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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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If I Fell For You (Part 5) - Date Night

Summary: The reader and Jensen go on their first fancy date together before attending a nanny happy hour the next night. The reader makes a new friend there to Jensen’s dismay but someone from the past will come along and change things between the new couple...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,200ish

Warnings: language, lying, angst, mention of past child abuse/assault, fluff

A/N: This a rough one, not gonna lie. Enjoy!

________

Friday Night

“Y/N, I’m downstairs when you’re ready,” said Jensen through your closed bedroom door.

“I’ll be there in five,” you said.

“See you in fifteen,” he chuckled before he walked away. You walked back into your bathroom, looking over your hair in a bun. It looked like a freaking messy bun actually. You should have done it down and in big flowy waves instead. You pouted and smoothed out your dress. Of course you were bloated and you’d nicked your leg more than once shaving earlier.

“It’s Jensen,” you said to yourself, taking a deep breath. “He’s never even seen you in makeup before. You’re fine. He’s not gonna say anything.”

You forced yourself out of the bathroom and slipped on your heels, your clutch in your hand. You wobbled for a step or two on the carpet but did better once you were out in the hardwood hall. Ten seconds later you were downstairs, heading over to the foyer area.

“All set?” you asked, Jensen spinning around. He smiled as he stared, eyes looking you up and down more than once, not even trying to hide it.

“Y/N, you look pretty,” said Arrow as she rushed in from the family room.

“Yes she does,” said Jensen. “We’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Okie dokie,” she said, wandering off with a little wave.

Half an hour later you were sat at a table in a very nice restaurant, Jensen tugging on his collar. His cheeks were slightly pink but it wasn’t from the cold outside.

“So...what’s a good wine?” you asked, sliding the drink list over to him. “I’m not really good with the names.”

“You like red or white?” he asked.

“Normally red,” you said. “You?”

“I like a Merlot,” he said. “You like dry?”

“Sure,” you said.

“We’re not going dutch tonight you know right. This is all on me.”

“We can go dutch, Jensen.”

“I asked you out and this is fancy, even for me. My treat, okay?” he asked.

“Alright,” you said, looking around the restaurant and over in the distance to the bar. “You know I could go for a lemon drop actually.”

He smirked and set the list down, a waiter coming by. He ordered a gin and tonic for himself while you got your cocktail, Jensen breaking off part of a breadstick from the basket.

“Bread’s good,” he said with his mouth full.

“So. Ackles,” you said, picking up a piece and tearing off a chunk with your teeth. He stared and started to laugh to himself. “Ah, there’s my sweet guy.”

“Thought you were gonna say boyfriend for a second.”

“This is our second official date,” you said. “So. Boyfriend.”

“Yes girlfriend?” he chuckled.

“What’s an appetizer look like in a place like this? Like a tiny cube of cheese with some dressing they’re gonna charge twenty bucks for or something like that?”

“You’re goofy,” he said, a big smile stuck on his face. “Uh, they probably have something like that. There’s normally some kind of bread olive oil bowl option.”

“Fancy people eat like a starving college student apparently,” you said. He tried to hide his laugh as your waiter brought over the drinks and a pair of menus. “Excuse me but can you recommend an appetizer? We’re both new to town and are wondering what you think is a good choice.”

“You can’t go wrong with our sourdough and seasoned oil dipping sauce,” he said. You glanced at Jensen and smiled. “The artichoke spinach dip and tartar crackers are also quite lovely.”

“Do you have anything with a little more substance? We’re quite starving,” said Jensen.

“The fried calamari and crab cake poppers combo is a great option,” he said.

“What’s calamari?” you asked.

“Squid, miss,” said the waiter.

“We’ll have that combo,” said Jensen.

“Perfect. I’ll put that in and be back shortly to get your dinner orders,” he said. He took off and you made a face at Jensen.

“Squid?” you asked.

“It’s fried. Trust me, it’s pretty good,” he said. “I could go for a good steak. You see a filet on here yet?”

“Uh,” you said, eyes scanning the page and seeing most everything was something you’d never heard of.

“There it is,” he said. “I’m getting that and scalloped potatoes. See anything you want to try?”

“Uh, why does half of this seem like it’s a foreign language to me?” you asked. Jensen looked at his menu and chuckled.

“That would be because it’s in French. We’re in Canada and this is a french restaurant.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. He got up and leaned over the back of your chair, glancing at the page.

“These are soups and salads,” he said, pointing near the top. “Sandwiches. Pasta. Main dishes down here.”

“Uh, maybe pasta?” you said. He knelt down and read off the dishes to you one by one, your waiter returning by the time he was just finishing.

“Anything I can assist you with?” he asked.

“I’ll have the fettuccine alfredo with chicken please,” you said, handing the menu to him, Jensen returning to his seat.

“Face principale?” he asked. You stared at Jensen and he smiled.

“She doesn’t speak French,” said Jensen.

“My apologies miss. What would you like for your main side dish?” asked the waiter. “Steamed vegetables, scalloped potatoes, lobster bisque-”

“I’ll have the vegetables,” you said. Jensen ordered and the waiter went to get your appetizer, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think twice about the French thing.”

“Kinda hot that you know French,” you said. “I should try to learn it if we’re gonna be up here for a few months.”

“I’m an idiot and I learned it so you’ll do just fine picking it up,” he said.

“So where’d you learn in the first place?”

“I’m stuffed,” you said, plopping your napkin from your lap onto the table awhile later. Jensen took the last bite of the piece of mouse pie, licking his lips as he finished. “This might have been the best alfredo I’ve ever had.”

“I enjoyed it. Mostly I enjoyed listening to you talk,” he said. You blushed and looked away, Jensen letting out a small hum. “It’s funny. Doesn’t really feel like just a second date, does it.”

“No, not really,” you said. “I guess that’s what happens when you’re friends first.”

“Well I definitely like being friends with you,” he said.

“Me too, Jensen.”

“Want to get out of here?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, the two of you outside a few minutes later wrapped up in your coats. Your feet were cold in just your heels, Jensen’s arm wrapping around your waist when you almost slipped more than once. It was slow going back to the car, especially when it started to snow lightly.

“You know, that dress would still look hot with winter boots,” he chuckled.

“Sorry,” you said.

“No apology necessary. I got freaking dress shoes on and my feet are cold. I can’t imagine how you’re holding up,” he said.

“The perils of being a woman,” you said.

“Well, no need to impress me is all I’m saying. I ain’t looking at your feet anyways,” he said.

“Oh well in that case I’ll wear some nice baggy sweats next date.”

“Please do,” he said.

“You really don’t care, do you.”

“I think you look beautiful tonight. But I think you look beautiful every night. You did your hair and makeup and this is stunning, don’t get me wrong. But she’s not more beautiful than the girl at home with hair tossed up all messy walking around in oversized shirts and leggings. It’s like flowers. Both are pretty but one isn’t more pretty than the other.”

“Where the fuck did I find you?”

“At my house,” he chuckled. You whacked his arm and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Almost back to the car. I’ll blast the heat for us when we’re in there.”

“Thanks Jensen.”

“Thank you for the date, honey. I mean it. We’ll do it again sometime. Promise.”

Saturday Night

“Your boyfriend seems pissed,” said Brandon. You sipped up the last of your beer, glancing over to the bar where Jensen was tapping his finger.

“He’s fine,” you said. “So any good parks around the west side of town?”

“Center Grove is always my choice. Good playground, nice area, cops routinely are around. Parking can kinda be a bitch sometimes but it’s worth it in my opinion. My kids love it.”

“You’ve been their nanny for five years you said?”

“Mhm,” he said, knocking back the last of his drink. “Shawn’s mom is their mom’s best friend.”

“Oh. So you had an in already.”

“You know long term gigs are the way to go in this job,” he said. “Not too many American girls come up here. Your accent is cute.”

“Is it, eh?” you chuckled.

“Like I’ve never heard that one before,” he said, Jensen walking back with two beers and a clenched jaw.

“You okay?” you asked as he sat it down in front of you.

“I’m fine,” he said, taking a long sip. Brandon slid off his seat and made a face.

“I need a refill anyways. Nice meeting you Y/N. We gotta hang some time,” he said as he walked away.

“For sure,” you said, Jensen rolling his eyes behind his back. “Jensen what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Well you obviously have a problem with Brandon.”

“I don’t have a problem with him. I have a problem with my girlfriend flirting with another guy.”

“I was not flirting. I’m trying to make new friends. It was your idea to come to this thing tonight anyways.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed.

“Excuse me?”

“In case I wasn’t clear, I’m not the kind of guy where I’m okay with you dating multiple people at once. I don’t get that not exclusive shit.”

“I’m with you and only you. I was being nice. Geez, let’s just go,” you said. You got up and pulled your coat on, bumping into a guy on the way out. He turned and apologized, staring at you a little long.

“Y/N?” he asked, a big smile on his face. “My Y/N?”

“Dad?” you said, his face much older looking than you remembered but his eyes still the same.

“Dad?” said Jensen. You brushed past your dad and outside, Jensen hot on your heels.

“Y/N,” your dad said as he left the bar.

“Stay away from me,” you said. “Jensen I want to go home right now.”

“What-”

“Right fucking now!”

He held up his hands and you walked around the block to the car, getting inside and Jensen taking off.

“So your dad’s alive huh,” he said. You stared out the dark window with crossed arms. “So is everything I know about you bullshit?”

“What?”

“Is literally anything you’ve ever told me true? Your dad obviously didn’t die when you were a kid. All those late night talks about family and shit, you just like to fuck with people or something?”

“I was not flirting with Brandon you asshole. You didn’t need to know my whole life story the second I meet you.”

“Oh. Okay. Just your fake life story then, huh?” he said. You shook your head as he got stuck at a red light. “If I can’t trust you, I can’t employ you let alone date you.”

“Whatever,” you said. He drove in silence until you were out of the city, going along quieter roads. You were close to the house when he suddenly turned right towards the local park and stopped in the lot, putting the car in park. He touched your arm and you turned, Jensen leaning over and kissing you roughly, far more roughly than you thought he was capable of. You blinked when he pulled back, Jensen looking you up and down.

“He won’t hurt you.”

“What?”

“Did he walk out on you and your mom?” he asked. “You told him to stay away from you. Sort of shouted it at him. Maybe you lied but maybe...I’m sorry I got jealous of Brandon. I’m still scared and I think you’re still scared too and that’s okay. If you lied about your dad, I’m gonna trust you have a good reason for it. I’m sorry for what I said. I trust you and I don’t want to know what my life is like without you in it.”

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “I forgive you.”

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he said. “We can just go home, okay?”

“Why’d you pull over?”

“Because I knew I didn’t mean it and I knew I overreacted. I said I’d mess up when we started. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I’m 42 with three kids. Brandon is thirty and young and stronger than I am and can go out to the bar whenever he wants. You have options. You don’t have to settle for me.”

“If I’d wanted to settle, I’d have married my ex. What I wanted was the guy that forgives me for not telling him the whole story cause I’m not ready to say it. I want the guy that makes me happy and feel like I have a teenage crush but it’s deeper than that. You’re not the settle for option, Jensen. Why don’t you get that?”

“The last time I felt like this, I married the girl,” he said quietly. “That didn’t turn out so well.”

“You didn’t get the time you deserved with her. It doesn’t mean it ended badly. You loved her and she knew it. She wants you to be happy again, whether it’s me or somebody else.”

“See? That’s the shit that tells me...it tells me to keep falling for you. I’m so sorry for how I acted tonight.”

“I lied about my dad and not a little white one either,” you said with a nod. You turned away and felt his hand on your cheek. “So much of what I told you was a lie.”

“You don’t have to tell me the truth right now, Y/N.” He stroked your cheek and you glanced over, meeting his soft green eyes.

“My mom died giving birth to me,” you said, Jensen nodding. “He hated me for it. Hated me. He would hurt me when I was a toddler. When I was four he started doing...other things.”

“Four?” he breathed out.

“I didn’t know it wasn’t normal. Not until I started school. I was scared though so I never said anything. One of my friends mom’s realized what was going on when I was over playing one day. He went away and lost custody. I went into foster care briefly and got adopted when I was eight. Single mom who’d lost her husband young. That’s my mom. She was a kind person. Ray was always good to her and to me. But I asked him not to adopt me after she was gone and he knew it was because I was still scared of a dad again. Being a nanny, I’ve met fathers that look at me and I just know what was going through their head. I reported him and kinda fucked up their family situation but-”

“That was the right thing to do,” he said.

“I know it was. I’ve just...I’ve had more than one guy and even a woman walk in on me changing or into my bathroom and it’s like, she’s just the help, nobody cares. They don’t touch so it’s like...what can I even do? Then my house before this one, the guy tried getting in my shower with me and I shoved him and he broke his arm and I just don’t understand why so many people think I’m just a piece of meat. Even my ex never got why it bothered me so much. They didn’t touch me so what was wrong with it? He just didn’t get it. He would get mad if I wasn’t in the mood for sex. Nobody ever fucking gets it except you who I lied to and pissed off tonight and without a word of an explanation why, you say you won’t let somebody hurt me. Do you get why you’re the opposite of fucking settling Jensen?”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t Jensen.”

“How?”

“Because you’re a good person. You’re so gentle and kind. I know you’re strong and tough but I see it everyday. You should never be worried about how your kids will turn out. If they are half as good as you are they’ll be fucking great people. Your daughters aren’t gonna put up with shit and your son is gonna be kind to everyone and say fuck you to the toxic guys out there. I can already tell the kind of person you are through them and it’s a good one. A really good one.”

“I’m not the only good person in their lives,” he said. You sniffled and looked down, Jensen’s hand sliding under your chin and tilting it up. “You don’t have to apologize for not telling me all of that. Never apologize for not telling me that. Okay?”

“I never told anyone about…the other stuff,” you said, wanting to look down but Jensen’s hand holding your chin up.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m sorry it took you so long to find people that would protect you.”

“You mean…” He nodded and dropped his hand away, running it over your head. “You’re not gonna like, go back and kick his ass are you?”

“Want me to? I’m very tempted at the moment,” he said.

“I just want to go home. I could use one of those hugs right now.”

“Do you want to stay with me tonight? Just to stay, nothing more.” You nodded and he kissed your forehead, a tiny smile crossing your face. Ten minutes later you were home and the babysitter was gone, Jensen pulling you into his room next to yours. You blew your nose in his bathroom and washed off your face, lifting your head to find a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his shirts on the vanity beside you. He smiled as he ducked out, leaving you to change. You let your hair down and took off your bra before you walked out and saw his blanket on the opposite side of the bed. “Warm enough?”

You spun around as he walked inside and you nodded, Jensen pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry for how I was at the bar,” you said.

“I was the one that overreacted, not you,” he said. You felt goosebumps on your arms and he pulled away to turn up the heat, nodding over to the bed. The covers were flung back and you climbed underneath, Jensen getting in on his side. His arm wrapped over your waist and pulled your chest close to his, face only inches away. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. No one will hurt you again. I promise.”

You moved closer to him, resting your forehead against his.

“Remember last Saturday when we were on the trampoline and you talked about those safety nets,” you said.

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re a really good net,” you said softly.

“So are you,” he murmured. He kissed the tip of your nose and you shut your eyes. “What’d you want to be when you were little?”

“A princess,” you said. He chuckled and you smiled. “I wanted a prince to come take me away and everything would be just fine.”

“Really?”

“Princesses were always happy at the end of the movie,” you said. “They got the boy and they were happy. Then I grew up and prince charming doesn’t exist.”

“Cause you’re not a damsel in distress. You didn’t need the prince to save you.”

“But the prince would have made life so much easier.”

“I’m partial to badass princesses myself,” he said. You opened your eyes and he was smiling.

“I’ve never noticed your freckles before.”

“They come out more when I spend some time in the sun.” You moved a hand up and traced under his eye, Jensen nuzzling into his pillow. “Make you a deal. If the badass princess saves me, the scared prince will save her too.”

“Okay,” you said. You kissed him lazily, Jensen smiling through it.

“Do you want to be a nanny forever?”

“Not forever. It’s an easy way to feel like you have a family when you don’t.”

“Now you do,” he said.

“Jensen you don’t know if this will work out.”

“I do and you do and we’ll take it slow anyways,” he said. “Which is why I’m asking do you want to be a nanny forever.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe someday I won’t need one,” he said.

“I thought about being an elementary school teacher when I was eighteen for a hot second.”

“You did? You’d be amazing.”

“Pay in Texas is crap though. I make more as a nanny.”

“If money wasn’t an issue though, would you want to be a teacher still?”

“Anything at all?” you asked, Jensen nodding, nose brushed against yours. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“You okay?” he asked, reluctantly letting you out of bed.

“I’m good. I want to show you something,” you said. You slipped out of the room and down the hall to the playroom, picking up a book. Jensen was sat up in bed when you returned and crawled under the covers. You handed him the book and he smiled.

“I don’t remember buying this,” he said, flipping it over. “There’s no serial code on it.”

“You can’t buy it. I wrote a children’s book and printed a few copies for myself,” you said.

“You wrote a book?” he asked, flipping through it. “Did you draw this?”

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen staring at you. “I don’t know if it’s any good. I never tried publishing it.”

“You want to write children’s books, don’t you?” he said, starting to read the story.

“I have a number of them written out. I would make up the stories for kids at bedtime and decided to write them down. It’s kinda like whinnie the poo, that age group, you know? Same group of characters but different stories,” you said.

“These are adorable,” he said, turning another page. You were quiet while he read through for a few minutes, Jensen smiling when he shut the book. “I’ve never read a children’s book where they deal with the loss of a parent.”

“The kids really like it,” you said.

“You should publish this. Seriously. It’s cute and I’m a grown ass man and it made me feel better about Dee.”

“It’s just a story,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I make stories for a living. This whole place would fall apart without stories. This is good. You should consider trying to get it published.”

“Maybe if that nanny job doesn’t work out I will,” you said.

“Do you mind if I keep this?” he asked.

“Not at all. I gave it to JJ in the first place.”

“Thanks. I want to read this to the twins tomorrow,” he said. He set it on the nightstand and slid back down, pulling you with him. “Why’d the mom fox die in the story? I would have expected the dad wolf considering…”

“Wish fulfillment for a nice father,” you said. “Plus I like drawing the wolf.”

“I like him. He’s fluffy,” chuckled Jensen. “Is that why you asked if I carry a picture of my kids when we met?”

“I’m done with asshole parents. If they treat their kids like shit they sure as hell aren’t gonna treat me any better. You seemed like a good guy. Good guys tend to do that kind of thing.”

“I’m not always good.”

“Yeah, you are,” you said. You shut your eyes and nuzzled close to him, Jensen letting out a soft hum. “You okay? With me being here.”

“Very. Feeling better after everything that happened?”

“Mhm,” you said. “I’m still sorry I lied to you.”

“Did you ever lie about your mom?” he asked. “I mean aside from the fact she adopted you, did you lie about her?”

“No.”

“Then you didn’t lie, not really. I’m sorry it came out like that. You should have been able to tell me in your own time.”

“You still would have been angry,” you said.

“I still would have come to my senses too. I’m not perfect. I never was.”

“I don’t want someone perfect,” you said. Your head rested against his chest and you let out a soft sigh.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said. He kissed the top of your head and tucked it under his chin, adjusting the blankets once before he stilled.

“Goodnight, Jensen.”

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A/N: Read Part 6 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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trentaafcsblog · 3 years

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February 14th

Anyone You Like

Warning - this is really shit, I’m so sorry!

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love” he whispers as he snuggles up next to you, pressing a kiss onto the tip of your nose and smiling when you start to stir from your sleep. His heart going all fuzzy as your face scrunches up and you lift your arms above your head to do your classic morning stretch - something so simple but he was literally obsessed with it, having seen you do it pretty much every single morning for the past six years.

“Hi” you’re saying when you finally open your eyes, burying your head into his chest as he brushes your hair away from your face and wipes the sleep from your eyes, mumbling an ‘I love you’ when you lean up to kiss his lips before stopping yourself from going any further.

“What’s that?” you’re asking as you shuffle out of his arms and pull the duvet away from your face, looking up at the ceiling and realising that it’s completely covered in red and white balloons with pieces of gold ribbon dangling off them. Your lips going all pouty as you sit up to get a better look at everything, noticing the rose petals that are sprinkled on the floor and the huge bouquet of red roses that are waiting for you on your bedside table, a little card in the top that reads ‘I love you forever and always’ - a saying that you’d picked up along the course of your relationship and something that had a much deeper meaning than people probably realised.

“Babyyy” you’re cooing as he goes all shy and giggly, hiding his face under the covers because neither of you were ones to make a massive fuss like this, particularly on Valentine’s Day because you don’t see the point in celebrating each other on one specific date when your love for one another grows more and more with each passing day. “I love you so much” you’re saying as you try to pull the duvet away from his face, fighting a losing battle when he rolls over and prevents you from seeing his blushing cheeks, leaving you with no option other than to lean across him and attack him with kisses until he’s forced to look at you.

“Stop” he giggles when he gives in and reappears from under the pillow, looking up at you hanging over him with the same look in his eyes that he had when he first realised that he loved you, one that let you know that he was yours until the end and that he’d go to the ends of the earth to see the little smile that’s now on your face. Just staring at one another for a few seconds, still in shock that you get to call the other person yours after all this time. Wondering what the hell you did to deserve one another and be lucky enough to experience all of life’s journeys with them, and all of the challenges that you thought would break you both - yet here you are now, probably the most content you’ve ever been, with a future ahead of you that you could only have ever dreamed of. But your little romantic moment quickly comes to an end when his tummy starts rumbling, just like it always does when it gets past about 7am, knowing that food probably occupies his mind more than you do as you lay there and roll your eyes at him.

“Just you wait until you see what I’ve done” he winks before springing out of bed, heading downstairs and reappearing a few minutes later with a huge tray piled up with all kinds of plates and bowls. Orange juice sloshing over the side of one of the glasses and making you cringe when it leaves a trail of little splashes all over your white carpet. “It’ll come out, don’t worry” he’s telling you before putting the tray on your lap, clearly not as bothered about the mess that he’s made as you are, dreading to think about the state of the kitchen going by the array of different breakfast items he’s brought you. Waffles, croissants, mini pancakes that he’s cut into the shape of hearts with a cookie cutter that he found at the back of one of the kitchen drawers, a fruit salad, vanilla yoghurt, a random bowl of baked beans and some nutella and syrup to dip things into. “Looks delicious” you grin before scooping some of the chocolate up on a strawberry, getting him to open his mouth before you’re popping it in and he’s teasing that that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for him, which of course earns him a gentle smack on the chest and a threat to flip all of his hard work on the floor, knowing that it’ll make a lovely contribution to the orange splatters that now decorate your lovely white flooring.

“I got you a card as well” he’s telling you with a mouthful of croissant, the flaky bits of pastry flying all over the duvet from where he’s trying to talk. “Just as well I got you one too” you wink before handing him the red envelope with his initial and a little kiss on the front. “Nice to know you’ve made it all cute” you joke as you look down at his to see ‘the missus’ scrawled across the front in a pen that looks like it ran about about five years ago. “Excuse me, I was busy doing all of this” he’s telling you as he points at the ceiling and the tray of half-eaten breakfast, most of which he’s consumed himself despite claiming that it’s for ‘the pretty lady’, replying with ‘I know, I know, I’m just kidding’ as he hums and slides his finger under the flap of the envelope to open it up.

“That’s cute, innit” he’s saying as he nods towards the card that he’s got you. A teddy bear couple on the front, one of them holding a bouquet of flowers and the other one going all shy and blushy in response. “Yeah, I take it you’re this one though” you tease as you point towards the blushing bear, not even bothering to fight back because he can’t argue with that, not after the state he got himself into this morning when you saw what he’d stayed up doing all night.

“Thank you so much” he’s whispering once he’s finished reading your card, leaning across to kiss you whilst trying to disguise the fact that he’s crying at what you’ve written inside. “Thank you so much for mine, who knew you had such a way with words?” you smile as he rolls his eyes at you, propping your card up on his bedside table so that it acts as a little reminder to read it again before he goes to bed. Pulling you into his side and pressing a series of kisses onto your forehead as the two of you lay there in each other’s arms, tracing patterns along each other’s bare skin with your hearts going all fluttery each time the other person looks at you, never wanting this moment to end.

***

“Wow, what’s going on in here, mister?” you’re asking when you come walking into the kitchen to see him leaping around and trying to juggle about six different frying pans. Completely ignoring your question when he sees what you’ve come down to dinner dressed in. The most beautiful red silk dress that hugs your figure perfectly, paired with the pair of Louboutins that he bought you for your birthday a couple of years ago and a little black clutch bag to match - not that you particularly needed it when you were spending the night at home, but he loves how you still go to so much effort to look all pretty for him, even though he’d love you just as much if you turned up to the kitchen in your Minnie Mouse pyjamas that are littered with about twenty different holes.

“I would come and give you a kiss but I’m quite busy if you can’t tell” he’s saying as you giggle at him. “Come and sit here to keep me company though, I poured a glass of your favourite drink so don’t say I don’t look after ya” he winks as you coo and make your way over to the kitchen island, clinging onto the worktop to steady yourself because it’s been ages since you last wore heels and you don’t want a repeat of five minutes ago when you nearly went arse over tit halfway down the stairs.

“Is that my favourite pasta?” you’re asking as he nods his head nervously, now realising why he spent most of today’s movie marathon on fancy restaurant websites trying to find a recipe for something that you couldn’t quite get a glimpse of thanks to the angle of his phone, but it turns out that it was your favourite dish. Immediately feeling guilty for scowling at him and telling him off for being rude when you were meant to be relaxing and watching all of the soppy love films on Netflix, completely oblivious to the fact that he was actually busy trying to memorise about twelve different recipes so that he could pretend that he knew it off by heart, particularly as it’s your favourite.

“I made my own garlic bread too, look” he’s saying proudly as he points towards the oven. “And a salad, and some of that fancy bread that you dip in the oil and vinegar, well actually that’s a lie, I bought the bread but I mixed the oil and vinegar together and cut the bread into little stars” he’s telling you as your heart almost bursts at the seams. Looking over at the plate of little bread stars across the other side of the kitchen and just dying to squish him for being so cute, especially since he’d cut them all freehand without using any sort of template - something that he was incredibly proud of himself for, even if a couple of them had very wonky edges and a few missing points.

“Aaand I made a chocolate cheesecake as well” he says smugly as you raise your eyebrows in slight disbelief. “All whilst I was getting ready?” you’re questioning as he nods his head. “Don't look so shocked! You were getting ready for about three hours so I had plenty of time to do everything, even if I did spend about an hour trying to work out how to use a garlic crusher” he’s smiling as you laugh at him, loving how he was still pretty inept in the kitchen despite managing to conjure up a romantic meal for you.

“Let me take the pretty lady to her table” he’s saying with a posh voice as you slide off the bar stood and link your arm through his, letting him lead you over to the dining table that you didn’t even notice when you came in. “Oh my god” you’re cooing as your eyes scan over the little tea lights that he’s shaped to look like a heart, rose petals scattered across the table and a collection of Polaroids that the two of you have taken across the years dotted around too. Trying to swallow down the lump in your throat as he pulls the chair back and helps you get comfy before disappearing off and coming back to bring you all of the food that he’s prepared.

“This looks amazing” you whisper as you reach across the table to hold his hand, mouthing a little ‘thank you’ at him as he lifts your hand up and presses a kiss onto your skin. “Don’t go all shy and emotional on me now, missy, it’s not our first date” he teases as you giggle at him and wipe away a stray tear. Being cut out of your emotional moment when he forces a little star of bread into your mouth, the oil and vinegar dribbling down your chin as you give him the evils and try to pat it away with one of the paper napkins that’s he’s folded into a square - covered in little Christmas puddings because ‘what’s the point in buying ones for Valentine’s Day when we can use what we’ve already got?’ Tempted to do the same thing back to him but you’re managing to resist the urge to start a food fight on the most romantic day of the year, instead dipping your fork into your bowl of pasta and twiddling several strands of linguine around it before putting it into your mouth. Clinging onto the table when you start to chew, your eyes blowing wide as you stare straight back at him and wag your finger in his direction. Waving your hands above your head and clapping before swallowing and letting out a little cheer. “Is it that good?” he laughs as you start shovelling more of the pasta into your mouth, giving him the all important answer he needs as he breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that all of his not-so-sly google searches and telling offs during your movie day have paid off.

“Thank you so much for all of this” you’re saying as you tuck into your slice of cheesecake, admiring the little hearts that he’d swirled into the top of the chocolate mixture before doing the all important taste test. Nodding your head and smiling at him to reassure him that it tastes incredible before he’s reaching across the table to hold your hand again. “Thank you so much for making me realise what love is” he’s saying as you try your best to fight back the tears. Never really hearing him come out with things like that unless he’s drunk, probably because he gets too shy and embarrassed and worries that you won’t feel the same way, despite spending the past six years of your life with him and reassuring him every single day that he’s the one for you, so hearing him have the confidence to tell you how much you mean to him means the absolute world.

“Thank you for making my life a million times better and holding my hand through all of what life’s thrown at us” he’s telling you as you tilt your head to the side and just admire the man you love with your whole heart going all soppy, clearly having added something to his pasta that evoked this kind of emotion. “And for keeping my feet on the ground and being there when things haven’t gone quite as I’d planned” he’s saying as you sniff away opposite him, your thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand as he carries on. “There’s genuinely nobody else in the entire world that I love as much as you” he’s adding, his voice breaking half way through, making the rest of the sentence all shaky, as he does his best to try and hold himself together, despite just wanting to burst into tears at how much he means each and every one of those words.

“I love you so much” you blub before getting up and making your way around the table to him, sitting down on his lap and burying your head in the crook of his neck as his arms snake around your waist and pull you close to him. His fingers tracing gentle patterns on the sides of your hips as you play with his hair, occasionally pressing the odd kiss to his skin which makes his grip around your body become even tighter. A comfortable silence washing over the two of you as you sit there in a completely love-filled state, neither person knowing quite what to say, but going by each other’s reactions a few minutes ago, it’s clear that this is what love feels like.

“I got you a present” you’re saying as you pull away from him, breaking the silence and climbing off his lap before disappearing off into the hallway. Picking up the little white gift bag that you’d left at the bottom of the stairs when you came down for dinner, your fingers looping through the silk handles as you make your way back to him. “I thought we said no presents?” he’s questioning as you scoff at him. “Says the man who decided to decorate the bedroom and cook me dinner” you’re replying as he gives you a shy smile at the thought. “It’s just a little something but it shows how much I love you and I know you’ve wanted it for ages” you tell him as he pulls one end of the bow, watching it unravel before he’s dipping his hand into the bag and fumbling around amongst the tissue paper. Pulling out several sheets of white tissue paper littered with tiny scarlet red hearts before he’s eventually reaching the box inside. Looking at you with a confused expression as he lifts the rectangular black box out and gives it a little shake, something rattling inside as he pauses for a second to think about what it could be, ruling out the possibility of it being a bracelet or a fancy watch, not that he’d ever want you spending that much money on him, of course.

“Just open it!” you’re giggling as you push him to open the gift, the anticipation getting to you more than it is him as. “I’m scared” he laughs nervously, waiting a few seconds before he’s beginning to lift the lid off. “Don’t be” you’re whispering as he looks at you one final time before fully taking it off.

His jaw dropping as he admires what’s inside, his gaze flicking between you and the inside of the box as he tries to process what you’ve given him.

“We’re having a baby?” he asks as you nod your head, your reaction taking a while to process in his mind, but after what feels like forever he’s letting out a breathy laugh, one that combines happiness and slight disbelief. And then the tears are coming too, his hand covering his face as he sobs into his palm. Making your way back over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck as you rest your head on top of his, letting him come to terms with the fact that you’ve blessed him with the best gift of all.

“Thank you so much” he’s crying as he takes the pregnancy test back out of the box, admiring the two little lines that are showing on the screen - confirming that there’s another life inside of you, made up of both you and him. “No, thank you so much” you’re sniffling as you cup his face and press a little kiss onto his lips. Staring into his teary eyes before they’re fluttering shut when your foreheads touch and the tips of your noses brush over one another. Neither of you knowing quite what to say as you settle back down on his knee again, just holding him close to you until he pulls away every few seconds to look at the pregnancy test again, feeling as though this is all one big dream and someone’s going to wake him up and take it away from him at any given moment. But it’s not. You’re living the dream, and it’s about to become a reality in just a matter of months, a reality that you’ve been craving for the past six years and one that you wouldn’t want to experience with anyone else, and now, it’s one step closer to becoming yours.

February the 14th. The day your lives changed forever.

——————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed this little imagine 🥰 please let me know who you imagined it with because I’m nosy and I’d love to know hehe, I hope you’ve all had the best Valentine’s Day (regardless of whether you’re in a relationship or not) and remember that I love you all to bits x

#trent alexander arnold #jadon sancho #ruben loftus cheek #marcus rashford #dele #dominic calvert lewin #james maddison #ben chilwell #rhian brewster #reiss nelson #valentine’s day #england nt #liverpool fc

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static-fanatic-1 · 3 years

Text

(Reincarnated Goddess Reader)

Shinnok has always looked down on them, not just the Elder Gods, but the weaker Gods as well, not just the Gods, but the Earthrealmers too. No one was safe from his undying hatred against all that opposed him. Though there was someone in particular that the mighty fallen Elder God hadn't looked down upon, even after he became a fallen Elder God. She was the graceful goddess of souls and light, also known as the guidance of souls.

~~~

A female with (s/c) skin, silky (h/c) hair, and vibrant (e/c) eyes walked through a grocery store with a mission in her head. To get the frosted lemon bread before someone else took it.

As the cart rumbled it's way through the isles filled with more important groceries, the female made her way to the bakery area of the small store.

There it was, right in her grasp, right in front of her face. A pearly smile graced (y/n)'s lips as her fingers grazed the surface of the plastic container filled with the last of the sweet lemon bread.

Though the little joy was quickly taken by a dirty blonde man standing at about six foot with darkened sun shades. "Hey! That was literally in my hands!"

The guy paused and looked at the girl, dipping his shades and taking them off. "Sorry sugar cakes, but I'm not giving these away."

(Y/n) huffed and whipped her hand to the man, taking back her sweet treat. "Who are you anyway?" She puffed her cheeks, put her treats in her small buggy, and crossed her arms at the man in front of her. "And what the hell does sugar cakes mean?"

"The name's Johnny Cage, world class actor and Special Force agent." He looked at her with an injured look inside his steel colored eyes. "As for sugar cakes, look at what you took from me."

"Excuse me, but YOU took this from ME." She moved in front of him so he couldn't even dare to take it from her cart.

The guy huffed in irritation. "Come on, I'll pay you back, I just REALLY want those lemon cakes!" Johnny pleaded, placing his sunglasses on his shirt making it drag down and show a small amount of a larger tattoo.

"No! These are mine! Why are you even here if you could go somewhere more fancy or something. Special Forces discounts or something?" (Y/n) complained.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." The girl took her small cart and walked her way to the check out. The man followed behind her and still followed her to her car even after she paid for it, begging for the sweet treat. "No, no, and no! Sorry but these are mine, go to another grocery store."

"But it's out of the way." He whined.

"Nope, sorry."

He watched her get in her car, for some odd reason helping her with her groceries. "Next time they are mine. Right?"

The girl sighed and rummaged around in a bag, getting out the plastic container with the lemon cakes. "Get in the passengers side."

"You aren't gonna kidnap me right?" He smirked at her.

"God no, I'm too lazy for that." She popped open the plastic, taking one and motioning to sit with her. "Want one or not?"

Johnny, finding the girl to be no threat, joined her in her car, leaving the doors wide open, and took a piece of the lemon bread.

"Okay, you're Johnny Cage right? Why would you join the military if you are an actor?" (Y/n) turned her head to the man, his amused look making the girl smile.

"Well I met the love of my life there."

"Geez, that's sappy." She replied back.

"Haha, yeah. Best choice of my life too. Had a sweet little girl too, much older now, but she's still my baby girl."

"Your an open book." (Y/n) sarcastically said, knowing it was the truth.

~~~

Time passed and it wasn't too difficult to become friends with the famous actor, and he truly was an open book. He didn't seem to mind though, about his relationship with his family and even the fact he started to ramble on about another world and a tournament to save Earth.

It was even more strange to know he didn't seem like he was lying or joking, but who was to judge? I mean, it sounded familiar for some reason, but a reason one couldn't point out.

"Your strange, you know that right?"

"Yup, Sony said that too." Johnny laughed to himself, the girl joining him for the heck of it. "Hell, I should get going, thanks for not being too much of an asshole."

"Hahaha, you too you piece of shit. It'd be nice to see you again, think I made a new friend."

Johnny nodded and left, waving before getting in his own car and driving off. "Oh shit my ice cream!" (Y/n) quickly took her leave, driving in front of the man she had just become friends with, and speeding none the less.

~~~

Johnny finally made his way to the Special Forces base, with time to spare before the sun drifted into the clutches of the stars.

"What took you so long Dad?" Johnny gave his attention to his daughter, a beauty made from two of the hottest people alive.

"Met a fan, nice person too."

"Yeah right," she shoved his shoulder as the two laughed at each other. "Anyway, Raidens' here and mom wants you to listen, it's something bad."

"Again? Geez, alright alright let's go."

The two Cages walked into a meeting room, Raiden, Sonya, and the others in Cassie's crew standing at a table. "Johnny Cage." Raiden stated.

"What's up Raidenny's." Raiden grumbled under his breath, something clearly wrong. "What's wrong?"

Sony placed her hands on the electronic map table and rested herself there while staring at her husband. "Raiden has found out something, well, more like somethings." She nodded to Raiden, allowing him to speak.

"Shinnok's amulet has been taken, replaced with an impressive decoy. We need to find it as fast as possible no matter the costs." Raiden paused, his brows furrowing.

Johnny noticed this and held his hand upon the thunder gods shoulder. "What's the other thing."

Raiden sighed and looked at everyone at the table, each person waiting intently. "If Shinnok is to be revived, then I know his targets. The Jin-Sei and another Goddess, one that has been dead for thousands of years."

"Why would a fallen Elder God Look for a dead God?" Johnny asked, his voice serious.

This time Cassie spoke up. "Apparently Raiden's Dad is Shinnok, and he thinks that Shinnok will try to reincarnate the Goddess. He said if she is reincarnated then Shinnok can do much more than kill people, he can control their souls and body. You know, like Quan Chi but in full control, and Quan Chi is an Elder God."

Johnny but his lip nervously. "How do you know this Goddess, Raiden? What does she even look like?"

Sony pushes herself off the table, though it was Kung Jin that replied. "We should worry more about the amulet Mr. Ca- Raiden?"

All eyes looked at Raiden, his shoulders and hands upon the table while they lightly burst with lightning. "The Goddess had (h/c) hair, (s/c) skin and bright (e/c) eyes. I remember she had a sweet tooth to Earthrealmer sweets."

"Who is she, Raiden?" Johnny pressed on, earning a mixed expression from the others in the room.

"My mother!" Raiden slammed his hands against the table, breaking it and shooting lightning through its now fried circuits. He heavily breathed in for a moment. "She is my mother, and Shinnok will not rest until she is revived."

Everything paused, the whole room going dead silent. Something hit Johnny though, something he needed to tell the God. "Listen, Raiden, I saw someone of the discription."

The thunder God looked up in a deepened sadness. "What?"

Everyone looked at Johnny as he continued. "Met her at the store, same description, even seemed to have a sweet tooth."

There was a deep sigh, but his body was still rigid. "We need to find her. Where does she live? Did she have her abilities as before?" So many questions were running through the God's head, like is she even okay?

"No and no, seemed to be normal. I'll send Cassie's team to find her, you guys have to look everywhere." Johnny pointed to his daughter, she was baffled by the sudden information, as everyone else was.

Sonya stood up straight and crossed her arms. "The rest of us will find the amulet." Everyone in the room nodded, understanding the mission at hand. "Johnny, go with Cassie. Raiden, what's her name?"

Johnny didn't allow the God to answer, trying to see if who he found was the right person. "(Y/n)."

Raiden nodded once at Johnny, probing his point that the girl he found was who was going to be hunted by the mighty fallen Elder God.

~~~

(Y/n) sighed and pulled out a small chocolate bar from her small stash of snacks. She pouted due to her ice cream melting to the point it became inedible, sitting on her small couch to continue to sulk.

From the time she had dashed from the store to get to her house, it had been about five hours, and those were a long five hours of sitting in front of the TV doin nothing.

(Y/n) sighed and grumbled, getting up from the couch once more to wonder around because the show had become a little too boring. The second she walked past the couch her door bell rang through out the house.

She paused, getting a strange feeling as she walked to her door. "Who is it?"

"I was wondering if you would like to see my product? It's is cheap and one hundred percent guaranteed to work."

(Y/n) cocked her head to the side in a confused motion, opening the door to see who was behind it.

Though she didn't have enough time to see who it was as a large hand wrapped around her face and tightly grip her neck. She gagged and thrashed in the persons grip, the sound of her front door closing behind them. Was there more than one person? If so then how many?

"Lord Shinnok will be pleased in your capture." A deep voice echoed through the apartment. A multitude of footsteps followed the voice, something that felt like hair wrapped around (y/n)'s waist and arms and dragged her closer to another person, their hands replacing the larger ones. Whoever was holding her now was clearly a female of sorts, a strong one at that, she could resist (y/n)'s struggles with ease.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" (Y/n) thrashed even more in an attempt to escape, but the female was stronger than that, and the new set of arms holding her legs together didn't help her. "Who-Who are you guys?!"

"Where are my manners? I am Quan Chi, faithful servant to Lord Shinnok." The deepest voice rang.

"I am Queen Sindel." The female voiced from behind (y/n).

The third voice followed, possibly the one that held her legs together. "My name is Lui Kang, Emperor of Netherrealm."

Listening to these foreign titles the fearful female struggled harder, especially when her limbs started to be tied behind her back and such. "Why are you doing this?!"

The deep voice, Quan Chi, replied to (y/n)'s fearful pleads. "Lord Shinnok is in need of your presence, and when D'Vorah gives me the amulet, he will return." (Y/n) could sense the smile upon Quan Chi's face, and it made the now bounded female shiver.

Another knock on the door sounded through the apartment, all heads moving in the direction of the wooden surface. "Hello? Yeah is this (y/n)'s residence? My name is Takeda Takahashi and I'm a friend of Johnny Cage."

Again there was a comical pause, but it quickly ended when (y/n) muffled up a scream and thrashed harder than ever, making her crash off her couch she was placed upon.

Dainty hands scooped (y/n) up and held her close, making her screaming and thrashing come to another halt. Though it was too late for the kidnappers, for the Takeda person had already heard what was behind the doors.

"Guys! Over here!" The once locked door was easily opened by a young man with black hair and cocky aura about him. "Don't make another move egg head."

"Your insults do not matter, it is the plan that must be rearranged." He looked at his captive, then at his slaves. He nodded in Liu Kang's direction, giving him the signal to take action as Quan Chi made a portal to Neatherrealm.

Takeda whipped out his weapon and allowed it to reveal its blades. Liu Kang rushed to meet his challenger. "You will meet your end young one."

"You'll meet your end, again."

"Your humor is dry."

"Geez, thanks." Takeda lashed his whip at Liu Kang, making the revenant jump out of the way as more challengers approached the two. A blonde female and a black female, each armed and ready to fight.

Sindel whipped her hair at the blonde, taking her gun away before she could even begin to use it. The black female grabbed Sindel's hair and tugged with all her might, making Sindel grunt and fall to the ground from the force.

Liu Kang eyed his new enemies, rushing up to the blonde female by jumping over Takeda. The revenant bicycle kicked the blonde until she was shoved off the railing of the second story apartment building.

The black female still kept a tight hold on the hair, and so to keep both revenants on their toes she took the white and black hair and wrapped it on Liu Kang's leg. Not knowing her hair was connected to her teammate, she retracted her hair and accidentally pulled Liu Kang back in the building, his head smashing hard against the railing.

Takeda whipped Quan Chi on his back, making his progress pause, but it was too late, the portal has already opened. The revenants seemed to be taken back into reality, the both of them rushing to Quan Chi.

The blonde had finally made her way back up to the apartment, now being joined by two others, a bowman and Johnny Cage.

By seeing her new friend the bounded female wiggled around once again. Quan Chi grabbed (y/n) and lifted her over her shoulder quickly, the two revenants rushing through the portal.

"We will have to meet another time, Mr. Cage."

"I don't think so, shit face." Johnny spat, clearly having some sort of vendetta against the spell caster. Just as the jokester said, Quan Chi wasn't going anywhere, for the blonde and the bowman shot the sorcerer in the same shoulder. Johnny then tore the female off his shoulder and punched Quan Chi unconscious.

The group of young adults assisted in freeing (y/n), a burst of questions coming from the girl. "Who the hell is that? Who the hell were the other two? Who are you all?"

Takeda grimaced at the bombardment of questions, though Johnny was the one to quickly fill it all in. "They are the bad guys, we are the good guys, anyway, we will explain it on the way."

"On the way where?"

The black girl sighed. "We're going to base, Special Forces base."

"How did I get into this? Johnny what did you tell them?!"

Johnny lifted his hands from tying up Quan Chi. "I didn't do anything, why would you expect that it was my fault?!"

Everyone took a sweet moment to look at the actor, and then at (y/n), the blonde stepping up to say something. "Yeah, what did you tell mom, dad?"

"Cassie, c'mon, let's just go."

~~~

(Y/n) walked around the base, it was just like how a military base would look like, if it was a bit more high tech. Either way it was fun to look around, seeing all the weapons, all the people, especially the ones with more of a strange look.

"(Y/n)."

(Y/n) turned her head in the direction of a blonde woman, older than the one that helped save her. "Um, yes?" She revealed her hand, wishing to shake the newcomers hand, which she did.

"My name is Sonya Blade, I'm the one in charge around here."

"Oh, uh, hello Mrs. Blade. I'm (y/n)."

"I know, if I could ask you to kindly stay in a close vicinity, that would be appreciated." Sonya has a bossy speech to her tone, and (y/n) didn't know if it was just because she was the boss or if it was because she had a bitter attitude.

"Um, sure. Yeah, of course."

"Thanks, there is also someone I want you to meet. Follow me."

(Y/n) nodded and followed without much of a question, all other than the one stuffed in the back of her mind. 'Who was she about to meet?'

She passed a metal case, one large enough for a male to be encased within its hard walls, she knew this is where that Quan Chi guy was, and by passing it she was given chills.

"Sorry," Sonya started. "But he won't be here for a while, he's looking for something important."

"That's fine, I don't mind waiting." (Y/n) bit her lip, wanting to ask something that has yet to be explained in all of this strange mess. She was already told about how there are more than one world, realms as they call it, and how some of the people had different abilities. Not to mention that Earthrealm was at war with another realm called Outworld, and even Neatherrealm if you look at the tension between the realms. But one question remained, why was she here in the first place? Okay, she had way more questions than one, but still, when were they going to be answered?

Sonya paused, as if hearing something that was off. She pulled out her gun and looked around. Then a sudden flash of lightning splashed in the middle of the clearing in the base. "There he is." She voiced, watching as the lightning disappeared as fast as it came, revealing a man with blinding white eyes under a bamboo hat and a, almost, martial artist outfit. It had accents of blue and small amounts of gold, counting the thick belt tightly around his waist.

(Y/n) leaned near the General and whispered one of the million questions in her mind. "How the hell did he do that?"

"Lady (y/n)," The seemingly godly man beamed. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you again. Earthrealm is in a state of panic, we need to get you to the Jin Sei to unlock your abilities, and your past memories."

"Wait-wait, memories? Abilities? I-I don't even know who you are, less of what you are talking about." (Y/n) interrupted.

"My manners," The man shook his head and bowed, which seemed to be an odd thing to Sonya, for her face became slightly surprised by his actions. "My name is Raiden, I am the protector of Earthrealm and the God of Thunder. As for the rest, I will only be able to show you."

"Just go, we don't have much time, and your help could mean the end of the war." (Y/n) turned to Sonya with a surprised look upon her face. "Trust him and go." She ordered once more.

Raiden extended his hand once he rose from his bow. "You will answer some of my questions, right?" The God nodded, earning a hesitant hand from the questioning female. Lightning engulfed her being, but it didn't hurt, instead it tingled through her skin and tickled. Sparks danced across her skin, giving off a comfortable warmth as her surrounding could not be seen anymore. The sparks died down, revealing a Chinese inspired temple surrounded by lamps in the darkness the surrounded the building. Rain started to drizzle from the thick clouds above.

"Lady (y/n), if you would follow me please." (Y/n) followed what he wanted, trailing behind him as he walked through a stone courtyard.

"Where are we going?" The female kindly asked.

"The Jin Sei, it is a force I am connected to, it gives me power as well as keeps Earthrealm protected."

"What would it do to me? You said it would give me powers that I already had, memories too? How would that even work?"

Raiden softly smiled to himself from her many questions and her clueless demeanor. "You are a reincarnate of a Goddess, your past life could, in theory, be unlocked by the Jin Sei."

(Y/n) didn't believe the God, then again, she had just learned there were Gods and other worlds, so heard this just added to the other crazy stuff she had been told. "What type of Goddess was I? How could I, even as a Goddess, stop a multi-realm war? It seems like an impossible fight."

"It seems like it would be, but being the Goddess of souls, you can do far more than fight. You are the most powerful Gods ever created, and you were one of the original Gods at that. I have no doubt you can do more than you think."

The two beings walked up the stairs to the temple, the rain falling faster and harder than before. "Wait, if I was so powerful, how did I die in the first place?"

Raiden's eyes were covered under his bamboo hat. "An Elder God by the name of Shinnok killed you. You had learned of a power you possessed and you planned to use it against him, once he found out he killed you." The God gritted his teeth, his brows furrowing. "The Elder Gods took care of him after your death, he swore vengeance."

"I'm a threat, to someone more powerful than you. I can't imagine that." (Y/n) lightly laughed as she entered the temple, waking deeper as she still followed Raiden. "Did I know you, in my past life? I guess you sound and look familiar, like deja vu."

"Yes, yes you knew me. We-we were close." He bit his lip as light began to illuminate their surroundings, a beautiful swirl of light showing itself.

"Wow." (Y/n) mumbled to herself. "Is this the, uh-?"

"Jin-Sei, yes. All you should have to do is step in it, and all should be revealed." Raiden looked down at the female, giving her a sympathetic look. "You must hurry, Shinnok's amulet has yet to be found and I fear the worst is yet to come. We need you."

(Y/n) nodded and took a long look at the Jin-Sei before slowly walking to the glowing swirl. "I just step in?" She asked, looking at Raiden to see if she was correct, he nodded in return to her question. Biting her lip once more she walking into the swirling mass of magic, a sudden feeling of being in antigravity lifting her body further into the tornado of energy. (Y/n)'s mind went blank for a moment as the energy took hold of her being, cleansing her of all of her filth, she felt pure and refreshed when stepping in.

Raiden watched as her body relaxed from its once tense stature, making her look exactly as he remembered. Raiden hoped Shinnok would not return and take her again, this time he was going to stop him.

~~~

Heavy steps resonated through the temple, an obsessive aura seething through the already thick atmosphere. A hand tightly gripped the amulet while a bug creature dragged Johnny Cage's body to the temple.

Shinnok could feel Raiden, he could feel the Jin-Sei, and he could tell someone he desired was here as well. The former Elder God gripped the amulet even harder, storming his way into the sacred room, the faint smell of alcohol and blood behind him.

Shinnok's white eyes scanned the room, finding the God assisting his mother from the Jin-Sei. "Raiden." The Elder God growled, placing his amulet upon his belt. "Your blood will paint the floors."

"Stop this, Shinnok! You have no reason to be here!" Raiden snapped back, spitting venom within his words.

Shinnok stepped forward, D'Vorah taking care of Johnny. "I have every reason to come here, you know that." He summoned his weapon as Raiden placed the Goddess down on the chilled steps of the inside of the temple walls and prepared himself for a fight. Lighting flashed over his arms and bit at his skin in a comforting feeling, though this was everything but a comforting time.

Raiden and Shinnok rushed at each other, both with the intention to kill each other. Raiden summoned lightning through his hands and shot at Shinnok, the Elder God dodging and summoning skeletal hands from the ground. Raiden flew above to dodge the hands, but they easily kept up with him, almost catching him every time.

The former Elder God grinned at Raiden's useless struggles, a hand being able to grab the God's leg and drag him back to the stone floor.

Raiden, before more bone hands could take a hold of him, electrified his whole body in a sudden burst. The lightning fluttered through the whole room, pausing D'Vorah's work and Shinnok's focus on the boney hand.

Raiden backed up, his back facing (y/n)'s unconscious body, his lungs burning from his weak attempt to stop Shinnok. "Your attempts are useless, Raiden! Fighting will get you nowhere." The former Elder God snapped, throwing his weapon into Raiden's shoulder. The force knocked Raiden back into a wall and with a struggle he pulled out the bladed staff.

"I will not stop, never." Raiden coughed out, a mumble and shuffling being heard behind him, though he didn't dare take his eyes off his enemy.

Shinnok on the other hand looked at the movement, a gleam of lust hitting his vision. He watched as the Goddess rose from her small slumber, her gaze hazy and mind fuzzy. It took a moment for her eyes to focus, and when her eyes locked with Shinnok, her mind rushed into a frenzy of treacherous memories. "Y-you!" She staggered up from the ground and pointed at the former Elder God, he had come back to collect her.

All her memories have been restored, keeping the ones she created in her short mortal lifetime as well, meaning she still knew what was going on. "Leave my son alone you fiend!" She stood beside Raiden, placing her hand upon his chest and slightly stepped in front of him as if to protect him, a motherly instinct.

"He isn't just-" Shinnok had started, but was being rudely interrupted by the Goddess.

"You never cared for either of my sons, you have no right to call them so." Her hand reaches for where a belt buckle would be, but what she wanted to feel wasn't there. Her own amulet has gone missing. In a fearful panic, (y/n) swiftly let her eyes travel around her waist to see if her golden and green amulet was anywhere to be found, but to no avail.

"Are you looking for this?" The Elder God cocked his head to the side, lifting up the amulet he had grown to call his own, as he listed over its power and its original user.

"By the Gods." (Y/n) cursed under her breath, stepping back and pushing Raiden with her. "That is mine."

"Not anymore." Shinnok summoned his bone hands and weapon one more time, clasping Raiden within the hand as he twirled his weapon around. (Y/n) just barely managed to jump away from the hands, needing to keep on her toes so she wouldn't get caught.

The Goddess huffed and summoned her own weapon, hoping fear wouldn't take over her like it had done before she was killed. Her weapon was that of a war hammer, similar to the one her other son had taken as his own, but instead of silver hers was gold with green gem stones. It held no specific power, but that was for another object, her stollen amulet.

The two beings looked at each other's souls through their whitened eyes, one glaring immensely, the other with amusement. They ran at each other, their weapons clashing producing sparks that danced across in the air until they fell dead onto the ground.

Shinnok was physically stronger, thankfully not as strong as Shao Kahn, but still strong none the less. The fallen Elder God uses his strength to push down the Goddess, (y/n) allowing her hammer to push his weapon to the side instead of her falling. She recoiled her hammer and slammed it against Shinnok's head, making him stagger back with blood dripping from his nose. "I forgot how skilled you were, darling."

"Your sweet words hit deaf ears!" She slammed her hammer down on his shoulder, then his back up under his jaw. Shinnok's bones cracked loudly, but he still stood tall. (Y/n) didn't stop though because she was getting the upper hand, just a little more beating up and then she could snatch her amulet back and trap him once again.

(Y/n) hit him harder and harder every time the war hammer collided with his body, she could feel the adrenaline and Raiden's aura cheering her on. Finally, after a long and hard beating, Shinnok had fallen, and with a quick throw of her hammer she allowed it to collide with D' Vorah and nock her out cold.

"It is over Shinnok, after all these years you have been taken down by what you loved the most. Serves you right." He seemed to be limp on the ground, so she grabbed him by his collar and lifted him to his knees, she moved her hand to take her amulet back, but it was nowhere to be seen.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened as she was head butted by the fallen Elder God. The Goddess staggered back and held her nose in pain, the God in front of her revealing the amulet. "I will never die, especially by your hands." A gorgeous but venomous light emerged from the amulet, dragging the Goddess into its clutches. Darkness engulfed the Goddess, making her feel as if she was floating in nothing, this was the end for her she thought.

~~~

Light emerged from the amulet, and (y/n) fell out of it in a daze. Quickly realizing she must have escaped somehow, and hoping desperately it was Raiden or her new friend Johnny Cage, she whipped her head around desperately. Though who looked back wasn't who she desired to see, the two figures proving they had absolute power over the situation, and she was the weak lamb to the hungry wolves.

The first figure, Shinnok, tightly held her so she wouldn't fall into the blue oblivion below. He floated, smiling down at her with a crazed look in his eyes.

The other figure though, was the worst thing imaginable. It consumed the realms and the Elder Gods as the two away from him watched in awe or horror. This being was the One Being, and the sights of him proved that Shinnok had won, and that he and her would be stuck together forever, never to be apart.

#Yandere Mortal Kombat #Yandere mk #Yandere shinnok #Yandere shinnok x reader

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 17

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

These two...

I don't really think I need to say more

Authors Notes:This chapter is safe for everyone although I've been told it might get you emotionally... so I’ll add a hurt/comfort warning.

Two nights later, the air has grown noticeably warmer and not because of the heat from the boat but the change in climate.

The music and wine flow like water starting even before dinner so that by the time the small feast is finished, you’re feeling a good buzz and hinting at what you really want, what you’ve been craving and longing for. You can feel it in your bones, aching to be satisfied. It’s a deep sort of innate calling that can not be ignored and if you don’t give into it soon, you refuse to be held responsible for your actions…

So when Doja Cat starts singing so sweetly through the million dollar sound system that your eyes roll shut, you smack your hands down on the table and push your chair back, jumping up to give into that primal call because tonight— all you want to do is dance.

The second Zemo explained how the ships blocking technology would allow you travel undetected while still allowing for satellite use, you started abusing it to get into your Spotify and randomly put together a playlist knowing you’d need a night like this eventually. As tough as he can be about breaking rules— especially ones that involve real life consequences— Zemo is first of all; a sucker for a good dance night just as much as you are, and second; a complete pushover when it comes to the things you want. So when you pout just enough and ask real sweet, he does finally give in realizing that no amount of punishment can stop you. It’s Bucky who seems to forget about the playlist and who —surprise— refuses to get off his ass and dance, even though you try to get him to join you.

But you don’t care. You leave him and make your way into the lounge with its dim lighting, open floor and low couches letting it become your dance floor and take up the space beautifully; so much so that you don’t even notice you’re out there alone. You just keep singing “kiss me more”, grinning like a girl with 'nothing to lose' tossing your head back with a laugh, feeling the high.

Bucky sets his fork down and leans to the side in his chair watching over his shoulder. Zemo takes a swallow of wine, his eyes never leaving the sight of you framed by the lounge doorway as the sway of your hips and bounce of your ass becomes hypnotic. You toss your softest curves like sexual extensions of the music loving every beat until the last, and the song fades.

Resting your hands on the small of your back, you catch your breath with a wide grin. That was the perfect warm up. These poor boys have no idea what they’re in for…

You quickly turn and find them watching. A flush rises up your neck from the attention, growing your smile until it beams. “What?” But you know what.

Bucky shakes his head looking off, “That one on there twice?” He deadpans and tosses a piece of bread in his mouth.

You roll your eyes, laughing as you head back for the table, very much flattered by his— compliment— only to be stopped before you can sit down by the glorious voice of the one and only Whitney taking over the surround sound, declaring that she wants to ‘Dance With Somebody’.

You toss your arms in the air with a high pitched squeal making Bucky recoil like you’re a woman possessed.

“Oh come on! How can anyone resist this!” You shout at him over the distinct sounds of the 80’s and growl in frustration when he won’t budge. You huff and shove his shoulder, leaving him to go twirling back into the lounge again.

This is exactly what you’ve been craving. A night of good booze and food and solid, sweat inducing, “don’t give a shit what you look like” dancing. You’re already hopping around, feeling the delightful agony of wishing you had someone to dance with as only she can make you feel and singing at the top of your lungs, when you’re joined by, well, not the unlikely but still surprising presence of the Baron, just in time for him to perfectly mouth the lyrics along with you and Ms. Houston—

“I need a man who’ll take a chance

on a love that burns hot enough to last”

You jump back, hand over your mouth in delighted shock as you laugh louder than the music. Well aware of his hilarious charm, Zemo's smile grows as wide as yours.

Hands on your hips he yanks you forward and your thighs part to straddle his one. You let your head fall back dirty dancing style and slide your hands over his shoulders as he tickles your skin with a kiss between your breast —he’s been eying the plunging neckline of your white tank top since you came up for dinner — then lifts you back up, taking your hand and giving you a spin, your vintage Givenchy skirt flowing around your legs light as air.

You whirl into his arms, back pressed to him, your palms sliding along his thighs in those soft chinos as you wind your hips down and up feeling his hands close to near fists around your biceps. He’s got you held close as the two of you move, his cheek pressed to yours, his breath light down your neck and chest as you sing the verse alone this time with your eyes closed.

Never mind wanting to dance with somebody, you know what you want to do with him— wait, is that what this song is about?

He tosses you around and smiles at you with a look in his eyes that hints at maybe going below decks, hot as this is you still only want to dance and shake your head pulling free, rolling your eyes at him.

Zemo is too quick and grabs your arms again, pulling you into a hard kiss. He says something painfully sexy in Sokovian as you part, but you don't let on that he's almost got you and simply shrug, wink and slip away. He smiles as he waves a finger in your face like you might be in trouble for denying him but you just laugh harder thanking him for the dance.

Resigned to coming in second to the music tonight, Zemo waits besides you; both of you wondering what song will play next. You hope for something that will keep him on the floor because having Helmut back in your life like this is incredible. You glance at him, still amazed at how he transforms into this, fun, carefree man, so ready to live in this vibrant way. Master manipulator, wanted killer, singing and dancing to Whitney, sure. Why not.

You're grinning at him, swooning honestly, hopelessly swept up in what feels like a revival of the life you had as well as a celebration of what you’ve welcomed. Yes the dynamic has changed but only for the better. So, when the blaring call of very early 1940’s trumpets come blasting out of the speakers joined by a joyful dance rhythm unexpectedly, you and Zemo turn in unison to Bucky.

“What the…” You pull a face.

Bucky lifts his head looking confused for a second, followed by the widest smile you’ve ever seen. “Hey! This is the one I asked Zemo to put on there!”

You can’t help it and smile back. He can be saccharine sweet sometimes.

As the big band kicks in and the music builds you see him light up and leave his chair to join the two of you “May I cut in?” Bucky asks politely only glancing at Zemo.

“Please,” He answers and you notice how his eyes narrow ever so slightly when he looks at Bucky. There is something arresting about this and you quickly look from one man to the other as Helmut quietly goes back to enjoy the rest of his wine and the show.

“Just follow my lead doll; this song really swings.” Bucky says like he’s back at the dancehall and the crowd has parted just for the two of you.

“Oh my god. No. Bucky no.” You cringe, distracted by his— enthusiasm. Covering your face with your hands to hide the secondhand embarrassment, you watch him circle you through your fingers clearly not caring at all. When he reaches out and grabs your wrist without warning you scream, erupting with laughter as he tosses you away and into a spin.

It takes all of twenty seconds and a few fancy moves to realize that all the times you’ve teased the poor man about his terrible dance skills have been completely unfair. Your assessments have been based solely on the fact that you’ve been dragging him to clubs that bump with top ten hits. You want him to grind when really, Bucky just wants to glide.

Even in shorts and a loose button down he shines like a star out of time, so you just let the Sergeant do his thing and it’s ridiculously fun; even when you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

He pulls you close with his right hand keeping it firm on your back, while his black and gold cradles your left so gently. When the music breaks, Bucky leads you in a few turns and box steps that have you gazing at him. He just smiles and says in your ear, “Just trust me” Your eyes flutter shut at his words “Hands on my shoulders” He says and quickly takes you by the waist, lifting so that your legs go swinging up and out just like you’ve seen in old movies, letting you come down just as easy.

“Yeah?” He nods with a grin knowing you love it.

“Yes!” You laugh.

“Now this,” He says not missing the beat and hops you up swinging your legs past his waist and around his back so easily you’re standing on his other side and right back into a rocking box step before you have time to say a word. You just let it go on, and when the song comes to an end too soon for your liking, Bucky drops you into a dip so low that you cling to him, looking up into his eyes.

“Oh,” You sigh, understanding Bucky’s era a little better while feeling light headed, and not because of the dance. Why would anyone ever stopdancing this way? Now imagine if I actually knew what I was doing!

He’s grinning and cradles the back of your head, gently kissing you before lifting you back up onto your feet.

“That was incredible” You say breathless, “Really, I wish you would have shown me you know how to do that sooner!”

You swear he nearly blushes as he shrugs. “Never really had the chance.”

Zemo’s light applause gets your attention. Both of you turn in unison, your faces radiating the energy of the music though inside your heart is hurting as you glance at Bucky again. Remnants of your conversation from the bath come flying back to slice through the happy fabric of this night even though you’re trying your best not to think about it.

Zemo is smiling, albeit somewhat painfully which is not lost on you. But Bucky is distracting as he turns away to hide a confusing smile, batting those long lashes, averting those obscenely large blue eyes. Whoever gave a grown man permission to have eyes the size of a Disney princess should be drawn and quartered…

You inhale a shaking breath. It’s your warning of rising emotions that you don’t want getting in the way of your fun dance night. Damn it Barnes.

You sigh wondering if you’ve always loved him this much, or if it’s knowing that he won’t always be there that has you so taken with him tonight. Not so long ago he was just your best friend with lots of benefits. Now that just seems silly, like you were afraid to admit that you could love them both.

But here you are.

Bucky isn’t looking at you though.

You’re standing right next to him and his gaze is not swayed by you in the least.

As you slowly catch your breath from all the dancing —though you might lose it again with the way his profile glows in this lighting— for the first time since all of this began, you find yourself actually wanting him to look at you, but he’s too busy gazing at Zemo.

For a split second you feel the awful twinge of jealousy. It’s something you’ve never even considered before, but then again you’ve never felt this way; in fact you’ve been dealing with all sorts of wonderful, sometimes awful new feelings and you have to question why you torture yourself like this.But all it takes is one look at them and you know— one look at Bucky looking at Zemo and you see how he lifts his eyes with a sort of longing, some slightly sad bit of hope— it melts your heart and quiets the green eyed monster instantly. You can’t fault him, you used to look at Helmut the same way.

Speaking of, you notice the man himself take another long swallow of wine before standing. He crosses the floor looking like he really wants to say something— something important? You brace yourself for whatever it may be, but the the next song begins before he gets the chance.

Zemo stops in his tracks, recognizing it from the first note. He glances up towards the ceiling, his eyes scanning like he might locate the source of the music, then back down at Bucky. There’s a funny look on his face, almost like he’s been caught? But he doesn’t stop it from playing.

The drums, the keys, the dramatic intro… You know this song, just not this version. It’s actually one of your favorites, but really? Disco?

“Zemo. This is all you, isn’t it?” You groan with your hand on your hip, trying not to show him how utterly adorable he can be. You actually love his random taste in music but maybe some rules for the playlist next time…

He holds up a finger. “Don’t shit on disco.” He warns coming closer.

“Pretty sure I’m happy I missed this era.” Bucky mumbles. He rolls his eyes and attempts to go sit back down but Zemo is quick and grabs his arm as he passes. “No, you’re already here.” He says holding Bucky firm and they look at one another— the single fold of Helmut's dark-blue short sleeve pulls tight against the curve of his muscle showing the strong tension between them which you find inappropriately attractive— Bucky looks down like he’s surprised if not slightly offended and Zemo eases his hold tilting his head with a smile. As a reminder of the hierarchy on board he pulls Bucky ever so slightly closer.

“Disco is the music of a revolution James. Everyone was told to hate it by the people who feared it, and the culture it represented which is a shame. Some of the greatest anthems came from that time, inspired by the people who fought for us to have the freedoms we take for granted. People without our privilege. You should respect it a little more.”

Bucky leans back opening his mouth to argue but closes it just as quickly. He can’t object to that.

You just grin. Zemo going on a sociopolitical tangent always makes you swoon.

His expression does soften though, and he smooths his other hand down Bucky’s chest, letting his fingers slip under the open collar of the soldier’s loose shirt. “You see if I was not a criminal, and you were not an avenger,” He looks over at you and smiles. “And she were not an accomplice to our many sins; we could walk down certain streets displaying our relationship without much retaliation.” Bucky nods, appreciating his simple explanation even though it’s not needed. He certainly understands the point. “Also, it should be noted that while Thelma Houstons version of this song is absolutely categorized under disco, this, is an R&B classic.

Of course he knows that. You can only laugh to yourself as you’re easily reminded in the moment that you are very much in love with two men.

“And” He looks at Bucky again, all the humor gone replaced by a softness that surprises you. “I did not intend for it to play,”

The wine may have dulled your senses but not so much that you can’t pick up on the unease between them and you call for the song to skip not wanting either of them to feel uncomfortable. But Helmut shakes his head and finally lets go of Bucky’s arm only to touch his face.

“No,” He says to you without taking his eyes off of Bucky “It’s all right. I think now is the perfect time” You see Bucky almost smile at Zemo as he tells the device to start the song over but instead winces like he hates that its starting again.

“Please don’t” Bucky tries to joke and groans, pulling away. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. He’s laughing to himself and you can hear that in spite of his attempts, whatever this is, is anything but funny. But for what its worth he doesn’t go and sit.

Helmut just stands there looking at him as the music starts again and you smile because of Bucky’s irritation, thinking you’ll see the same playfulness in Zemo, instead you find his eyes looking ever so slightly dejected. But the beat distracts you from your concern and you start moving; shoulders first, head to the side hips hitting the beat. This is not what you were expecting.

Don’t leave me this way.

I can’t survive, I can’t stay alive

Without you love

Don’t leave me this way no

You hum along, your eyes shutting at the deep, restrained sadness of the baritone voice surrounding you while they stand there looking at each other.

This won’t do.

You step behind Bucky smoothing your hand down his vibranium arm and lift his hand to lay it on Helmut’s shoulder, swaying Bucky’s hips with yours until he’s sort of moving on his own.

Still they keep looking at each other like there’s some barrier between them and it’s strange but this song is… Helmut picked it?

You smile and lay your head on Bucky’s back reaching your hand through the space between his arm and waist and grab Zemo’s shirt bringing them close, thinking for once the Baron could use a little help.

Dont leave me this way,

a broken man with empty hands,

oh baby please please,

don’t leave me this way

Your eyes flit up and around, catching a glimpse of Zemo who gazes at Bucky like he’s trying to make a memory of his face without being caught in the act and you feel the words of the song heavy in your heart, their straight forward meaning striking a nerve as the music builds and the absolute need to move your body takes hold.

You leave Bucky, bouncing off into your own world, which when you close your eyes becomes a shower of glitter and light across a dark dance floor…

Baby, my heart is full of love and desire for you.

So come on down and do what you’ve got to do

You started this fire down in my soul

Now can’t you see it’s burning out of control

Come on Satisfy the need in me

Cause only your good love can set me free

The stir of music and words flows through you like honey. Your fingers slide down your neck between the valley of your breast and over your stomach as you twist and turn and you let yourself feel the pull between the beat that wants you to be happy, and his voice insisting otherwise, and this damn song threatens to rip your heart out.

You open your eyes and turn to them wondering what you might find. Much better… Bucky has finally given in.

He could no sooner resist Helmut than you could a hard beat and a good bass line. Not to mention Zemo knows how to win a man over. Tonight he moves just as he should for this one. It’s hardly dancing as you might define it, but the Sergeant won’t show off unless he’s got trumpets and band leaders to inspire him apparently, but as you sway, you see how Helmut puts his arms around Bucky’s neck when the next verse begins and Bucky slowly moves his hands to Zemo’s back, letting his body do what comes naturally, and they look beautiful as they move together creating their own flow. No it’s hardly dancing, but it seems to be what they need right now.

Don’t you understand I’m at your command

Oh baby please don’t leave me this way

Helmut takes hold of Bucky’s shirt collar, his other hand flat on his chest as he finally lets Bucky see the way he’s been looking at him since the song began, since the night began, since this morning… always.

I can’t survive

I can’t stay alive

Without you love

Dont leave me this way,

You stop dancing because you see it too and press your fingers to your lips, inhaling deeply as you watch Bucky grab the Baron’s arms with a pent up aggression that makes you think you might forget how to breathe as it becomes clear…

Helmut hadn’t meant for Bucky to hear this song because when he chose it, his heart was breaking, but he wants him to see now. He needs to be vulnerable in front of the man he loves. But you have to wonder, why this night?

The three of you stand frozen in the center of the room while the music dances around you…

I don’t want you to go

See I love you, you can’t go

Would you stay with me, stay, stay with me please…

The desperate look in Helmut’s eyes as he searches Bucky’s face makes tears well unexpectedly in your own and you know you’re about to find out what’s happened between them that you were not a part of.

“I’m sorry.” Helmut says stepping back, letting go. He’s standing too still as the next song, thankfully a quiet one, simply asks “who’s going to drive you home” His frown is deep even though he’s clearly not angry, maybe just a little scared. “James…”

“Don’t apologize.” Bucky says, turning away with a heavy sigh like he knew this was coming. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes not sure he wants to hear it. “Please don’t. It’s fine.” The way he turns back to look Zemo in the eyes —all stoic super hero tough guy— you can tell he’s being dismissive and distant to protect himself but the cracks in his facade are showing.

“No. No it was anything but fine.” Zemo insists sounding very calm, but angry with himself as he stares right back at Bucky.

“Really. I-I shouldn’t have said anything,” Bucky says and ducks his chin, his defenses breaking. He goes quiet, sighs and speaks to the floor. “It’s just being here, with you and her; everything we’ve done together…” He glances up but finds it hard to keep eye contact “I got carried away, maybe saw something that just isn’t there”

Wait. You see tears in his eyes and step forward. Is this what you think it is?

“That’s not true.” Helmut wants to say more but he falls short and turns away, pressing his finger to his lips in thought. He looks down before glancing over at you.

You love him, you do, but you know how he can be. He pushes back when it gets real. He doesn’t mean to and you know he won’t always, but you’re afraid he has now, so you simply smile and nod hoping he will listen to your silent plea and just say what’s in his heart. It’s the least that Bucky deserves.

Head tilting very slowly, Helmut seems to come to a realization as he looks at you. He hears and sees. He knows.

Quickly looking back at Bucky, his chest rising with a deep breath, he finds the words, and you quickly take the moment to look at James Buchanan Barnes too— the man who is the other half of your heart. The soft, gentle protecter who holds you when you cry, who makes you laugh even when he’s upset just to make you feel better— if he’s all of that and more to you, what must he be to the man who met him first?

Helmut reaches out, grabbing Bucky by the shoulder, his grip inching up along his neck in an attempt to get him to look into his eyes. His other hand goes to Bucky’s face turning his head until Bucky has no choice but to look at him and Helmut smiles, looking a little relieved for it. His thumb brushes the soft shadow of Bucky’s stubble and you see so easily how deeply he cares. “I should not have walked away. That was wrong and I am sorry. Forgive me James— please.” Brown eyes gaze into blue, flitting back and forth quickly looking for any sign to go on, but he can’t wait, not now. “I never thought I’d hear you say those words to me and I was not ready.” He swallows hard, but the tears are coming anyway.

Bucky’s vibranium hand closes around Zemo’s wrist like he wants to break free but his heart won’t let him. “I thought maybe I’d said the wrong thing, or— maybe that’s not what this is?”

Fuck he sounds so hurt. You have to cover your mouth with your hand as you very quietly walk away and go to sit by the pool letting them have this alone…

“No” Helmut says, his attempt at a reassuring smile anything but as they come closer and their mouths almost meet as though they might kiss, but instead their foreheads touch and push angrily against one another. No —not one another— against the world and the many choices made by other people who sealed their fate as enemies long before they ever met. Thankfully neither of them were very good at listening to decisions made by other people.

“You were right.” Helmut says softly. “You were right and I should have said it back,” He shuts his eyes and exhales slowly feeling the weight lift from his chest. Wanting to see that perfect face when he says it, Helmut pulls back and speaks the truth as he should have this morning. “I do, James. I do love you.” He says without looking away, “Very much.”

The look of pain on the White Wolf’s face is in stark contrast to the joy in his heart. A burst of laughter, more like a release of the many emotions Helmut has put him through today escapes his lips just before their mouths meet in a hard kiss that draws a moan from him, muffled against Helmuts lips.

Bucky opens his eyes while they are still close, wanting to remember Helmut Zemo with tears on his lashes the first time he says those words.

“I’m sorry too.” Bucky says when they part. Their hands still gently competing to touch one another. He wins for now, brushing the thick lock of hair from Helmuts brow.

“For what?” Helmut asks, his rough voice so quiet.

“If I could stay…” Bucky sighs.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to leave you, either of you.”

“I know you don’t”

“I swear it.”

“I know”

“I love you Helmut.” Bucky insists grabbing at him.

“I know.”

“I thought I could make it work somehow… figure something out but. But apparently not. I guess I’m not the smart avenger.”

Helmut smiles. “Stop talking James.”

Bucky laughs even though he feels like crying and Zemo kisses him lightly, holds his face, looks into his eyes and kisses him again before hugging him.

When he moves his hand as though he expects to feel something or someone, he turns to look for you and you notice from your place far across the deck. He calls your name and you get up going to them.

You move in slowly not wanting to intrude, but he gives you a funny look and reaches for you, pulling you in the second you are close so quickly, that you practically collapse into their arms. Both he and Bucky make room until you are welcomed into the warmth showing that you were never excluded, you are as much a part of the heartache as you are the love.

A kiss from Zemo comes first; firm, thankful, he loves you, he needs you. A second from Bucky; soft, elated — you both grin— “Should have played the disco version,” Bucky says dragging his gaze from your eyes to Zemo’s “At least disco makes people happy.” He teases, smiling when you do. Bucky brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, turning his warm palm to hold your face for a second before raising his head to see if the Baron is in a lighter mood.

Zemo sighs “It— doesn’t hit the same” He says with that glorious accent chuckling a little when you cackle. Even Bucky knows it’s funny. “Besides; happy, sad, the point is to feel,” Helmut goes on as you turn to put your arms around your beloved Sokovian Baron laying your head on his chest. His kiss is lost in your hair and you pull back to see his face.

He looks at you, never embarrassed by his emotions, just impressed by his own ability to be wonderfully dramatic. “She knows how I get. With wine and good music there are no guarantees which side of me you’ll uncover,” He says stroking your arm.

“Well I like every side.” Bucky replies. You look over your shoulder at him watching his smile alternate between cute and suggestive and you can feel the electric charge between them. There is more to it than the animal attraction that was always there before, now there is the security of professed love and doors that have been opened tonight will never close again.

Zemo’s muscles tense ever so slightly, his touch changes and instead of the flat of his fingers you feel his nails. The rhythm of his stroke pauses, he holds you tight and nods for Bucky to come close and they kiss again. When they part you all do, Bucky and you standing together facing him.

“You forgive me for my reaction earlier?” Zemo asks sounding so sweet you hardly recognize his voice.

Bucky looks at him for a while and so do you. Thick dark hair, parted as always, brown eyes sparkling in the warm low light, shirt open enough to distract— his smile is so dangerous. God you’d forgive him for a long list of things.

“Yeah, of course. And, I had a feeling you’d come around, she said as much a few days ago.”

Zemo looks down at you curious.

“Well, you’re not very good at hiding it. I knew you loved me before you did.” You say scrunching your nose at him.

He laughs like he’s been ganged up on but quickly gives in with a sigh, knowing damn well this is true. Helmut shakes his head looking from one face to the other, pinching your chin, laughing softly again. “Listen to me. Both of you.” He says pulling you back into his arms, laying his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “We reach our designation at the end of the week. I won’t spend the time I have with the two of you thinking of the time that I don’t,”

You couldn’t agree more. Enough. You all know how it will end, it’s your time together that matters.

“Since I am apparently so horrible at keeping my feelings to myself.” He teases to your mutual amusement. “I won’t. I love you both, and I’ll show you as I always have. I only want one thing from you James.” He says making Bucky perk up. “Let me claim you as I haven’t yet,” He says, his hold on Bucky’s shoulder tightening slightly. It’s an ask because Zemo respects him enough not to demand it— but the moment Bucky says yes there will only be commands.

Please say yes, you bite your lip waiting.

Bucky actually does the same thing, a habit he’s picked up from you and you giggle to yourself watching how his pretty pink lip goes a shade darker when he lets it free from his teeth. He’ll give in of course, but for a moment he needs to resist, just to stay true to his stubborn nature.

When he lifts his head again he actually looks at you because he knows you’ll share this experience with him— of course you want this.

And then he looks at Zemo. The man whose name he’d once written on his list of people to kill— now the man he would protect with his own life.

Bucky reaches out and takes his hand and any worry of rejection, no matter how small fades from Helmut’s eyes as his smile spreads wide and warm, and loving. And Bucky gives a soft but very clear, yes.

End Notes: I listened to this playlist on endless repeat while writing this chapter. Not all of the songs feature in the story of course but damn did it get me in that headspace. Sometimes you just need to put on some sexy sad timeless campy glam and be dramatic for no damn reason. So if you need a little over the top joy in your life, have a listen, but don't say I didn't warn you.

#zemo #Bucky barnes #winterbaron #zemo x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #winterbaron x you #zemo fanfic #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo #helmut zemo #james barnes #helmut zemo/james buchanan barnes #winterbaron fic #winterbaron romance #boys in love #boy in love with you #please leave us alone when we’re dancing #Spotify

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maybebanks · 4 years

Text

Secrets Bring Us Together

JJ maybank x reader

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you whisper to John B.

You had came to his house in the middle of the night. Begging to stay after a fight with your father on your ‘dirty’ company as friends. He wasn’t a fan of the pogues, but they were a light in your life.

“No problem, you want to tell me what happened?” John B asks, eating a slice of bread.

“At home...” you say, trailing off, holding in some tears.

“Your dad?” He asked solemnly, you only answered with a nod. He didn’t have a dad, but honestly there was a part of you that wanted to be in his position.

“You can stay here for 2 days,” he says, tapping your shoulder gently as he passed you.

Your throat goes dry, “Uh-wait, actually...I was hoping to stay a little longer?” you mumble, settling into the couch.

He looks confused, “why?”

“I can..pay rent? Or-please I’ll do anything, I just can’t go home right now,” you plead.

He furrows his eyebrows.

You shuffle through your bag and pull out your wallet, then hand him 2 20s and a 50 dollar bill.

“Here,” you say eagerly, his eyes widen.

“Alright it’s cool, you can stay,” he laughs, “but I’m not taking your money, that’s not how we pogues do it,”

—

You woke up early to make breakfast. John B was still asleep so you started to get undressed.

Suddenly, the screen door swung open.

“Y/n?” I female voice asked, full of surprise.

You grabbed one of John B’s stray button ups and struggled to button it quickly.

“Where did you get all that cash?!” She asks, pointing to the dollar bills spilling out of your bag.

You shake your head, “nothing just forget it.” You has taken a lot of money because you didn’t know how long you would be away from home.

“Did you rob a kook or some-“ Kie starts but you cut her off.

“Please...just don’t tell anyone. Okay? I promise it’s nothing to worry about,” you reason.

She eyes you suspiciously, “I promise,” she mutters.

“Thanks! Your the best,” you say, starting to cook some scrambled eggs.

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask her.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says, sitting down. Picking up a bag of your stuff from under the table.

“You’re not staying here...are you?” She asked.

“No,” you lie quickly, “I just brought over some clothes to change into after the boat today. If they get muddy or something,”

“Okay,” Kie responds.

John B walks out of his room. “Morning guys,”

“John B? Is Y/n sleeping here?” She ask, looking at you as if to express how bad of a liar you are, you roll your eyes.

John B looks at you, “Pft, no! She has her own place,”

“No secrets amongst pogues!” Kie shouts.

Before you can respond JJ and Pope walk in.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya!” JJ says cheerfully, you can’t help but smile at him.

Pope looks confused, “no secrets...what were you guys just talking about?” He questions.

“Y/n is being weird and so is John B,” Kie explains.

“Wait-you guys aren’t like, macking, are you?” JJ says holding a blunt.

“Seriously guys? It’s not a big deal!” You whine.

“Oh my god, you guys are totally-“ Pope starts.

“We are not macking,” John B states.

JJ mimics a blow job with his blunt and Pope laughs.

You quickly grab the nearest item and throw it at JJ.

“Really?” Kie says, not giving up, then explain this!” She says, pointing to your bag of clothes that could last a week.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, “can we just go surfing? I need some sun,” you say, but your nerves were tensing up.

Pope jumps up and heads towards your bag.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You exclaim as he empties a few things from your bag.

“Searching for evidence...” Pope says.

“Ugh can you not be a nerd for like a second please?” You say annoyed.

JJ gets up and joins pope.

“Guys what the fuck! Seriously, stop! Stop!” You try to reason with the curious boys.

“Guys! I think I found it! The evidence we’ve been searching for!” JJ yells excitedly and everyone raises there eyebrows in anticipation.

Your hands shake nervously.

Suddenly, JJ pulls out a white lace piece from your bag. Your bra.

Pope says, “whoa!” Sarcastically.

And Kie rolls her eyes.

“JJ put that down,” you demand.

“Nah, I think I’m going to try it on, see if it looks as sexy on me as it does on you?” He says raising one eyebrow.

“No, don’t! You’ll stretch it out,” you say, no doubt in your mind that he will actually put on your bra.

He dangles it above your head and you swipe for it, “JJ!” You shout jumping for it. He was taller than you, and your chest brushed up against his every time you jumped up to reach his arms holding it up high.

Finally he lets you have it, laughing at your frustration. You return it to its rightful place, in your bag.

Pope mutters, “aww man!” When the fun ends.

“Sorry Pope, I know it was your first time seeing a bra in all, but I wanna go surf,” you say patting his head and signaling everyone to head out.

Jj and John B laugh at your comment. But Kie, still worried, finally gets up and joins y’all.

—

After a long day of laughing and surfing you all make it back to John B’s place for a movie.

After you all have settled down on the porch, JJ starts up a conversation.

“Guys, I think we should all just dip,” JJ says disappointedly.

“What?” You ask, you knew he was in trouble with the police, and maybe his dad, but it was nothing he hadn’t handled before.

“JJ what about the gol-“Kie starts.

“We lost the G-game, Kie! I don’t even know if things are going to work, I owe 25K as my restitution,” JJ reveals.

Everyone is in shock.

“25 K? Holy shit man,” Pope says.

“We haven’t lost the gold game, we just have to-“ you start, trying to get John B to support you, but Kie shuts you down.

“I know it’s easy for you to be all hopeful with the cushion you have, but not everyone can afford to waste their time,” Kie says sourly, she had a feeling you could help JJ but you were lying about something.

“Cushioning? What the hell are you talking about?!” You say back angerly, you had faith in the gold hunt, what was wrong with that?

“Don’t play dumb!” She demands, giving you a look like she wants to slap your face.

“Whoa, Kie. Calm down, she’s just trying to-“ Jj starts but she continues.

“Your keeping so many secrets! I can tell because I’m not an idiot like all the boys you have fooled. Admit it! You’ve been staying with John B!” Kie starts.

“What are you jealous? God Kie, I’m not sleeping with John B!” You shout.

“Why don’t you just go back to your own fucking house!” She says, in response your face blushes red and you look down at your feet, and away from Kie’s burning words.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to, or seen your house? Is there a reason for that...or are you just obsessed with keeping everything a secret,” Kie begins, standing up.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“I wonder why?” She tries again.

“Shut up! Why are you trying to start something?!” You ask.

“Because your a liar! And I’m not friends with liars.”

“Kie just leave her alone,” John B says, but Kie didn’t listen.

“How did you get all that cash? You know how would be a good time to mention it, since JJ has 25K to pay,” Kie says, cornering you.

“Cash? What is she talking about,” JJ asks you.

You sigh, defeated, “Fine! If you want to hear me say it, then I’ll say it. I live a house in figure eight, but that doesn’t mean-“

“Your a kook?” a few of them say in unison. Even Kie was shocked.

“No! Guys, come on you know me! I surf, I don’t care about golf or clothes, money matters to me, I fish, the Cut is my home-“

“I can’t believe you were a kook this whole time,” Pope says sadly.

“Guys-“

“Liar...” Kiara mutters.

“You can’t-“ you stifle, your breathing was becoming difficult, was this the moment when your friends turned on you.

“Probably paid for surf lessons,”

That stung your heart, you loved surfing because the waves were an escape, the talent you had at it was all you.

You looked at everyone, they were mad, sad, even disgusted.

“You can’t be serious... wh-what you hate me now? Because I’m a kook?!” You ask your voice shaking, you lied, and they hated you now.

John B gets up and walks inside.

A few tears left your eyes, “please,” you say.

“You lies to us! Pogue life? You weren’t even a pogue! What are we to you then? A way to rebel against your parents? I’m done y/n,” Kie says.

“No, no you guys are my friends,” you say, letting a few more years fall.

“Pope?” You ask, he was looking at the ground.

“All those times we all had jobs to do, where we worked for the food on our table! Where were you?!” Pope asks, hurt.

All your friends hate you, “JJ? You ask slowly.

“She was helping us,” he pauses.

“W-What?” You ask.

“When we had our jobs...she was helping us,” JJ doesn’t make eye contact with you.

John B returns, “here,” he says, throwing you your bag of stuff.

“No,” you whimper, “guys it’s still me, Y/n!” You try and reason.

“You’re not just a kook, you’re a liar,” Kie says standing up and approaching the door.

JJ puts his hand on Kiaras shoulder and stopped her from leaving.

“Why do you think she lied, huh?” JJ breaks the silence.

Everyone looks at him, “Because we would react like this! Look at us, y/n has done nothing but been a good friend to all of us. Pope, she always helped deliver groceries. John B, she never once doubted your dad or the g-game. And Kie, she spent days teaching you how to surf, and protesting ocean plastic! And to me, she’s comforted me about my dad even when I pushed her away. God, I love her. I don’t care if she’s a kook, guys it’s just a name. She’s been a better friend than a kook. And you all love her too,” JJ says, angry at his friends for being so petty.

Kie looks at you crying quietly, “I’m an idiot,” she breathed, then she stands up and hugs you. You hug her back. John B joins next, muttering that he’s sorry, Pope joins. And after a few seconds you all pull out.

“Guys, I was never doing this to spite my parents or any of the kooks. You guys are literally the best friends I’ve ever had. I can’t loose you all,” you explain.

“Sorry we were so dumb,” Pope says, “well except jj,” he says, “that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say,”

You turn to JJ, he looks at you with a sweet smile, he basically saved you, with love you run up to him and jump into his arms, he supports your back, hugging you tight.

“I love you, JJ,” you whisper in his ear. He pulls out to see your face, within seconds, he presses his lips against yours, you moving yours along with him, accepting his kiss.

#obx jj maybank x you #jj maybank #outer banks #johnbroutledge #outerbanks fluff #pope outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #fanfic #kooks vs pogues #jj outer banks #netflix

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settersprouts · 3 years

Text

꠵ look at me : chapter six ꠵

カレー。

"Oomph." Oikawa sighed, inhaling the crisp, freshly washed scent of the plain grey bedsheets that covered Iwaizumi's mattress. He grabbed a fistful of the fabric, just breathing in the fumes. He heard the faint pitter patter of rain splashing the windows. The sun had long since hidden behind the clouds, no longer illuminating the planet, instead casting a greyish hue over Japan. It cast sort of a miserable feeling; Iwaizumi and Oikawa were planning on hanging out with Matsukawa and Hanamaki after watching the matches, but the plans were cancelled due to the shitty weather. "Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Oikawa grumbled, grabbing one of Iwaizumi's pillows and screaming into it. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

"That's, what, your ninety-seventh shit today?" A muffled voice wafted its' way through to the chocolate-haired boy's ears, as they were currently covered tightly with the soft pillow. Oikawa sat up on his elbows, blinked, and let his face contort into a pout.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, which hadn't streamed down his cheeks yet, he turned away from the latter, huffing. "Yeah, well. You swear all the time. Why can't I?"

"It's not that you're not allowed to. It's just that you don't." Oikawa felt the bed dip as Iwaizumi sat opposite from him, letting out another puff of air as the green-eyed third year leaned onto his back. Bara arms snaked their way around his somewhat thin waist, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything, except for the milk bread Hanamaki had bought him earlier today. To prove his point, his stomach growled. Iwaizumi leaned over, propping himself up on one elbow, an eyebrow raised as he looked at his best friend.

Oikawa sighed, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. Forgot." He already knew what the other was thinking. Iwaizumi's way of communicating with Oikawa was mainly with his eyes. Those little green orbs that stood out in contrast against caramel skin, connected with honey-brown ones, a wavelength passing through. Unspoken words made a conversation.

Breaking eye-contact, Iwaizumi rolled off the bed, hopping to his feet. "I'll get you something to eat. What'd ya want?"

"Milk bread?"

"You're addicted. I'm cooking you some curry." The door clicked as Iwaizumi closed it behind him. Oikawa groaned, flipping the latter off once the door had shut.

Iwaizumi knelt down by the cabinets, opening the oak doors and peering inside to look for a pot. A hand reached past Iwaizumi's, grabbing the pot that the latter couldn't find. "Here." Oikawa handed him the pot, and went to sit on a stool at the island counter.

"Huh. I thought you were gonna take a nap." Iwaizumi started, grabbing the curry powder from the top cabinet above the marbled counters. Oikawa shrugged, stretching his arms out and resting his head on the counter.

"I wanted to watch you make my food. I can't have you poisoning me now, can I?" Iwaizumi scoffed at this, his smile decreasing slowly as he heard Oikawa mutter under his breath, "That and I can't sleep without you there with me, nowadays." A blush slowly rose to his cheeks, and the ace slapped himself with both hands, internally groaning. "What, can't find something?"

Iwaizumi quickly shook his head, grabbing the rest of the ingredients. "No, I got it. Don't mind."

Oikawa nodded, pulling out his phone to pass the time. A finger hovered over the photo album app he had on his phone, and he clicked it, scrolling through the countless of photos so he could start looking at them at the very beginning. The first picture was the one his teacher took of him holding his award from Kitagawa Daiichi, with Iwaizumi standing behind him, a smile on both of their faces. Oikawa snorted, he never noticed Iwaizumi's smile in the photo before.

"What's so funny?" Iwaizumi asked, while stirring the curry together in a bowl. Padding over to the other side of the kitchen, he leaned over the counter to look at Oikawa's phone. The latter turned it so it was facing Iwaizumi, showing him the iconic memory of their younger selves. "Oh, I remember that. You actually smiled."

"What do you mean? I always smile."

"Not sincerely." Iwaizumi deadpanned, walking over to the stove and turning the knobs. "I said that back in Kitagawa, right?"

Oikawa pondered over this for a moment, before smiling and giving him a kurt nod. "Yeah, you did."

"Anyways." Iwaizumi poured the contents into the pot on the stove, taking out a wooden spoon to scrape out any remaining ingredients. "I've been meaning to ask you."

"Mhm?"

"How long have your parents been hitting you?"

Oikawa stiffened, unable to give him an answer. Iwaizumi turned the knob to low-heat, so the curry wouldn't burn as he gave his full attention to the setter sitting before him. "I'm not stupid. This has been going on for a while, hasn't it?"

"Iwa, it's nothing like that."

"Oikawa." Iwaizumi looked into the brown pools of color, giving him a little smile. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me just yet, but I need to know eventually. I want to help you in any way I can." Oikawa looked down at his slippers, unable to meet his friend's gaze. All he could do was helplessly listen as Iwaizumi assured him he wasn't angry with Oikawa for not being able to tell him, and that everything was alright.

He didn't look up from his slippers until he heard the knob turn, and the familiar sound of a spoon scraping the side of a pot. Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, Oikawa watched the muscles in Iwaizumi's back flex as he stirred the curry into a bowl, slicing up some bread to go along with it. "Hey, do you want some lemon as well?"

Oikawa nodded. "I can make it." He padded over to the fridge, pulling out a lemon. Iwaizumi nodded, passing him a bowl and a knife.

"Don't cut yourself."

"I know, Iwa-chan. I'm not completely helpless in the kitchen, you brute." Oikawa rolled his eyes, slicing the lemon in half and squeezing the juice into the two bowls. He reached up to grab the salt in one of the cabinets, swishing the bowls around once he had added the substance in. He set them next to the curry that now rested on the island counter, the juice inside settling as it stilled. "Ooh, it looks really good."

Iwaizumi nodded. "Yeah, whatever." He shoveled a couple spoonfuls in his mouth as he watched Oikawa clasp his hands together, thanking Iwaizumi for the food before actually taking a bite himself. Oikawa winced as the sudden motion of him opening his still bruised jaw sent waves of pain through his nerves, but the curry sitting in his mouth and sliding down his throat made up for that.

"Whoa. What did you put in this? It's almost like it's healing me." Oikawa smiled with his eyes closed, clearly in euphoria. Iwaizumi shrugged, lopping another spoonful of curry into his mouth.

"It's a recipe my mother made. It has some herbs and spices that are supposed to relieve pain and stress, so I added some extra into it. It's not too spicy, is it?"

Oikawa shook his head, breaking off a piece of bread and dipping it into the lemon sauce, then into the curry. "Nope, tastes amazing."

"Good."

The two sat in silence as they ate, finishing the curry in under fifteen minutes. Oikawa had offered to wash the dishes, but Iwaizumi sent him a glare before grabbing the bowls out of the latter's hands and started to rinse them himself. As he washed the curry off the bowls, Oikawa collapsed onto the couch, mindlessly scrolling through TV channels. He tuned in to an extra-terrestrial documentary, watching profusely as Iwaizumi continued washing the dishes. Once the latter had finished, he dried his hands and plopped down next to Oikawa, grabbing a fluffy off-white blanket and flinging it over them. Both boys subconsciously snuggled closer to each other, their body heat combining.

Iwaizumi looked over at Oikawa a couple times as the documentary played. Occasionally, when an especially interesting moment popped up on the television, the setter would let out a small gasp between his pursed lips. He did that a couple times, and Iwaizumi couldn't help but grow fond of the facial expression the latter made in that moment. The sheer excitement vibrating off of Oikawa's face brightened Iwaizumi's mood, making the corners of his lips tilt upwards slightly.

⊱ ─ ‧̥̥͙⋅. ♔ .⋅‧̥̥͙ ─ ⊰

"Mattsun, I just don't know what's going on." Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose, Oikawa sound asleep beside him as he conversed on the phone with the other third-year. "I- just- what the hell?"

Matsukawa let out a breath, lips pursed. Iwaizumi could almost see the smirk forming on the latter's face, even if he was about a couple neighborhoods away from him. "Yeah, man, you're completely and utterly whipped."

chapter 7 !

#oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #iwaoi #iwaoi fluff #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #oikawa loves aliens #oikawa hcs #aliens #:)

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 3 years

Text

Toasting

(Hayffie 💕. Loving when we’re afraid is deeply authentic courage. In dystopian reality, loving with arms holding one another close is a fundamental act of civil disobedience and essential for trauma integration.)

His fingers were clumsy as he wrapped a pale blue ribbon around Effie’s hair. She’d pulled it back loosely into a bun with tendrils coiling down the back of her neck. Working with the satin ribbon felt alien compared to the knots Haymitch had tied throughout his life.

In childhood, as soon as he was tall enough to reach the clotheslines, his mother had given him the job of pulling the lines tight and tying them with no slack. Those needed to be ready each week for the task of holding the family’s clean laundry up to the sun. He and his brother were scolded sometimes for playing underneath the damp sheets, which held the fragrance of springtime no matter the season. It must have been the dried flowers his mother put into the soap. Later on and still, each time he passed those flowers in the Meadow, their smell cut straight into his heart. It’s one of the reasons he’d steered clear of that place even before it became a mass grave.

Unlike the pungent flowers, his mother’s voice calling as they played was a faint memory. “If you boys tug those lines down, YOU will be the ones washing that laundry all over again!”

“Those are MY knots. They ain’t gonna be comin’ loose.”

“Your knots WILL NOT be cominG loose, you mean. Don’t allow your speech to conceal your intelligence.”

“Okay, Ma.” He said as he and his brother lay on the grass, sticking their tongues out to catch drips from the sheets like drops of rain at the end of a sunshower.

The clotheslines were made of twine. Haymitch learned to work with thicker rope during training before the Quell. It never took him long to learn something, and once he did, it was committed to memory. In time, having a mind too sharp to forget things had become more of a curse than a gift.

Suddenly here he was with delicate ribbon between his calloused fingertips, and the fine muscles there were forgetting everything they’d ever learned about tying.

“I’m kind of fucking this up, sweetheart. I’m usually UNtying your ribbons, not the other way around.”

“I trust you.” She kept her body still as she knelt on a rug in front of the fireplace.

When the ribbon was tied, he adjusted the bow until the loops were even. Then he ran his fingers through her wispy curls.

“Your ‘something blue,’” he murmured, sliding his hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together.

She stared at the polished band on her left hand. “Something old...” Haymitch’s father had made the ring 50 years prior from a small metal disk and some tinkering tools.

Effie brought their entwined hands to rest on her stomach. “...And something new.”

A chill ran through him. “Maybe you should have a backup just in case—“

“Do NOT say that! Don’t even THINK it. I’m further along this time. No arguments... our baby is my something new.”

He held her tighter and kissed her neck in apology. “All right. The baby it is.”

She changed the subject before the unspoken word had a chance to start spinning in her mind. “The tongs from the bakery are ‘something borrowed.’”

“Did Peeta ask what you planned to do with them?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I said we’ll be using them to toast the loaf of bread that I was there to buy.”

“Shit, Effie. What’d he say?”

“He hugged me, and told me how very happy he was to give us the bread and lend us the tongs.”

“Let me guess... His eyes were all teary.”

“That dear boy.”

“And your eyes were all teary too.”

“Whenever the children cry, I can’t stop myself.”

“He knows now, of course. I thought we we’re keeping this a surprise!”

“I confirmed nothing.”

“The boy knows anyway. You two are thick as thieves.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure he will ACT surprised when we tell them.”

“So the kids already know. It’s fine. ...Are you ready to do this?”

“Absolutely.” She nodded.

“...With ME,” he teased.

“Come here.” He’d been curled against her back, and she tugged him to kneel beside her. “We’ve done this before, you know.”

“Have we?” He chuckled, “I doubt any amount of liquor would make me forget doing this with you.”

“I was 8, with an big imagination and—“

“That kid on those screens is long gone, honey. You know that better than anybody.”

She pressed her palm to his chest. “This heart is the same. They broke it a thousand times, but they didn’t destroy it. ...I draped a shawl over my head as a veil, and I swore on every doll I owned that nobody would take this heart from me. I’ve kept swearing it... no matter how many pairs of my shoes you vomited on.”

He brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I married you sometimes in my dreams.”

“Does that explain any of the occasions you woke up screaming?” She smirked then caressed his forearm because nightmares were never a light topic regardless of the context.

“No. But it explains the times I woke up with my dick so hard that all I did was move and I was coming.”

She flushed from her chest to her cheeks, wanting him like that right then. “When was the first time?”

“The night after the picnic. Remember? In my dream you were wearing those silky lace gloves, buttering warm chunks of bread with one hand and getting me off with the other.”

“We only spent a few hours together that day, and you dreamed you were marrying me? You hardly knew me.”

“I knew enough to feel you slipping inside me. I tried to fight it a long time, but I couldn’t stop it.”

“So... now it’s full surrender.”

“Being married won’t make this any easier,” he said, “The last thing you and I could ever be is easy.”

“When is anything worth doing easy to do?”

He traced the neckline of her dress with the tip of his finger. The pretty thing dipped so low that he could have slipped his hands inside and filled his palms with her breasts. But he waited. The dress was pale blue like the ribbon, and overlaid with a weaving of tiny pearls.

“Sex,” he answered belatedly, “It’s one thing worth doing that’s always been easy for us.”

She toyed with a button on the shirt she’d picked out for him. “That’s true. Let’s make a fire and toast that bread so we can do that other thing worth doing.”

Haymitch had said no Justice Building, no party, and no singing. So Effie softly hummed the tune she remembered from Katniss and Peeta’s marriage ceremony. She hummed it straight through as Haymitch laid tinder on the andiron and she stacked kindling around it in the shape of a teepee. Then he built a small cabin over that with dry wood. She struck a match and used it to light the one he held. They both lit the tinder and watched as each piece of wood caught fire.

Over the years, she’d started many fires in that fireplace. The first time she tried, Haymitch had passed out in a snowbank on his way home from the Hob. A neighbor saw him lying there and helped him home.

After a warm bath, he was still shaking, so Effie covered him with blankets in front of the fireplace, and she managed to get some flames going as he slept. Her fire died out quickly, so she called the kids to show her the way. Katniss came. “I’m glad you’re here,” the girl told her, “He needs you. He fights it, but it’s a fierce thing to fight against.”

“What is?” Effie asked.

“That kind of hunger. That hollowness that only one thing can fill...” Katniss tapped Haymitch’s foot with the toe of her boot. He was out cold. “Alcohol just covers it up for a moment as it’s passing through.”

“What fills it?”

“When he realizes he’s worth loving, and when he loves himself the way that you love him.”

Effie shuddered at the thought of everything her girl had been through that instilled that kind of knowing in someone so young. “Katniss, I haven’t said anything about love.”

“Good. Hearing you say it would only scare him more.”

Effie said it now as chunks of wood burned down to coals, and flames danced orange and blue. He saw the dance in her eyes. “I love you,” was still difficult for him to reckon with.

“Loving you is the only thing I’ve been sure about in a long time,” he responded as the truth rose up over fear.

“Show me.”

He picked up the loaf of bread with the bakery tongs. “Let’s do this together.”

She put her hands atop his as they toasted the bread over the fire. When the crust was golden brown, they turned the loaf out onto a cutting board.

Effie slipped an oven mitt onto her hand and held the bread with it as she cut a thick slice from the middle. Then she spread it generously with butter, like in Haymitch’s dream. He picked up the slice and broke it in half, holding onto both pieces.

She eyed him warily. “Are you going to smear that on my face?”

“This isn’t the Capitol, sweetheart. No marriage tradition here wastes even a speck of food. ...But I’ll smear butter anywhere you want as long as I get to suck it off you after.”

“Let’s save that for later when I’m not wearing my Nana’s dress.”

He handed her half of the slice and they fed each other, licking the butter from one another’s fingers.

“My heart is yours,” she said, “It always has been, and I swear that’s never changing.”

“Keep swearing, honey, because nobody and nothing’s going to take mine from you either.”

Their kiss was slow, starting at the corners of their mouths, tasting the salty seams of each other’s lips, and opening to the sweetness that only comes with deep familiarity.

“Oh—“ She startled without breaking away. “Butterfly wings! The baby woke up. It must like the bread.”

Haymitch wiped his hands on a towel near the cutting board, then he cradled the bump on Effie’s belly. She cleaned her hands too so she could guide him to the rapid flutter.

He soaked up the movement. With the one they buried, he didn’t get to feel this. They never got to feel her alive. “This one’s strong already.”

Effie simply nodded because she knew if she said anything, then joy would spill from her eyes, and she wanted to keep it all.

“...Strong like my wife,” he said.

Joy spilled regardless, even in silence. Her tears were saltier than the butter, and he kissed every drop. The sunshower was beginning.

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

[Finale] 10 | Illegirl

→ previous | next (second book of ly trilogy masterpost)

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, implied, CONSENTED & PROTECTED sex (these adults are role models), mentions of sexual activities

→ wordcount: 5.5k

"But what if they ask how we met?" you say, wiping your sweaty palms on the side of your modest skinny jeans. "What if they ask my age? Oh my god. What if they ask to meet my parents?"

"Relax, Y/N," your boyfriend soothes, taking you into a warm side hug as he guides you up the steps of his parents' rather large home. "You're 18 now, and you'll be in college next month. You're not so young anymore."

You huff, tucking in a strand of loose hair and fussing with the hem of your nicest blouse. "They're gonna hate me."

"It takes a lot for them to hate someone," Jimin laughs, rubbing your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down. "They're just... slightly judgmental. But it's not like they're going to interrogate you! It's just dinner."

"This was a bad idea."

"It won't be, trust me."

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Is this my late graduation present? Or perhaps an early entering college gift?"

"Kinda?" It sounds more like a question than a sure statement. "I just want them to meet the person I love as early as possible!" Jimin gives you the puppy dog eyes he knows you can't resist.

"Okay, okay! But what if they ask questions we don't fucking know the answer to?" you say, worry lines appearing on your forehead. "Like when we met and shit??"

Jimin hums, lips pulling out in a pout as he thinks hard. After a moment of silence, he grins as if an adequate idea popped up in his head. "We'll improv!"

"Oh, you son of a b—HELLO, Mr. and Mrs. Park!" you quickly say, heart beating violently in your chest. Damn. Off to a not-so-great start. You almost called Jimin a 'son of a bitch,' in front of his goddamn mother.

Thankfully it seems like Jimin's parents didn't hear you. They smile at both of you as they open their front door wider, and your boyfriend noticeably grips your shoulder tighter, in an attempt to remind you to release your inner tension.

"Y/N, is it?" Mrs. Park smiles, though she looks you over with scrutiny. "Don't you look young?"

You flinch as Jimin wraps his arm around you, then saves you from answering. "Yeah, she's 18, mom." He places a hand on the small of your back, ushering you into the house.

"18? 18?!" Mrs. Park gasps, putting a polite hand over her mouth in shock. "Goodness me. You never date anyone more than three years younger! Your exes all had a stable job with high income... she's barely in college!"

Already, you feel quite uncomfortable, especially with Jimin's mother spewing random facts about his past girlfriends and lowkey dissing you. Then you have Mr. Park who had seemed friendly at first but continues to sneak glances at his phone as if he was expecting an important call. You were getting rich businessman vibes from him. No wonder their home had one too many chandeliers and shining glass windows.

"Mom..." Jimin warns, his voice dipping low. "You're gonna make Y/N feel uncomfortable."

"Oh no, it's fine," you quickly say, faking a genuine smile. "Yes, I'm young, but I am pretty mature for my age."

Damn. You're getting good at this lying business if you do say so yourself.

Mrs. Park raises her eyebrow, turning to consult her husband but finding him engaged in a serious phone call. She sighs, shaking her head as she looks you over once more, a warm smile blossoming on her face. "It's fine, dear. Age is merely a number. Come, dinner's waiting."

Jimin's mother waves you and her son over, her inside-wear Louis Watton fur slippers clacking against the white marble floor as she marches over to an extravagant dining room. Even the gilded vase in the center of the mahogany dinner table looks like it could pay for your whole college tuition.

And speaking of college tuition, the moment a steaming hot meal is placed on the expensive table by a couple of servants, Mrs. Park turns to you, a false smile playing on her lips. "So, Y/N, what is your college major?"

You had been looking forward to dipping your spoon into that aromatic soup but you pause, looking up to make eye contact with the older woman. "Uh, I'm gonna major in statistics but minor in mathematics."

Jimin grins proudly next to you, already wolfing down a piece of savory white truffle garlic bread. You gulp next to him, wanting to take a piece of that dish yourself. But Mrs. Park interrupts your inner drooling.

"Really? That's quite interesting. My son is a high school mathematics teacher, you two must get along well, especially if you love arithmetic like him," Mrs. Park hums while taking a delicate sip from her intricate glass of red wine. "Would you like some?" she offers to you. "It's the finest we've got, slightly acidulated with a citrus finish."

There's an awkward silence as Jimin noticeably pauses his chewing and you completely freeze on the spot.

"Oh! That's right, you're underage," Mrs. Park chuckles. "My deepest apologies, Y/N. Jimin? Would you like a glass?"

You duck your head down to stare at your hands, wondering what the hell this woman was up to. Was she purposefully bringing up your age to make the dinner more awkward? Or was it just polite habit that got in the way?

To your surprise, Jimin refuses the drink. "It's fine, mom. I have to drive us home, so I'll pass."

Mrs. Park nods in approvement, sipping on her wine glass with a dainty hand. "Now I wonder what your father is taking so long with. He was surely excited to meet Y/N." She huffs. "Doesn't seem like it to me."

Again, you really don't know what to say or how to react. Conversations, er, socializing has never been your thing. Especially with adults (eXcEpT JiMiN).

"So, tell me about yourself, Y/N," Mrs. Park says, scooting her chair closer as her eyes seem to pierce into your soul. "I want to get to know the lovely lady my son loves so much."

You gulp, taking a nervous look at Jimin who's been sipping his glass of water for quite a long time. Now you're thinking of doing the same, just to avoid talking.

Your tongue is a limp mess in your mouth, and your brain refuses to make coherent sentences. But amidst your panic, you feel a warm hand wrap around yours underneath the table, out of sight. It's Jimin, wordlessly showing his support.

Somehow it helps.

"Well, I really do love mathematics," you start as Jimin squeezes your hand.

"She might love it more than me," your boyfriend adds, giving you a loving glance. You smile. "Oh, and did I mention? Y/N's never had a 'B' in her life! She's the most intelligent person I know!"

You blush, sticking a piece of marinated flank steak in your mouth.

"Oh? Goodness, you must be hardworking, Y/N!" Mrs. Park compliments.

"Hardworking? Did I hear hardworking?" Mr. Park calls as he settles down next to his wife, across from you and Jimin. "I've always wanted a hardworking daughter in law!"

Your eyes widen as you chew on your sauteed asparagus. Daughter in law? What the fuck???

Jimin lightly squeezes your hand. A gesture to try to calm you for sure, and lucky for him, it works.

"Dad, I've already told you we haven't dated for too long," Jimin says, chuckling. "If you keep saying that, Y/N will run away!"

Mr. Park throws his head back and laughs. "Sorry, it's just that I've heard so many amazing stories about you, Y/N," he tells you, a particular glint in his eye. "You're a special young lady, and my son is blessed to be with you."

You're stuttering again, trying to find the right words to thank Jimin's dad for all the flattery. "I-I... O-Oh, gosh. Thank you, but I'm sure I'm the one who's been blessed to have met someone like Jimin." They're true words, not a hint of a fib between the lines.

"Awww!" your boyfriend sings, nudging your shoulder with affection. It's honestly then when it becomes so clear to you. Just a small action, only a small nudge of the shoulder shows you that with Jimin's support, you won't ever have to be uncomfortable. He's the magical key to your safe haven, your very own utopia. Somehow his little actions can make you feel like the two of you are the only ones in the room.

"Y/N. Y/N??"

Jimin's voice breaks you from your thoughts as you perk up looking around to see what you missed.

"You kinda fazed out there, you okay?" he asks, rubbing small circles to the back of your hand.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, leaning against him. God. I am so fucking in love.

Mr. and Mrs. Park watch intently with interest as they witness intense love with their own eyes. Even they seem to realize you and Jimin are a match made in the heavens.

"Ahem," Mr. Park coughs, gaining you and Jimin's attention. He smiles warmly at you, then grins proudly at Jimin. "So, enlighten us. How did you two ever meet?"

You jerk your head towards Jimin as both of you erupt in nervous laughter. "Err... long story."

It's a goddamn sin to be stripped of sight. First off, you can't fucking see which is a whole problem of its own. Second off, Jimin's sweaty hands are pressing against your closed eyelids, and you can't help but wonder if they're clean.

You'll take one for the (figurative) team and assume that they are. Besides, you don't want to ruin the romantic night by grumbling your ass off.

"Hey, that wasn't so bad, right?" Jimin whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. He guides your body, pressing his broad chest against your back to god knows where.

"Interrogation from your parents? No, it was fucking glorious," you say, voice dripping with nothing but sarcasm. Jimin chuckles, leaving a light kiss on the back of your neck, but you pout. "Where are you taking me, Jiminie?"

"It's a surprise." He nuzzles you from behind as if that display of affection would placate you. Normally it would, but you're just not having it today. Something about being temporarily blind sucked all the patience out of you.

"Yeah, well, I hate you and your surprises," you mutter underneath your breath.

"If you hate me so much, why are you holding onto me so tightly?" Jimin chuckles as you flush. He was right. You were gripping onto his tan, exposed arms, hoping they would somehow protect you from the never-ending darkness that seemingly enveloped you as a whole.

"They say one should keep one's enemies close," you say snarkily. You're not backing down.

Jimin chuckles, placing another chaste kiss on the back of your neck. "I'm your enemy now?"

"Yeah, there's a fucking reason why there's a 'my' in enemy. You're my enemy, gotcha?" you giggle, shaking your head at how cheesy you were sounding. How love made you say the cringiest things.

You can't see it, but you know Jimin's beaming... either that or he's considering ditching you. Both are plausible.

"I just think you don't like surprises," Jimin sings in your ear.

"That too," you murmur. "Are we there yet?"

"God, Y/N," your boyfriend laughs. "You're 18, act like it! Besides, you'll love this surprise, I know you will."

"Yeah right, how can you be so su—"

Jimin's hands fall from your face, interrupting you mid-sentence as your eyes flutter rapidly to adjust to sight. Your jaw drops. "Oh my god," you whisper. "Jimin..."

It's that beach house. The same exact one that you two had visited way back when. The embarrassing night (if you recall correctly) when Jimin had quite sweetly apologized for 'sexually harassing' you. Your face reddens at the thought, and you quickly force yourself to admire the rest of your surroundings.

From outside, you can see the hundreds of little candles placed inside the house, lighting up the premises and warming your heart. There are even scented candles leading the way up to the front door. It smells like mint, and a flowery aroma you can't recall the name of.

"I remembered you like this place," Jimin says in a husky voice dripping with rich honey. He takes your hand, guiding you over and unlocking the door to the charming vacation home.

"It was beautiful," you whisper, eyes trained on the hundreds of flickering candles in front of the dimly lit ocean waters. "Even more so now."

Jimin smiles, his pillowy lips stretching perfectly across his glowing face as he tugs you into the house. "Good," he says, "we're here to make even more beautiful memories."

"Memories of what?" You cock your head, staring into your boyfriend's eyes that reflected the dancing embers of the candlelight.

"You'll see." And with that, he pulls you away to one of the larger bedrooms, following the pathway that the candles had offered.

You gasp once you enter the room. With the lack of sophisticated description, you could say that a fucking rose threw up in there. There are scarlet petals sprinkled meticulously across the dimly lit bedroom. Some incense burns in the corner, welcoming you with a sweet, floral fragrance. An aureate bed rests in the middle of the commodious chamber—your favorite kind of bed too, you might add—fluffy-looking with clean, white sheets.

The space takes your breath away. It's nothing like anything you've ever imagined. Romance writers take this!

"Do you like it?" Jimin whispers, nuzzling you from behind.

"Like would definitely be an understatement," you breathe, eyes still glued to the overwhelming scenery. "You planned all of this?"

"More or less," he mutters, tenderly nudging you towards the grand bed. Taking the hint, you flop down on the soft mattress, immediately assuming your natural position of looking like a human starfish. The sheets feel too silky against your hands, almost as if you were undeserving of touching such a delicate object. But it's absolutely perfect.

"God, Jiminie, this is so romantic."

You giggle, reaching out for your boyfriend's hand to pull him onto the bed. He complies, lying right by your side with your hands intertwined. It's silent for a while as you drink in your surroundings, attempting to engrave everything into your memories.

Then: "I'm thinking..." Jimin murmurs, interrupting your own thoughts.

"Really?" you giggle. "Usually one thinks quietly," you tease, rubbing small circles on the back of Jimin's hand.

Your boyfriend pouts as he turns on his side to face you. "At least ask me what I was thinking about." How can you resist when he's looking at you like that?

"Alright, alright, what were you thinking about?"

"You."

"Well, I am the only one here, and—"

"How I want you," Jimin quickly interrupts, his voice low, husky and sultry.

You giggle, moving over to wrap your arms around your boyfriend and burying your face into his warm chest. "But I'm right here!" you protest.

"But Y/N, I need you..." Jimin whispers, slowly pushing you back while maintaining eye contact. His look reflects back to your perception, and you can see the burning desire in them. Your stomach drops low.

Oh.

That look, with all that burning desire. It's what most people would call bedroom eyes. You would've never thought you'd see them up close, in real life. But here you are.

"Do you want me too?" His voice brings chills down your spine, and you gulp.

"No... I need you," you answer softly.

Jimin grins, wrapping a secure arm around you as he moves in. You don't have a second to breathe as his lips engulf yours. He kisses you slowly and sensually, both of your lips pulling and pushing in sync.

It's just the right amount of love and lust.

And when his tongue finds its way into your mouth, the wet figure slightly grazing your lips, you let out a weak breath. Noticing, Jimin smiles against the kiss, pulling away slightly just to flip you over.

"Jimin!" you shriek as your back hits the soft mattress.

Your boyfriend just gives you a breathtaking smile before crawling on top of you. He waits until you impatiently tug on his collar, bringing him in for another intense kiss. In acknowledgment, Jimin lightly bites your bottom lip, then traces his tongue over the bitten mark to soothe it, leaving you writhing beneath him.

He seems to like your response, hand reaching up to tilt your chin slightly upwards, everso deepening the kiss. Your tongues battle for the long-desired dominance, but in your case, winning the competition (that even proceeds to continue in the bedroom).

But even so, everything's taken to leisure and behind every sensual action is love.

You don't want to pull away, you don't want it to stop. Yet you're human and you need some damn thing called oxygen. "Ah, fuck." You softly detach your mouth from Jimin's lips wet as you gasp for breath.

Jimin chuckles. "Already?"

Your face burns at the memory that had happened early senior year, back when you hadn't known you would fall in love with the man above you. But then it hits you. "Wait, really?!"

"No, Y/N," Jimin undertones, giving you a quick peck. "We're not fucking."

"Oh, good. 'Cause I—"

"We're making love."

"Oh." You pause. "Oh."

Jimin notices your hesitation, cupping your cheeks with his hands and he gazes lovingly into your eyes. "You can always tell me to stop."

"N-No. Don't stop. It's just... I'm... Well... Oh fuck it," you mumble the last part under your breath. "I'm a goddamn virgin, Jimin."

Your boyfriend nods. "I know, Y/N. We'll go slow. You know, with an extra side of immense love..." He pauses to see if you're comfortable, tucking in a strand of sweaty hair that clings onto your face behind your ear. "Make me stop when you want it to stop."

You can't help but nod, head reeling with all sorts of thoughts. Then, your legs turn to jelly as your boyfriend leans away to start unbuttoning his shirt. That little shit. He's doing it tantalizingly slow, making sure you get ever glimpse of his smooth, toned muscles. His eyes never leave yours, even when he's lingeringly inching his shirt down, revealing more and more skin.

You think you might go crazy.

"You've seen me shirtless before." Jimin has a proud grin etched on his face, seemingly proud that you're admiring his body in awe.

You sigh quickly, averting your eyes for your own innocence. "Yeah, but not in bed," you mutter.

Your boyfriend chuckles lowly, rushing in to meet your lips. "There's a first time for everything," he breathes heavily against your mouth. You'd normally nod your head in agreement but your thoughts are a bit occupied at the moment. Especially when Jimin's hands are tugging at the hem of your blouse. "Can I?" he murmurs.

Oh god.

You nod weakly, watching as Jimin carefully starts unbuttoning your blouse. He gingerly slides the silky material off of your shoulders, flinging it behind his back afterward. Instinctively, you cross your arms over your bare stomach, averting your eyes off to the dark ocean waters as Jimin's warm hands tenderly dance across your shoulders. It feels so embarrassing to be half-naked in front of someone—even if you're madly in love with the man.

Your boyfriend notices, smiling warmly at you as he pecks your cheek. "Hey, hey, don't be embarrassed. You're beautiful to me no matter what. Don't hide yourself."

"Sorry, I just..." you trail off as you make eye contact with Jimin, cheeks tinging pink. "I have no fucking idea what I'm doing."

Jimin laughs. "No one ever does when they're thinking too much of it. Just go with the flow, don't think. Your mind might not know, but your body does; let that guide you..." His sultry voice does wonders. You don't understand how it's possible to have become weaker than you were before.

Goddamn.

You shock yourself when you tug Jimin back in, his lips crashing down on yours. He groans against the contact, hands fluttering south to graze against his belt. Your stomach drops low. Damn. It's really happening.

"You good?" Jimin mutters against your lips. "Too fast?"

You shake your head. "No it's good," you breathe, gripping his arm as his fingers work to unbuckle the belt. Time seems to slow down as he slips the black band from his jeans, tossing it off the bed.

You can hear your own heavy pants, and gasp when you feel something hot graze against your jeans.

"Sorry, I—" Jimin stutters, shifting above you. But that only makes his (god forbid) boner dig into your inner thigh. Quite unholily.

"O-Oh my god," you stutter as Jimin buries his face into the crevice of your neck. "Park Jimin, your thing inflated." You giggle slightly, cheeks heating up as you feel it chafe against your jeans. "Just thought you ought to know."

Your boyfriend grunts, pouting against your neck. "I'm aware," he says softly, shifting weight from his right to his left, making you groan.

"Let's just... continue," you choke out as Jimin has a shit-eating grin on his face above you.

And just like that, Jimin helps you peel the remaining clothing off of each other. (Somehow he miraculously unhooks your bra faster than you ever could.)

You'd say it would be awkward, but it's anything but. Yet your face still burns red and your eyes keep trailing off to look at the ocean. It's not awkward but you feel so bare. You're not cold at all, especially not when Jimin's holding you so close. But you feel... shy. That's the word. You feel shy.

And it's almost as if Jimin can read your mind. "Hey, Y/N, you don't have to be so shy." He leans in, leaving a chaste kiss to the shell of your ear.

You let out a little whine, hands reaching up to cover up your face. "I'm not being shy," you argue. "I dunno. I'm just... I don't know. If you told me we were going to do the deed, I would've taken a longer shower." You pout behind your hands.

"Y/N!" Jimin laughs. "I love you, no matter how much you smell," he says, kissing your exposed forehead as he sniffles his nose to take in your scent. "And you only smell like a delicious meal to me."

You make a face, rolling your eyes from under your palms.

"Aw, c'mon, show me your beautiful face," Jimin coaxes, his sultry voice replaced with bubbly teasing as his warm hands attempt to separate yours from your face.

You huff. "I don't see where you see the beauty," you mutter, finally giving in and uncovering your face. Jimin immediately peppers your face with light kisses.

"What do you mean? I see beauty everywhere," Jimin chuckles, fingers grazing over your collarbone. "And by everywhere, I mean, everywhere," he whispers hotly in your ear, emphasizing the last word. You flush, suddenly feeling the urge to cover up your chest, but you remember you're in safe, loving hands. "Hey," Jimin calls, his fingers running through your hair, "you ready?"

"I... uh..." Your brain turns into mush at that absolute moment. It's a simple yes or no question, but your mind goes blank, and you utter something completely else. "Wait, is it going to hurt?"

Jimin chuckles, raising a cocky brow. "Well, that depends on how much you can take me."

Your eyes enlarge and you almost choke on your own breath. "Damn. I think I just got unaroused."

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, though a smile peeks out from his lips. You feel the heat of his body lift from you as he slightly pulls away to reach for something on the elegant nightstand. Looking at him with questioning eyes, you wordlessly ask what he was doing.

"Condom," he answers, hands fumbling with the wrapper. You quickly avert your eyes, almost feeling the need to give Jimin some privacy as he deals with the protection. When he's finished, he slowly crawls back onto you, legs on both sides of your body. "Hey," he breathes, running a soft finger over your cheek, "trust me, alright? Don't be nervous, Y/N. I'll be right here the whole time."

You nod, reaching for his hands. He gladly gives them to you, and the two of you interlock both of your hands by each side of your head. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath escaping from his lips and caressing your pink cheeks.

"I love you, Y/N," Jimin whispers.

If you thought you knew what love looked like before, you were wrong. This. This look is the embodiment of love. How his eyes are slightly hooded from sexual desire, but how they also glisten brightly with all the adoration in the world. It's the look that speaks a million words. A look to say, 'I can't tell you my love enough, so I must show you.'

It's not that he was going to make love. No, with that look, he wants to give love with you. And you're not one to oppose.

Your eyes can't leave Jimin's, savoring the intimate feeling with him and the last moments of what some people might say your purity. "You and me both," you finally manage to breathe.

Jimin gives you a tender smile, hands still tightly intertwined with yours. And with that, your bodies are one.

You gasp from the foreign feeling, toes curling and head throwing back. Your hands subconsciously grip onto Jimin's and he grunts. "Good?"

"O-Oh god, y-yeah," you breathe shakily, closing your eyes as your lips part involuntarily.

You've never been this physically close with another human being. No one's ever gotten permission from you to invade your space so literally, either. But it's this moment in time where you're in pure bliss. Every movement, every breath, every warm pant that falls from both of your lips is euphoric, making up the utopian world you live in every time you're with your love.

And once it all ends and you're cleaned up, Jimin takes you by his side, cuddling you like there's no tomorrow.

"You know," he whispers sleepily in your ear, breath tickling your baby hairs. He kisses the back of your neck as you snuggle up against him, naked back touching his warm chest. "It was my first time tonight too."

You turn your head in shock, then finding your lips inches away from his. "What?" you whisper back.

"Mhm," Jimin hums, pecking your lips and intertwining his bare legs with yours. "First time making love, that is."

It only takes one statement for your mind to flash back to the pleasurable moments you'd shared with your boyfriend. How the once quiet room had become a chamber blossoming with pants, moans and little whispers of endearment. You remember the eyes that Jimin had look at you throughout the night. They had reflected all of your love for him straight back to you. That was the moment when you had known. That was when you'd truly realized this form of unadulterated love was new to your boyfriend as well. Both of you would find your way through the twists and turns of the maze that follows any true relationship, together.

The thought keeps you at peace.

24 is an age you never thought you'd reach.

It's an age old enough to make important decisions. But also an age young enough to get away with doing dumb shit.

You've lived for 24 years. Okay well, 24 years and 220 days to be exact (that's counting 6 leap days). Which is approximately 295.26 months. About 1283 weeks and 5 days. Then 8986 days. Fuck, you're old.

24's the age Jimin was when he met you, therefore it was deemed a magical age and number. Some days you agree with that, some days you don't.

Today though, you full-heartedly agree.

Jimin intertwines his hand with yours, rubbing small circles on the back of it — just the way you like. His strides equal yours, making sure he's walking right next to you, never faster, never slower. He's also wearing an all-black outfit, something that you've mentioned your love for countless times.

And you had left the house together, deciding to walk to the theater to watch Jin's newest play. Your cousin had saved both of you a special seat "on the house," and you were honestly excited to be able to support your cousin (to repay back all the support he had given you in your angsty teen years).

"So, what do you think, Y/N?" Jimin asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Hm?"

"The proof I was talking about for the last ten minutes. Think it's alright to give to my students during winter break?"

"Oh god," you sigh. "I don't know... Nothing screams satanic hell than a five-page double-sided proof. Especially during winter vacation." You look at Jimin for support, squeezing his hand. "You and your students can use a break, you know. Besides, if you assign a five-page proof, you'll have to grade it, and I'm not helping you with that anymore."

"Yeah but —"

"Jiminie, they're college kids. They need to have time to go to parties as much as you need time to hang out with me!" you pout, leaning into your boyfriend convincingly. "Besides, college is stressful as hell."

"Damn." Jimin shakes his head, chuckling. "Ever since you got a job, you act like you have the answer to everything!"

"Oh yeah? Well ever since you became a college professor, you've been giving me less attention!" You swing your linked hands back and forth, grinning wildly. "And for the record, I've always acted like I had the answer to everything."

Jimin scoffs, a teasing smile spreading across his face. "Fine. Whatever, but ever since you turned 24, you think you need all the attention in the world!"

"Mhm, yes, sure. But you're just working way harder because you know I make more money than you." You stick out your tongue at your boyfriend. A childish play, but something you know for a fact that Jimin finds absolutely adorable. "Wanna know the exact math? Twenty-one thousand, three hundred and ten more bucks!"

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes. "Y/N, we've gone over this. We share a bank account, therefore we don't need to compete over our salaries."

You huff, slipping your hand away from Jimin's grip to cross your arms disapprovingly. "That's what the lesser money-maker always says but whatever, I gotchu."

"Y/N..." Jimin warns.

God. You know that voice. You know that voice very well. It's the "shut up right now or I'll punish you in the bedroom" voice. And you don't plan on being dominated today, thank you very much.

"Okay, okay," you sigh, playing with the ends of your hair. "I guess I went too far."

"You guess?"

You scoff. "Okay, fine. I know. Feel happy now, Professor?"

Dom-Jimin is replaced with the smiley boyfriend that you know well. "Just call me Jimin, Y/N... Unless you're okay with some role-playing when we get back home."

He whispers the last part in your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand tall. "Jimin!" you shriek, slapping your boyfriend's shoulder in shock. "You're not supposed to talk about that... that kind of stuff in public!"

But Jimin's all smiles as he links arms with you, marching you towards the theater.

"What the fuck??" you announce as you march out of the theater still dazed from what you had just witnessed.

"I know," Jimin agrees, shaking his head in disbelief. "Jin did us so fucking dirty."

"I just can't believe he made a whole ass play about us!" you exclaim, throwing up your hands. Passerbys are giving you strange looks but at age 24, you don't give a fuck. "Illegal Love my ass."

"But you've got to admit, people really digged the teacher-student romance," Jimin whispers in your ear, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Who wouldn't? It's the sexiest kink out there."

You flush red, swatting Jimin's arm away. "That's subjective, Professor," you mutter under your breath. "Besides, you and I both know you're only saying that to get in my pants tonight."

"I'd be lying if I said no, Miss Y/N."

Now you know it's gonna be a fun night. 24's the magical age alright.

At least you think it is.

—previous | next (second book of ly trilogy masterpost)

—masterlist

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin imagine #bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fluff #jimin angst #teacher au #jimin crack #jimin fanfic #illegirl

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mermaidxatxheart · 4 years

Text

Bake Sale

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 1562

Warnings: None, really. Not even swearing-surprising I know. Brief mentions of anxiety. Mostly it’s fluff.

A/N: This is just kind of a fluff piece I wrote one day when I was feeling a little unsure about my own skill as a writer. I hope you like it. Don’t forget to send me some love in the form of comments and asks or messages.

Bucky knew something was wrong the moment he opened the door. The smell hit him like a brick.

Baked goods.

Cookies, pies, muffins, sweet smelling breads. It smells like a god damn bakery in your house. And while he’s an absolute slut for your cupcakes, it always means something is wrong.

“Y/N?” He calls softly, walking through the house. He finds you in the kitchen, headphones in, probably turned up to maximum volume. You’re stirring something in a glass bowl, a dark brown almost fudgy looking concoction, brownies. Plates and plates of everything you possibly know how to make cover every inch of the counters and table.

What is he going to do with you?

He steps forward and leans against the counter, dipping his finger into the bowl and tasting it. You let out a blood curdling scream and drop the bowl. If it weren’t for his super human reflexes, it would have broken and all the delicious brownies would have been wasted. You yank out your headphones and glare at him.

“How many times have I told you, if you’re home alone, use the stereo. You have to be able to hear if someone comes in.” He says softly.

“Let them. It’s not like I have anything worth taking.” You growl.

“Absolutely, you do.” He says seriously.

You scoff. “Sure, a TV that doesn’t work, books no one wants, a bed that’s just about to break. Yeah, it’s a real fucking treasure mine in here.” You rub your face roughly, but he notices the tears you’re trying to hide.

He cups your face in his hands, tipping your chin up so that you have to look at him. “Something far more precious than all that shit.” He rests his forehead against yours and squeezes his eyes shut. “Do you know what I would do if someone hurt you? If something happened to you?”

Your breath washes over him and he’s lost, drifting over an ocean of pain but none of it can touch him, because he has you. His hands trail down your neck, thumbs tracing the front of your throat, before he grips your shoulders. You know he cares about you, he hasn’t made it a secret, but he’s reluctant to make a move. He wants to be better before dragging you into his shit.

“Bucky,” you breath and he crushes his eyes closed.

“Do you know what I would do?” He repeats, hands sliding down to your hands, holding them against his chest.

You shake your head slightly.

“I would break the world to bring you back. You need to be safe. I need you to be safe.” He whispers desperately.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” You say softly. His name on your lips is heaven to him. Sometimes, he pretends not to hear you just so that he can listen to you call him over and over.

“Now, tell me what’s wrong? What’s with the bake sale?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I can’t do it. It won’t be good enough.”

“First of all, that’s bullshit.”

“Why would anyone want to read anything I write? It’s just crap. What was I thinking? I’ll never be as good as-“

“I swear to god if you say J.K. Rowling, I’m going to scream.”

“She’s so fucking good!” You run your fingers through your hair and Bucky groans.

Loudly.

“Doll, she’s not the standard. Yes, she’s good. Yes, everyone loves her and yes her books are still widely popular. But that doesn’t mean that she has the monopoly on books people love. You wrote something amazing. It’s touching and funny and so very you. And I don’t know if you noticed, but people tend to love you, so why wouldn’t they love your books?” Bucky presses his fingers to his temples for a minute. “You know, Steve gets mad at me. He can always tell when you fill out my mission reports. He says they’re far more entertaining than mine.”

“He does not. You lie.”

“I would never. Come on. Leave the brownies.” He says, pulling you towards your office. “No, leave the brownies.” He catches you as you try to go back to them. He lifts you up around the waist and carries you to your desk.

“Bucky!” You whine, pulling a small chuckle from him.

He spots the manuscript on your desk, ready to go off to get published. He’s so proud of you for finishing it. He knows how much it took for you to finally get there. He’s not going to let your anxiety get in the way. He sets you down, but he can sense you’re going to run-your muscles tense as your bare feet touch the floor.

“I’ll catch you and drag you back here.” He warns and you sigh loudly, leaning into his side.

“Fine, grumpy.”

He slides the thick stack of papers into the Manila envelope and seals it. He scrawls your address in the corner and slathers several stamps in the corner.

“Where are your shoes, Doll?” He asks, looking down at you.

“I’m not telling.” You cross your arms over your chest and he has a hard time not following the movement.

“That’s fine. I don’t really need you to walk to the mailbox.” He shrugs, stepping away. You nearly fall before catching yourself on his muscular arm.

“Bucky!”

“Come with me.” He holds out his hand for you and he can see the fear in your eyes. “Baby, please. Come with me.”

You slide your delicate, soft hand into his big, rough one and squeeze it gently. “I’m trusting you.” You whisper.

He knows how hard that is for you. He nods once, pulling you to the door. He pauses long enough for you to slip on your shoes.

The sky outside is dark, a storm is rolling in. You rub your bare arms, even though you love bad weather. “The sky is so grouchy today.” You snuggle up against him as he leads you down the steps.

He adores the feel of you against him, the way you crave to be close to him. You’ve never pushed him to move faster, always content to take things at his pace, and fuck, he loves you for that.

He stops in front of the blue box at the end of your street and hands you the envelope. “Go ahead.”

“No-I can’t.”

“Of course, you can. You’ve been heading for this moment since you were three years old and picked up your first book. You can’t give up now.” He pushes the envelope into your shaking hands.

You turn to stare at the innocent blue box. He gently opens the flap and it squeaks with rust. Lightly tapping the back of your elbow, he guides you forward until you have no choice but to tip the package inside. He closes the flap and turns to you. Your eyes are filling with tears and he cups your face gently. Your hands fist in his shirt at chest level and before he can react, you’re kissing him.

Your lips are like silky heaven, moving against his own. They taste like sugar and chocolate and he knows you were sampling the dough before baking it. His hands grip your hips as his brain catches up, then his arms wrap around you and crush you to him. He can feel your pulse under his hand, it’s racing a mile a minute.

He knows he should pull back, you need to breathe but for the first time in seventy years, he feels like he can breathe. He just can’t make himself back away now.

You break first, resting your forehead against his chest as your fingers card through his hair.

“Bucky, I-“

“I love you.” He rushes. He doesn’t want you to apologize, he doesn’t think he can stand to hear you say it was just a mistake. He’s crazy about you and you need to hear him say it.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Please-don’t say that.”

“Let me finish, rude. I didn’t mean to rush you. I know you need time. But you were standing there and you’ve helped me through so much, every panic attack, every tantrum, every emergency. You’ve been there for me, James. I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you, too.”

His heart breaks into a million pieces as you speak. His chest physically hurts. He hugs you tight against him, burying his face in your neck.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I love you, too.”

He holds you like that for a minute until he can control himself again. Once he steps back, his eyes roam your face, memorizing every detail.

“We have a small problem.” You start and he tenses.

“We do?”

“I have a bakery in my kitchen.”

“Oh, we can take all that to the compound. They’ll go nuts for it.” He says, taking your hand and leading you back to your home.

“Yeah right. Steve will kill me and there will be a bunch of diabetic avengers running around.”

He tips his head back and laughs loudly. “Are you kidding? Steve will be the first to dive right in. And you’ll forever be on Wanda’s good side.” He pulls you tight against his side and rests his mouth on the top of your head.

Sometimes, things can be worth the wait.

Tags:

@everythingisoverrated @dsakita @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @septic-boye @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @moli1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @thirstybitchqueen @xxloki81xx

#Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fluff #mermaidxatxheart #mermaidxatxheart-writes #reblogging because i'm an idiot and forgot the keep reading line

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jacksonroseroth · 3 years

Text

Tales of the XX Chapter 4

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s chapter 4! Hope you like it!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Weed usage

Words: 4,269

Italian Translations: andrá tutto bene - Everything will be fine ~ Non sono ubriaco - I’m not drunk ~ Dio non voglia - God forbid

Moodboard made by me, none of the pictures are mine

When Slim, AJ, and Baze boarded the plane, they indeed stopped by Giacomo and Marciano to speak with them. Their own men bristled at the seeming disrespect, but Slim maintained an air of confidence and merely chuckled when they blocked his path to Giacomo. Slim smirked and said, “I need to speak with your boss.”

“I’ll give him the message. What do you have to say?” One of the men asked. Slim smirked and said, “Oh, it’s for you as well. Better if you all hear it.”

Baze shifted to be able to see past the men, locking eyes with Giacomo and gave a polite smile as he said, “If and when you’d like to speak with Don Romano, you and your men will bring the request us. Not to him.”

Marciano was visibly agitated by the order, but Giacomo placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, not looking away from Baze as he matched the polite smile, and said, “Thank you. I will be sure to oblige.”

Slim bowed his head in respect and moved along, down to the back of the plane. AJ and Baze followed suit, not speaking to the De Luca men as they passed, lining themselves to block Colson as they sat down. Marciano glared at the men as they passed, waiting until they had sat down and were talking amongst themselves to turn to his father and say, “How can you let them disrespect you like that? What authority do they have-?”

“It was a message from Don Romano. That is authority enough, Marciano.” Giacomo said harshly, giving him a look. Marciano blinked, surprised his father was defending the young don. The young man shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as he said, “I wasn’t aware you sympathized with him.”

“You wouldn’t, Marciano, now would you? The d’Este bastard has blinded you to your own family.” Giacomo said, narrowing his eyes at him. “Remember where your loyalties lie, my son. It is not with them.”

Marciano dipped his head down, showing respect and regret to his father, then turned to look out the window as the plane took off. Giacomo glanced down the aisle of the plane to Colson, watching them all for a moment before turning to smile at the stewardess as she came to take their orders.

“Do you think he’s going to come back here? It’s not a long flight.” Slim said, tearing his gaze away from the De Luca’s and looking back at his boss. Colson sipped his drink and smirked, giving a brief shrug.

“He might. But I never specified that stood for only the plane ride, did I?” Colson replied. Slim smirked as AJ and Baze exchanged looks and chuckled. He let his men have their moment before he added, “When we get back to Catania tonight, I’ll explain it all. But Giacomo has literally handed me a power I’d never thought I’d have over d’Este. I intend to see how serious he is about it before I make any move.”

“What about Marciano? Him and Enzio are fucking butt buddies. He’d never turn against him.” Baze said. Colson tilted his head and watched the young De Luca as he struck up a conversation with his men.

“Apparently, they’re not as close as we thought. Marci doesn’t know about everything Enzio has done…” Colson’s eyes flickered between his men as he lowered his voice and said, “Like killing Cosmio.”

“Everyone knows he did that.” AJ piped up, softly. “Shit, we knew he did it before he knew he was going to do it. Everyone knows he’s the go to hitman.”

Colson shrugged and said, “Well, Giacomo must have kept it from his son. Cosmio was his fucking cousin for Christ’s sake. If Marciano knew he killed him, I’d have no respect for him if he stayed friends with d’Este.” He took another sip of his drink and sat back, watching as Giacomo stood, waving his men off as he made his way to the back of the plane. Slim saw the smirk spread across Colson’s face and turned. AJ and Baze stood while Slim remained seated as the Don reached them.

“Don De Luca. What can I do for you?” Slim asked, laying a leg over his knee and folding his hands in his lap, smiling politely. Giacomo smiled at the men and said, “I’d like a word with your boss...In private, if we could?”

Atta forced herself to smile and have fun in town with Carina and Maddelena. The pair dragged Atta all over, into every store. They stopped at a cafe for lunch and snacked as they shopped, then finally ended the night at dinner on the water. Carina and Maddelena sat together and chatted away with their phones, now that they could sit down and unwind with a glass of wine. A content smile sat on Atta’s lips as she gazed out over the ocean, the pleasant sea breeze playing with her hair.

“Josie.” The firm tone that said her name jolted her out of her own head and she turned to her friends. Both girls giggled and exchanged looks, prompting Atta to smile a little more and give a soft chuckle of her own as she asked, “What? What did I miss?”

“Atta, we’ve been calling you.” Carina said with a chuckle, handing her phone over to her. “Look what your brother sent me.”

Atta chuckled and shook her head, lightly, taking the phone. Carina and Rook, just like Atta and Colson, had always been attracted to each other. Only in Rook’s case, he was allowed to court Carina. Early last year, John sat his son down and made it clear to him exactly who he was courting.

Carina was the only family member left of the Greco clan, save her grandfather; Elder and Don Alessandro Greco. The Greco line ended when Carina’s father and brother were killed in a drive by; An act of retaliation from Martel Muller after the XX retaliated for the attempt on Colson and Cosmio’s life. Carina was extremely lucky, and very grateful, that Alessandro had his eye on Rook to marry his granddaughter anyway.

“I have some thing for you, come to Marsala tonight?” Atta read aloud, then gave Carina a look accompanied by a knowing smirk. With a chuckle, breaking her facade, she handed the phone back and said, “Do you think he’s going to propose?”

Carina giggled and shrugged. She sipped her wine as she reached for her phone, taking a moment to reply to Rook. Atta and Maddelena exchanged looks and chuckled. Carina looked up, looking between the both of them with a wide smile as she set her phone down. “What? I don’t know. Maybe? I wouldn’t be surprised. Rook said John mentioned something about announcing his engagement at either his party or the joint party.”

Atta sighed and cast her gaze down, staring at the menu. Maddelena watched her cousin. “Atta, andrá tutto bene. You’re not choosing a husband at the party. It’s just the presentation of suitors.” She said, closing her menu and setting it aside. Maddelena and Carina both reach for the bread and oil as Atta sighed and shook her head.

“Yes, Madde. But then, I’m put under scrutiny. Everything I do will be watched. I’ll have to stay in Marsala so the elders can watch my interactions with the sons. Then they’ll all be in my ear telling me what to do and who to choose. I’m not happy for it. Any of it.” Atta spat out in a rapid slur of frenzied Italian and passion. When she looked up at her friends, they both were slowly picking at the bread on their plates and watching her. Atta cracked a smile and picked at her napkin as she muttered. “Non sono ubriaco…”

The pair chuckled at their friend, breaking out in playful Italian jabs as their waiter approached. He gave the group a warm smile and asked, “Buona sera. What can I get you tonight?”

As Carina gave her order and Maddelena quickly scanned the menu once more, Atta glanced around the restaurant. She saw a few familiar faces that made the corners of her mouth lift up slightly. But it was the figure with a grey trenchcoat at the back that struck her most. Especially when she saw the dark shades that covered his eyes. The sun had long since set so no one should have been wearing sunglasses. It seemed that one the figure realized his presence was noticed by her, he quickly shuffled along the back fence where he stood and quickly left the restaurant.

“And for you, Singora Cappelletti?” The waiter’s voice brought her attention to him, scrambling for her menu to answer him. He jotted down her order, gave them all a polite smile and said, “Grazie. Your food will be out shortly.”

He gave a small bow to Atta as he walked away. Atta sighed and sat back, fingering her wine glass as she stared at it. Carina snacked on the refilled bread as she smiled and sat back, texting with Rook. Maddelena set down her phone and looked up to start a conversation, but stopped when she saw the look on Atta’s face.

“Cousin. What is it? There’s something else bothering you.” Maddelena said. Atta shifted, sitting a little straighter in her seat and sat forward, glancing between both women. She took a deep breath before she said, “I ended things with Colson.”

Carina snorted in her drink and Maddelena inhaled the piece of bread she chewed on as she gasped. Atta rolled her eyes and tried to hide a smile as her friends pulled themselves together. Maddelena gulped down her water, coughing a few more times, while Carina wiped her face and said, “Um, I-I’m sorry. You-You did what?”

“With the party coming up, I didn’t want to risk exposing us. Daddy would kill him, the Dons would be pissed, and the elders would remove him. Not that who I fuck is any of their business anyway…” Atta said, sitting back. Maddelena cleared her throat one last time before she spoke.

“Wait. So...It’s over over? Fuck, I thought you two would at least attempt to make a case to the elders.” Maddelena said. Atta merely shook her head and sighed.

“It would be useless. They would still punish him for fooling around with me without Daddy’s blessing. God, this whole thing is bullshit. They shouldn’t be presenting their sons for marriage, they should present them for fucking adoption! Then Rook would have a second and I can live my life in peace.” Atta said.

“Between the party, actually choosing, then the actual wedding? Atta, things might change. You and Colson belong together just as much as me and Rook or Madde and Cosmio.” Carina said. She hesitated and prayed the guilt she felt showed enough as she managed to get out, “Dio non voglia...If something happens to John-”

Atta shook her head with a chuckle. “Rook still can’t do shit. The elders will probably kill Rook if he tried. John has already spoken to us about it. Not to mention the Dons would riot and demand his removal. Colson would have to kill them all; the elders, the Dons, their families, if we wanted to get married.” She said. Atta gave a soft sigh and added, “That or he would have to turn the Dons on the elders or somehow get them to like him.”

Maddelena waved a hand at Carina as she opened her mouth to respond and set down her glass. “No. No more. We are done talking about this. This entire situation is complete bullshit and I’m sick of seeing you upset like this.” She said. “You have been getting more and more depressed since John told you about this three months ago. Colson’s been gone for four. You shouldn’t have been forced to fuck up your reunion like this. I’m tired of seeing you hurt.”

Atta blinked at her cousin as Carina snickered softly. Atta slowly broke a smile and began chuckling, meeting Carina’s gaze as they chuckled together. Just like Atta at meetings, it wasn’t often that Maddelena spoke up, but when she did, she was heard. Maddelena’s anger faded as she also broke out in a smile and giggles.

“Okay, Madde. We hear you.” Atta chuckled, reaching over to give her hand a small, comforting squeeze. Maddelena smiled and gave a squeeze back.

“I’m sorry, but they can’t treat us like their own daughters way back when. Things have changed.” Maddelena said.

“I agree. But they’re old Italians. They’re more stubborn than a mule.” Atta said with a chuckle. As they spoke, their waiter came back over with their food and they put their conversation on hold for a moment, thanking the waiter when he was done. “If talking about it upsets you, Madde, I won’t bring it up anymore. Besides, I need a goddamn miracle to get out of this marriage.”

Colson motioned for his men to give them a little more privacy, though they only moved one row up. Giacomo took the seat across from Colson as he tried to keep his smirk from showing too much.

“What can I do for you, Giacomo?” Colson asked, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sip.

Giacomo chuckled softly before he said, “There is no need to hide behind pleasantries here, Colson. We both want the d’Este’s out of power and for things to be run as they were before.”

“No.” Colson said, setting down his glass. “Not as they were before. My uncle had plans past installing the girls, you know this. Plans to go beyond Tomasso’s original goals. If you want me to take down the d’Estes for you, I’ll do it. But if you’re giving me that power, I’m using it. For too long, I’ve been cast aside because of stubborn, close-minded men. Too long I’ve been kept from my goddamn birthright. That is all going to change if you side with me, De Luca. This is my family. And I’m going to take it back.”

Giacomo watched the young Don closely as he spoke. When Colson finished and sat back, picking up his glass again, he chuckled and smirked at him, rubbing a hand over his chin as he sat back as well. “And, uh, if there are some Dons who will not agree with you on these changes?”

“I’ll already be in power. My grandfather gave them their positions and wealth...His grandson can certainly take it from them.” Colson said, evenly, meeting the man’s gaze. He did not return Giacomo’s smirk, instead stared intensely at him, showing he would not be swayed. “I’ve bowed to lesser men my whole life. If you aid me in getting it back, trust me, the gratitude will not be lost. But don’t think to double cross me, Giacomo. No matter what, John has the last word. He’ll seek revenge for me.”

Colson’s words didn’t seem to rattle the old man, as Giacomo simply chuckled then stood. Colson raised an eyebrow, but stood as well, taking the hand Giacomo offered and shook it. The Don kept a firm grip on Colson’s hand and said, “I see much of your father in you, Colson. When we return to Catania, we will speak further.”

Colson nodded and said, “My home is always open to you, Don De Luca.”

“My gratitude, Don Romano.” Giacomo said. He finally released his hand and turned to walk back to his own family. As he passed, AJ, Baze, and Slim all bowed their heads in respect before retaking their seats closer to Colson.

“What did he say?” Slim asked. Colson smirked and sat back, taking a sip from his glass.

“Not much. But I think we understand each other.” Colson said. “Call Dub in from London. I want him at the house before we get back.”

“Dub? Why? What’s going on?” Baze asked.

“We will be entertaining the De Luca family tonight. Dub can take a break from his London crew. I want all my men there.” Colson said. He looked at AJ and added, “You and Dub will be in charge. I want Baze and Slim with me. I’m sure Giacomo and I will be in the office for most of the time.”

“So, it went well. The talk?” Slim asked, casting a cursory glance at the other two. Colson smirked and finished his drink. He didn’t want to tell his men just yet, not until he had vetted De Luca entirely and was certain of De Luca’s allegiance.

“Yes. It went well.” Was all Colson said.

When they landed in Rome, it was a quick trip to the Castel where the cardinals and bishops were already waiting. Thankfully, each Don had their own car and Colson was able to spark up a quick joint before they arrived. It settled him enough to be able to endure the interviews, but the moment they stepped foot in the room and all the bishops and cardinals turned to look at them, Colson tensed and wanted to bolt.

He wasn’t comfortable being around so many holy men. Religion wasn’t something he wholey believed in, but he bowed his head for Grace and muttered along in church when he was required to attend. Other than that, he all but shunned the church which gave the Dons another reason to dislike him.

As Colson was the Don sent by John, Giacomo and the De Lucas stayed behind him and his men to let the cardinals greet him first. One of the cardinals approached and said, “Don Romano. It is a pleasure to have you in Rome.”

“Cardinal Vecchio.” Colson said, extending his hand to take the Cardinal’s. Cardinal Vecchio bent to kiss the ring on Colson’s right ring finger; the ring of the Romanos of Catania. In turn, Colson then took the cardinal hand and kissed his ring as well. Cardinal Vecchio moved through Colson’s men, each of them kissing the ring with a respectful ‘Your Eminence’. As Vecchio moved on, so did the other cardinals and bishops to greet the men.

Once the greetings were finished, Cardinal Vecchio led Colson and Giacomo to their seats, their men lining themselves behind the chairs. The remaining cardinals and bishops took their seats, save Vecchio.

“We understand the young Cappaallettis are to be married. Please pass our blessings and congratulations to Don Cappalletti.” He said, pressing his hands together and bowing his head. Colson nodded.

“Thank you, Your Eminence. I shall pass along the message.” He said. Colson raised his voice a little louder as he addressed the room. “You are all well aware of why we meet here today. Singor Cappalletti wishes to have a cardinal officiate his daughter’s wedding. He will accept a bishop, but it is my decision on who will be chosen. We will call each of you to the seat in front of us and ask a few questions. Cardinal Vecchio. Since you are without a seat, shall we begin with you?”

“Of course.” Cardinal Vecchio bowed his head and took a seat as the long process began. Colson and Giacomo interviewed the cardinals and bishops, each asking their own questions and discussing between the two of them. Colson knew that Rook and Atta would doubtfully have a joint wedding; A joint everything else in their life was enough. John gave only the best for his Mafia Princess. Armed with that knowledge, Colson took an early lead while interviewing the cardinals, though gave De Luca room for his input. He had Atta’s voice in the back of his mind, not just the fight, but her comment that John wanted a cardinal at her wedding.

Colson knew sending him to Rome was a test for him, to see how well he could do choosing an a bishop or cardinal for Atta’s wedding that wasn’t to him. If he couldn’t be impartial and keep his cool on this simple task, he knew he wouldn’t end up being invited at all. Atta would never forgive him if he sabotaged himself and wasn’t there, so Colson sat there, going through the monotony of questions until another thought sprang to his mind.

John was careful in selecting who showed up that day. Colson noted the Archbishop of Palermo, and the Sicilian representative, was the only low ranking holy man there, and he was there solely for being their island’s bishop. Each cardinal and bishop held loyalty to one of the XX families. It was Colson’s curse that the d’Este’s held control in Palermo, their home. While Vecchio was the most logical choice for both ceremonies, being unwavering in his loyalty to the Cappalletti family, if Atta was, as she made it seem, going to be forced to choose d’Este, the bishop would also be chosen by force. Unable to keep his disdain for the bishop from his questions for the moment, Colson let Giacomo take the lead while he sat back and listened.

“...And my final question, Archbishop; Will you be performing any personalized rituals for Donna Cappalletti and her new husband?” Giacomo asked, looking up at the bishop from the paper he read. He removed his reading glasses and folded them up as the bishop spoke.

“In my time as Archbishop of Palermo I have performed every d’Este wedding. I include every family tradition and ritual they ask. I use the same rituals in every ceremony in Palermo.” He explained. The answer received the murmur of approval from his fellow clergymen and seemed to satisfy Giacomo, but it struck Colson as odd.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Giacomo cleared his throat and folded up his paper. “Don Romano will now ask his questions.”

The archbishop bowed his head then turned to look at Colson. Colson shifted in his seat, sitting a little straighter but still with a slight lean. “You’ve said you use these rituals in every wedding in Palermo, Your Grace.” Colson stated simply, if only to ease into his line of questioning while trying to seem unbiased.

“Yes. I do. It became a fashion for my people. I am here only to serve.” He said with a polite smile. Colson nodded.

“We do not yet know who Singora Cappalletti will marry, so there is always room for changes...However, if the wedding is not in Palermo…” Colson started, leaving the atmosphere to tense slightly. He saw the archbishop’s eyes widen and his body tense, his polite smile now stiff and frozen in place. A few cardinals glanced at each other and whispered. Colson heard a soft laugh come from Giacomo and he glanced around the room before he added, “Will you still hold these rituals? If she does not marry a d’Este it may seem odd to have Palermo observed but not the newlyweds home.”

“If the wedding does not take place in Palermo…” The archbishop started, clearing his throat. “Then I shall perform as Don Cappalletti wishes.”

Colson could hardly keep the smirk from crossing his face as he leaned forward and asked, “And what of his daughter? It is her wedding after all. What of her wishes?”

“Yes, yes. As la principessa wishes, of course.” The archbishop said with an unsure chuckle. Colson stared at the bishop, taking his time to let the moment resonate with him before he said, “Very well. Thank you, Your Grace. You may take your seat.”

Colson sat back as the holy man quickly shuffled along to his seat and Cardinal Vecchio stepped forward. “I hope me and my colleagues have answered your questions to your satisfaction.” He said as he approached the Dons. “We shall expect an answer presently?”

Giacomo turned to Colson, waiting for his response. Colson glanced at him, then turned to the cardinal and said, “This is not simply a wedding of the family. It is the wedding. Two of them, in fact. It is not a decision that should be made in haste, nor without the input of both the young Cappalletti’s but their father as well. If Don De Luca and I may be allowed to discuss with the family, we shall announce our choices in...A week’s time?”

It was not the answer any of them wanted. That much was clear and it told him everything he needed to know about how truthful Atta had been. Colson was to announce that Cardinal Vecchio and the archbishop were to be chosen, to coincide with both John’s wishes for a cardinal and the d’Estes to have their one claim to arrogance with the archbishop. But he refused to give them that satisfaction; the cardinals or the elders. There was a slight uproar in the murmuring of the disgruntled men. Cardinal Vecchio cleared his throat and the room fell silent.

“We eagerly look forward to your decision, Don Romano.” He said, bowing to them both. The other cardinals and bishops followed suit, all of them standing and bowing to the Dons. Colson scanned the room and sighed, softly. John handed him this power to choose. He only withheld his decision to have time to plan. The choice was his alone, though to prove his loyalty to the family and not his heart. Unfortunately for the Dons and the elders, in Colson’s mind, they were one in the same. It was now his time to make some moves and they would be big. For it all to go smoothly, Colson would have to plan every last detail, down to the minute. The slightest hinge could ruin him forever.

Hope you guys liked it. If you want to be added to my taglist for this and/or future MGK/Colson stories, let me know! If you have any comments, feel free!

@badwolf-in-the-impala @lovemythsworld @kellsfanficalltogether @mgkobsessed @allmyheart2

#MGK #MGK Fic #MGK Fan Fic #Colson Baker #Colson Baker Fan Fic #Colson Baker Fic #Colson Baker AU #MGK AU #Colson Baker Mob AU #MGK Mob AU #EST #ESTXX #EST19XX

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 4 years

Text

Someone Special - Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 10)

Part 9

“I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but when you know you know, right? And I fucking know that I love you and I’m scared just as much as you are, but I’m more scared of how I feel when I’m not with you,” he whispered looking into your eyes.

You stared at him completely taken aback by what he said. Never did you expect him or anyone to ever say anything like that to you. You didn’t know what to say, so you did the only thing you felt in heart was right. You put your hands on his face as you kissed him. He wanted to respond to the kiss, but he couldn’t until he knew where you two stood.

“Wait, wait,” he said pulling away. “We need to talk this out... As much as I want to kiss you right now, I need to know how you feel about me and if-if you’re willing to be in a relationship.”

“I want to give us a chance, I do,” you whispered.

“But?” He sighed.

“But, I’m fucking terrified,” you whispered. “Last year I thought I was broken. I thought I would never get over how hurt I was, but then I did. And now, I realize, I wasn’t in love with him and I was only hurt over what I thought I had and lost. The reason I’m so scared about doing this with you is because I’ve never felt this way about anyone... and I know if something ever happened... I truly would be broken and I don’t know.. I don’t know if I could bring myself out of that.”

Harry looked at sadly, pushing a strand of hair from your face, “I can’t promise that we’ll always be together or that shit might not happen, but what I promise is that I would never intentionally hurt you. And I know you’re scared and I never want to be the reason you’re hurting,” he said. “But life is too short for us not to take risks. Hell, if I never went on the X Factor, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Who knows where the fuck I’d be, if I didn’t take that risk.”

“I want to say yes,” you whispered. “I wanted to fight more that night back in London, but I-”

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

You sighed bringing your gaze to meet his.

“Don’t think about the what ifs, don’t think about the past, don’t think about the future,” he said. “If none of that other shit mattered, what would you want right now in this moment.”

“You,” you whispered without a hesitation. “I want to be with you... us to be together.”

“Then why can’t we have that?” He asked. “We can’t change the past and we can’t predict the future, but we can live in the moment and see what we can be.”

You sighed looking down at your hands.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “I love you and I know that you love me, too. I’m sitting here giving you my heart. I’m laying out every fucking piece of me and you have the choice and opportunity to tell me you don’t want to be with me and I’ll accept that. And with that, you have every opportunity to break me because you own my heart and all I’m asking for is a chance to have yours in return.”

“But you do,” you whispered. “You’ve had it since that night in New York.”

He took your hand into his, lacing your fingers together. You sighed moving from your spot on the couch, onto his lap, still keeping your hands intertwined.

You put your forehead against his, “Will you be mine?” You whispered.

“Already am,” he said a smile forming on his lips.

“And I’m yours,” you whispered.

He smiled widely bringing your face down for a kiss.

Album Release Day.

You woke up with Harry’s arms wrapped around you. You were surprised he was still sleeping knowing how excited it was for the day. Although, with him having the show that night, you knew he was probably making sure he was well rested. You moved Harry from his face as you smiled thinking how great it felt finally allowing yourself to love him and be with him. There was still a huge part of you that was nervous and scared, but he was worth it.

You decided on sneaking out of the bed and making a huge congratulations breakfast for the two of you. You unwrapped his arm from you and slipped out from under the covers. You grabbed one of his shirts laid out on a chair to pull over your naked body before heading into the kitchen. You smirked as you found the album on your recently added in your iTunes and played it softly while you looked around for something to make.

You danced around a bit in the kitchen as you grabbed what you needed to make french toast. You pulled your hair back into a low bun as you measured everything out before pouring them in a bowl. You mixed everything up and dipped a few slices of bread into the mixture before placing them on the heated skillet.

When Harry woke up without you in the bed, he groaned rolling out of bed and followed the smell of brown sugar, cinnamon, and maple syrup. He could hear the familiar sounds of Adore You playing the closer he got to the kitchen. He smiled seeing you moving your hips to the beat of the song as you flipped over what he assumed was french toast. He also noticed you where wearing his shirt with not very much underneath.

He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you waist and kissing your cheek, “Morning beautiful,” he smiled.

“Oh hey,” you smiled. “I was hoping I would be finished before you woke up.”

“Well, I rolled over in bed to find it empty, so I woke up to go in search for my girlfriend,” he smirked.

“You really like saying that don’t you?” you giggled.

“Love it actually,” he smiled.

“Good because I love hearing it,” you smiled turning around to wrap your arms around his shoulder.

“Now, what do you think of the album so far?” He asked.

“Pretty good,” you smiled. “And the fact that it’s currently number 1 on iTunes, means I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

“Really?” He asked. “It’s number one?”

“Yep, in multiple countries,” you said. “Why are you sounding so shocked?”

“I don’t know,” he laughed. “It’s one of those things that are still unbelievable you know.”

“I do, actually,” you said. “When my last album almost sold 1 mill in the first week, I was convinced someone did the numbers wrong.”

“Okay, miss show off,” he joked.

You laughed kissing him quickly before flipping over the last piece of toast.

“I’ll get the drinks and set the table,” he said.

“Sounds good, I’ll bring everything over in a bit,” you said.

“You’re coming to the show tonight, right?” He asked.

“Hm, I don’t know, I was thinking about staying home and organizing my closet,” you joked. “Of course, I’m coming, unless you don’t want me there.”

Harry walked over to you after you turned off the stove, puling you closer to him, “Why would I not want you there? I want you right in the front of the side stage, so I make you all hot and bothered and you’ll want to jump me as soon as we get back here,” he smirked.

“You don’t exactly have to try very hard for that,” you smirked.

“Oh, really?” He asked walking you both back towards the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Really,” you nodded.

“So, if I wanted to take you right here and now, you’d be all ready to go?” He smirked.

“How about we find out?” You smirked.

He pressed his lips against yours and picked you up to place you onto the countertop. The shirt you were wearing had been pushed up in the process and he smirked against your lips. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you as you ran your hands over his chest. Removing his lips from yours, he brought them down your neck. You bit your lip while tilting your head back.

Just when he started pulling on the fabric covering your body, the front door flew open.

“H! Your ass better be awake! It’s fucking album release day and your fucking smashing it right-” Jeff shouted walking through the house, only stopping when he saw the two of you in the kitchen.

Your face turned redder than ever before, you quickly pushed Harry away, jumping down from the island and trying to cover yourself up as much as you could with the length of his the shirt.

“Jeff, what the fuck, mate?” Harry groaned. “I own a doorbell.”

“Uh-sorry,” he said. “I uh, I didn’t realize you had company.. or that you two made up.. or that you would be fucking in the kitchen.”

“We hadn’t exactly gotten to the fucking yet... thanks to you,” He said simply causing you to hit his arm.

“We were just making breakfast,” you said quickly. “That’s it.”

“Right,” Jeff said. “Anyway, I won’t stay long, but I just want to stop by, say the album is doing extremely well and we’re only about 8 hours in from release.”

“Really happy to the hear that,” Harry smiled. “Fucking ecstatic and I would love to continue this conversation, but maybe later.. and when my girlfriend isn’t half naked.”

You hit Harry’s arm again as embarrassment took over your face once again.

“Girlfriend?” Jeff smirked. “Well, happy to hear it’s finally fucking official. Y/N, lovely to see you again and I’m sure we’ll be seeing you tonight then?”

“Yep,” you nodded.

“Great,” Jeff said. “I’ll be on my way now. H, give me a ring when you’re uh... done with breakfast. We’ve got some final details to over for tonight.”

“Will do,” Harry said with a wave.

You both watched and waited for him to leave. Once he was out the door, you turned around grabbing the plates of french toast, while Harry pulled you over to him.

“Shall we pick up where we left off?” He smirked.

“Yeah, no,” you said.

He whined, “What? Why?” He groaned.

“Seriously? They may not have been embarrassing for you, but I’m mortified. I’m not exactly in the fucking mood after that,” you pointed out.

“Fucking Jeff,” he mumbled following you over to the table.

You were currently on your way to The Forum for Harry’s One Night Only Album Release Show. You were wearing a pair of faux black leather pants and a fine line t-shirt tied into a crop top.

“I need to tell you something.” he said looking over at you.

“If it’s that I’m looking really fucking hot right now and you want to get it on in the car or your dressing room when we get there, it’s not happening,” you said. “I’m not about to have someone walk in again.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not sure how should I take the fact that you thought that was what I was going to tell you,” he said. “And second of all, even though it’s not what I was planning on saying, you do look really fucking hot right now and I would love nothing more than to do naughty things to you.”

“You did not just say that,” you laughed.

“I did and I’m not ashamed,” he smirked.

You shook your head looking over at him, “Anyway, what is it that you need to tell me?”

“My Mum is gonna be at the show,” he said quickly.

in fact it was so quick, you weren’t even sure what he said. “What was that?” you asked.

“My Mum is going to be at the show,” he said again.

“And you’re just now telling me this!” You groaned. “Fuck me.”

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” he said. “She’s going to love you and I know it’s a little soon to meet her, but you’d meet her eventually, right?”

“And what if she doesn’t love me?” You asked.

“Then, I guess I’d you have to see your way out,” he smirked.

“I hate you,” you mumbled crossing your arms and looking out at the window.

“No, you don’t,” he smirked wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately,” you laughed.

“That’s the spirit,” he smirked kissing your cheek.

You were snacking backstage while Harry was doing soundcheck when you heard someone say your name. You looked behind you and saw a woman standing there. You’ve seen pictures of her before and there was quite the resemblance, so you knew she was his mother.

“Y/N, right?” She smiled. “I’m Anne, Harry’s mother.”

“Oh, yes, hi, hello,” you said holding out your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’ve been dying to meet you,” she smiled. “Harry’s talked about you for a while now and I couldn’t wait to see the person who’s brought even more happiness into my son’s life.”

You blushed, “I’m really happy I’ve done that because he’s done the same for me.”

“All I’ve ever wanted for my son is for him to be happy and knowing you a part of that, makes me happy,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

You smiled wrapping your arms around her in a hug. She smiled hugging you back right as Harry walked into the room. He smiled widely seeing you and his mother hugging with smiles on your faces.

“I told you she would love you,” Harry said to you.

“Were you worried?” Anne laughed. “Am I that scary?”

“Sometimes,” Harry smirked.

“Watch it,” Anne said pointing to him.

“See what I mean,” he smirked.

Harry walked over placing his arm around your shoulder. You smiled taking his hand in yours as you looked up at him. He leaned down pressing his lips against yours.

When it was time for the show to start, you walked out to the very place Harry wanted you. Somewhere he could see you perfectly, but you wouldn’t really be noticed by anyone else. You looked out into the crowd so excited for the amount of people who were there in support of him. You had been so proud all day, reading all the reviews on social media by fans, and by critics. You couldn't wait to hear the songs live along with everyone else. You had your phone with you, so you could take a few photos and videos of the night.

As soon as the lights went out, the crowd erupted with screams, including yours. The members of his band headed out onto the stage first and you were wondering where Harry was, until you felt it. Him behind you wrapping his arms around you.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you smiled. “Now, get out there and bring this place down.”

He smirked giving you a quick peck on the lips before also making sure to get a little tap on your ass before heading out onto the stage.

The show was absolutely amazing. He killed every single song and everyone was living for it. You were beyond proud of him and could see how happy he was to be on stage performing the very songs he had spent the last year pouring his heart out into. You were so happy that you were able to be there in support of him. You couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

After the show, there was a mini after party backstage with everyone. Celebratory drinks were had and speeches were made. Emotions were all over the place and so were everyone’s praises. However, the one thing Harry could’t wait for was celebrating with you. Yes, he loved celebrating with his friends and his mum, but he just wanted to be with you.

A few hours after the show, you two were back at his house and it was super late or early depending upon how you wanted to look at it. You knew Harry would be going back to London at the end of the weekend and you weren’t sure when you’d get to see him next until after Christmas.

As soon as you walked into the house after Harry unlocked the door, you felt your boyfriend playfully pick you up and throw you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Taking my girlfriend to bed,” he smirked.

“Good, I’m like really exhausted,” you said. “I can’t wait to get in my pajamas and cuddle up under a blanket and fall asleep.”

He whined, “Do you really want to do that?”

“It’s not like I have any other options,” you smirked.

“Yes, you do,” he said walking into the room.

“Like what?” You scoffed.

He smirked dropping you onto the bed, “Making sweet, hot, amazing, mind-blowing love with your boyfriend.”

“Hm, tempting,” you said. “But do you really think you got what it takes? You seemed to use a lot of your stamina out on that stage. I would hate for you to fall asleep half way there.”

“Oh, you’re going to wish you didn’t say that,” he smirked kissing you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck deepening the kiss. His hands were at your sides, tugging on your shirt before pulling it over your head. He kissed down your neck, your collarbone, and the skin poking out from your bra. Your placed your fingers on the remaining buttons of his shirt before pushing the fabric down shoulders.

“You were so fucking hot tonight,” you whispered against his lips causing him to smirk.

“I could say the same to you,” he said. “Your ass looked amazing in these.”

He ran his hands along your legs before pulling on the fake leather fabric until the were off. You sat up on the bed unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers down. You kissed a trail of kisses up his stomach to his chest and neck before finding his lips again. He didn’t hesitate in deepening the kiss and you didn’t waste any time before wrapping your hand around him.

“Fuck,” he half groaned, half moaned against your lips.

You smirked moving your hand slowly as you looked up at him. He brought his hands to the back of your bra trying his best to unclasp it.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbled. “What the fuck is wrong with this.”

“The clasp is the in the front,” you giggled removing your hand from him.

You unsnapped it and took off your bra. He brought his lips down to meet yours as he took your naked chest into his hands. You moaned into the kiss pulling on his hair. Over the next few minutes, he gave proper attention to your chest with both his hands and his mouth. You could feel yourself dripped onto the fabric of your underwear.

He pulled it down leaving you both completely naked. He reached over taking a condom from the box on the table. You smirked taking it out of his hand and pushing him back on the bed. He looked at you curiously as he watched you lean down running your tongue alongside him.

“Fuck me,” he groaned.

You smirked mimicking the same movement a few times before taking him in your mouth. The loudest gasp left his lips as he watched you move slowly up and down. You stared at him the entire time and just when you could tell he was about to finish, you stopped what you were doing and opened the wrapper.

“Why did you stop?” He whined.

You ignored him, sliding on the condom before straddling him. Both of you moaned at the contact and you stayed there not moving for a bit. His place his hands on your hips, gripping them as you moved achingly slow on top of him.

You made sure to take your time and then speed up every so often before holding back again. You could tell he was getting both turned on even more and annoyed. You pressed your lips against him and he sat up holding you close to him as he matched your movements. When he took your chest in his mouth once again, you groaned throwing your head back.

After a while, he could tell you were getting tired, so he flipped you over onto your back. You wrapped your legs around his waist and quickened and hardened his movements. Both of you were covered in sweat and you heart rates were quite elevated. You gripped onto his shoulders as you felt your body started to tense up from the pleasure it was experience.

He brought his thumb down to your center and whispered in your ear as he kissed your neck. It didn’t take long before you let yourself go and the after feeling you around him, he followed soon after. You both stayed like that a few moments, catching your breaths. You smiled pushing his hair from his face pecking his lips before he rolled off of you.

When you came back from the bathroom, you got back into the bed, where he wrapped his arms around you. You smiled when he kissed your head as you played with his necklaces in between your fingers.

“I love you,” you whispered looking up at him. “And I’m really proud of you.”

“Why? Because I lasted longer than two minutes?” He joked.

“Well, yeah, “ you joked. “But I meant today... this week in general.”

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered running his fingers over your back.

“When’s your flight back to London?” You whispered.

“Sunday Morning,” he sighed.

You nodded, “So, I guess we won’t see each other again until after Christmas?”

“Actually,” he said. “I was uh, I was wondering if you would want to come to London with me this next week. I know it’s the week before Christmas, but I was thinking, now that we’re together, we could finish crossing some things off your Christmas List together. Plus, I’ve got another show in London next week, and we can deliver all those presents we wrapped to the Children’s hospital.”

You smiled, “Really? I’d love that.”

“Does that mean you’re coming with me?” He asked.

You turned over onto your stomach so you were facing him, “It does. Luckily, I don’t have anything schedule this week and I’m not supposed to be at my parents until the weekend before. And I’m not quite ready to give you up for a few days just yet.”

He smirked, “Me either,” he said.

“Now, let’s get back to the real business,” you smirked. “Think you got another round in you?”

“For you, I’ve got the whole fucking night,” he smirked rolling over onto you and pressing his lips against yours.

FINALLY! THEY’RE TOGETHER! Now, there’s still two parts left, wonder what else will happen!

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Someone Special #12 days of Christmas - Harry

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agreatperhaps12 · 3 years

Text

revisiting some old writing this break and incredibly fond of the 2017!me that started writing OccHaz. hopefully 2021!me can finish what you started, pal.

Remus Lupin usually prides himself on being the exact opposite of a werewolf stereotype: a clean, well-read, mild-mannered boy. But if Remus Lupin is bedridden one more day in a row, there’s a solid chance he will murder one of his roommates in cold blood.

Even before opening his eyes, Remus can tell that it’s been raining, because the bunk is thick with the punishing smell of wet dog. Remus rolls over and smashes his nose into his pillow. It does not help. Superhuman sense of smell is useful for a great many things, but comfortably sharing a room with six werewolves is not one of them.

Remus drags his quilt over his head, blocking out some of the overhead lighting and none of the chatter from Malcolm’s radio. He doesn’t really have any intention of falling back asleep. For once, Remus has somewhere to be today. But it’s the principle of the thing.

Principles, however, go out the window when the radio host on Malcolm’s wireless fills the airwaves with some awful, angry music, and Malcolm obeys Lucas’s command to turn it up, mate.

Resigned, Remus plants his hands on either side of his chest and arches his back. The motion punches a pathetic, wheezing noise out of his mouth, and Remus collapses face-first back onto his bed. “I hate you,” Remus grumbles at Moony. It’s been five days.

Moony—a latent, lazy presence in the back of Remus’s mind—doesn’t respond. Typical. The wolf is always quieter in the immediate aftermath of a Full Moon, conveniently leaving Remus all alone to deal with whatever their body gets up to in Greenland.

Remus rubs the sore spot on his abdomen and heaves himself into a sitting position at the edge of his bed, careful to avoid the arm of a somehow-still-sleeping Ronan dangling from the top bunk. For today’s purposes, Remus’s injured abdomen doesn’t matter nearly as much as whether his left ankle can comfortably hold his weight. So when Remus stands up to stretch without his knee buckling, he feels a little flutter of triumph, despite the sharp twinge in his side.

It’s usually not this bad. As far as he can tell, Moony and the other wolves know to give each other a wide berth under the Full Moon to avoid injury, most of the time. But that’s the thing about werewolves, isn’t it. Remus’s hand automatically comes up to rub the ridge of scar tissue that cuts across his nose. Horribly unpredictable creatures.

And yet, in other ways, entirely too predictable. Across the room, Dante is hunched against the wall with one foot propped on a bent knee to clip his toenails without taking any pains to collect them. The soggy boots discarded at the foot of his bed mark the end of a muddy trail of footprints out the door. The source of the smell, Remus presumes.

What would Remus’s mum say.

Probably that Remus ought to pick up his own dirty clothing—since that now includes literally every piece of clothing Remus owns. Remus gingerly bends over to gather up his heap of laundry from the general mess on the floor just in time to avoid being nicked in the eye by a rogue nail clipping. He cranes his neck around his armful of laundry to tiptoe around Dante’s muddy tracks on his way out of the room.

“Oi, Loopy, you doing laundry?” Lucas says over the music.

“Yeah, mine,” Remus calls back, and hooks his foot around the door to pull it shut behind him before Lucas can hurl an expletive—or possibly something more bruising—at Remus’s back.

In the utility room, Remus dumps his soiled clothing on the floor beside the washtub, and the pair of rubber gloves draped over the lip jerks into midair. One glove twists the tap over the basin and sticks a finger under the water. The other pinches one of Remus’s shirts between forefinger and thumb, then promptly drops it and lurches back in disgust.

“What till you see Dante’s,” Remus says grimly.

In the kitchen, Remus opens each cabinet to take stock of what remains from his grocery run before the July Full. The inventory amounts to a sleeve of crackers, the heels of a bread loaf, canned green beans, unopened jam, and a jar of peanut butter that Remus saw Monty double-dip his finger into yesterday.

Remus glances at the queue of Portkey bottles on the windowsill, where all but the 08:00, 09:00 and 10:00 bottles are accounted for. Remus checks his watch. Almost 11:00. The 08:00 bottle should be back soon. Remus hopes that Lucas has taken it to get groceries in… wherever that Portkey is assigned this month.

In the meantime, Remus settles for a jam sandwich. He’s never very hungry on waning gibbous days, anyway. He’s just twisting the cap off the jam jar when a sharp crack shatters the quiet from inside Greyback’s room. Remus flinches so violently that the jar nearly slips from his grip. Moony is on high alert, now. The thumping music from the bunk room immediately dials down. Remus holds his breath.

But there’s only silence from the other side of Greyback’s door. Disapparation, then. Remus exhales. Malcolm’s music blooms back to full volume. Moony settles.

One of the few, far-between blessings of Remus Lupin’s life is that Fenrir Greyback spends almost no time around the tent. But today especially, a casual run-in with Greyback would be… not ideal. Not that Remus is going to break any rules. Technically. Yet.

But if Greyback knew what Remus was up to, he’d definitely be suspicious enough to keep a closer eye on him. Which would be incredibly inconvenient for all the other times that Remus is actually breaking rules.

Remus packs his sandwich into his satchel and slips on his shoes. Outside, the morning air is heavy with humidity and the ground soft with rain. With a cursory glance around the clearing, Remus pulls his compass out of his pocket and points himself south—along the crooked line of a creek just downhill from the tent.

It’s immediately apparent that Remus’s tender ankle is going to slow him down. At the new moon, Remus could take two miles ten minutes flat. He could postpone this day trip until then. But ever since the pack set up camp here, just before the July Full, Remus has been keen to visit the magical boundary that Greyback has apparently cast around their new home.

They’ve never had a territorial boundary before. And Remus has always had an insatiable, if slightly masochistic, fascination with spellwork. He’s itching to see what an enchanted border wall looks like.

Of course, it’s not just the border. It’s the beyond. Remus doesn’t expect being able to see anything significant—even if he scaled a pine to peer out over whatever barrier Greyback has cast. Greyback would have established their territory at a safe distance.

But Remus will know, and that’s what counts. He’ll know that somewhere beyond those trees lies Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Sirius has just melted the front tire off his bike for the third time in as many minutes when James strolls down the drive.

“Not a word,” Sirius warns, punctuating the point with a cough. He waves his wand to clear the latest cloud of dark smoke billowing up around the bike.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” James says, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. He surveys Sirius’s work with politely suppressed amusement.

“Uh-huh.” Sirius mutters a Reparo at the puddle of rubber on the Potters’ pavement to reform it into his front tire.

“What are you trying to do, anyway?”

“Reinforce the tires to withstand the impact of landing,” Sirius says. He sticks his wand behind his ear and steps back, crossing his arms.

“Ah,” James says, nodding sagely—and undoubtedly recalling the incident in June that left Sirius with two busted tires, two broken arms, and two weeks during which Mia flat-out refused to let Sirius back on his bike. She only relented when Sirius promised to add some safety features to his list of planned magical amenities. “Have you tried—”

“Yes,” Sirius says flatly. “Whatever you’re about to say, yes.”

“Hmm.” James dips into a crouch to get a better look at Sirius’s front wheel, as though he knows anything about Muggle motorbikes or the magical enhancement thereof. “Fortification spells must get more volatile when you use them on something that’s been Engorgio-ed. And whatever else you’ve done to this thing.”

“What I’ve done for it,” Sirius says, nonetheless mentally scanning the list of souping-up spells he’s cast over the last few weeks. Maybe the reinforcement magic is mixing poorly with the sound-stifling charm—another request of Mia’s—or the speed-boosting spell.

“Sure,” James says, grinning up at Sirius indulgently.

“Did you need something?” Sirius takes his wand from behind his ear and twirls it absently between his fingers as he circles the bike.

James rises from his crouch. “Not really. Mum sent me out to see what was going on. Smells like burnt rubber all the way up in the kitchen.”

“Oh, shit.” Fleamont and Euphemia Potter are two of Sirius’s favorite people in the world, and not just because they’re currently letting him use their front drive as a mechanic-shop-slash-landing-strip. Sirius tries not to bother them, if he can help it. “Sorry.”

James’s shrug is utterly devoid of concern. “I don’t think she minds. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t on fire. You’ve been out here all afternoon.”

“Yeah, well,” Sirius says, glaring at his uncooperative bike.

“You’re in a mood,” James observes, which does nothing to improve Sirius’s mood. “Is this still a Regulus-related mood?”

Sirius gives a vague grunt.

“Thought so.”

Sirius aims a kick at James’s shin.

“Let’s go fly,” James suggests, dancing easily away from Sirius’s foot.

“I’m working,” Sirius says, because now that he’s been caught in a bad temper, he’s feeling committed to it.

“Work is productive,” James says. “This—” He waves his hand disdainfully at Sirius’s whole situation. “—is not. Why not channel all that destructive energy into beating around Bludgers?”

Tempting. It must show on Sirius’s face, because James says, “Take a break. The bike will thank you.”

“Sputnik,” Sirius corrects.

“Come again?”

“The bike. Her name is Sputnik,” Sirius says, smiling despite himself. Picking the name is about the only productive thing he’s done all day.

“What kind of name is Sputnik?” James says. “Sounds like some kind of black mold you’d find on a Flobberworm.”

Sirius scowls. “No, you idiot. Sputnik, like the world’s first satellite. Get it? Because, flying?”

James blinks. “Right,” he says slowly, with the trademark bemused expression he reserves for when Sirius starts talking Muggle stuff. “So, flying?”

“Sure,” Sirius says, because today is probably not the day he convinces James to take the slightest interest in Muggle science. “Let’s go.”

Remus makes slow progress on his sore ankle for nearly half an hour, stopping every few minutes to rest and jot notes in his journal. He makes a detailed map of the territory whenever the pack moves somewhere new. The others might be content to spend most of their time Portkeyed away in distant Muggle towns, but Remus can suffer a crowd about once a week at most.

How Ronan or Monty or anyone else can frequent Muggle pubs without constant terror of giving themselves away, Remus will never know. Give him an open sky and several square yards of personal space over a social interaction, any day.

Perks of being raised in the countryside and isolated from nearly everyone but his parents since the tender age of eleven: Remus is damn good at keeping himself company.

The forest around Remus is almost silent, except for the burble of the creek and occasional bird overhead. Remus doesn’t cross paths with so much as a squirrel. No surprises there. He’s used to dogs flattening their ears as he passes on the street, and even crowd-comfortable pigeons scattering at his approach. Remus has the sneaking suspicion that animals can tell there’s something wrong with him. Perhaps they’re put off by his smell, or some other ‘Dangerous, Do Not Approach’ signal he subconsciously broadcasts, even in human form.

In the unnatural quiet of the wood, Remus hears the border before he sees it.

He doesn’t realize what it is, at first—the strange, faint buzz that fills his ears some thirty minutes after he’s left camp. Remus halts and cocks his head to the side. There’s something distinctly artificial about the tenor of the sound. It’s more metallic than insect buzz. Closer to the drone of low-grade fluorescent lighting than anything Remus has ever heard in the wild. It’s quietly menacing in a way that Remus can’t quite put his finger on, but makes Moony emit a low, warning rumble.

“I know,” Remus mutters, and takes several steps forward to listen again. The muted hum gets slightly louder.

This is something to do with Greyback’s magic. It has to be.

Remus turns back toward camp and peers up through the leaves in search of the beacon projected into the sky over the tent. When he finally spots it: the faint beam of ultraviolet light invisible to all but the lycanthrope eye, Remus holds up his thumb and closes one eye to measure the width of the column against the sky. By rough estimation, nearly two miles away. Remus drops his arm and looks around. He should be coming up on the perimeter of Greyback’s territory, but Remus doesn’t see a barrier of any kind.

Remus cracks his knuckles uncertainly. Maybe the border is invisible. That would be disappointing. Not to mention dangerous. What if Remus accidentally steps through it, and Greyback—

Remus throws a paranoid glance over his shoulder, but of course finds himself alone. He wraps his arms around his torso and tells Moony to shh, please, so he can think.

Remus should turn around and go home. That’s the logical thing to do. The safe thing to do. But he can’t. Not when he’s so close. Not when he’s come all this way on a barely mended ankle, and it’s—and it’s Hogwarts. Remus has to see as far as he can see.

Giving himself a bracing squeeze, Remus drops his arms to his sides. He steps forward again.

With a few more steps, the buzz gets exponentially louder. Unmistakable as a hornet’s nest at close range, but tinnier. Electric. Remus not only hears the magic now, but feels it in his chest, as though he’s humming, even though Remus is holding his breath. He forges ahead, step by cautious step, heart rate escalating with the noise until—Oh.

A few arm’s lengths ahead, the air has a strangely lustrous quality, as though Remus is staring through an enormous soap bubble. The whirling sheen of open space is so faint that Remus can’t imagine he would have seen it if he hadn’t been looking. He wonders whether someone without freakishly good hearing would have picked up on the wall’s warning buzz.

Upon closer inspection, Remus sees the magical surface has a purplish, blue hue, just like the bubbles that Remus remembers blowing in the garden with his mum when he was little. Remus tilts his head back. The glossy dome extends as far up as Remus can see.

It’s hypnotic. Remus never would have thought he’d call any part of Greyback’s magic beautiful, but it is.

Greyback warned the rest of the pack about the border wall on their first day in this forest. Remus knew something was up as soon as Greyback called them all into the kitchen. He typically left the pack to their own devices as soon as they’d set up camp.

Like most of his interactions with the pack, Greyback kept it brief. “I’ve cast a territorial border with a two-mile radius around the tent,” he said, leaning back against the sink with crossed arms and glaring around at them all. “You will not cross it.”

The silence following this announcement was just long enough to be awkward, while the rest of the pack played a silent game of chicken over who was going to ask.

Fortunately, Greyback preempted the question. “The border is to protect us from our new neighbors to the south.” He grinned sourly. “The residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts.”

Greyback ignored their sharp intakes of breath.

“If you are discovered on Hogwarts grounds or in Hogsmeade, the Ministry of Magic will kill you for your lack of registration,” Greyback continued, as if they didn’t know. “If I catch you out of bounds, I will kill you myself.” As if they didn’t know. “Understood?”

Remus looked around at the others. Lucas had gone white, and even Ronan was chewing his cuticles. None of them, with the exception of Remus, had any firsthand experience with witches or wizards since the age of four or five. But if there was one thing Greyback’s pack had been taught to fear more than Greyback himself, it was wizardkind.

“Understood?” Greyback said.

Silent nodding.

“Good.” Greyback pushed off the counter and walked toward his bedroom.

The “Why?” that Malcolm blurted after Greyback’s retreating figure made Remus’s heart jump into his throat.

Greyback turned on his heel. He fixed narrowed eyes on Malcolm while the rest of the pack held their collective breath. “What?”

Malcolm swallowed. “Why did we come here?” he said, voice just shy of steady. “Isn’t it.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

A reasonable question—if something as idiotic as asking Greyback to explain himself could ever be called reasonable. The pack had never set up camp anywhere near a magical community before, let alone mere miles from the only all-wizarding village in Britain and Hogwarts, for Merlin’s sake.

Greyback considered Malcolm for a long moment before, to Remus’s even greater shock, he answered.

“Do you know what lives in the Forbidden Forest north of Hogwarts?” he asked Malcolm.

Malcolm hesitated, then shook his head.

“No one really does,” Greyback said, “but there are rumors. Chimeras. Strangling vines. Trolls.” He paused for effect. “Werewolves.” Greyback grinned. “Students aren’t allowed in. Staff and villagers won’t go near the forest. But the concentration of magic in the air is high enough to completely mask dozens of unregistered Portkeys and other household magic. Convenient, eh?”

Remus instinctually recoiled as Greyback drew his wand. Dante took a full step back. But Greyback merely rolled the wand between his fingers. “The woods north of the Forbidden Forest may be the safest hideout for a pack of unregistered werewolves in all of Britain. Assuming,” Greyback looked significantly at each of them in turn, “the border remains unbroken.”

The night after Greyback’s border announcement found Remus lying awake, staring at the underside of Ronan’s bunk. His heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears, keeping time with Moony’s pacing around his brain. Remus rubbed his cheek against the rough fabric of his quilt and willed his heart to keep something like normal rhythm. It had been hours, but still Remus was—he just couldn’t believe they were here. Just miles away from the castle.

Greyback was probably right that the pack would be safe in the Forbidden Forest. After reading so many his father’s magizoology books, Remus had a lot more than rumors to go on, when it came to imagining the forest’s dangerous inhabitants.

But Remus would bet a thousand Galleons that Greyback hadn’t disclosed the whole truth about why they’d come here. The pack had bounced from one remote outpost to another with all the magical trappings inside their tent for years. Greyback must be working on some heavy-duty, high-grade magic to require such extra concealment—though Remus couldn’t begin to imagine what that might be.

Six years in the pack, and Remus had never quite worked out what Greyback did for his mysterious employer. The wards on Greyback’s door are very good at keeping his business private from the rest of the pack.

Whatever Greyback’s reasons, Remus was selfishly, secretly giddy about the move. He’d stopped hoping nearly a decade ago that he would ever get to see more of Hogwarts than illustrations in Hogwarts, A History. Now, Remus was less than a day’s walk away. Even if he couldn’t actually see the castle, the prospect of glimpsing the perimeter of those hallowed grounds made Remus hide a stupidly wide smile behind his blanket in the dark.

Now, though—actually staring through Greyback’s translucent wall, Remus isn’t smiling. A burning sensation builds behind Remus’s eyes and in his throat. He grits his teeth, surprised at himself, because this was supposed to be exciting. A rare opportunity to look forward to something. A wonderful treat on a grey day.

Remus wants to let himself have this. Find simple, uncomplicated joy in a good thing, for once.

It’s just—it’s Hogwarts. Right there. Paces away. And absolutely, painfully untouchable as ever.

Flying against James in a game of one-on-one is hardly fair anymore. Back in first year, he and Sirius were fairly evenly matched. But ever since James made captain third year—and especially since a Tutshill Tornados scout approached him last fall—James has gone a bit mad about practice.

It’s a good thing Sirius is on the team, if only because he’s the only one who will tell James to eat hippogriff dung when he refuses to cancel practice in below-zero windchill.

Also, compared to people who are not aspiring professional Quidditch players, Sirius is a damn good flyer. Even better with a bat. Sirius feels pretty confident in saying he’s the best Beater at Hogwarts—which is something he used to say because he was a cocky little shit, and now says because it’s true. The possible exception being Macnair; Sirius has deadly aim, but Macnair shoots to kill.

Sirius tries not to think about Macnair has he dives toward the Potters’ lawn with the Quaffle tucked against his chest. Thinking about Macnair makes Sirius think about Slytherin, which makes Sirius think about Regulus, and the whole point of this was not thinking about Reg. Sirius has been trying not to think about Reg for three days, now—since the Potter’s owl Athena returned with Sirius’s birthday gift to Regulus unopened.

“Bet your hag of a mum turned Athena around before Reg even knew something arrived for him,” was James’s consolation.

It’s possible. Sirius wouldn’t put it past Walburga. The problem is, he doesn’t know if he’d put it past Regulus to turn Athena around, either.

Sirius has no idea where he and his brother stand these days. They haven’t spoken since Sirius left home last summer. Granted, Regulus never spoke much to Sirius at Hogwarts. He’s much too close to Cissy and Bella for that. But during holidays…

Well, Sirius can’t remember Reg ever defending him in an argument against their mum. But Regulus would at least order Kreacher to sneak him food when Sirius was locked in his room. That was something, and now—

Sirius doesn’t notice James rocketing up from below until he’s already knocked the Quaffle from Sirius’s hands. James catches the ball with irritating ease—Seekers, honestly—and makes a hairpin turn toward the opposite end of the lawn. Sirius steers into a U-turn and follows, but not quickly enough to stop James hurling the Quaffle through Sirius’s post and pulling a celebratory corkscrew.

“That’s fifty-nil!” James calls. “Go fetch!”

“Yeah, yeah, I can count,” Sirius says, Accio-ing the Quaffle from a shrub by the guest house. “Ready?”

“Are you?” James smirks.

Sirius tears away without response, aiming for some low-hanging clouds. The wind seems to streak right through him, momently stripping away Sirius’s Regulus-related anxieties, whittling him down to a weightless point. It’s wonderful.

Quidditch is always the best distraction. Even better than working on Sputnik or reading the teetering pile of Muggle novels that Tufty lent him for the summer, since they won’t get to any American authors during their literature module this year.

(Sirius has had his nose in The Bell Jar all week—to James’s deep concern, given Sirius’s dour mood. Sirius says it’s a fair sight better than The Crucible, which was so disturbing Sirius had to put it down halfway through. Sirius may finally get why American wizards were long forbidden from marrying Muggles.)

When Sirius dips back down into the clear air, he glances over his shoulder and curses at the sight of James’s wicked grin less than ten feet away. But James’s goalpost is straight ahead now. Sirius flattens himself against his broom. Almost there, almost—

“Ha!” Sirius pumps both fists in the air as the Quaffle soars cleanly through the hoop. He whips around, triumphant grin in place, but the smile quickly slips. James isn’t behind him anymore. He’s suspended about twenty feet away, watching a small black dot in the distance. Sirius’s stomach flutters, half in hope, half in dread, that the owl might be from Regulus.

But the unfamiliar owl comes flapping down onto James’s shoulder. James unties a postcard from the bird’s leg and winces as its talons dig through the fabric of his shirt to take off again. Sirius would ask who’s sent the card, but he can already read the answer on James’s face. He wonders where Evans is on holiday.

Sirius dully summons their discarded Quaffle, knowing full well the match is over. James responds to every one of Evans’s messages as soon as they come. Sirius can’t hold it against him, really. James and Evans only got on good terms last spring, and Sirius is all for preserving whatever fragile friendship they seem to be cultivating.

Sirius can’t say he’s ever quite understood James’s fixation with Evans, for many more reasons than the fact that Evans is a girl. But his best friend’s obsession does seem slightly healthier, now that his interest is not so intensely one-sided.

“Lily’s visiting a pen pal in America,” James says as they drift down toward the house, eyes still fixed on Evans’s handwriting. “A witch who goes to Ilvermorny.”

“Cool,” Sirius says, touching down and dismounting. “I wonder whether they’ve [TK].” Sirius doesn’t know much about magic in America, but he does know a little about the No-Majes from Muggle Studies.

“Dunno,” James says distractedly, pocketing his postcard.

Inside, James promptly buggers off to write Evans a response. Sirius wanders into the kitchen, where he finds Mia at the table with a cup of tea and a book. She’s wrapped in a green pashmina, wearing her boxy reading glasses, and holding one of the Potters’ many cats on her lap.

Sirius has not bothered to learn all of the Potter cats’ names. Most are strays that Mia convinced Flea to let inside “for just one night” and never left. Sirius isn’t sure Mia even has names for all of them. The family’s tireless team of house-elves, Dot and Minnie, are the only thing preventing a fine layer of cat hair perpetually coating every surface in the manor.

Mia greets Sirius with a smile as he sits down opposite her at the table. She pushes her glasses up onto her forehead. “I had Minnie bring in your bike, since we’re expecting rain.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says. “Sorry ‘bout the smell.”

Mia bats away his apology. “What’s experimentation without a few accidents?”

From the moment Sirius met James’s parents on Platform 9¾ at the end of first year, Sirius knew he was jealous. But he didn’t know just how jealous he should have been until he moved in last summer. The Potters are so incomprehensibly warm, Sirius found it off-putting at first. All the easy laughs and casual hugs and insistent reminders that Sirius call them Flea and Mia. Sirius has called his own parents since their Christian names since he was about thirteen, but only out of spite.

Sirius wouldn’t say he’s exactly gotten used to Flea and Mia’s hospitality, but their affection does something warm and wonderful to his stomach, rather than putting him on his guard.

“What are you reading?” Sirius says.

“One of yours,” Mia says, holding up The Great Gatsby.

“Good one,” Sirius says. “Have you gotten to—”

“Hush,” Mia says, eyes wide. “Don’t give anything away.”

Sirius makes a zipping motion across his lips. “But you have to tell me when you’ve finished.”

“I’m hoping to finish before dinner, which—” Mia glances at the clock “—I ought to have Dot get a start on. How does beef stew sound?”

“Excellent.” Even though he’s lived with the Potters every holiday for over a year, Mia still has a habit of treating Sirius like a guest. Sirius doesn’t know how to convince her that they could eat dry toast for every meal and he’d still rather be here than Grimmauld Place.

Sirius stands, figuring a shower is probably in order before dinner. There’s a not-insignificant chance that he still stinks of burnt Rubber and Mia is simply too polite to mention it.

As Sirius gathers freshly laundered towels from his room, he catches sight of the still-wrapped mirror that’s lain on his desk since Athena returned it. Sirius runs a hand through his hair. Despite being completely alone, he’s suddenly overcome with a wave of embarrassment that he can’t just get over it.

Having the thing in plain sight certainly isn’t helping. Sirius sticks the mirror in the bottom of his trunk along with its twin, then waits to see whether the sweet relief of closure sweeps over him.

It does not, but the silence of the house is abruptly broken by an emphatic “Oh, dear” from downstairs, which surprises a bark of laughter out of Sirius. He supposes this means there’s not much left of Gatsby to spoil over dinner.

#occhaz #moonstar #fic things #writing projects for this year #first draft inspo #remus lupin #sirius black

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Note

49 ideally coming from Peter’s mouth bc I’m very much about dirty talking 🥵Spider-man

I’m roping these two anon requests in with yours, @redpepprflakes, because, to paraphrase Brian McKnight, it’s undeniable that they should be together. Hope you all enjoy one very dirty-talkin’ Peter Parker! (And I hope you enjoy the title, @seek-rest lol)

The Achilles Kneel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFWWord count: 4427

2. “Can you help me with this zipper?

21. “Get on your knees.”

22. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

49. “I want to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.

They got home from the restaurant, brushed the teriyaki sauce out of their teeth and off their tongues, put their pajamas on, and climbed under the sheet like two kids with a set bedtime. It’s tense though, so tense that MJ has to hold in hysterical laughter. They’re going to have sex―they are. Doesn’t matter that Peter’s on his back with his legs bent weird and she’s hugging the edge of the mattress, tipping her head over the side every so often to let the blood pool. She can sense the sex nights. Not to shit on the Peter-tingle, but…

(MJ’s sex sense is so much better.)

She’s lying there in a stretched-out, oversized Blackhearts t-shirt with armholes that twist funny when she suddenly flips over because there’s been the slightest dip on Peter’s side of the bed. On nights like these, his tiny movements are jangling bells calling for her attention.

“What if we…” he starts.

His arms are stretched up, ready to catch a falling star. Or, more likely, their collapsing ceiling because MJ’s pretty sure 8E above them recently augmented his home fitness regime with a mini trampoline.

“…tried something,” he finishes.

MJ rustles the sheets with her shoulders, settling onto her back.

“Like a different Japanese place? Because, yeah, they aren’t doing the sake chazuke as well as they used to.”

Peter sighs.

“M…”

She giggles.

“Sorry. I’m nervous. Not nervous,” she corrects herself quickly, “but I have that funny energy.”

“Can I…?”

“Oh, for sure. Continue.”

“I thought maybe you could… or maybe I… what if…?”

MJ reaches out to place her palm on his abdomen. Slowly, she slides it back and forth, dragging his t-shirt with it, then turns her head to peer at him in the dark.

“What d’you want?” she asks softly, aiming for seductive.

Her boyfriend laughs self-consciously and rubs a hand over his face.

“Oh man, that definitely helps.”

“What, this?” MJ inches up the hem of his t-shirt and lets her fingertips skim his bare skin. “A little of this?” She props herself up on an elbow and pulls at the neck of her shirt, flashing a hilariously modest bit of shoulder.

Peter laughs at her straight-faced antics like his regular self, then blurts, “I want to dominate you.”

For several seconds, she actually thinks he’s joking. She starts to snort and has to swallow the sound back down as a dry cough.

This is new for him. Their sex life isn’t scandalously colourful, but they’ve each got some moves. Usually, though, it’s sort of just the two of them making love in a balanced way. It can get intense, actually, the unity of them. She, at least, isn’t thinking about control on the nights when it really does feel like they might be one complete person. Other nights, she rides him rough and they knock assorted junk off the coffee table because Peter’s sprawled out on his back on the living room rug, shoving things aside to make room with MJ not helping at all because she’s already crawling on top of him.

But him being the boss? He’s never shown any hint, any inclination. Apparently, Peter’s better at keeping some secrets than others.

“Ok,” she says.

“I haven’t even explained―”

“I know what dominating is, Parker.”

“―and you’re saying ‘ok’?”

“I’m saying ok.” They look at each other and she smiles. Holding his eye, MJ mouths, “I love you.”

“Oh, right.” Peter smiles back.

“So there’s that,” she says aloud. “Talk to me about it,” she prompts when he seems to be floundering.

“Uhhh…”

“Come on, babe, take charge.”

For encouragement, she sneaks her fingers barely beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

“I want it to be like…” Peter glances at her and she nods, “…like I come home and you’re, you’re here in bed. And I… wake you up.”

“Right?”

He inhales deeply.

“And make you suck me off,” he says in a rush.

“So this is a whole…” She waves her hand in the air above them. “…scenario?”

“If it freaks you out…”

“I’m not freaked out,” MJ blurts. She thinks it’s hot as fuck and didn’t realize it was something she craved for them until Peter sprung it on her. In a blink of a fantasy, she imagines his insistent hand on the back of her head. There’s a greedy pulse between her thighs. “You wanna do this now? Tonight?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he whispers.

She extracts her hand from his pants to run it soothingly up his arm. Peter pulls her close for a minute, presses their cheeks together so she can feel the tip of his nose against her ear.

“I’m gonna get up and get dressed.”

MJ rubs his chest.

“Show me who’s boss, Tiger. You’ll be great.”

Her boyfriend slips out of the sheets and starts gathering the clothes he was wearing earlier. Figuring she won’t be needed for a couple of minutes, and that ignoring his presence will play into Peter’s fantasy, MJ curls towards the far side of the bed again and shuts her eyes.

When the lights flick on, she gives a genuine groan at the brightness.

“I was sleeping,” she complains, yanking the sheet over her head.

“I need you up.”

He grasps her covers from the foot of the bed where he now stands and snatches them off of her. All the way off. MJ tugs her t-shirt down over her hips.

“Am I being too reluctant?” she asks, breaking character. Peter looks relieved by the fact of her asking a question.

“No. Am I too domineering?”

MJ shakes her head and they get back into it. She sits up.

“Why do you need me up?” Exhales heavily and yawns for effect.

“Well…” And here’s Peter gathering his courage again. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

There isn’t enough ego in his voice to make it a demand, but this is her Peter, talking about his ‘cock.’ She doesn’t think she’s ever heard him say the word before, can’t recall a conversation where he ever referred to his penis so pointedly that a noun was required.

“Oh no,” he says abruptly, “and tell me to stop any time if you hate this and you’d rather we―”

MJ holds a finger to her lips and smiles behind it.

“And this is a pressing need?” she checks, voice teasingly sexy. “Couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“See for yourself,” Peter offers, and then he―good god―he fucking crooks his finger to invite her closer.

She sighs like her boyfriend’s words aren’t getting her wet and are instead a major inconvenience to her sleep schedule, rising to her knees and crawling down the bed to him. MJ knows damn well that he can see down the front of her shirt. She sits on her feet, in a spread-kneed slouch. Now he’s getting a view of the rest of her, if he has the balls to openly look. Peter’s always been a little shy about staring.

He glances down and his face flushes―all of a sudden, MJ’s thankful for the overhead light. Recovering, he steps closer to the bed and nods in the direction of his crotch. Her eyes flick up and down. So Peter’s into this. The visible strain against the dark grey of his dress pants is proof enough for her, but she gets the feeling that isn’t how this game works. She’s going to make it good for him, embrace her boyfriend’s request.

MJ presses her palm to the front of his trousers, running her hand unhurriedly up and down before gripping to feel him hardening further.

“I guess it can’t wait.”

“Told you,” he says.

Her heart feels pounded by a mallet when Peter stares her down and unbuckles his belt. Surely MJ has watched him do this before, she just hasn’t specifically paid attention to it, nor seen it happen near eye level. The way his fingers move. The sound of leather hitting leather as he flips the short, pierced length back to get the buckle undone. He leaves the ends dangling to pop the button and MJ almost moans in second-hand relief at the thought of the extra room his erection will have to swell. She’s warm without the sheet now.

“Can you help me with this zipper?”

“A little sterner, I think,” she suggests, hand hesitating less than a foot from his groin.

“I told you it was a need, didn’t I?”

This isn’t Sweet Peter crosschecking their transcript, it’s sarcastic Dominant Peter, and, a fan of sarcasm herself, MJ approves. He grabs her wrist, light but swift, and brings her hand to his zipper himself.

“Pick up the pace, I can’t wait to feel your tongue on me.”

Unconsciously, MJ uses her other hand to gather her hair away from the back of her neck, letting some air hit her skin. She feels like a piece of bread that, every time Peter says something unexpectedly horny, gets slammed back down into the toaster, radiated by heat from those wiggly red wires.

“You want to hold my hair?” she asks when she catches her boyfriend watching her hungrily.

“Soon.”

MJ releases her hair just to give him something to look forward to and grasps the waist of his pants, edging the zipper down with the hand he placed there himself. She sighs longingly; she loves it when he wears the black boxer briefs. They’re a clothing item that really look their most flattering with his erection stretching the cotton. Very becoming. (She could ghostwrite for Austen.)

“You want it, don’t you?” There’s grit in Peter’s voice that shoots up her spine like reverse-lightning.

She cocks her head, narrows her eyes, and gives him a smirk.

“You know I do.”

But when MJ goes to free his dick, he grabs both her wrists in an unbreakable yet tender grip. Peter―seriously, fuck this guy, in every possible meaning of the word, what is he doing to her?―leers down at her, doing a second ogling of her body that’s half the speed of the first (good for him, she thinks).

“Not like this. Get off the bed.” He releases her wrists and his gaze doesn’t wander as she stands in front of him.

They assess each other for a minute. MJ gives the questioning look in his eyes a reassuring smile that makes it disappear. She exhales steadily through her nose, feeling their soft bedroom rug under her feet and thinking about the usual circumstances of her knees grazing it. When she has to look below their bed for her shoe because she has a bad habit of kicking them off her feet from a distance. When she loses the rock-paper-scissors match for who has to clear the buildup of spider webs from underneath their bedside tables. Boring, perfunctory reasons. Not giving her boyfriend a blowjob reasons.

“I’m assuming you’d like some help with these buttons.” MJ fingers the front of his navy button-down. “Can I do that for you, Sir?”

Peter’s eyes close in obvious pleasure and he breathes slowly.

“Take it easy with that one,” he requests, his everyday self again for a moment. “You have no idea how―well, I guess you probably know exactly how powerful that is coming out of your mouth.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She raises an eyebrow. “I know what comes with ‘great power.’”

“Hopefully me.”

Abruptly, Peter wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her against him. His erection feels like a flashlight denting into her stomach. MJ wonders, in his superhero capacity, if he’s ever considered a utility belt. She’ll ask another time.

“The buttons,” he reminds her, ducking his face to her throat. She doesn’t expect the first thing she feels to be his hot tongue tracing along her skin and she jumps. Peter holds her tighter.

Collecting herself enough for the moment, MJ works from top to bottom, undoing his shirt, then parting it to smooth her hands across his naked skin. She’s happy to find he didn’t put the undershirt he’d had beneath back on. She wants to say so, but Peter grabs her jaw and kisses her suddenly and insistently. Inhaling sharply through her nose makes her ephemerally dizzy and she’s more than content to be folded into his arms, pressed up against his waiting length.

When their mouths separate and her boyfriend gives her a little space to move (his eyes looking blissfully glassy), MJ holds his gaze and pushes the shirt off his shoulders, sliding it down so she can feel the firm arc of his muscles from shoulder to forearm. The indent of his defined triceps is deep enough to linger in for several additional caresses. Fuck, he is a sight to behold.

With the shirt on the ground behind him, MJ drops her gaze meaningful, then looks back into his eyes.

“May I?”

His jaw tenses with a strength that would likely crush an unenhanced person’s teeth into powder instantly. He’s probably holding in some curse words that she’s going to coax out of him during their future sessions. Which they will definitely be having because, ugh! He’s flushed, he’s flexing from the anticipation, his cock is straining so violently that it’s practically beckoning to her, he’s clutching her with a desperation that sets her pulse pounding everywhere (everywhere). MJ listens to her sudden urge to take her shirt off.

“Holy fuck,” he says to the reveal of her nude body. She sees him pant a breath and compose himself. He shifts his bare feet. “Get on your knees.”

Now there’s the sternness he was afraid to employ earlier. Still, Peter says, “holy fuck,” again when she sinks down as ordered, trailing her hand down his chest as she goes. Or maybe his repetition was in response to the quiet, “yes, Sir,” she said under her breath, knowing he’d hear it.

(Mentally, she takes a second to appreciate the rug that’s allowing her to do this in comfort. May picked it, always looking out for them. MJ’s new favourite purpose for it is a secret that will never leave this room.)

She leans in and kisses along the waist of his undone trousers―along the top of his underwear where the pants hang open. Peter’s breathing loudly above her.

“This was hot, by the way,” she speaks into his skin, making his abs jump. She walks her fingers along his belt and glances up at him. Her brain flatlines for a second, viewing her boyfriend at this new angle. “Watching you unbuckle this.”

“Hey, if you have a buckle fixation, we could look into c-cuffs,” he chokes on the word and MJ watches his dick jerk, “for the bed.”

She actually hadn’t thought of that, considering her apparent thing for watching Peter’s hands work buckles is less than ten minutes old. Sidetracked, MJ imagines him securing her wrists and using his mouth on her body at his leisure. There’s a thick, wet squeeze of approval from between her legs. The concept has… potential.

Flustered, MJ goes back to kissing Peter’s stomach, sliding her hands around to brush over his ass before grabbing his pants and pulling them down. The slippery material of dress pants probably makes them drop to the floor easier for dudes with less beefy thighs. She doesn’t mind the extra effort.

“If you want the option, Sir.”

“Fuck,” Peter mutters. And just like that, his fingers are already in her hair as he steps out of his pants, lightly mapping the wave and twist of a strand. “So you’re not going to take it easy with the ‘sirs,’ then.”

An observation, not a question. The distinction in how he talks to her, how he deals with her assertions and opinions, is one of the reasons MJ loves him so much.

He removes one hand from her head to trace her face from cheek to chin, skirting her jaw, with a trembling finger.

“I know something else you could do with your mouth.”

“Do you?” It’s not playing innocent if she stares back at him with challenging eyes, right? His brown eyes say he’s ravenous.

“You wanna know the truth?”

Peter’s fingers―both hands now―dig deep into her hair, cupping beneath the curve where her neck meets her skull. It’s still careful, but it isn’t sweet.

“I want to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.”

Her lips do part, but not immediately for the purpose he said. It’s the surprise. There’s Peter’s new favourite word again. God, how deep does this go? What other terms and phrases is he going to spring on her? Is tonight the gateway to her boyfriend’s kinky side? This is exciting, this is front-page news.

Lacking a witty retort, MJ plants a kiss on his hip, gliding her mouth lower to his thigh as she peels his underwear down. Bye-bye sexy boxer briefs. The way they strain going over his thighs has her whole chest quaking with heavy breathing.

“Ok?” he checks, rubbing softly with his thumbs behind her ears. “You look kind of… stunned.”

She nearly laughs at the idea of this being daunting or anything besides… magnificent? In the interest of minimizing miscommunications that could make Peter feel mocked or self-conscious, she shakes her head.

“Just taking in the sights,” MJ assures him, then quickly leans in to brush her lips along his shaft. “Don’t forget to breathe,” she says when Peter makes a strangled sound above her. “Sir.”

Tempted to see how long she can tease him before he remembers he’s supposed to be the one calling the shots, she runs her closed lips over him leisurely, keeping her hands lightly on his outer thighs. She avoids the head of his dick for the moment because nudging there without a grip on the rest of him has the potential to get his erection swaying like a pendulum (ok, maybe that’s an exaggeration)―she’d have to laugh and the whole thing would go to hell. Gradually, her tentative passes turn into distinct kisses and she licks her lips in between, wetting his cock one kiss at a time. MJ holds her mouth loose enough as she sweeps upward that her lower lip drags and gives him a preview of the inside of her mouth. He emits a suffering sigh and she grins, peeking her tongue out to lick the vein that pulses in response. Peter makes the beginning of a grunt and, fuck, she feels that primally.

MJ kneads his thighs with both hands as she covers his cock with open-mouthed kisses now. At first, she doesn’t move her hands any higher, only inward, over the juicy curve of muscle at the front of his leg; visions of thigh-riding dance in her head. Peter’s fingers begin scratching gently at her scalp, sending tingles through her. (Is this the real Peter-tingle? Somebody needs to ask the tough questions.) Soon, his fingers are all scratching upward―he’s trying to shift her higher, onto the head of his erection, dribbling pre-cum for want of her tongue. It’s such a powerful position, controlling his pleasure like this, that it takes her a minute to remember that the point of this little exercise is her bending to his will, not the other way around.

Peter switches from gentle scrapes to tugging her hair and, a little wetter between the thighs, MJ obeys as her eyelids flutter briefly closed. She brings a hand to the base of his dick, encircles it with medium firmness, and strokes her closed lips over the head of his cock. He whines from his throat and she applies her tongue, trying to keep it in place as he jerks in her hand. Moving her head away, she ducks to lick straight from her grip to his head and over, blurring her saliva with his fluids like mixing colours on a palette. A full groan from above.

“Fuck, M, open your mouth. Let me in your fucking mouth,” he rushes out.

She breaks her grip and strokes a sweetly tormenting finger over his balls. As Peter’s abs seize in surprise―if she’s drooling at the view, that can really only help her―MJ takes the head of him into her mouth, cushioning him with her tongue in case he jolts in response. He does, so she closes her fist back around his length as well.

“That’s it,” her boyfriend sighs, voice arousingly deep with relief.

She smoothes her other hand up to his hip to get it closer to the action. It’s not that she thinks he’ll buck too deep into her throat on purpose, but the option of pulling him closer or holding him back sinks her further into the moment. Plus, the guy is Spider-Man, so animal instincts are not to be discounted. And few animal instincts come ahead of the drive to fuck.

For now, MJ works mostly with her mouth, giving her encircling hand the faintest twist while she rolls her tongue against him. Peter shifts on his feet and she takes the opportunity to shift on her knees. The fluffiness of the rug is not failing her yet though. She backs off of him and blows air across his slick head (he shudders wonderfully), then plunges down again. Her lips wrap around him lower, the whole head of him in her mouth, and she daydreams about wearing red lipstick. He’d probably go wild for a lipstick-marker souvenir, a line for visualizing how far inside her mouth he’d been. Hmm, another thought for next time.

Oops, she’s hummed aloud and Peter scrunches her hair in both hands, rolling his hips. Normally, she’s witness to the strain of him forcing himself to stay totally still as she gives him a blowjob. This is… this hint of him reacting solely for his pleasure… Well, she’s rolling her own hips over nothing and squeezing his hip with fingers she’d like to hook inside herself. He’ll be good to her after this though. It’s not even a question. MJ just needs a little discipline to prevent herself from rushing to get there.

Or discipline from Peter, ‘cause that’s an option too, with him mumbling, “Deeper,” then more clearly, “Deeper.”

About ready to start rubbing her clit against the rug in desperation, MJ slides her fist up and down his length, then dips to feel his head in the back of her mouth, pushing towards her throat. Before the choking sensation can take hold, she backs off, easing down again after a deep inhale through her nose. She turns her head, rotating to let her tongue glide along as much of his circumference as she can get at. Stretches down, sucks on the way up. A vein is twitching in Peter’s groin, one that climbs from her current eye level up towards his navel. His fingers flex in her hair.

“Just like that,” he mutters when she takes as much of his cock as she can and sucks hard on the upstroke.

Peter’s nervous to rock his hips now, which means he really wants to. MJ skates her hand around to his ass and he clutches insistently at the back of her head. It’s what she imagined, and better in reality. Sex with a superhero is just one of those things, she guesses, that supersede even the best presupposition.

From opposite sides, but with the same method, they push themselves together―her, inviting his cock, him, compelling the slackening of her jaw as so much of him disappears between her lips. He’s watching too; she looks up at him on a withdrawal and sees a version of her boyfriend who’s never been in their bedroom before: lost. Profoundly lost, like he never wants to be found. He has his eyes shut, lips parted. Flushed cheeks, nose, the tips of his ears.

She lets him thrust blissfully along her tongue and sneaks her hand from his shaft to his balls. He notices once she’s there, of course, cupping him in her palm.

“I’m so… close.” It takes a handful of seconds for his fuzzy brain to come up with the word.

MJ clenches between her thighs and takes a death grip of Peter’s marble sculpture of an ass, propelling him in and out of her mouth. Her boyfriend moans now, freely and endlessly. Rubbing her fingertips over his balls, she rapidly debates spitting or swallowing. Spitting. It’s what she usually does―no shame, it’s her damn choice―and a great use for the sink in the bathroom right off their bedroom.

Wait, the rug! If she pulls away at the wrong moment. No, no, no. Swallowing.

She says it aloud too, before diving back down on what becomes her final suck because Peter goes nuts at her announcement and loses it, releasing on her tongue and down her throat. His fingers are tangled determinedly in her hair, lifting it into a snarled updo, the yank making her swallow with a gulp, lost wherever he’s lost, even sans orgasm.

“MJ,” he pants, riding slower across her tongue as he comes back to himself. “Oh god, MJ.”

Once she’s swallowed everything he jetted out and felt around her mouth for drips, she pulls away and stretches her jaw. Her knees are feeling it now, even through the rug, and her legs are wobbling because of the sheer intensity of everything else, but she doesn’t ask Peter to help her up. He just knows.

MJ doesn’t get a second to stand on her own because her boyfriend folds her into a tight hug, heavy head on her shoulder. Truly wrung out. She feels pretty good about that as she tucks her arms under his to press her palms on his bare back.

“I’m tired,” he says eventually and she laughs hysterically, shaking in his arms, finally getting it out.

“That’s ok, you can lie on your back for the next part and I’ll do all the work.”

“Uh-uh,” Peter argues, shaking his head against her. “I’m gonna take care of you. Mmm.” He hums into her collarbone and MJ feels truly safe, loved. “I’m gonna take care of you,” her boyfriend repeats.

They begin kissing slowly, subtle shifts of their heads to reach temples and chins.

“That was incredible,” he whispers, and she doesn’t know if he speaks it against the skin of her throat for more reasons than one.

“Good,” she sighs, tipping her head back lazily as he kisses beneath her jaw.

“Gonna take care of you.”

“I know, I trust you.”

His body’s hot against hers, blood surging south. Entwined, they return to bed.

54 notes · View notes

xmr-deity · 4 years

Text

I Swear, You Won’t Regret It.

Pairing: Remy x Villain!Male!Reader

Words: 1,949

Universe: The Adventure Zone: Commitment (Post cannon)

Part Two of Chris Rembrandt, What the Fuck?

Warning: Smut included in this chapter! And lot’s of it!

Summary: After the mission, Remy sulks home, only to find a certain villain sneak into the apartment.. feelings and shenanigans ensue.

After their last encounter, (Y/N) had made an embarrassingly quick escape from the three heroes.

“Okay, alright, but hear me out-” Remy said, walking quickly to catch up to a speedwalking Nadiya, “I’m just saying.. We’ve got bigger fish to fry-”

“No. Remy. Just.. just shut up. No more talking.” Nadiya stopped walking for a moment to say that before beginning to speed walk even faster.

“But-“

“No! Remy. I.. just. I can’t even form the words. I’ve heard enough from you today, really.”

The two were quiet for a bit as Remy did his best to catch up.

“..are you mad at me?”

“I- yes- no- I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel. Just let me.. process.”

So Remy stopped walking, letting her go. God he felt like a total dumbass. Suddenly a large hand clapped down onto his shoulder, making him jump slightly.

“You fought valiantly. Do not feel bad, Remy.” Kardala said before continuing to walk after Nadiya.

****

Remy slammed the door to his apartment, sighing heavily as he tossed his bag full of hero junk onto the ground, shuffling in towards the kitchen. He shoved a piece of bread into the toaster, his mind churning. He’d gotten so caught up in that damn villain’s lips..

He walked out to his dining room as he waited for his toast, but stopped dead in his tracts. (Y/N).. was halfway through his dining room window. He gave him a smile, waving as he pulled himself the rest of the way through. Remy was stunned.

“What.. the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Hello to you too.” The villain brushed himself off, put before he knew it the hero had jumped forward, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing at here, but-” Remy was shocked into silence as (Y/N) put a finger to his lips.

“There’s no game,” he said, and Remy’s brows furrowed.

“..what?”

“You’re breaking the law too, y’know. You’re hot and cute at the same time which is definitely illegal.” (Y/N) looked down for a moment before looking back up and meeting Remy’s eyes.

“I like you.”

(Y/N) moved just a little bit closer, “I, um.. I realized it today when we kissed, y’know.. I thought I was just teasing you but, I think I actually really like you.”

Remy was speechless for a moment.

“You.. I.. really?”

“Yeah, I do.” (Y/N) responded, glancing down at Remy’s lips for the briefest of moments.

“I… maybe.. might.. like you too..” Remy responded sheepishly after a moment. (Y/N) smiled, cupping the other male’s jaw in his hand and pulling him close for a kiss.

Remy felt like he could melt as their lips moved together. He wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, and (Y/N)’s arms wrapped around his neck. Remy’s hand traveled up the other’s back slowly, eventually tangling into his (h/c) hair.

The kissing quickly grew more heated, more passionate, Remy’s unresolved frustration melting through. He pushed (Y/N) against the wall again, firmly, a knee pushing between his legs. The two kissed even more passionately, (Y/N)’s hips rocking against the other’s knee, the two battling for dominance, and Remy was able to rather quickly take the lead.

He pulled back only slightly, trailing his kisses down (Y/N)’s jaw and down his neck. (Y/N)’s hands tangled into Remy’s hair gently, a moan escaping him as Remy sucked softly and pressed his knee against him firmly.

“Oh, fuck, Remy.. R-“

(Y/N)’s soft moans were cut off as suddenly the phone in Remy’s pocket started ringing. He fumbled, getting it out- it was Nadiya- so he answered it.

“H-hey, Nadiya- er..” Remy looked back over at (Y/N) for a second, “yeah, I can talk..”

A mischievous smile grew on (Y/N)’s lips as Remy began talking with his companion. The villain began sinking to his knees. Remy’s eyes practically bugged out of his head as (Y/N) drug the zipper of his pants down with his teeth, then slid the cloth of his jeans and underwear down, revealing Remy’s erection.

“I-aaahm know. Yeah. Um, I know..” Remy said, doing his best to disguise a moan as (Y/N) licked a stripe up the underside of his member.

(Y/N) smiled, continuing kitten licks up the side of it, listening to the faint murmurs coming from the phone speaker.

“No, you don’t have to apologiiiiaahhnmmh-“ Remy loudly cleared his throat, the villain taking the head into his mouth and sucking.

“You don’t have to apologize. Not necessar- hm- not necessary, dude.”

“No, yeah, I’m f-f-fine. Yeah.”

(Y/N) started taking him in deeper, trying to be quiet with his slurping noises as he sucked.

“Um- I- ah- could- could we maybe talk about this another time? No- yeah- I-h-aahm.. I’m kinda ti-tired. Yeah.”

Remy rested his forearm against the wall to brace himself, looking down at (Y/N) with a blush on his face, watching him start to deepthroat him.

“Oh, you’ve got.. another mission.. briefing.. um, yeah, I’m re-really tired so.. o..kay..” Nadiya started briefing him anyways. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Remy bit the side of his fist, his hips starting to rock, thrusting slowly into (Y/N)’s mouth, the villain gripping his hips gently.

“Godd.. yeah.. that’s cool! I mean!!” Remy tried to stop moving his hips- he was getting too close- but as soon as he stopped (Y/N) started bobbing his head, licking along his member and even gently scraping with his teeth.

“Hng-wow, really? That’s- m-crazy..” Remy was starting to pant, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand.

“Mm..mhm..” he hummed in response, squeezing his eyes shut- (Y/N) looked so fucking hot down there on his knees. He was getting close- really close.

“Ah-I gotta call you back N-Nadiya, I’ve really gotta-aah go. Bye!” He quickly hung up, and immediately started thrusting into (Y/N)’s mouth again, the villain giving a pleased him as he gripped his hair, thrusting even faster.

“Oh, fuck, (Y/N).. that was some.. ah, evil shit.. fuck..” Remy thrusted deeper into his mouth, watching as tears pricked the villain’s eyes and drool came trickling out the sides of his mouth.

“Fuck.. fuck- hah- (Y/N), (Y/N).. mmfuuck..!” Remy thrusted deep and then quickly tried to pull back, the gooey, white fluid landing on his tongue and cheek. (Y/N) looked up, grinning.

“How was that?”

“So hot..” Remy said, panting. He pulled (Y/N) up by the collar of his shirt, kissing him deeply, tasting himself on his tongue.

He soon pulled away, pulling up his pants and then dragging (Y/N) into his bedroom where he- first, got a tissue and wiped off the villain’s face- and then shoved him down onto the bed, crawling on top of him.

“Now, you’re gonna let me return the favor, right?” Remy said, hands sliding up the other’s shirt.

“Hell yeah,” (Y/N) responded, feeling butterflies in his stomach. Remy lifted off (Y/N)’s shirt and then his own, then yanked down (Y/N)’s pants and underwear, sliding down between his legs.

(Y/N) was as hard as he had been earlier, and that almost made Remy hard again, just thinking about how much (Y/N) had enjoyed sucking him off. Remy started licking up the other male’s member, suckling on the tip and reveling in (Y/N)’s moans.

Then Remy got an idea.

“Hey, (Y/N).. wanna turn over for me?” He said, pulling back, ignoring the villain’s little whine. (Y/N) nodded, turning over to lay on his stomach. Remy gripped his hips, pulling his lower half up so he was on his knees, his upper half still laying on the bed.

“Fuck.. you’re really hot..” Remy said softly, gripping his ass cheeks and pulling them slowly apart to look at his hole.

“Mmh- Remy, you- ah~!” (Y/N) started, getting interrupted as the hero dove in, licking around the rim, getting it wet.

“Oh-.. fuck, Remy..” (Y/N) gripped the sheets, the hero pulling back slightly, blowing on his now wet hole, the villain flinching at the sensitivity.

He leaned back in, his tongue curling more and drawing shapes, before his tongue started dipping in.

“Ah~! Remy.. mmh..” (Y/N) pushed back against his face a little, and Remy lost all control, eating his ass like a starving man.

(Y/N) laid there, suffering in the wonderful pleasure as soon Remy added a finger, pushing it in along with his tongue and searching until he found that spot that made (Y/N) cry out.

Remy’s finger rubbed it, sitting up straight as he started to carefully add another finger, starting to stretch him about a bit.

“Does it feel good, (Y/N)?” He asked softly, his voice deeper than usual.

“Y-yeah, yeah it feels- ah, ngh.. good, so good.. more.. please..” he panted, rocking back against his fingers. Remy let out a pleased hum, reaching his other hand around to grip (Y/N)’s member, starting to stroke in time with his fingers thrusts.

“Oh- god, fuck..” (Y/N) gasped, heat building up in his core.

“Remy- please-ah, fuck, like that.. mmh..” (Y/N)’s legs were trembling, and had the hero not been holding him up he definitely would have fallen onto his face. Remy’s fingers and hand soon began speeding up, and he added another finger, pushing them in deeper, abusing the villain’s prostate.

“Hah- ah- hnn-fuck~! Remy~!” (Y/N) cried out, cumming all over the hero’s hand and his bedsheets.

Remy let him have a moment, the other male panting heavily. He got up, cleaning off his hand before helping (Y/N) off the bed so he could take the cover off, then let (Y/N) lay back down. Remy grabbed a different blanket- he could wash his quilt later- and laid down with the villain, cuddling up behind him.

They were quiet for a bit before (Y/N) spoke.

“So, like.. does this mean.. we’re together?” He asked, turning to look at Remy.

“I mean.. I’d like it to.. but I don’t know if I’d be allowed to date, y’know, a “villain.”” He responded, “but- hey, I know that.. you used to be part of the Fellowship.. why’d you leave?”

(Y/N) was quiet for a moment.

“It’s just.. Dick was such.. a dick. He was so greedy, too. He kept all the money to himself when he should’ve been helping the other departments, and even donating to charities and stuff. He was stinking rich but hogged it all. I don’t even know if he payed taxes! It was stupid, so I started stealing to give to the people that he wouldn’t give to..” (Y/N) explained.

“Oh!” Remy sat up, “well, like, we got rid of him! There’s this super cool girl that we saved- Mary- and now she’s in charge and I think she’s way better, so like..”

Remy looked into (Y/N)’s eyes, “what if you came back?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened.

“Remy- I don’t know if-“

“Just hear me out though, I bet they’d understand- I could get you in, I’m sure!” He said. (Y/N) was speechless for a moment before he let out a soft laugh.

“Alright, alright.. I’ll give the fellowship another try.. but no promises.” (Y/N) said finally, and Remy’s eyes lit up. He cupped (Y/N)’s cheeks in his hands, pulling him in and kissing him deeply.

“I swear, you won’t regret it.”

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