an official Superhero World Saving Avenger. A simpler time for sure, if not reckless.

“So is this your family?” you grunted grabbing the frame from his hands and setting it back down.

“What Avengers business?” You steered the billionaire back on topic. On most days you loved hanging with Tony, he wasn’t the worst, but being hungover you had little patience and Tony seemed to revel in it.

“We need a female for a mission,” He crosses your living room, still taking stock, but veining disinterest.

“What's the mission?” You cut him off by slipping to stand in front of him, arms over your chest.

“You know the routine pretend to be a couple, infiltrate a swanky party, get the information on the bad guy’s computer and bring it back.” He waved his hand as he listed the steps, routine indeed.

“Great, sounds easy who am I going with?” You were a little excited to get back on a mission, you had requested a little time in between your next one of doable.

“Cap,” Your blood turns cold, there was no way you could pretend with him long enough to get the needed information. You would blow your cover before anything could be done.

“No,” You stomp your foot. “Absolutely not.” You were five seconds from a full-on toddler tantrum.

“Find another woman to put up with Captain Rogers terrible acting.” Tony snorted

“You’re it I’m afraid.” The over the top sigh Tony gave did nothing to deter the oncoming tantrum. “Regretfully with Wanda out on a mission indeterminate amount of time and Natasha recovering from her latest injury it falls to you.”

“Danvers?”

“Off planet,” Tony snorted. “You know she’s never here for long.”

“Maria?”

“Up Fury’s butt somewhere I’m sure.”

“Nebula?” Tony guffawed at your suggestion.

“Yes let’s send, Nebula, the queen of subtlety on a mission where she has to pretend to be in love with someone.” Tony was holding his sides, laughing between his words.

Once he cooled down, while you continued to heat up he served your sentence for the mission.

“You’re it, Fire Bender,” he began to make his way to the front door. “So whatever is up your ass over Capsicle, melt it.”

“Whatever,” You mutter. “How soon do we leave?”

“Debrief is tonight, you leave soon as it's over.” He turned around to look you up and down. “And take a shower before you show up.”

You had to bite your lip from yelling at Tony as he shut the door behind him. Oh, this was not good.

“Is it safe?” Amir pokes his head out of his bedroom. He looked just as well as you did after the late night of drinking.

“Yeah, sorry about him.” Amir just shrugs, grabbing two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one your way. You catch it and chug down the water. You needed to hydrate, shower and mentally prepare yourself for the upcoming mission.

“You really gonna go on a mission with that guy?” The concern clear in his voice.

“Can’t exactly just not do my job,” You finish the bottle and toss it in the recycling before making your way to your room but not before you get another bottle of water. You had little time to get yourself up to par. Just as you grab the fridge door Amir places a hand on your shoulder.

“Just talk to him,” Amir’s advice had been the same from day one, and you had been stubborn enough to give all the reasons why that wouldn’t work. You take your water bottle but his hand stays on you.

“Else you could end up dead,” His eyes level with you, no amusement or jovial friend to be found. “Don’t put your life at risk cause of a guy.”

With a tentative nod, unfamiliar with this serious Amir, you make for your room trying to not let Amir’s words sink in too deep. You needed to prepare to face Steve Rogers, destroy of hearts.

~~*~~

Walking back through the compound should have felt like returning home. Instead, you were full of dread. Would he be civil? Better yet, would you?

Stopping in front of the conference room for debrief you take a deep breath. Focus on the mission and all will fall into place. You’d gone on missions when tensions were high between teammates, it happens. This was no different.

Entering the room you were surprised to be first, taking a seat you clasped your hands together controlling your breathing. Steve was always early to debriefs, in fact, you had made jokes with Bucky about Steve’s anal retentiveness when it came to mission protocol.

Tony bursts through the doors startling you, a sullen Steve following behind him. His eyes caught yours and he froze for a moment. You were actually there, he had expected you to find a reason to not show up. He knew that was stupid, you were dedicated to the work, may be part of him hoped you would that way he could stay mad at you. Pretend it didn’t hurt you left, instead that you were irresponsible. But here you were.

Clearing his throat he called out your name, you nodded your head. Steve looked for any clue on your face, any indication that would tell him how he could fix this, whatever this was. He’d do about anything to have you home again, have you by his side, with him.

“While I love a good staring contest,” Tony interjected in attempts to kill the tension. “We’ve got a mission to go over and attempt to get you two to act like you’re in love with each other.”

Tony snorted, both of you glaring at him. Tony held his hands up in defeat.

“I’ll have FRIDAY relaying to you guys while I’m here at the compound.” He pulled up the display to begin going over mission protocol.

Steve stood next to the door, never taking a seat. He watched the back of your head, barely paying attention to Tony. It didn’t really matter though, Steve had come up with the strategy but Tony would run point from the compound as a back up in case it went wrong, he could be there in less than an hour. Yet given it was a dinner soiree and information extraction there shouldn’t be a need for backup.

He curled his hands at his side, he wanted to do so many things. The first was to hold you, inhale the sweet scent that was you. A smell he’d get wafts of sometimes on his sheets after you left but now it was faded. He also wanted to shake sense into you. You belonged here at the compound, with the team, with him.

Second, beg you to listen to him and confess everything he should have from the moment he started to feel this way for you. Though if he had confessed the moment it happened, it would have been the day he first saw you. Surely that would have scared you off but to wait this long and keep on a charade of casual sex while he felt like this... Bucky was right, he was a damn fool. He had already had an awkward conversation with Sharon, one that led to even her an outside third party picking up on how he feels for you.

So why couldn’t you see it?

“Sound good Cap?” Tony’s voice didn’t reach him. His eyes never leaving you, the entire time Tony had been speaking. “Cap?” Tony tried again.

This time you turned around to look at Steve. You raised an eyebrow at him, his gaze trained on you. It was unnerving, what did he want?

“Steve?” You tried to get a response and he shook his head, your voice pulling him from his thoughts. It had been too long since he had heard you say his name. Heard you chant his name, moan out his name, beg him for more.

“What? Huh?” Steve looked from you to Tony and back to you. Rolling your eyes you faced forward, trying to plead Tony for mercy with your eyes. This was going to be a train wreck.

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female #steve rogers is an idiot #so is the reader #tony stark chaos #as it was sequel #fanfic #marvel

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give-seconds · 3 years

Text

Survival of the Fittest

Summary: Welcome to the Badlands of Montana! This will be the setting of our game. What’s the name of the game? Simple, make it out alive. In which you and Jaemin are kidnapped and forced to try and find your way out of the Badlands.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

---Part three

“What time is it?”

Jaemin tiredly looks down at his watch, blinking a few times. “It’s almost 6:30.”

You nod your head, stopping in place. “Let’s look for a place to stop and sleep.”

“I don’t think the place matters, but more what we can use to block the sun.”

You spin around, looking up to see which side the sun is rising on. “Why don’t we just sleep at the base of that hill?” You point to one of the bigger hills to your left. “That way we aren’t facing the morning sun.”

He nods his head, already moving towards the hill. “Do you want to use my sweater as a pillow?”

“You sleep first,” you say, ignoring the question. “You’re more tired than I am.”

“Are you sure about that? I don’t mind waiting.”

You smile, nodding your head. Maybe it’s that you’ve surrounded yourself with the wrong people, but you've never met anyone other than you who could be so politely selfish. It’s nice of him to offer, but his tone says that he wants you to say he can sleep first. It’s comforting to know that someone like Jaemin, someone so nice, has his moments of selfishness. That someone who seems so genuinely good-hearted has the same trait as you.

“I’m positive. My feet are the most tired thing about me.”

He sets the bag at the base of the hill, sitting down next to it. “Okay, but if you have trouble keeping your eyes open don’t feel bad waking me up.”

Now that - that’s a genuine offer.

“Of course, Jaemin.” You pull off your sweater, smiling softly as you hand it to him.

He smiles back, reaching his hand up to take it. He holds your stare for a little, long enough to see his smile falter, before clearing his throat and putting your sweater in his lap.

“So yours doesn't get dirty,” he mumbles, pulling his hoodie off. He balls his sweater into a pillow before placing it on the ground an arms length away.

He looks at you, the hoodie, then back at you. “And you’ll be okay by yourself? I mean I know we have to sleep, but maybe if we just wait until it’s midday to sleep. Then the snakes definitely won’t be out.”

“You don’t have to worry about the snakes, Jaemin. I’ll protect you.” You walk over to where he was, sitting a few feet away from him. “I’ll just stay right here. I might go look around a bit, maybe find a place to use the bathroom, but I promise I’ll stay close.”

He nods his head, laying back onto the makeshift pillow and stretching his legs out. He wraps your hoodie around himself as tightly as he can, shifting around before seeming to find a semi-comfortable spot. “This is going to kill my back.”

You snort. “I know, can’t say I’m excited.”

“Gotta love having back problems,” he mumbles, turning onto his other side.

“Right, it’s like you fall on your tailbone once in fourth grade.” He mutters a small “ouch,” and you can see his face scrunch at the image. “Get scoliosis in high school and your back decides it’s all over.”

“I have a messed up disk in my vertebrae, so twinzies I guess.”

You laugh, leaning your head against the hill. We’re going to be disgusting by the time we get there. “I guess you’re right.”

“You’ll learn soon, I’m always right y/n.”

You chuckle. “I’m sure you are Jaemin.”

He turns onto his other side, uttering a sigh as he shuffles around some more.

“Goodnight, Jaemin.”

“I think you mean good morning.”

You roll your eyes, smiling at his childness. “Fine, good morning, Jaemin.”

“Good morning, y/n.”

----

Jaemin looks over at you, smiling softly.

He’d heard you crying maybe five minutes after he’d laid down, you must’ve thought he was asleep.

If practically raising his little sister had taught him anything, it was to pick your battles. And trying to comfort you in this situation was not a battle he could win.

He closes his eyes, leaning his head against the hill. He’s trying so hard to fight the horrible feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks of Emma.

Maybe she’s at the Andersons? Or maybe she’s still at the house, scared out of her mind.

He feels tears prick at his own eyes. He would give anything to be back at the house, barging into her room and declaring that tonight was movie night. Where they could sit, pressed against each other on the small couch, sharing a blanket and two bags of popcorn still inside the bag.

It’s okay Emma, we see our way out. I’ll be home in no time.

-----

What is this?

You and Jaemin are stopped dead in your tracks in front of a patch of fake green grass, little golf balls scattered around.

“This isn’t - this can’t be what we were walking towards, can it?”

Maybe I’m just wrong, no way we could’ve thought this was our way out. This is just a patch of fake grass, this has to be something to deter us from what is in front of us. Right?

“Let’s just,” he mumbles, walking across the fake grass to pick up the orange backpack resting on the opposite end. “Let’s just open this up.”

He opens it up, sighing as he pulls out a piece of paper. He reads it, closing his eyes before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it on the ground.

“What is it Jaemin? What did it say?”

You want to move, to go over, uncrumple the note, and read it for yourself. Most of the time, you don’t mind brutal honesty. But this is something that can hurt you, something that you can’t just build mental walls to block out.

“What do you think it says?” He snaps. “It basically taunts us for falling for this stupid trap. Tells us this is what we thought was our way out, that this is all some sick joke to motivate us to keep moving.”

“Um okay, let’s just take a moment to think.”

“What is there to think about? We don't have a third of the power we thought we did.”

You walk towards him, taking every second of the small walk to think of what to say that could calm him down enough to have a decent conversation. “I know, but it’s not like we thought we had much power to begin with. Jaemin you’re not dumb, you know what we are. We’re being forced to participate in this sick game, but we don’t have to let it just be that. We had hope before, and we can find it again.”

“Are you sure? This was what we thought was our one chance at getting out, and it was a lie!” He moves his hands dramatically, not looking at you until the end.

You haven’t known Jaemin long, and considering the situation, you don’t know how much of what you’re seeing is the “real him.” But you know that this isn’t him, this is the fear.

“I understand Jaemin, I do. But we need to calm down and figure out a plan on where we’re going from here.”

“What is planning going to do?” He scoffs. “I can’t imagine someone who married for money having anyone to live for, but I do, y/n. So this might not matter to you, but to me, this is almost the worst outcome.”

You take a half step back, feeling the weight of the words hit you. This is exactly why you never told anyone, you knew how they would see you. Yet, you went against your gut and decided to tell a complete stranger. And for what? Just to feel like there was someone out there who knew the real you? Real smart y/n, real smart.

You nod your head, scanning his eyes for anything.

Whatever you’re looking for, you don’t see it.

“Okay. So here’s what we’re going to do,” you say, pushing away any emotion trying to come up. Now is not the time to show him anything. “We’re going to change out the cameras on our necks and then climb to the top of another mountain. We’ll see if we can see anything, and if not, we decide what to do from there.”

He stares back at you, eyes still not conveying any emotion. And as much as you want to look away, you keep your ground. Eye contact has always been hard for you, but people will walk over you if you can’t look them in the eyes.

So you’ve adapted.

He nods his head, looking down to open the bag. He silently hands you one of the chokers, setting both backpacks down as he pulls out the other.

After successfully changing out your choker, you look over to see Jaemin still struggling to take his off.

Without saying anything, you walk behind him and gently pull at the new choker until he lets go.

“Y/n-”

“I think we should just transfer all the good stuff into the new backpack,” you interrupt, reaching over his shoulder to hand him the old choker. You can’t tell if he was trying to carry on the conversation from before, maybe explain himself and the things he said or try and coax you into another argument, but whatever it was, you’re not in the mood. “That way we don't carry around two bags, one only half full.”

He sighs softly. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Cool.”

Crouching down to open the orange bag, you look in to see two apples, two more protein bars, and two more bottles of water. Opening the red backpack, you take what’s left in the bag and place it into the orange one.

“We haven’t eaten yet,” he mumbles before you can close it. “Maybe we should eat before we start climbing.”

You nod your head, reaching into the bag and pulling out one of the two apples. Without looking away from the bag, you extend your arm to hand him the apple. “We should eat them before they go bad.”

“Good idea,” he says, taking the apple from you. His fingers brush yours, and you retract your hand as fast as possible.

Reaching back into the bag, you pull out the other apple. You close your eyes briefly, still bent over the bag. Why is everything so hard?

Straightening your back, you take a deep breath to clear your thoughts of the past five minutes. Taking a bite of your apple, you look around at the surrounding hills. They are all roughly the same height, becoming a matter of deciding which one to climb.

“Here,” you say, walking to the base of one of the nearby hills. “This one look tall enough?”

Jaemin looks up, using the hand holding the apple to block the sun from his eyes. “Yeah, I’d say that one’s tall enough.”

“Okay.” You slide your arm through the other strap, tightening them. “Then after we finish our apples, let’s start moving.”

He nods his head, looking away from you as he continues to silently eat. You look up to the mountain, turning your back to him.

You want to ignore the feeling in your gut, ignore the fact that you’re no longer hungry despite hearing your stomach growl. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you both were supposed to get a happy ending.

But now, you just don’t know. Anything could happen.

---

Thank you to @sleepyyangyang and @softsungchan for proofreading! I definitely think this was one of my rougher ones. I would love to know what you think, have a great day/night!!

Taglist: @drydrops891

Previous | Next

#na jaemin x reader #na jaemin #nct jaemin #nct imagines #nct scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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samsexualdeancurious · 4 years

Text

At Her Mercy (NSFW)

Pairing: Sam x Rowena

Words: 2,011

Summary: Rowena works a little spell on the younger Winchester. Sam will get what he wants but not until Rowena says the magic words.

Warnings: dom!Rowena, sub!Sam, rope bondage, magical orgasm denial

Betaed by @manawhaat and Amory

Header by @manawhaat

Rowena's scent

---

Why did Sam agree to this?

He’s not regretting his decision, exactly. Not enough to call this off. He knows all it would take is the word “licorice” and all of this would stop. Rowena would whisper the counter curse and untie the ropes keeping his limbs stretched across the mattress, wrists together above his head and ankles tied to opposite corners of the bed. She would wrap him in a blanket and whisper soothing words, stroke his hair and gently scratch perfectly manicured nails across his scalp.

Sam doesn’t want to stop, though. He’s definitely enjoying himself. He’s also going a little insane and they’ve only just started.

The spell was a simple one - a sigil drawn on his pelvis and a second one on the smooth skin of his perineum. All it took was one word to activate them and Sam’s cock was rock hard in seconds, straining upward in search of a release that isn’t coming. Not until Rowena is satisfied.

It takes a lot to satisfy Rowena.

Sam groans as slender fingers run up the underside of his aching cock, head rolling from side to side on the pillow. Rowena smirks. She’s not even undressed yet, her tiny figure looking elegantly out of place in a full-length purple gown beside Sam’s naked and bound body. She hums thoughtfully, like Sam’s a particularly intricate piece of spellwork she’s trying to unravel.

“Please,” he grunts, hips jerking in an attempt to get more friction. His efforts are useless. Rowena calmly pulls her hand back.

“Patience, my dove,” she murmurs, settling her hand on his belly and just feeling the quiver in his abs. “Just relax and breathe.”

Sam forces himself to breathe but he’s not sure relaxing is in the cards. Not when she’s rubbing one fingertip in teasing circles on the very tip of his cock.

“You’re an evil woman,” he complains without any real heat behind his words.

Rowena just laughs. “You love it.”

God help him, he does.

She teases him for what feels like hours. Hell, for all he knows, it could be hours. Fucking magic. Rowena only uses her hands, everything from touches of her fingertips so light he can barely feel them to firm strokes that are so close to what he needs and yet so far away. Sam moans and whines and bucks on the bed to no avail. He won’t get what he wants until Rowena allows it and that’s not happening any time soon.

“I have plans for this,” she tells him, accent thick with arousal and a dark, mischievous something that sends shivers of fear-laced pleasure down Sam’s spine.

This woman is going to be the sweet death of him.

He’s still rock hard and nowhere near orgasm when she finally stands and reaches behind herself to unzip the back of her gown. Sam’s breathing picks up at the sight of rich purple fabric slipping gracefully from her body, pooling around delicate bare feet and revealing Rowena to be completely nude beneath it.

“Holy fuck,” Sam gasps, taking in the sight of her petite form.

She’s short - he has more than a foot on her - and tiny in every way, and yet she radiates power. There’s a strength in her slender limbs, a set to her narrow shoulders beneath the spill of brilliant red curls, and a fire in those hazel eyes that drew him in from the start. Sam can’t look away from her, especially in moments like this when she’s climbing up onto the bed to straddle his hips and rub her slick folds against the underside of his aching cock.

“Ro,” he whines, staring at where their bodies are in contact.

She laughs. It’s a soft sound, almost too soft for this situation but with something dark Sam can’t define at its core. His cock twitches against her. “Tell me what you want, Samuel.”

“I want to be inside you,” he answers without hesitation. He knows her - knows what she wants and expects him to say - and he’s happy to provide. Especially if it will get him closer to his own release.

“Oh, you do?” she inquires in that gentle innocent brogue. She rolls her hips just so and her whole pussy rubs over the head of his cock, all the way from her clit to the tiny entrance Sam had stared at the first time, completely convinced there was no way he would ever fit. “Look at me.”

He forces his eyes to drag over her body and up to her face. She smiles and leans down to kiss him, slow and soft.

“You want to fill me with your cock?” she asks, entrance catching on his dripping head for a second time.

“Yes,” he breathes.

Sam is drowning in hazel. Right now, his whole world is her bright eyes inches from his and the slick, impossibly tight heat of her body finally - finally - sinking down on his cock. He moans, hips stuttering as he fights the urge to push deeper. He knows what will happen if he does and sure enough, even the little movement is enough for Rowena to stop. A helpless whine escapes his throat before he can stop it.

“Samuel,” she purrs against the underside of his jaw. “Lie still for me, darling.”

He nods, throat clicking uselessly as he tries and fails to vocalize a response.

“Shhh,” Rowena soothes. “Don’t speak.”

She tilts her hips, taking his cock all the way to the base in one smooth motion and a broken moan falls from Sam’s lips. Rowena braces her hands on his chest, impossibly small considering how big Sam is inside of her, and gives an experimental roll of her pelvis. They both groan in response and Rowena quickly picks up a steady rhythm.

“Feels amazing inside me,” she murmurs, tossing her hair over her shoulder and revealing the bounce of her perfect breasts as she moves above him. “You fill me up so perfectly, Samuel. Such a good boy for me.”

Warmth blooms in his chest at her words. His cock is hard enough to hammer nails and his balls are drawn up so tight it feels like they might crawl back inside his body long before he gets to cum, but none of that matters. Not right now when Rowena’s thighs are trembling, her head falling back with a cry, and Sam feels the pulse of her muscles around him. She’s absolutely stunning, back arched as she leans away. She braces her hands on his knees and tips her head forward as an aftershock hits to flash him a grin.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, staring at her as she stills to catch her breath.

Chest heaving, she winks and shakes her bangs out of her eyes. “Yeah?”

“You’re gorgeous,” is all Sam can think to say.

A soft blush colors her cheeks.”Such a sweet boy. You don’t mind if I indulge just a little longer? It’s not often a girl has such a gorgeous treat at her disposal, is it?” She sits forward, lifting up so she can reach his lips and kiss him. “Though you’d be a good boy for me any day if I ask nicely, wouldn’t you?”

Sam nods, chasing her lips when she sits up again. She smiles and traces his mouth with her fingertips.

“So eager to please.” Rowena settles against his hips once more, fully encasing his cock in her wet heat. “Please me just a little longer, Samuel, and you’ll get what you want. Can you handle that?”

“Yeah, Ro,” he answers, voice barely audible. “I can do that.”

Her lips quirk. “Good boy.”

She starts moving then, leaning back against his thighs and spreading her legs so he has a perfect view of where her folds are stretched around his cock. Just that sight alone would be more than enough to push him over the edge on any other night but tonight? Tonight he just flexes his arms against the ropes keeping him in place and lifts his hips to meet her body. The sounds she makes are pure pleasure as she slams her hips down against his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Sam,” she wails suddenly, body going rigid above him. Her body clenches down tight and Sam groans, throwing his head back against the pillow but never taking his eyes off of Rowena. “Oh,” she sighs, relaxing and clenching again as she comes down from her high. “Oh, darling.”

He smiles as she sits forward, hands coming up to frame his face.

“So perfect.” Rowena strokes his cheeks with the pads of her fingers. “Are you ready to cum for me, my dove?”

“Yes, please,” he whispers.

She smiles, sitting up to resume bouncing on his cock, and one hand slips down to press her palm flat over the sigil on his pelvis. The words are Latin, something Sam would likely recognize if his brain was working properly but he’s too caught up in the flood of heat through his groin. He hears a desperate, needy sound that he almost doesn’t recognize to be his own voice, but somehow he doesn’t cum. Rowena may have lifted the spell but she hasn’t given permission.

“Oh, you’re amazing,” Rowena praises. “Think you can hold on just a little longer? Just until I cum again?”

“I’ll try,” Sam tells her.

“It’s okay if you can’t last,” she says, rubbing a hand over his abs. “If you don’t, you can finish me with your mouth. But I want you to try for me.”

Sam nods and she picks up the pace, circling her hips just so to hit the spots Sam knows drive her crazy. One hand finds her clit and Sam feels her inner muscles start to flutter around him. She’s sensitive and he knows it won’t take her much. He tilts his hips just so and she cries out, and that’s it for both of them.

His orgasm hits him like a train in his gut. His whole body spasms in the ropes, limbs flexing and straining, and it feels like if not for the solid weight of Rowena on his hips, he would just fall apart. His vision blurs and he squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to find his breath.

After what feels like an eternity but must be a minute or two at most, Sam’s lungs start working again and he goes limp on the bed. Rowena is slumped over him, curls tickling his chest, and she lifts her head when he finally manages to open his eyes. She’s so small against him, pale skin flushed and warm, whole body lifting with each inhale he makes. Her lips curl in a smile and she scoots upward to kiss him. Her fingers brush his hair off his forehead.

“Lie still for me,” she instructs, breath warm against his mouth. “I’ve got you, my dove.”

Rowena could flick her fingers, whisper a spell, and clean up everything. Sam knows that. She won’t, though, because magic can never compare to small fingers carefully unknotting the ropes, small palms rubbing sensation into his limbs and working his joints to ease them out of their long-held positions. She retrieves a damp washcloth and wipes them both clean, and then guides Sam under the covers. She does use magic now, to turn off the overhead light. The lamp is left on as she joins him in bed and presses her slender form against his side.

“Sam?” she whispers, fingers stroking his tattoo. “Is there anything you need?”

“Just you,” Sam replies, looping his arms around her waist and pressing his nose to her temple. She smells sweet and musky with a hint of a tartness Sam can never quite put his finger on but loves all the same. “Just this.”

He tilts his head down to meet her gaze and almost loses his breath again at the warmth he finds there, a depth of emotion he knows she’ll never vocalize but she doesn’t need to. The warmth in those eyes puts magic to shame.

---

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—

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#samwitch #sam x rowena #my writing #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

Text

We Both Go Down Together || Regan and Kaden

TIMING: Immediately after Tooth and Claw and Light and Shadow LOCATION: The curb outside of Deirdre’s house PARTIES: @kadavernagh and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden doesn’t know where else to go so he waits for Regan outside on the curb CONTENT WARNINGS: Vomit tw, Self-harm mentions

Walking away from the vet clinic without a dog in hand was the single worst feeling. No, Kaden knew that was a lie. The thoughts plaguing him about how familiar that wolf looked was the worst feeling. He shouldn’t care. That werewolf nearly killed Abel. It was dangerous. It didn’t deserve to live. He did his job. He kept people safe. There was nothing wrong with what he did.

But what if it was his friend's sister?

The bile that had been threatening its way out the whole night forced its way out by the side of his car. Putain. Kaden’s hand shook as he held it by the handle of his car. Where was he even going to go? His apartment was going to be empty. Completely empty and hollowed out in its own way. Sure, alright, Rumpleskuffs would be there. It wasn’t the same. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with mushrooms in his bed or answer questions of where Abel was. His fist pulled back and slammed into the side of the car.

Shit. He’d have to get Alain to fix the dent in his car. That’s right. He could go there, see Alain. No, didn’t feel right. Bea; Kaden didn’t even know where she was. Probably Felix’s. She had enough. Oscar was still hunting. He couldn’t interrupt. Couldn’t explain why he was upset. Not really. There was only one person he wanted to see. Just one. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Fuck it. Kaden got in the car and drove to East End until he got to Deirdre’s house, parking on the road across the way. He got out of the car, sat himself on the curb and sent a text. Then waited, fingernails digging into his palms. Maybe if he gripped his fists tighter he could hold it all in a little longer. For now, he waited. He might be sitting there until the sun came up and then some. But he wasn’t leaving. He didn’t know where else he wanted to go, anyway.

Al probably would have paid good money to his sister meditating. He never stopped talking about meditation and mindfulness and that it could even be beneficial to doctors, but Regan was never able to successfully quiet her thoughts enough to enjoy it. No, meditation was a waste of time. That was time better spent working. Or studying. Or-- she winked open one eye, then the other. No matter how much she tried to imagine that she was elsewhere, or living another life, she was always brought back here: to the inside of Deirdre’s shed, waiting for that soft spot on the roof to collapse on her. It would probably be a mercy at this point. Regan sighed through her teeth. Deirdre had instructed several hours of meditation; she was to practice her breathing and try to embrace the death, whatever that meant. Possibly the pulsing of the taxidermy in the corner of the room that she’d thrown a blanket over.

She heard her phone beep. Probably Cece again, with more nonsensical chatter about television shows. Why she even wanted to talk, Regan couldn’t fathom it. Still, she’d take any excuse to cut the meditation short. With another sigh, she lifted herself from the bed, stretching her legs.

Kaden.

"Abel was hurt. I'm outside on the curb."

A cold fist gripped her throat. She wasn’t even sure which order she should be panicking about this sequence of events in. Kaden was here, not in the shed, but close to it, and he wanted to see her. Needed to see her. And Abel had been hurt. How? Who would ever hurt-- Regan’s mind flashed to the turkey, her hands on the warm feathers, as the scream ripped through layers of flesh and organ and tissue.

She stared at the phone like it could bite her.

Regan wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive herself for what she had done to Grace, Cece, and Janus. Or that she’d put herself in a position where that was a likely outcome at all. Her blame and fault and guilt propelled her faster and harder and into the necessary work she and Deirdre were doing, but she didn’t want to pile any more on herself. And if she were to ignore this text, or say she couldn’t-- it would just be another thing she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for. Abel was Kaden’s best friend. He loved that dog. Regan felt great affection for him, too, though she wasn’t sure what qualified as love when it was directed toward a non-human animal.

She grabbed the necklace, made sure the bandages on her hand were secured, and tore out of the shed.

And there Kaden was, just like he’d said. Sitting on the curb, every muscle tense, as he looked like he was about to cave in on himself. He was perfectly still, like stone, which Regan took to be shock. What had happened? She froze about thirty feet away from him, and met his teary eyes. “Kaden?” She asked, voice scratchier than she thought it’d be. That shouldn’t have been surprising given all of the screaming. “Kaden, I’m here.” Just… nowhere close to him. She reached out, wishing she could hold him or at least put his hand in hers, but that wasn’t a risk she was going to take. She closed her eyes, trying to stop her own tears. Crying is unbecoming. No, she needed to get closer. She inched up to him, stopping again at about ten feet away, before sitting on the curb herself. “Do… do you want to tell me what happened?”

She wasn’t going to come. He was going to sit here like an idiot and she wasn’t going to leave the fucking shed. Kaden knew it. He knew it. This was just like before. He’d sit there outside her door waiting and she’d stay on the other side, leaving them both lost and alone. No. That wouldn’t happen this time. This time he’d wait. Until she--

His breath waited, held in his chest as he saw movement. There’s no way. It was probably just a rabbit or a squirrel or-- Regan. It was Regan. How long had it been now since he’d seen her? It felt like forever. Which was stupid, it wasn’t that long. Still, it felt like the whole world had shifted since he’d last seen her. But she was still her. She had to be. He should stand up. Run to her. He wanted to. Thought about it. But Kaden couldn’t move. Part of him was convinced it was a mirage, just an illusion off in the distance. But it stayed in the distance. It was her alright, not an illusion. He bit the inside of his mouth, dug his fingernails in farther. Why did he think this would be an exception? He was the one who made those, not her. All he wanted was to get up off the damn curb and wrap his arms around her.

Kaden didn’t move. Just met her eyes, waiting to see what she would do. His heart sank. Of course she wasn’t going to get closer. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. He couldn’t handle having her at just an arm’s length. Somehow that was worse than just not seeing her at all. But she kept walking, small cautious steps towards him, and his brows knit closer together with every foot fall, wondering if that would be where she’d stop. Until she sat next to him, sitting on the curb. He could hear her pulse, slow, steady. And he was still there frozen. Because if he moved, spoke, turned to face her, he was afraid he might collapse or explode, he wasn’t sure. “Abel. He went-- I was---” The lump in his throat didn’t want to let him push words past it. “I was hunting. He was with me. And a were--” Was this the time to tell her? To bring up that part of it all? He wasn’t sure either of them could handle that full weight of that conversation. Not yet. Maybe tonight. But not yet. “A monster. Tore him a--” He clenched down on the inside of his mouth to the point he tasted blood, trying to keep the image out of his mind a little while longer. “Vet. He’s at the vet. I think-- But I don’t--” He stopped talking. Stopped moving. He still couldn’t turn to look at her. What good was falling apart if he couldn’t count on any comfort? This was probably a mistake. He told her she should focus on herself and yet here he was. He should have gone to Bea or Alain or even Morgan who was just a few meters away. If he could hold himself together long enough, maybe it would be okay. Even though he felt like nothing at all was going to be okay.

He had been hunting with Abel. Regan’s assumption was no longer that he was sitting in the bushes with a shotgun waiting for a deer to move into his scope. No, he was out there looking for animals that no museum had specimens of and that no textbook described. And something dangerous had-- one of his monsters. It was no wonder Kaden looked like he was ready to collapse. He blamed himself. Understandably. But she still suspected she didn’t have the whole picture yet. If Abel was at the vet, he was still alive. Unless it was for a necrop-- no, he was still alive. Kaden would have specified. That thought still made her chest tighten. Whatever had happened, whatever had nearly torn Abel apart, it had been serious. Kaden was clearly trying to stifle his tears, but it wasn’t working. He looked damn near broken, worse than some of the literal fractures Regan had seen. And she could barely do anything to help, as much as she wanted to, as tempting as it was to throw caution to the wind and hold him and dry his eyes and tell him that everything was going to be okay, she couldn’t do it.

Nothing really felt okay right now. And even thinking of saying that brought the burn of a lie to her tongue.

Regan folded her arms over her chest, hugging herself, wishing she could do that to Kaden. She slumped forward, elbows on her knees. Kaden’s pain was visceral. She met his eyes -- swollen with tears and worry. This felt fresh. Like it had just happened. It likely had. That was why he was here -- he hadn’t thought about it, he just moved, seeking comfort from the person he trusted to be able to provide it. Only, Regan wasn’t sure that she could. “Kaden, I’m so… it’s not your fault. It isn’t your fault, okay? No one can predict these things, and it’s-- he’ll be okay, right? He’ll be okay. He’s at the vet. They’ll take care of him, and--” And he would be alone until Abel was recovered. Her heart dropped. “Can you tell me which vet has him? I’ll-- I know I’m not an animal doctor, but I’ll check their credentials and-- and I want to make sure he’s-- what happened, Kaden? How bad is it? Are you hurt? Are-- what can I--” She’d never felt so powerless to do anything. But at the same time, she knew Kaden wouldn’t see it that way. He wanted physical contact, comfort; both of them had grown accustomed to that. But he didn’t know what her touch had done. Regan looked down at her fingers; they felt heavy, like they were coated in poison. The healing incised wounds on her palm sent a spike of pain up her arm. She had curled her fingers at the blade, reacted when she should have been still. Holding back a scream was immeasurably more difficult. She looked back up at Kaden, her eyes watery. “Tell me how to help.”

Her words rang hollow. Kaden wanted them to give him some comfort but there was nothing. It didn’t help that she was saying it from about three meters away from him. It was almost enough to make him laugh. She was sitting out of reach because she blamed herself for something she had no control over while telling him a scenario he created wasn’t his fault. “It is. It is my fault. It’s more my fault than your--” How hard could he bite the inside of his mouth before he tore through it? Would it be just as easy as how that wolf tore through Abel? “I shouldn’t have brought him. I shouldn’t have--” His chest was too tight to let words escape for longer than short bursts. And even then he still didn’t know what he was trying to say. He shouldn’t have brought Abel, that much was clear. But should he have just stayed home for the night? Is that what he wanted to say? Shit. Shit, it was. He shouldn’t have been out at all tonight. He could have prevented all of it by inaction. It was a choice. A choice he’d passed up. Blood from his palms slipped against the leather of his jacket as he let go of his fists just long enough to cross his arms in front of his chest and clasp his hands around his own arms. He had to hold back the tightness in his chest, keep it from bursting out.

“Dr. Rhee. Zinnia. She-- She knows what she’s doing but it’s not-- That’s not the point. I--” Kaden shook his head. He knew Abel was okay as he could be. He was in the best possible hands. Hands that could heal with magic. Putain, he still hadn’t even begun to process it. He couldn’t. There was too much. It was all too much. If he just held his arms a little tighter, let his knuckles get whiter, he could hold back the flood threatening to burst through his makeshift dam. “Hunting. A monster. It attacked. Abel, he-- He almost died. He-- I almost killed him. I did kill--” He wasn’t sure if it was tears or bile that was the real threat of breaking through first. Fuck. “I killed the monster. Uh, leg. It got my-- but Zinnia, she closed it up. It’s fine. It’ll be-- It doesn’t matter.” The air wasn’t even that cold and still he was damn near shivering. Maybe if he held tighter he could keep still, keep it all in.

Kaden dared to meet her eyes. How could she help. She asked him. And he didn’t have an answer. If he had an answer he probably wouldn’t have come. Because he would have been keenly aware of how little she could do right now. And it wasn’t much. “I don’t know,” he said, voice tight and croaked. “You tell me. I mean hearing your voice, it’s-- But it’s not--” He pinched his eyes shut and held them there, hoping it would push away the tears. He came because she made things better. When things were bad that’s just, that’s how it worked. Being with her made things better. And right now he wasn’t sure he felt any damn better. He sniffed back some of the tears and looked at her once more. “I can’t go back to that empty apartment.” Not yet. Not tonight.

It’s more my fault than your-- Regan bit down on her tongue, anticipating Kaden’s comment, but it seemed he did the same thing, cutting it short. She knew what he had been about to say, though. After all of this, even after she’d put their friends in the hospital, he still didn’t blame her, wasn’t willing to see the situation for what it was. That simultaneously hurt -- a sharp and slow and painful wound like glass being grinded against her skin -- and made her chest flutter like a bird was trapped inside of her ribcage. He so badly wanted to believe in her. It was misplaced. He owed himself that kindness, not her.

She’d follow up with this Dr. Rhee later, but it didn’t seem like Kaden was especially concerned about the quality of medical care she was giving Abel -- he was confident it was the best. And his leg, it -- he’d hurt his leg. Regan’s shoulders dropped and her eyes scanned Kaden’s legs for any signs of injury. His pants were too dark to be able to see any blood present, and there was no way to assess his gait while he was sitting down. At least he’d received medical care. Regan trusted that a veterinarian would be more than capable of stitching up an injury, but she still wanted to survey her handiwork. Just-- she couldn’t-- she wasn’t about to touch Kaden, not right now. But it was so hard to be decisive when Kaden seemed to want nothing more, was practically begging for a hug without saying it, and Regan wasn’t sure how long her resolve would be able to last at this rate.

“Kaden, you weren’t-- you didn’t mean for him to get hurt. I know you. If you had the choice, you would have thrown yourself on the sword instead.” He’d probably die for that dog if he could. Regan tried to hold his gaze, but it was hard… he kept slipping away. She wasn’t giving him enough. She knew she wasn’t giving him enough. “He’ll be okay. And he’ll forgive you, because you’re his human and he loves you. And whatever happened with that- that anim- monster that attacked you both, you’ll be able to prevent it from happening again in the future, right?”

It still wasn’t enough. As Kaden mentioned not wanting to go back home, Regan’s heart felt like it leaped into her throat. An anatomical impossibility, but somehow, it still felt that way. She sat, gaping, unsure what to say. She couldn’t-- he may not have been able to go back to his empty apartment alone, but she couldn’t go there with him, either. For a moment, she humored the idea. Going back to Kaden’s apartment. Lying in bed with him, holding him close, until one mistake was made, or one uncontrollable thing happened, and-- and would she feel it? The vibrations along his skin, the pressure blowing up his lungs, the force of the sound making his eyes shoot out of his head and his heart burst?

Regan blanched, bile spilling into her throat. She looked down, expecting to see blood and viscera coating her trembling hands, but there was nothing. Not yet. A sob escaped her throat and, shaking, she looked back over to Kaden. He was still there. Still intact. He had all of his limbs and his eyes and his lungs and his heart, which was probably pounding away in a rhythm that she wished she could feel right now. “I can’t-- I can’t do that.” She said, an answer to a question he hadn’t technically asked. “Kaden, I can’t. And you can’t stay in the shed.” The shed was even closer quarters. And she couldn’t see Deirdre agreeing to this arrangement, anyways, even if Regan didn’t feel like she was a breath away from accidentally slaughtering Kaden like a turkey. “You have my key. You-- my apartment. You can stay there.” Without her. She knew this wasn’t going to be well-received, but maybe after considering it, he would find the offer helpful. “But we can… we can stay here for a while. Like this.”

You’ll be able to prevent it from happening in the future. The words crushed him. Everything that he’d been holding at bay, it came falling down and the weight of it all pinned him to the ground. Kaden breathed in the scent of blood still coming from the small crescent shaped cuts in his hand as he pressed the heel of his palms up to his eyes while tears spilled out around them. His chest heaved as the sob broke through. He’d prevented it from happening in the future, alright. He prevented a lot of possible futures. If it was Ariana’s, if it was-- He couldn’t even process it, couldn’t let it seep in past the feeling of practically drowning in his own guilt. He couldn’t prevent shit. He couldn’t protect his dog. Or himself. Or his friends. Or Regan. Bea. Morgan. Jane. Roland. Celeste. His parents. He couldn’t prevent shit. Death came and creeped into every corner of his life whether he wanted it to or not. Maybe that’s why they were so drawn to each other. It wasn’t fae binding or anything Walker was worried about. It was fate pulling death’s bringer towards its harbinger. Putain. Regan was so worried about hurting him but there was nothing she could do that hurt more than this. Not one damn thing. “You’re right,” he finally spat out. “I’ll-- You’re right.” For once, could she not be fucking right?

Kaden could barely hear what she said next. Could barely pull breath into his lungs. The back of his palm pushed across his lids but the tears he wiped away were quickly replaced. There was a reason he hadn’t asked anything from her. Not once all night. He knew she’d say it. He knew. The word “can’t.” He knew she’d refuse and it sure as shit didn’t help. He tried to pull the dam closed, force it back in place, get himself under control, find that hollowed corner of emptiness again. It wouldn’t go back. Hell, he felt like it was gone, washed away with his sobs that were still practically choking him. “R-right. Can’t,” he said, hands shaking as he pushed his hair out of his face. “Can’t or--” He stopped himself with a sniffle, That wasn’t fair. One look at her and he knew that wasn’t fair. She would if she thought she could. He had to believe it and hold onto it. Even though it felt stupid to right then.

Holding her gaze hurt. Kaden’s eyes felt dry and worn, the bags under them practically weighing him down even more, but that wasn’t why. She was so close. And had never felt farther away. This was stupid. This whole thing. Almost as stupid as what she said next. Her apartment. She suggested-- “Are you fucking kidding me, Regan?” The thought of being there alone, just the mere thought of it, left him feeling hollowed out. And he didn’t think he could feel any fucking worse. Sure proved him wrong. The apartment. With no lightbulbs, no her, and no fucking point in that. Just a nice reminder of how fucking alone he was.

Kaden inhaled, tried to hold steady the sobs that wanted to rip through and put his hands on the curb, felt the sting burn through them as he pushed himself off the concrete to stand. He stood there, looked down at her. What would she even do if he took one single step towards her? Was he even fucking allowed? He couldn’t know about what she was going through, couldn’t be told anything, couldn’t be near her, couldn’t-- just fucking couldn’t. Fuck couldn’t. He turned away, bent down to grab some rocks and gravel, whatever he could gather in his hand, and started pitching it across the way. Half wanted to keep walking, keep moving. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have left his place at all tonight.

Kaden was unraveling before her, and Regan didn’t know what she could do to comfort him. Everything she said seemed to only make things worse; it brought more tears to his eyes or a snarl to his lips. He said she always made things better, but that wasn’t true right now, was it? He was hurting, practically splitting open, and all she could do was sit there feeling like a useless but loaded weapon. He couldn’t even turn away from her, go home, and seek comfort from Abel. Even on his worst days, he had that option. Or he’d flee to the woods to camp, Abel in tow. What options did he have now? No Abel. No Regan. No Celeste. He wouldn’t go to Blanche for this, surely. But what about Morgan? Or Beatrice? Was she really going to turn him away and point him toward someone else?

Regan wasn’t sure, and she felt herself starting to unravel with him, unable to stop the tears despite Deirdre’s reminders echoing through her skull. Kaden looked down at her, and she wondered for a moment if he was about to come closer. The thought made her pulse beat in her temple. She couldn’t let that happen. Even Deirdre agreed that it was only a matter of time before she accidentally killed someone, at this rate, and the turkey-- she couldn’t think it. She wouldn’t touch him. Fortunately, he turned away, and down. His deep sunken eyes were red-rimmed and angry as he picked up a fistful of gravel. Regan thought it was directed more inward than at her, but she knew he wouldn’t be receptive to going to her apartment, at least initially. “Would you just think about it?” She asked, anticipating another flare of hurt. “It might be easier than being at your apartment without--” She shook her head. “It might be easier. The offer stands.” Darkness was falling quickly and heavily over them. And he’d need to sleep somewhere. It couldn’t be in her arms.

“Kaden,” Regan said his name softly, knowing that he’d hear it despite the distance between them. “What do you want to do? I-- I’ll stay here with you. All night, if I have to. We can stay here and talk. You can listen to me call up Dr. Rhee and ask for her credentials, and we can report anyone who drives by over the speed limit. But I don’t--” He looked so angry, so hurt, and so in need of something she wasn’t sure she could provide. Every time she looked at him, more tears came to her eyes. “Or you could go home. Go to my apartment. Go stay with a friend.” She extended her bandaged hand again, normally such a natural gesture between the two of them, but remembering that it could kill him, she dropped back to her side. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. But I also don’t want to hurt you in the process of not wanting to hurt you, and I think that’s what I’m doing, and I don’t-- I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, Kaden. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, alright let me think about it.” Kaden couldn’t control the volume of his voice. His words kept creeping louder with every sentence. At some point he was sure Deirdre or Morgan might hear. Maybe the neighbors. Fuck it. Let them listen. “I’ll go to your apartment. Alone. Surrounded by your things. While you’re here. In a shed. And won’t get near me or touch me like I’m some fucking leper. Or a monster. Or--” He knew it wasn’t like that. He also knew right now he didn’t fucking care. He threw more rocks, thought about aiming them at the cars parked not too far off, a window, something, anything. Anything that might make him feel better. It might, right? Destruction? It would make him feel… He shook his head, deflated. He destroyed enough tonight. It wouldn’t make him feel anything. It wouldn’t fill the hole burrowing open inside of him. He felt fresh tears falling down his face and he practically slammed the heel of his hand across his face to get them off. “Fuck!” he screamed as loud as his lungs would let him into the dead night air, still turned away from her, facing the street. The sound bounced a bit, but the sound was more of a thud than anything else. Did it make him feel better? Maybe.

Kaden stood, leaned over, hands on his knees, looking away as she whispered his name. He hated that he heard it. His stupid shitty abilities that marked him as hunter, made him what he was and placed him squarely in the position he was in now. She’d asked him in the basement if he could just stop. Right then he’d give anything to. To just stop. Stop being a hunter. Stop being a Langley. Just stop being him. Oscar kept poking fun at him for being domestic, having stability, maybe a sense of normality. Well where the fuck was any of that now? He inhaled deep, thought about just screaming again. Instead, he let the breath fall out and turned back to face her.

Kaden saw her reach her hand out and took a half step towards her, only to see her pull it away. Right. Maybe hope was worse than feeling empty. His eyes focused on the bandage, though, and his brow furrowed. “What happened to your hand?” It was easier to zero in on her, push aside what she’d asked him. He wanted something to worry about that wasn’t him, wasn’t this, wasn’t his fucking fault. But as soon as he asked the question, he got the feeling he should take it back. The answer was likely either related to the scream or the training. Things she wouldn't and couldn’t tell him about. Why was she bothering if there was nothing she could do? Why was he bothering? He could barely see her eyes from here. She was too far away for him to really see her, actually pick up on every tiny nuance of her features. But he could tell she was crying. That much he could see. He could see she still cared. Still hurt. So that was something. He guessed.

Right. He should listen to her options. They all sounded shitty, to be honest. Kaden bit the inside of his lip, staring at her for a while, playing them over in his mind. What would staying outside with her mean? Was that going to just tear away at him slowly like it had been all night? Or would it get better? His chest seized up as he realized that he might not get a chance to see her again for a while. The only reason she was even this close was because he was falling apart. Didn’t really look great for where they stood in the future, when he wasn’t a mess. Then again. he was falling apart and this was all she could give him. Did that make it better or worse? Right, other options, what were the other options? Go to her place? Fuck that. If he went there the best he was likely to do was tear it apart. No. Stay with a friend. “Who?” he asked aloud. “Who’s going to even--” He sniffled, wiped the tears that had trickled down off his nose. “Oscar’s still-- Morgan is-- I mean, she has enough to-- And Bea, I don’t know where Bea is. Alain is still-- Who? Where do I go? Whose problem am I supposed to b--”

His knees shook, threatened not to support him anymore. Kaden gave in, sank back down to the curb, holding his head in his hands. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. He knew what he wanted. But it wasn’t going to happen. And he wasn’t sure what option was going to have any shot at plugging up the empty hole tearing him apart. No one seemed equipped to take on his burden. Or him. Same difference. They all had their own shit and he was the one saying he could fix it or help or whatever bullshit he was spouting on any given day. Who was left to catch him when he fell? What was the point in caring so fucking much when it left him feeling just as alone as before? It had been her. Maybe that was his mistake, relying on anyone to be there. Even though she always had. She’d always managed. Every time. And she was there. Sort of. Guess it was up to him to decide if it counted. If it was enough. He didn’t know. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel past the guilt that was the only thing left other than the emptiness. “I don’t know,” was all he could say through his hands. “I don’t--” Maybe if he sat there long enough the ground would swallow him whole. A pathetic laugh spilled out through the sobs. If it could happen anywhere, it was certainly this town. A long stretch passed as he sat in silence, trying to find the space to speak again, a way to break past the feelings eating at him. “What do you mean by talk?” he asked quietly. “Because if it’s just all ‘can’ts’ then I-- Just, what do you mean by talk?”

Kaden’s anguished voice cut Regan’s heart. It stung, more than fucking stung, all of it. “I’m aware you don’t have Hansen’s disease,” she bit back, “and besides, it isn’t even transmitted through skin-to-skin-- that isn’t the point. It’s not you. You’re not the-- I’m the--” Her dad’s words drummed in her head. Thing. Monster. “I want nothing more than to-- Kaden, please. You have to know that. I want to be there for you, in every sense.” Tears pricked at her eyes. Even beyond what had happened with the turkey, her control over her voice had been poor since the incident at the morgue. Deirdre was right about emotions impairing her control. So many things had broken. The shed shook with her sobs for hours each night -- which she was promptly instructed to choke out. You are an instrument of death, and death is unfeeling, uncaring. It never worked. “You don’t know what I’ve had to--” But then, she couldn’t tell him. “It’s not you.”

Regan’s eyes ticked down to her hand, the bandage wrapped tightly around her palm, hooking around her thumb. The bandage that was about to become a permanent fixture of her life, at least for the foreseeable future. She couldn’t lie. But as the ivy tugged at her neck, straining her mouth, she was also reminded that she couldn’t tell Kaden the truth, either. When she had expressed that concern to Deirdre, Deirdre’s response was that Kaden would supply his own version of the truth, if he noticed at all. She hadn’t believed that. Deirdre didn’t know Kaden as well as she did. He would notice. And he wouldn’t believe a lie, especially one that rended her open to speak it. Regan squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach flipping inside of her. Truth and lies both damned her. “It’s-- I--” The ivy grew thorns. Deirdre was right about one thing: Kaden wouldn’t understand, not completely; he would want to see this stopped. “It’s… it’s probably exactly what you think it is.” The ivy relaxed, just slightly, though Regan only felt more defeated. Somehow, a vague answer seemed worse than no answer at all. Just like Kaden probably thought coming here, talking to her from ten feet away, was worse than a text message. She wouldn’t even blame him for thinking that, though it made the sting sink deeper into her. “Please don’t--” Worry about it? Ask about it? She wasn’t even sure. “It isn’t important right now.”

She could see the string of his composure winding further and further away from him. Soon, there’d be nothing but panic and raw emotion at his core and if that happened, he’d be prone to going off and doing something stupid and getting hurt and-- “Kaden!” She said his name again, this time practically shouting it. The unintended screech echoed through the dark, empty street, and Regan bolted upright. Hand over her mouth. She assessed him with fearful eyes for a second, before determining that his hearing hadn’t seemed greatly impacted. There was no pain on his face. Well, beyond what was already there. She exhaled a massive, shaky breath, more tears falling. She had almost hurt him, even from this far away. Again. It firmed up that she needed to stay away, for his own good. But she still-- she couldn’t leave him like this, leave things like this. He was spiralling. He felt alone. If he hadn’t felt like this was the most dire thing in the world, he would have kept his distance and not stopped by, like Regan had asked him.

“Kaden, stop. You’re-- stop it. You’re not anyone’s problem. You’re the opposite of that. Stop it. Abel is going to be-- we’ll make certain Abel will be okay. He’s in excellent hands, by the sound of it.” Though she was still going to double check. “You’re not doing anyone any favors by-- especially yourself. So stop. Sit with me. Put those rocks down -- they look filthy -- and sit with me. We’ll figure it out. That’s what we do, right?” Regan’s voice tightened. It felt like barbed wire against her sore throat. “Please talk to me. You came here for a reason. And I’m not letting you push me away, either.” She ran a hand through her greasy hair and stared up the street, where the rocks had landed, before looking back at Kaden. She pushed herself a couple feet closer, but drew a hard line there. “This isn’t just about Abel. That’s obvious. So can we-- can we talk about it? Your hunting. That’s it, isn’t it? I could tell at the lakehouse that you-- please, stay.” Her head sank down toward her chest for a moment, and an idea struck her. She couldn’t tell Kaden about anything that happened in the clearing, but she could tell him about what occurred back at the shed. “I can teach you some of the breathing techniques Deirdre has been working on with me. They might help. While we’re talking.”

You don’t know what I’ve had to-- The words lit him like a flame. “Because you won’t tell me!” Kaden turned and shouted it at her without a second thought. “I could know if you would only tell me! I just want to--” It didn’t matter. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t help fucking anyone. The one thing he was good at was killing and he was starting to wonder if that was helping fucking anyone. He kicked at the pebbles on the ground. They didn’t go far. They remained closer to him than she would dare inch.

Any hope that her injury was minor, some stupid accident or clumsy mistake washed away with her words and demeanor. Concern mixed with anger; her attempt to push it away only made him want to dig his heels in deeper. “No.” His voice was hard, unflinching. He’d told lies a thousand times, about cuts, bruises, scabs. Deflecting was all too easy. Let the adults who asked questions come to their own conclusions. It was usually safer and more innocent than the truth. She could be twenty feet away and he’d see through that. “What is it?” he asked again, eyes pointed at her bandage, jaw hardened. “What happened to your hand? Because right now I’m thinking it’s more bullshit you can’t tell me. And I’m wondering what part of your life I can be a part of if I can’t even ask about the very obvious fucking bandage on your hand. Which is pretty fucking important to me. So what happened to your hand, Regan?” The anger was easier to hold onto, less crushing than the rest of his emotions stirring inside him. The anger at least felt like something. It served a purpose. It pointed the right direction. That’s what he was constantly told growing up. He’d tried so hard to take Morgan’s advice, just accept that he “didn’t want to know.” Which was crap. Not knowing, being told he wasn’t allowed to know did nothing but spike his curiosity, sent it spiraling to every worst possible scenario it could make up. And with all of it he just couldn’t find a reason why he couldn’t know. Not a good one. All it did was ignite the fire of anger, and he wanted to hold onto whatever warmth he could find right now.

Her voice shocked him. It shouldn’t. He had grown accustomed to the screeches, the sighs that stung and broke glass. But this was loud in a way that wasn't destructive. It was loud and carried through the streets the way he’d wanted his to. It wasn’t destructive. This time. But it still punched a hole through his resolve. Kaden faced her and saw that she was panicked, her eyes wide, hand clasped to her mouth. Any hope that he could prove to her that it wasn’t that dangerous to be near her vanished with the wind, blown away like the echoes of their voices. She was so fucking scared that she could hurt people, that she would hurt him. It killed him to see it. It killed him even more to stay back and offer no comfort. But what could he do to change the situation? Shit all.

“You sure about that?” Kaden asked her, shaking his head. “I don’t feel like I’m doing anyone any fucking good right now.” He was already seated, the air from his sails gone. The anger had died down, so had the sadness, he was in a lull of nothingness, waiting for the wind to decide which way it wanted to blow. His head was still in his hands when he heard movement and he shot up to look at her. There was no way. He held his breath and-- She only moved one more meter closer. Better or worse? The tightness in his throat didn’t feel like much of a positive answer. “I came here because you’re who I--” His lip quivered and he wished the wind would blow the other fucking direction. “When things are bad, you’re who I--” The lump in his throat wouldn’t let him finish the sentence, it closed up every time. He wasn’t sure the ending mattered much anyway. Still, she was talking. And she was there. It felt like getting scraps from the table. But it was better than going hungry, right? “What about it? What do you want to talk about?” he muttered, sniffling, voice small. “I don’t think breathing techniques are going to make me feel any fucking better about what I did.” He looked at her, trying to let it be enough.

Regan could only freeze, her blood shocked cold, as Kaden demanded to know what had happened to her hand. She knew this would happen. Deirdre was full of crap. Kaden would notice. And were he to find out precisely what was under the bandage, and why, he would do everything he possibly could to put a stop to it. Maybe that was why Deirdre was so insistent that no one other than Morgan could learn what they were doing in that clearing. But Kaden had a point. This wasn’t some small part of her life that she’d edged him out of. Right now, it effectively was her life. Each day was the same, bleeding into the next. She woke up in the shed, soldiered over to the clearing, screamed until her lungs burned and her throat bled, slid the knife across her palm as she tried and failed to keep her fist from closing over the injury, and started the whole damn thing over again every time she flinched. Only to wake up feeling empty nothingness the next day, like a cadaver with all of the organs removed en bloc. The shade of what was next lingered over her constantly: more animals dead by her hand, drowning, iron. Detachment. Numbness. Perfection.

She turned to him, weary and tearful, lacking the punch of his anger. She tried to hide her hand, held it close against her chest, covering it with her right. It felt as ineffective as everything else did. “You know that I can’t tell you. I literally--” Even that was enough to make the ivy choke her. The promise had been exchanged in the clearing. Regan bowed to the pain and sobbed. This wasn’t what she had wanted. This wasn’t something she had fully factored in. “I wouldn’t-- if it weren’t necessary, I wouldn’t--” The ivy squeezed, and Regan sputtered for air for a moment, before sinking down further against the curb. “Kaden, I’m not sure you actually want to know. I trust you, but I don’t-- I think you would try to stop this, if you knew everything that we were-- ” He would. She knew he would. If he went to her and claimed that he needed to tear himself apart, completely unmake himself, before he was safe to be around, that was liable to override her pacifist existence and she’d slap him in the face. “I’m doing what’s necessary, okay? It’s necessary. If I want to prevent what happened at the morgue from-- it’s necessary.” With a deep breath, she slumped forward, elbows on her thighs and head cradled in her hands. “If you’re sure you want to know, I’ll talk to Deirdre.”

“Positive.” Even though Regan wasn’t sure Kaden went to the right person for this, right now. What good could she be? She couldn’t even get near him. Couldn’t even give him a hug or a kiss or hold his hand without being crushed by dread and fair and grisly images of his internal anatomy shooting through her head. Maybe her first instinct had been right -- she should have pushed Kaden away alongside the rest of her life. But unlike her occupation, he had been able to fight against that happening. He bemoaned how stubborn she was, but didn’t recognize that he was just as bullheaded sometimes. And not just about wine and cheese.

“Why is that?” Regan soured immediately after asking the question, because it sounded precisely like what Al always shot her way as a rebuttal. “I just mean-- you have so many people who love and care about you, Kaden. You do. I mean, you just listed several of them, and I can think of others. So, sure, maybe it’s hard to feel like you’re imposing on those people, but they want to see you happy. I want to see you happy.” Her stomach sank. She felt like she was sending him in the opposite direction. Had Deirdre managed to cling to any relationships or friendships during her training? She had Morgan, now, but she wasn’t a risk. Did her mother allow her any friends or loved ones when she was young? Regan knew the answer to that, and it made her heart take on water and capsize down to where her stomach was sitting. She palmed the necklace Kaden had given her, squeezing it. “Kaden. Inhale through your mouth and exhale through your nose three times. Then tell me about what you’re thinking. Not--” She wasn’t sure she could manage hearing more of his thoughts on her training -- “I mean, your hunting. What happened with Abel. It’s connected, right? So talk to me.” Please. The word died in her throat, though. How could she beg him when he couldn’t do the same? Regan looked up toward him. “That’s exactly what I said, you know. My exact words.” There would be humor in it, if everything weren’t so dismal. “And then I tried it, and I still thought it was absurd, no merit to be found, and-- okay, I still think that, to an extent. But try it. You’re currently breathing shallow and quickly, and your face is likely getting numb. So slow down. Panicking isn’t going to accomplish anything right now. Abel is-- he’s going to be okay. And you still have me, okay? You do, even if it doesn’t seem-- you do.”

Seeing her sobbing and doubled over hit him like a punch in his own gut. His anger started to melt, fizzling down as soon as it had flared up watching the pain he was causing her. Then again, it wasn’t really him, was it? A little, sure, but ultimately it was the promise bind. It was Deirdre who forced this situation. It was so hard to see the benefit of word binding, the need for it. All they did was cause pain. Sometimes Kaden questioned if their only promise of precaution was even a good idea, if it could be used against them somehow and hurt them, too. It likely could in the wrong hands. “I know. I do know that. I get that I don’t understand but I do know you would never put yourself through any of this if it wasn’t--” He shook his head at her insistence that he didn’t want to know, the same one Morgan gave him. Maybe he was stupid for clawing for this information but the curiosity, the concern wouldn’t stop gnawing at him. “Stop telling me what I want to--”

There was another piece, one that wasn’t familiar or well tred. There it was. The real reason it was being kept from him. Not because anyone thought it would hurt him or spare him or do him some kindness. Kaden never believed that lie to begin with. No, it was because they thought he’d stop it. They thought he’d interfere for one reason or another. That he was just an obstacle to everything. Like so many things that had happened tonight, he didn’t know how to process that. She trusted him. But not enough. Or was it too much? Why did they think he would stop it? How-- Why-- His mind went into overdrive for the hundredth time trying to concoct scenarios that were so bad he wouldn’t want to know and would throw himself in front of to stop, factoring in the sole evidence he had, the cut on her hand. She was slightly right. He didn’t want to imagine them. But he knew he’d see them play out in his imagination all the same. Sill the question she presented him with; was ignorance really bliss? No. He felt cut off from her enough. And he knew he wouldn’t stop asking or hurting her by trying to get more from her. “I’m sure.” His voice was shaky, but he knew he couldn’t stay in the dark forever. Not if he wanted to make this work. Not if he wanted things to get better. He had to believe that.

Though Kaden wasn’t so sure why she believed that people cared about him, that anyone else would be there. And of course she had to ask him why he thought otherwise. Honestly, it was hard to say for certain. “I don’t-- I can’t be a burden. I don’t want to just ruin their lives and make things worse. If that’s all I do, then why would they bother with--” Maybe it was easier to assume people wouldn’t be there for him than to reach out and learn the truth of the matter the hard way. “Hell, I’m not even sure I should be here right now.” With how much she was taking on herself, it almost seemed unfair to put more on her. He looked up from his hands at her and saw a flash of silver. He flinched. The last silver he saw was--- He gulped, not sure if he was pushing away the thoughts or the bile driving its way up. He caught a better look and saw it wasn’t a knife (of course it wasn’t, not in her hands of all places), just the light from the street lamps glinting off of something around her neck. For a moment, he assumed it was the amulet, the one that hid her wings. But it was still flat against her chest. So it was the heart. She was holding the heart. He wished it were his hand instead. It lit a spark of hope, a small light in the emptiness trying to swallow him whole either way.

“I hope you also said the ‘fucking’ then, too,” Kaden said with a small attempt at a laugh. It was more like a puff of air. He brushed his face with the back of his hand, shoving away the tears and snot that wouldn’t fucking quit before doing the stupid breathing. It didn’t make him feel better. Rolling his eyes while he did it, on the other hand, did improve his mood ever slightly. Enough to try to answer her. “I was out hunting, though. If that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t want--” Why did everything sound so fucking stupid when he went to say it out loud? “I was going to leave Abel at home. He’s not-- I mean you’ve seen him, he’s not a--” He felt himself getting choked up again, thinking about Abel on the table in the exam room, barely breathing, seconds away from death. He did the stupid breathing shit again, exhaling the thoughts of Abel and his panic as best he could before carrying on. “I didn’t want to be out there alone, not after what happened. The time. With-- You know, the time Walker saved me.” He held his arms against his chest, pulling himself in and gripping as tight as he could without bruising. “There was a wer-- a wolf. A monster. It attacked. Almost-- Abel jumped in to-- Even though I told him to go home. He saved--” It struck him for the first time tonight that he’d needed to be saved from a werewolf every full moon he’d even encountered a wolf recently. Walker, Oscar, Abel; if it weren’t for them, he’d be dead and buried by now. Maybe his mother was right. Distractions were clouding him, affecting his hunting, making him vulnerable and powerless. Happiness was fleeting and pointless, just like life without duty or family. His eyes locked with Regan’s. He still had her. Abel was still alive. But how pointless was it trying to hold onto all of it? He saw her fingers again, fiddling with the necklace and he felt it again, the small warmth of embers. Pointless or not, it was something. Something he wasn’t ready to let die.

“I’m not sure you should be here right now, either,” Regan said honestly, eyes flicking down. It was tempting to grab her own fistful of gravel. Were the rocks sharp enough to grind into her palm if she squeezed them? Would pain flicker across her face? Would Deirdre command her to do it again? She just stared for a moment, then looked back at Kaden. “I’m glad you are, though. I mean, as glad as I think either of us can be, at the moment.” She watched Kaden’s face knot up again as he talked about Abel, his voice thick with emotion. Not a hunting dog? Well, technically he was, but more of a failed one than anything else. He seemed to be good at locating decapitated heads. Though not as good as she was, of course. Regan took a long breath with him; her whole body seemed to move so slow compared to his.

A wolf. Another wolf. Or something like one. Regan wasn’t clear whether it was a wolf or a monster or a wolf Kaden was calling a monster, but she didn’t think it mattered. What he said next, though -- “Abel saved your life?” Her eyes widened. Of course he felt like fecal matter. He would anyways, but that dog-- Abel would have died for Kaden. For a moment, despite their pain, Regan was grateful that Kaden had decided to bring Abel with him. She knew she couldn’t voice that thought, but when Abel recovered, he was going to receive many, many peanut butter treats. She sat in silence for a moment, just listening to Kaden -- his panic and his breathing slowing down. She thought she understood something more about his panic now; part of it was about what would come next for him. “We’ll figure it out,” she repeated, talking over the silence. “What you want to do. After Abel is-- we’ll figure it out.”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #writing #regan #kadavernagh #vomit tw #self harm tw #we both go down together

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