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obsessive-ego · 3 years

Text

Just go with it

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Lewd mentions

Beetlejuice needs you to pretend to be his fiance or he's in trouble

"Babes?"

...

"Babes, wake up"

....?

"Y/n wake up"

What?

Was your first thought as you are shaken awake by the ghost who has made your home his, you mumble out something unintelligible as you grope around for your phone, you cringe as the bright light of the screen blinds you, as your eyes adjust to the light you groan, 4am.

"Beetlejuice, what-"

"Okay, babes, no time to explain but I need you to pretend to be my fiance" despite the odd statement beetlejuice sounded a tad worried.

"What?"

"Long story short I may have said a few things to some guys, and if we dont pull this off I will be dragged back to the netherworld" the ghoul whispered dragging you out if bed.

"Oh" was all you could muster is your drowsy state.

"So theres a suit from the netherworld waiting to meet you, in your living room, now" beetlejuice continued rubbing the back of his neck.

You sigh and shuffle about your room, slipping on slippers and giving your hair a quick once over, as you reach for your housecoat beetlejuice swats away your hand.

"Bee-"

Beetlejuice drops his jacket around your shoulders "this will work much better babes, we need to sell this"

You groan, you were too tired for this, thank god you didnt work in the morning, who knows how long this shit is gonna take, but as tired as you were you couldnt let whoever take your ghost back to the netherworld.

"Okay you're my fiance, I proposed a week ago, and you're head over heels for me, that last part wont be hard to fake huh doll?" The ghoul gives you a wink, you sigh.

"Wait, almost forgot" the ghoul snaps his fingers, you feel a light squeeze on you right handed middle finger.

Upon your finger appears rather tacky, pretty ring, the band was black and white, and resembled a snake, the gem was a brilliant green, you honestly felt your heart squeeze when you saw it, to be honest staring at the ring felt like a dream, maybe because you just woke up? It was beautiful, and the idea of it being for real kinda hurt knowing it was for pretend, but those feelings didnt matter right now, Beej needed you to help him avoid being dragged back to the netherworld, you can think about those depressing emotions later.

The two of you leave the bedroom, beetlejuice takes the lead as you shuffle behind.

As the two of you enter the living room you could help but pause and stare at the 'suit' beej claimed that was waiting for you.

In your little arm chair sat a fairly tall skeleton man, his bones a blueish hue, wearing a lime green suit that looked fresh off the rack, guess not all dead guys wore dirty clothes, in all honesty this was your first time seeing another dead person aside from the maitlands and beetlejuice, they were human, beej was humanish, but this guy looked like he walked out of a cartoon.

"Sorry for the wait, you know breathers, they need to sleep" beetlejuice cackled snapping you from your thoughts "well there's y/n, theres the ring, and theres the door, feel free to use it" beetlejuice snears, wanting to get this whole thing done with, yes he adored messing with you, and with different circumstances this could have been funny, but too much was on the line for him and you were an awful liar, he loved you sure, but theres no way you could pull off lying.

"Y/n I presume?" The skeleton gestures to you, completely ignoring beetlejuice, you nod "its pleasure to put a face to the name, I apologize for the rude awakening, when you've been dead for as long as I have, you tend to lose the meaning of time, my dear this wont take long, we just need to clear up some loose ends then you can get back to your rest" the skeleton gestures you to sit on the couch next to beetlejuice who has already made himself comfortable.

You gently sit down next to BJ who was quick to drape an arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side.

The skeleton pulls out a clipboard from his jacket and flips through the pages

"Lawrence B Shoggoth, y/n m/n l/n, I have requested an audience with you two to clear up some issues with Lawrence's recent updated paper work, not to mention a handful of rumours that need to be put to bed" the ghoul flips through the papers "it says here the y/n you are Lawrence's spouse, is that true?"

You nod

"You see y/n, Lawrence here cant be trusted at face value, so that is why I must converse with you on the matter, so you are his fiance correct?"

"Yes"

"I see, now how long have the two of you known each other?"

"About a year or so" you shrug

"Mmmhmm" the ghoul scribbles down something and continues "now when did he propose to you?"

"Last week" this was so anxiety inducing, for a man with no eyeballs it sure felt like he was staring into your soul.

"Now what drawn you to such a, oh how do I put this, such a man?"

You hear beetlejuice huff out as if he was insulted.

"Well, beetlejuice may be rough around the edges, and can be a dick at times, but he's great company, hes funny, witty, has great taste in movies, and he makes me smile, hes also, well, he's also good looking too" you look away from both parties, as you were clearly embarrassed over what you said, it was the truth, but it still made your face burn.

Beetlejuice leans forward, looking in your direction, eyes wide and mouth a gape, his hair now a bright pink.

"Mr Shoggoth, you look surprised at y/n's words" the ghoul grabs Beetlejuice's attention.

"Heh, you see y/n is the shy type, hearing that type a thing is rare and ALWAYS gets my attention". Beetlejuice slicks his hair back removing the pink and resetting it to its default green.

"Mmmmhmmm" was the ghoul's only response as attention was drawn back to you.

"So y/n you truly are betrothed to Lawrance, you want to be wed to him on purpose?" The skeleton's tone was almost surprised, as if beetlejuice was the most revolting creature in existence and you wanting, out of your own free will to be bound to such a thing, was the most insane thing he has ever herd.

You nod, beetlejuice gives the skeleton a smug toothy grin.

"This isnt a joke, nor is he blackmailing or threatening you?" His tone sounded desperate, as if he needed to prove beetlejuice was lying for his own good.

You only shake your head, while beetlejuice surpresses a laugh

"Ya see bone head? I'm innocent~" he chuckles, squeezing you close to his side.

"Y/n you are aware of what you're doing for Lawrence correct?" The skeleton sounded almost smug, you only stare back, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You see y/n, you are doing Lawrence here a huge favor, when the dead marry the living, they are able to walk the earth like you do, you are granting him life, something he has never had, this is why we must confirm with you, that you understand what he's doing" the skeleton gestures to beetlejuice, the demon only rolls his eyes in response.

"I know"

Attention is drawn to you

"I know all about that life giving thing, beetlejuice told me about it"

"Well you see y/n, this isnt the first time Lawrence has-"

"I know, I was told, by him and the person he tried to marry the first time, small world huh"

The skeleton pauses for a moment then coughs into his fist, as if to regain his composure after being surprised, he continues "I see, Lawrence has been honest with you, I didnt think he had it in him"

Beetlejuice snarls at the comment, tips of his hair turning red.

"Just a few more loose ends y/n then you can return to your rest" the skeleton flips through his papers "ah, Lawrence, y/n may have been couched, and since you seem so eager to speak, I do have a few things I need to clarify with you, if the two of you are in love as you say and this isnt a farce, you would know plenty about your future spouse, when was y/n born?" The skeleton snears as if hes caught you two red handed

Beetlejuice snorts out a laugh "easy *birthday day and year* hell I woke them up with some early morning birthday head"

You cover your face in embarrassment at that comment, yet you were surprised he knew the year.

"Correct, and might I saw congratulations on a LEGAL partner this time"

Beetlejuice rolls his eyes at the low blow before grumbling "it was a green card thing"

The skeleton ignores Beetlejuice's comment and continues "what drew you to this breather? And please keep it out of the gutter"

Beetlejuice huffs "spoil sport, y/n here is one of the kindest, sweetest, softest breather I ever met, they let me do whatever I want, they want me around, no stings attached, they got great taste, just look at the company they keep, and let me tell ya, the first time we met they sucker punched me in the jaw for scaring them, and I've been dreaming of that swing ever since"

You just stare at the ghoul, he remembered that? He remembered how he first met you? When lydia locked you in the basement and he jumped out at you, successfully scaring you but earning himself a fist in the jaw, wow. Your face felt hot remembering that, what a frist impression.

The night droned on and on with dull questions the suit had lined up to prove beetlejuice was lying, but every question had an appropriate answer, and the skeleton knew he could not prove anything as the night went on.

Low on patience and time he decided call it quits.

The skeleton pushes his clipboard back into his jacket and sighs "I appreciate your time y/n, thank you for your cooperation, and Lawrence, I look forward form your departure of death, a short vacation from you is the pick me up I deserve" the skeleton raises up from your chair and walks over to a wall on the other side of the room, you watch him draw a door, and knock 3 times, you're livingroom wall opens up to the netherworld. You freeze at the sight, you always felt uneasy seeing the netherworld portal open up, maybe it was a living thing? As if beetlejuice felt your discomfort he pulls you into a side hug, grounding your anxiety, you give a sigh of what feels like relief.

The skeletontirns to face the two of you "Before my departure, y/n I do have one final thing to ask you, can you kiss Lawrence for me?"

"What?" You gawk in confusion

Beetlejuice snorts out a laugh "what? You the type of guy who gets off on watching others get hot and heavy, I mean I feel ya, but if you insist, I can help a guy out" beetlejuice is quick to cup your face "give daddy some sugar~" he purrs puckering up to go in for the kiss.

"Lawrence you misunderstand me, I ask y/n, if you two are truly betrothed, shy or not, y/n shouldnt have any issues kissing their lover" the skeleton gestures to you, without eyeballs or eyebrows he sure wore a smug face, as if he found you two out.

Beej snorts out his nose, great, he's fucked, theres no way you could sell this now, the ghoul had to take the lead and try to steer this away from what this bureaucrat wants "Shy or not, my little sex pot here isnt too keen on others watching, believe me, I tired, the only thing they wont do in the bedroom-"

"Bee, it's fine" you interject, gently grabbing the demons sleeve, he looks at you mouth agape, green slowly blossoming into pink in his face and hair.

"You mind leaning down honey?" You ask softly, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, yes beetlejuice has kissed you more times then you could remember, and yes, youd be lying if you didnt enjoy them, but taking the lead? That was new, and to have someone watching? Not to mention if you dont make this look good he's gonna take beetlejuice away.

Beetlejuice on the other was practically glowing pink, and vibrating with excitment, not to mention drooling.

You gently cup the demons face, running your thumbs across his stubble, you swore you could hear the demon purring, you take a deep breath through your nose before closing the gap between the two of you.

Beetlejuice's hands find homes for themselves, on in your hair, the other on the center of your back. Your hands move from the demon's face and bury themselves in his messy hair, gently giving his head a scratch, you squeak with surprise as the ghoul lifts you up from the ground, instinct kicks in nd you wrap you legs around his waist, lips still locked with his, you feel his tongue probing at you mouth, begging for your permission to enter, you oblige, his tongue wasnt new to you, you felt it a handful of times, running up the side of your face when the ghoul was trying to get your attention mostly, but in your mouth?

It was long, and big, and kind of cold, it easily took the lead, exploring your mouth.

You push on Beetlejuice's chest to notify him you needed to breath, the two of pull your lips part from each others, a thin line of saliva still connecting the two of you.

"Oh Lawrence" you sigh

The demon now completely electric pink, still holding you up growls before asking "couch?"

You hum out "yes"

Before the ghoul flops backwards on the couch, having you sit on top of him, you give his tie a quick yank and he groans in response.

"Oh doll, you're lucky you dont work tomorrow, cuz I want you to ride me all night~"

"Ahem!"

The two of you freeze for a moment, beetlejuice snickers at your face, clearly embarrassed, you pause for a moment, swallowing your shame before addressing the ghoul who was still here

"You're still here?" Was all you manged to breath out

"I mean I'm into it, but y/n? Not so much, and they clearly arent into you watching so" beetlejuice snorts, trying to wave the skeleton off so the demon could relax.

"I see, y/n you clearly are attracted to him, and understand all the consequences of marrying the dead, I declare that Lawrence B Shoggoth was, in fact, telling the truth, this should be a holiday, such a rare occasion" the skeleton trailed off as he walked into the netherworld, you only watched as he vanished and the walls of your little apartment rearranged themselves like it never happened.

You sat top beetlejuice for a moment, sighing over dodging the bullet of losing your, very dear friend, you may or may not be head over heels for.

You're reminded of where you were sitting with a familiar pinch on your butt.

"Hey honey~" the ghoul purrs

You jerk up at recalling the situation you're in, beetlejuice groans at you movement

"Careful sweets, keep moving like that and you'll turn this semi into a boner" he snorts out a chuckle.

You're quick to get off the demon, though he did grunt in protest, before sitting back up and pulling a couch cushion over his lap, despite how crude he was, he did have SOME common courtesy.

As much fun as it would have been for the demon to tease you on your rather hot actions, he noticed how your attention wasnt on him, rather then you were staring at the wall that was once the door to the netherworld.

"So we did it?" Was all you seemed to whisper

"Yup, I got to hand it to you babes, you did quite a good job fooling that stiff"

You turn back to the demon and give him a soft smile feeling completely relieved.

"You know it's funny y/n, you're a terrible liar, and you sure as hell cant act, you got way too many tells, but yet, I didnt see a single twitch nor did I hear a single stutter, why's that?~" you knew that tone oh too well, it was the 'I know something embarrassing about you' tone, it was smug yet made your legs turn to jelly.

"I guess when it comes down to really important stuff i guess i can-" you stammer while fiddling with the hem of your shirt

"I dont think so dolly" beej was quick to interrupt "babes, you've been wearing my jacket the whole time, I've seen you keep glancing down at the ring, and fuck me, the amount of fire in that kiss, someone like you cant fake that"

You refuse to look his way, this was one hell.of a way to come clean with your feelings, a heavy silence fills the room, though you're pretty sure beetlejuice could hear your heart pounding away.

As if the ghoul could sense your discomfort, he sighs "ya know babes, it's pretty late, and breathers need to sleep, so how bout you head back to bed and I'll finish grilling you in the morning"

Glancing back at beetlejuice you could see the flicks of purple appearing in the pink mess of his hair, you give the ghouls half hearted smile, as you go to take off the jacket he raising his hand motioning you to stop

"Its gonna be cold tonight babes, how bout you keep it warm for me?"

"Oh, alright, night Bee, glad I could help you" you wave off as you head to your bedroom to over think what just happened.

Beetlejuice groans when he hears the familiar sound of your bedroom door closing, he was so close to getting a real confession out of you, but tomorrow morning is gonna be pretty dangerous for you, he sighs removing the pillow from his lap, he had a more pressing matter to attend too, and with your taste on his tongue and the beautiful imagine of you on top of him yanking at his tie, this 'problem' wont take long to deal with.

Bonus

The next morning was quite awkward, beetlejuice wasnt kidding about grilling you in the morning, but at least what felt like an interrogation last night, now felt like childish teasing

"Bee, can I ask you something about last night?"

The ghoul beams with excitement at your question "anything you want babes"

"If we would have failed, what would have happened to you, you said you would have been dragged back to the netherworld and" you pause hoping the ghoul would fill in

"Oh, yeah, if we would have got caught I would have had to spend a week in the netherworld with my mother fixing this paperwork and just being chewed out, a nightmare babes, we dodged a bullet" he raises his hand for a high five as if to congratulate you on helping him out

"What, I'm sorry what"

Beetlejuice lowers his hand and frowns at your response

"Beetlejuice I was worried sick, I thought they were gonna take you away forever, i was terrified if i fuck up I'd never see you again, like what am i supposed to do without you?! I dont want you to leave me" you practically screamed

Beetlejuice only started at you, slowly soaking in what you said

'I dont want you to leave me'

His blank stare slowly shifts to a smile, flicks of pink appearing in his hair "dont worry sugar, you're stuck with me"

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader

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rawstfish · 3 years

Note

You got any uhhh nsfw Perseus hc’s my friend

Umm of course I do, he's one of my favs

Warnings: NSFW/literally porn/on the rougher side I guess/long I guess

This old man fucks and he does it well, I will stand by this until I die.

Loves to have heated make-out sessions. He loves seeing your lips red and puff, spit connecting and covering both you. Slowly trailing kisses down your neck, while leaving little hickies

Foreplay is always a must for you guys, he won’t do anything until you’re prep properly. Always goes over what you guys both want to do and your safe-word. Checks in on you while fucking you just to safe and sure. Will stop everything if you don’t respond.

It’s okay though because he knows exactly where and how to move his fingers/tongue. Speaking of his tongue, he knows how to eat pussy/ass right. You will be overwhelmed with pleasure. Perseus is more a giver also, so good luck convincing him to let you suck him off.

When you do get the chance to suck him off though, it is a sight to see. Head tossed back, hands gripping whatever he can grab, and the slightest shake in his thighs. Your ears will be blessed by his deep voice panting/groaning/moaning mixed with him trying to get words out.

Loves to praise you, bonus if you get flustered/shy from it. He just thinks it's so cute when you're like that.

Perseus loves having public/office sex, it’s one of his biggest turn on’s. He just loves the thrill of it, the infamous big bad communist getting caught doing something like this? He loves that thought. Fucking you on the office table that once had important documents, but are now thrown all over the room? Him thrusting so impossibly deep inside you on the table where a meeting is about to be held, with his allies coming to discuss their plans? Sign him up, bonus if you guys end up messing up a few papers or the table. Also he doesn’t like/want to keep his baby waiting.

Please let him overstimulate you. He’s just so addicted to the way you cling on to him when you cum. He’s just so addicted to the little tears that start coming out of your eyes because the pleasure is too much. He’s just so addicted to your heavy breathing/moaning that you let out to the littlest touch. He’s just so addicted to how wet and tight you get around his finger/tongue/cock. Sometimes he likes to edgy you, just so he can turn into overstimulation. Seeing and feeling you cum after him being so mean to you, is so satisfying for him.

Bite him, you won’t regret it. It’s the fastest way to get him to fuck you, and it could be the littlest, weakest bite and he will be ready to go. The first time you did, he let out the loudest and biggest moan ever. Along with his hips bucking so hard into you. He leaned down and whispered, “do that again.” in your ear and honestly you almost came from that. However, once you did bite him again, he fucked into oblivion. He still has the scratches on his back. Bonus if you leave bruises or draw blood.

Your thighs are his actual weakness. They’re so nice to him, so soft. He needs to mark them with his hand-prints, give them an angry red coloring. He needs around his head, suffocating him. He needs them wrapped around his waist or hips as he fucks you, squeezing him. He needs his cock between them, fucking into them while your stay still and let him do all the work. Making you feel him against you but never going into you, not until you both cum. He needs to see them painted white. But if you were to ride his thigh? He would simply pass away. Both your thighs against one of his, rubbing your most sensitive parts on his thigh just to get off. You clinging onto him with your head stuffed in his neck, as you beg him to help you. He has to make sure to reward you with whatever you want later. Warning: don't wear shorts around him. He will be so touchy and continuously staring at you, until you get his hint. Actually, maybe do wear shorts around him.

When you first told him to choke you, he was so nervous. Perseus is a big dude and he doesn’t want to accidentally snap your neck, huge turn off. He told you these concerns, but once you told him that you trust him enough to do this and that he doesn’t have to. He had to try it out at least once. And he’s so glad he did. When he saw how you reacted to it, teary eyes and panting, he asked if you guys could do it again. Choking you became one of his biggest kinks.

So you remember his thing with overstimulation right? Sometimes he likes to handcuff you, blindfold you, or both. He likes seeing how to tug on the handcuffs, and the red lines appearing because of it. Loves when you beg him to take them off so you can touch him, and he’ll tease you a little too. “Awww, you need to touch me? How cute.” right in your ear. He blindfolds you because he loves seeing your body reacting to his touches unexpectedly. And then your cute tears wet the blindfold, he loves it. He will also tease you if you beg him to get rid of the blindfold, because “you need to see him.” It’s so cute. But when he adds both, he has the most shit eating smile on his face. He tends to praise you a lot more when you're wearing both. And yes, he teases you extra hard when you’re wearing both. Meanie.

If you allow it, he will cum inside you any chance he gets. He loves seeing you filled and overflowing with his cum. Expect him to push it back in you.

Another huge thing for him is fucking you while you wear his jacket. He already loves how small you look in, but then add seeing you moan/cum in it? He’s rock hard just thinking about it.

Now his aftercare, oh my god. It’s perfect. He always tends to your needs first and gets you whatever you need. Heavy on his praise with the softest, sweetest voice you’ve ever heard.

All in all Perseus is one of the best sex partners to have and a hell of a soft dom.

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Criticize is very much welcome :)

#🥵🥵🥵#This man will be the death of me #I love Per Per #my post #call of duty #call of duty black ops cold war #modern warfare #Perseus #perseus x reader #black ops cold war #headcanons #ask box

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

Adoration and Pain (Vampire!Yandere Overhaul x Reader)

Title: Adoration and Pain (Vampire!Yandere Overhaul x Reader)

Synopsis: You are his pure, sweet doe. His perfect angel. The most exquisite blood bank that a vampire, that Kai Chisaki, could ask for.

Word Count: 2243

Notes: yandere, vampire, descriptions of violence and mild gore, mentions of past suicide attempt

You sit on your bed, legs crossed, and take a calming breath. You remind yourself of the things that you know, the things that you can count on. It keeps you from panicking, it keeps you sedated while you wait for him to arrive.

The things that you know: It is night time. You are in your room. You are wearing a pale blue night gown, the one with a small blood stain on the lace wrist cuff that won’t come out. Kai will be coming soon.

You still know your name. You still remember, however dimly, what it was like to feel the sun on your skin, the glowing warmth of a summer day, the cool brightness of a cheery blue sky in the wintertime. Kai will be coming soon. You have no way of tracking time now, in the small suite he’s crafted for you, nor did he like you attempting to keep track of the days.

What is a day when you’ve lived hundreds of years, after all?

Kai will be coming soon.

Time is not a blip for you, though, poor mortal thing that you are; instead, the days--the nights, the nights--drag on endlessly, sometimes feeling like an exquisitely painful, delirious dream. Grounding yourself when you wake up is the only way to keep things from completely blurring together, keeping things separate enough to maintain sanity.

He visits you every night to feed. To tear open your skin and drink the oozing life blood inside. Pure blood, he’d said, when he first took you away from everything you’d ever known. Sweet blood, clean, refreshing--the finest blood he’d ever tasted, and now that he’d tasted it, Kai Chisaki could not fathom anything less.

You were his endless dinner, providing sustenance night after night. Never mind the bruising, never mind the pain, never mind the sounds, those sickening slurps of your blood being feasted upon. Never mind the fear that still gripped you every time he removed his mask, revealing sharp, predatory fangs that could only be hidden by keeping his mouth shut tight--or by wearing a mask.

You know the rules, now. He’s never been so kind as to lay them out neatly, organized on parchment and ink, ready for you to read and repeat until they’re drummed into your pretty little brain. But he’s expected you to know them, nonetheless. They’ve been learned night by night, in a repetition of a different kind. You used to scream and fight and claw, beast-like.

That was ages ago, when you still had the strength, physically and otherwise. Before you’d become a paler, fragile thing that gets dizzy, sometimes, when you stand up too quickly. Before you learned the rules, and before you’d learned that obeying him made your life a little easier. Not by much, no, not by much. But a little was an enormous thing in the existence you’d been trapped in.

He keeps you in nightgowns. White ones, pastel ones, with lace and frills, all in the softest of fabrics that feel like a dream against your skin. They must have cost a fortune. You’d said as much once, and he merely smiled at you patronizingly. “Such things aren’t appropriate for ladies to talk about,” he’d said, and you never brought it up again.

You sleep during the day. Or what you assume must be the day, for it is when he leaves you. You are not afforded the luxury of windows. He can’t take the risk, you see, of you accidentally forgetting to close the curtains. Not that you would ever, ever try to kill him, of course. You were pure and sweet and a doe, a lamb, the sweetest thing on hell or Earth.

Sometimes, when he murmurs these things against your wrist, your own blood and flesh brimming against his darkened lips, you wonder if he’s genuinely forgotten how you used to behave. You were not a pure and sweet doe when you’d broken the rail of your bed and tried to stake him with it. You were not a lamb when you broke your mirror and used the glass to stab him, or when you’d found a forgotten shard underneath your bed and sliced your wrists open in an unsuccessful bid to end it all. Both earned punishments, the second more so--you’d tried to deprive him of your sweetness, your purity, your beauty. A terrible thing to do, for someone like him, someone so everlasting and lonely. And hungry.

That was, however, in the past. Weeks ago or months or maybe years. You don’t know, and you know better than to ask--except sometimes when you’re delirious from blood loss and forget yourself. He’s forgiving of those slip-ups, most of the time. You even have a new mirror, and every morning--night, you remind yourself--before he arrives, you get dressed in a fresh nightgown and brush your hair in front of it.

Which is what you must do now. You slowly put your legs over the side of the bed, rising carefully. You don’t want to pass out on the floor. Once your mind steadies, you make your way over to the large, immovable chest pressed against the wall of your room. You open it, relishing the cool smell of wood that accompanies the ancient creak of the hinges. Inside are your night-gowns and under-linens. You lift up a delicate nightgown made with white muslin; it’s trimmed in exquisite lace and has a ruffled trim that ends at your ankles. You grab an accompanying chemise to slip on underneath.

The curtain on the mirror is there to keep you sane, whenever he feeds. He has no reflection, a fact which used to make you cross yourself; once, it had slipped off while he greedily drank down your blood, and the sight of wounds pulsing out gore like magic had made you pass out. You cautiously slide it over, letting it fall to the ground with a theatrical flourish.

You stand in front of the mirror, slip off your worn gown and under-dress and set them aside. You don’t pay your naked body, thinner and paler like the rest of you, much mind; instead you swiftly change into your fresh clothes, wanting to be ready for his arrival. You smooth down the fabric with your hands, then lean over inside the chest to grab your brush.

Your hair is longer than you like it, which makes it tangle and twist terribly; but he likes it long, so you don’t dare ask to cut it. But you make do, patiently unweaving the tangles from all the tossing and turning you do at night. The strands feel a bit greasy, and a pang of anxiety plagues you--you should have bathed before going to sleep the night before. He likes you to be presentable. You wonder if you have time to wash your hair, at least, but the unmistakable steps coming up the stairs answer your query for you: there is no time.

Thump, thump, thump. You rush, awash in dizziness as you quickly toss your things inside the trunk and swiftly lean down to replace the fallen curtain. Thump, thump, thump. Your head is still reeling by the time you climb back onto your bed, pulling your legs up and curling them to the side. You take a few gulping breaths to calm yourself, just in time to hear the large, heavy door to your suite unlocking.

Before you were taken captive by a vampire, you imagined them to all wear fantastical cloaks, dull and dusty from mausoleums and nights spent roaming the earth. You imagined them to have bat-like ears and claws. You would never think him a vampire, to look at him. He has tousled black hair and striking eyes. He wears a refined, yet simple, suit. It’s only when he takes off the mask and speaks--when those fangs, hidden and terrible--reveal themselves, that his true nature becomes evident.

Tonight, like all nights, he locks the door behind him after he enters. You don’t have the strength to run, even if you could imagine escaping from this place. But it’s a habit, you think, long-ingrained in an immortal creature.

He approaches the bed with a calm, almost soothing demeanor. “Did you sleep well? Are you hungry?”

Pleasantries, pleasantries. Spoken so softly and sweetly. He sits down on the bed next to you, and you nod. You wonder if your eyes are as wide as they feel. Maybe that’s why he calls you a doe, a lamb. You tremble before him like an animal to the slaughter--only your slaughter never ends with death, only with pain and nightmares and fever dreams.

His hand reaches up to pet your cheek. It feels cold and stiff to the touch. “I’ll bring you dinner later, pet.” His hand strokes your cheek, and you imagine it would feel comforting, if it didn’t feel so clammy. You lean your cheek into his touch, as you’ve learned to do. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You nod again. He likes it when you are quiet and compliant and meek. He’s said so, and you believe him, for it is your quiet and compliant behavior that earned you new things; books and a silver hair brush and even a necklace, gold and rimmed with blood-red rubies, though he’d yet to give you anything but nightgowns to wear it with.

His hand travels from your cheek, down your jawline. You shiver as he traces a healing, bruising wound on your neck. He continues his exploration of your body, roaming hands ghosting against your breasts and then down, down to your thighs. You tremble, and he smiles.

“Hand me your wrist.” Your arm raises without a thought. Memories of pain and terror and screams flood through you, heating up your skin and making your heartbeat thrum. He rolls the sleeves of your nightgown back, and a small part of you is thankful--it’s such a nice dress, and you’d have to have it spoiled with blood.

Kai lifts your wrist until it rests against his cold cheeks. He presses his nose against the thin, ever-bruising skin, against the blue veins that wait underneath. He groans, softly, inhaling your scent and feeling the warmth of the life flowing through you.

“So pure,” he murmurs. “So precious.” His lips part, revealing the eager fangs behind him.

“All mine…”

Holding your wrist in one hand, he brings his mouth closer, opening wide and then biting into the soft flesh with a sickening sound.

You hold your breath. You don’t want to scream, you don’t want to--

But the pain floods you, as it does every night, and you cry out anyway. You moan in pain, and it merely makes him moan in return. His grip is unrelenting as he eagerly begins to drink, sucking blood and even bits of flesh into his mouth with practiced ease. The sensation of his tongue lapping inside the gory wound makes your stomach churn.

Your wrist feels like it is being stabbed in a thousand different ways; burned and dissected and pounded by a hammer. You forget yourself and look away from the sight of Kai feasting on you, the sight of your blood smearing down his chin.

“Mind your manners,” he says quietly against your open wound. You look back instantly, feeling weary and slightly dizzy and tired. You hope he will be done soon. You don’t want to pass out again. You want something to eat. You want to stay up late enough to read a few pages in a book, if your eyesight isn’t too blurry.

Your vision does blur, for a moment, and when it returns Kai is running a sharpened nail down your wrist. It burns, as it always does, but it heals the gaping wound with barely a trace of a scar. Nothing can be done about the bruising, the blue and grey and green mottled skin that takes ages to fade away. He usually bites the same spot again before those can properly heal.

You let out a shuddering cry of relief as he finishes, as he lifts his fingers--now warm, thrumming with your secondhand life running through them--and wipes away your tears. His fingers stroke your cheek again, leaving behind a smear of your own blood, and this time you lean into his hand without effort.

“Such a precious thing you are, such a delicate thing.”

You nod, barely listening, thinking instead to the promise of a dinner, the promise of a few pages in a book. You will never leave. He’s made sure of that, weakening you in mind and body. You will be here as long as he’s hungry. As long as he needs to feed. And he will always need to feed. You will never leave.

#yandere overhaul #vampire au #vampires #yandere #kai chisaki x reader #afterwitch writes

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 3 years

Text

you got a fetish for my love, i push you out and you come right back

summary: the softest man in the world is in love

warnings: nick is a warning. how dare he. smut. smoking (but we’re trying to get him to stop). some of that daddy shit bc ugh, that beard.

word count: around 5,320

pairing: nick vaughan x reader

a/n: let me tell you, it is weird writing nick one second, the softest, sweetest man, and then switching over to ransom, aka satan.

“You shouldn’t be smoking.”

The man with his back to you turned around, arching an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

You brought your hands up to your waist, looking as confident as you could possibly make yourself look. You didn’t have a mirror on you, but you would bet it wasn’t very convincing. “Um, second-hand smoke. Third-hand smoke. Not to mention what it could do to you.”

Moving closer, he took another brief drag. “And what’s that?”

You huffed. Really? You were going to reach way back into your 8th-grade health class memories for that. “Lung disease, it can cause cancer, like, everywhere, heart disease—”

“But you’re already taking care of my heart, angel.”

You fell silent at that, frowning.

He continued to close the gap between you. “What else?”

“It’s bad for your skin,” you asserted, tone firm despite how close he was getting. “Causes wrinkles.”

“That so?”

You nodded, refusing to step back as he stopped mere inches before you. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re my father.”

He smirked, dropping his cigarette on the floor and stepping on it with the toe of his boot. Boots that were far too expensive to be stepping on cigarettes with. Hell, he shouldn’t even have been outside with them. “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

Your gaze moved off to the side and finally, you stepped away to create some distance. ‘You said you were going to stop, Nick.”

“I know, I’m trying.”

“Try harder. I’m being serious, okay? People die—”

He moved back in front of you and took your chin in his hand, forcing your gaze up to his. “I’m working on it.”

“If you really care about me, you’ll stop.”

“I’m gonna stop,” he promised. “Soon. Come on, don’t give me those eyes.”

He loved your eyes. He had to have told you about a hundred times by now, claimed he liked the innocence in them that never seemed to die out. No matter how many times he took you up to his hotel room and fucked you in every filthy way he could think of. Sure, it was pretty sick sometimes, but he always touched you so softly, whispered the sweetest things to you, and held you afterward.

Your eyes could make him do just about anything, he would often declare. Except, apparently, stop smoking.

“Come on, I’m sorry.”

You crossed your arms, pulling out of his hold. “You’re only sorry you got caught.”

“No, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“And don’t be sorry to just me, be sorry to yourself. I think you need healthy lungs for your music career, right?”

He lifted his eyebrows, still amused at how serious you were being. No one in New York took smoking seriously.

“Also, you ever stop and think about what would happen to me if you weren’t here?” That was a little on the sneaky side. You knew that there was the overall scenario of you being lonely, but he would soon start to think about how that would mean you would be with other people.

He scoffed, feigning calmness. “No, I don’t. I don’t want you to, either.”

You didn’t need to hear it, you knew he could connect the dots. “You are forcing me to.”

“Angel, what’s all this about?” he wondered. “Why are you being such a brat?”

“I’m not being a brat,” you immediately protested. Even though you knew he didn’t mind, there was just something in you that twisted at the thought of being bratty. You were not trying to be argumentative even, you were just worried.

“You want daddy to spank you?”

You looked around with wide eyes. Not that anyone in New York had the time or interest to listen to anyone else’s conversations, but still, this was private. “Nick.”

He tsked. “Nick?”

You sighed, casting a look around. “There are too many people here.”

He chuckled. “No one’s listening, angel.”

“I’m not being bratty,” you muttered. “I’m just concerned about you. Since when is that a crime?”

He smiled, reaching his hand out for you. You didn’t waste any time nearly wrapping your entire body around his arm. “What do you want?”

You were not getting away this time, he was also in a mood. Evidently, since he usually spoiled you to the point of letting you get away with “misbehaving” if you apologized or feigned discomfort.

“Take me upstairs, daddy.” It was hardly above a whisper, but it thrilled him to no end that he’d managed to get you to call him that outside of the absolute comfort of the bedroom.

Nick liked you feeling safe with him. He’d never met a more trusting soul, someone almost naive. However, it had taken him a long fucking time to get that sincere trust from you. He picked up on the body language, the things you wouldn’t say. That was why he could give the date for the night you finally let him fuck you with the lights on, the night you finally stayed with him until morning, the night you finally gave him your number because he had convinced you to sneak away from your dad to meet him at the hotel and you had to get back home but you still wanted to talk to him. He could give the date for the first morning you woke up and put on one of his shirts, the morning you let him eat you out for the first time, the morning you let him fuck you against the hotel window.

He wrapped his arms around you and started to lead you inside. It had been almost a year now and you were obsessed with Nick. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and he was kind and gentle, but also passionate and sometimes a little rough when he knew you wanted him to be. It was never mindless, hard fucking. Even when he made it hurt, he held you so close, so tight, his eyes would remain on yours the whole time. He would wipe away your tears and continue bucking his hips. He would whisper to you, coo at you, and make you fall apart until you were so exhausted you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

You were pretty sure you were in love with him. He would be the first. Sure, there was your first boyfriend who you had wanted to be your first for everything. He’d given you a promise ring and told you that he wanted to wait until you were his wife. That one didn’t end well. Your third boyfriend, you thought that one was real. You’d had sex with him, and then he completely disappeared. To this day, you had no idea where he was. But you knew now, those things you’d felt for them, they were so small, so weak. What you felt for Nick was consuming, you felt like every inch of you belonged to him, like you were made for him.

In the elevator, with an elderly couple, an older man, and a party of four younger women that looked like they were on their way to a club, Nick had his lips to your ear. “Angel, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re crying. You know I love those sounds you make and the look you give me when you just can’t take anymore. When your beautiful, little cunt is used and aching and dripping with my cum. But that’s only after I have you on the bed, wet, squirming, begging daddy to make you feel good.”

You felt like you were on fire. If anyone heard, you would be mortified, you would never be able to leave your house again. Things like this were supposed to be private, between the people who were doing it. Nick had the audacity to make some of it almost public. You would admit that there was the tiniest bit of thrill, but most of it was fear and panic.

He touched the side of your face and you startled a little, one of your hands coming up to settle over his forearm. “Jesus, you’re beautiful and so fucking…innocent.”

You were not innocent. You weren’t even sure what he meant by that. Ever. When he said it, you were confused each time.

“The thought of your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, trying to take all you can because you’re so good to me, those eyes staring up at me…”

You swallowed thickly, eyes moving to the elevator buttons. How many more god damn floors were there? The elevator stopped again seconds later, and the elderly couple got out. Fewer people but you still didn’t feel any less nervous.

“Afterward, your sweet, tight pussy will be dripping. You know how wet you get after you suck my cock.”

Embarrassingly wet. He was fascinated the first time you’d done it, then he laid you out on the bed and when he made the discovery, he ate you out until you could barely remember what year it was.

“Then I’m gonna have you on top of me, angel. You’re so good at it, I swear you were made just to ride my cock. Remember what you were begging me for last time?”

You remembered and instantly felt your skin burning all over again.

“Maybe I’ll fuck your—”

The elevator stopped on your floor and you rushed out. The group of girls was also getting out, creating some time for you to get away from Nick and breathe. He was always intense, and he never stopped pushing you. You didn’t necessarily hate it. Really, you knew you liked it, but you could never admit that to him, his behavior would just get worse.

He found you with your back pressed against the door, waiting patiently for him. He’d been staying here for several months; he had the same room because he’d wanted to give you a key. For emergencies, he claimed. If you ever needed a place to get away, even if he wasn’t home. It had only happened a few times, he wouldn’t say a word when he would find you bundled up in his bed. He would just join you under the sheets and make you come several times, at least.

He set his hands on your hips and you looked up to him. “What’s on your mind tonight?”

You woke up that morning just knowing. You were in love with Nick and you were terrified. You didn’t want to be in love, not with him. With his music career taking off, he couldn’t want something serious. You figured this was just him wasting time. When he was an established name, he would go out and find himself a proper partner. It wasn’t you, this shy, small thing with no backbone, terrible parents, and no solid plans for your future.

But why ruin a good thing? You wanted to let it last while you could. You smiled at him and shook your head. “Nothing, really. I missed you.”

He smiled back. “I missed you, too.”

You didn’t live in New York with your father, but you had been visiting a lot more frequently. Your father was thrilled about it, thrilled enough not to want to question it. Your mother took it as an insult and didn’t ask a single question about why. It was honestly the perfect crime.

It had only been three weeks since you’d last been with Nick, you were allowing for less time to pass in between the nights you spent with him. You once went a month and a half, how unimaginable that felt—you knew you wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. You would go crazy without him being able to touch you for six weeks.

“You could stay,” he pointed out. “Here. With me.”

You scoffed. “No, I can’t.”

“You could apply to NYU, I’m sure you’ll get in. You could start building your life over here. If not with me, why not live with your dad?”

This was getting serious and you were worried this conversation would wreck everything. Nick thought he wanted something, but only because he was scared. You didn’t want to uproot your entire life for something fleeting.

“I don’t want to talk about this tonight,” you said quietly.

“Okay. But we will. Later.”

You nodded—a lie. You wouldn’t even be with him much longer. You had breakfast you’re your dad and then you would be on a flight back to your mother’s. “Yeah.”

Smiling, he asked, “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

You shrugged. “I don’t want to talk.”

He hummed. “No? You don’t have more scolding to do?”

“I can wait,” you teased. Your eyes flit to either side just to make sure no one was around. “But right now, I just want you to touch me.”

He bent down just slightly to pick you up by your thighs. You eagerly wrapped yourself around him and pressed your lips to his, kissing him like it’d been years.

He struggled to open the door, but you didn’t seem to mind that you could get caught at any moment, you seemed completely distracted by him. That was his goal, make your time here so good that eventually, you just wouldn’t be able to leave him.

Finally, he managed to get you inside the room. You had it all memorized, even with your eyes closed you knew exactly where he always was. He was leading you down the hallway, past the kitchen and the living area, to the door at the end of the walkway. Past the bathroom, past the dresser full of sheet music and records.

He laid you out on the bed delicately, pulling away so he could stare at you. You moved to pull your skirt up, but he caught your hands in his. “Not yet.”

He started at your feet. He pulled off your shoes and began kissing your calves, a touch that felt so distant through your tights.

You whined. “Daddy.”

“You’re going to be patient, angel.”

And that was that. You never argued with him, rarely disobeyed. You were perfect, you were good. You were, as he so fondly called you, an angel that did everything she was supposed to do. Not just for him, but for everyone. He knew that about you, knew that you never liked to make trouble for anyone. Even your dad, who had been almost completely absent during your childhood, off chasing his current wife. Even your mother, who was mean, unsupportive, and childish. You were sweet as could be, well-behaved, soft-spoken, bright-eyed, and glowing. He thought you were perfect.

Biting your lip, paying close attention to how much you were moving, you watched in near silence as he continued to press his lips up your legs. As soon as his eyes flickered up to yours, your heart was pounding. There was a lot about Nick that you just didn’t understand.

You could look at yourself in the mirror and understand why people thought you were pretty, but of course, you did not think as highly of yourself as Nick thought of you. Alternatively, he could not do the same. He could not understand why you liked looking at him in the mornings, why you liked to trace his features with your fingers, why you spent so much time just kissing his face whenever you got the chance. You were baffled that he could look like that and not know what he did to people.

He blushed a lot. When you accidentally told him, the first time, that you thought he was beautiful—never again would you drink wine with him—and now, all the deliberate times after that. Because unintentional or not, you meant it and you wanted him to know. When you would take him in your mouth and he had his hands at his sides, leaving you to control everything, and when you took so much of him that you would gag and choke, he was permanently flushed. When he played for you, forget it.

He was at the hemline of your skirt and started pushing it up, kissing at the insides of your thighs. You bit down harder on your lip as he continued up, up, up until he kissed your pussy. Over tights and your panties, it was still good enough that you shuddered. You could feel his beard, some random hairs managing to poke into the open spots of your tights. It was a feeling that reminded you of being home, not with either of your parents now, but when they were still together in your first home. Nick was comfort and security, he was warmth and so much raw emotion.

You brought one hand up to press your fingers to your lips. You were so wet that you could feel the material against you was damp. He always knew how to do that to you, how to get you so wanting. And the neighbors always knew when you were there, they would play music because you were so embarrassingly loud, not that he was ever considerate about that. You just wanted to pretend you had some dignity, at least for a while.

He kissed across your thigh and up the side of your hip, back across until he could kiss down the opposite side. You remembered you used to hate when he would do this, when there wasn’t a part of you that he wouldn’t at least devote a moment of attention to. You didn’t hate it now, you noticed it made you a lot more confident. You didn’t care how tight a skirt was around your hips or that a skirt was so short that everyone could see your thighs touching. It wasn’t even his goal and it wasn’t dependent on his interest in you at all, but you knew he was the cause.

You often wondered if he looked at everyone like this. It really hadn’t been long, but sometimes you swore he might feel the same about you. You’d always wrote it off as your age, but how would someone his age honestly fall in love with you? And if he wasn’t, why the hell did he look at you the way he did?

“How many lives have you ruined?”

His eyebrows rose and he pulled his mouth away from you. “I’m sorry?”

“You look at me like that, you kiss me like that—”

“Like what?”

You rolled your eyes. Honestly, you weren’t sure how to put it into words. The last thing you wanted to do was accuse him of acting or pretending. That was one of the few boundary lines with Nick that was quickly established—he didn’t like analysis of his emotions. They were his own and he didn’t want anyone to presume that they knew them better than him. You truly didn’t mind. You’d come from a toxic environment of men who would sooner die than cry and couldn’t healthily express their anger if the world depended on it. “You know like what.”

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it.” He leaned back down, kissing either knee once. “But I won’t make you, I want you to want to say it.”

First time he’d ever taken that route. He teased you a lot, like challenging your views. And he liked those rare times you could challenge his. You’d both talked and talked until you managed to get to this place where you were both completely comfortable with what you were. He had to compromise on how casual this could seem at times, and you had to compromise on how obscenely intimate it was to you sometimes. And though you both compromised, it was still hard to see the other’s point of view. What was he so scared of with ‘casual’? You, on the other hand, dreaded falling for someone who couldn’t reciprocate.

He reached for your tights and slowly pulled them down. Again, he moved to where he was exposing skin and scattered kisses all over you. He deliberately got as close to your pussy as he could without ever touching you, several times, and enjoyed that you gasped and shivered each time.

He didn’t pull your underwear out of his way before he finally kissed you there. He went on like this, curious to see just how much you could take. You tried not to ask for more, to feed into his ego, and you succeeded for several minutes. You could feel his tongue and his lips, the texture of your panties was slight stimulation, but as time went on, you craved him more.

When you finally broke, your eyes were filled with tears, your hands were shaking as you reached for him, and you couldn’t form a single coherent word. Instead of pulling your panties down and eating your pussy, he moved up your body and removed your sweater and your bra. Again, he was kissing you all over, but you could hardly focus on anything other than your throbbing pussy.

“Daddy, please,” you whimpered.

He moved his mouth up until he could kiss your lips. He settled down on the bed beside you and pulled away, sitting you up a little. You took his cue and shifted up on the bed until you could rest on the headboard.

You watched as his hand reached for you, holding your breath until he was sliding one finger into you. “Fuck, daddy.” Your hips bucked almost immediately, silently begging for more. He added a second finger and you turned to hide your face against his chest.

He curled his fingers slowly, focusing on the sounds you made, the way your body would tense and shudder, and soon enough, he’d found that blissful spot that he knew made you see stars.

You clumsily reached for his pants, taking far too long to get your hands on his thick cock. You felt yourself get so much wetter, remembering just how big he felt inside you. Not that you were experienced when he’d found you, but taking his cock had been so delightfully painful and you kind of liked that he was the first man really stretching you out like that.

“Fuck,” he breathed against the side of your face. “Watch my fingers, angel, watch me fuck you with them.”

You turned down, paying attention to how they moved, and the wet sounds from your pussy. You slowly moved your hand along his cock, wanting—but too shy to ask for—him to cover your body with his cum. He preferred finishing inside you, he liked letting it drip out of you and then filling you back up all over again.

When your breaths turned shorter and your moans became louder, he knew you were so close. He moved his fingers faster, brought his thumb down to your clit. Your whole body was shaking, and he could feel how desperate you were because your hand around him tightened.

“You wanna come, angel?”

“Please, daddy,” you blurted out. “Please, please make me come.”

He pulled your hand off his cock and kissed you when you made a noise of protest. His opposite hand never even faltered as he explained, “Daddy’s coming inside you. Keep begging.”

“Please, I want to come, daddy. I want to come on your fingers, I want you to get me wet enough so my tight, little pussy can take your huge cock.”

“What a filthy mouth, angel. Where’d you learn to talk like that? Been watching the videos I’ve been sending you?”

“Yes, daddy. I watch every single one and I touch myself, thinking about how much I miss you inside me.”

“You have no idea how much I miss having your pussy wrapped around me when you’re gone.”

You finished with a sharp cry, using your free hand to try to push his touch away, but he was so much stronger than you. Add to the fact that you really didn’t want him to stop, if you could stay there in bed with him, feeling that for the rest of your life, you would.

You almost instantly rolled over on top of him, kissing him as you moved up his body until you were straddling him. He set his hands on your hips, holding you steady as you slid down on him. As you adjusted, he let his hands wander to your breasts. You were still shaking, panting, trying to come down from your high but you were addicted to pleasing Nick.

You rolled your hips, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You needed to see him naked, coming here without seeing all of him would be an absolute waste. He helped you get the shirt off after a moment and your hands roamed all over his torso.

He took your hips again, using his hold on you to pick up the pace just a little. You let your head fall back, he would want to watch your body anyway. You brought your arms back and rested your hands on the mattress around his legs. He had to fuck you just a little harder from this angle to see your breasts move with every thrust, but you were okay with that.

You always knew when he was close because his fingers would dig into your skin and he always did everything he could to get as close to you as he possibly could. This time, he sat up and pulled you up so your chest was flush against his. You continued bouncing up and down on his cock, mewling and whimpering because you knew he loved those sounds.

“Are you close, daddy?”

“Yeah, angel, keep going just like that.”

“Tell me when you’re really close.”

He faltered for just a second, processing your odd request, but did not argue.

You set your hands to his face, dragging him in for a kiss, open-mouthed, tongues, moaning obscenely for one another. As he was distracted, you unwound his arms from your back and held them flat on the mattress by his forearms.

“I’m close,” he informed after turning his head just slightly, breathing heavily on your skin. “I’m so fucking close.”

You started moving quickly, pulling off of him and crawling back down the bed. He was stunned silent until you bent down and took his wet cock, messy from your pussy, in your mouth. You’d only just closed your lips around him when both of his hands settled on the back of your head to hold you down. He only needed to jerk his hips up a few times before he was filling your mouth.

He kept you there until his high had drifted away, and you never once complained. You swallowed the cum that you could, but some of his had slipped out of your mouth, and sucked softly until he let you up.

As soon as you were sitting up, he was wrapping his arms around you and pulling you on top of him. Still trying to catch his breath, it was clear that he wasn’t letting you go for quite some time. Because no one would expect Nick to want to cuddle after sex.

And because his brain was not functioning at its best, he was simultaneously attempting to kick off his pants and pull the sheets over the two of you. But you weren’t there to be unsupportive, you simply laid on his chest and tried not to laugh.

After he’d managed it, which had to have taken about five minutes, he turned off the lamp on the bedside table and stretched over to do the same on the other side. He once again wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. “Fuck, I love you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so all you did was lay there. He didn’t miss a beat, he just started running one of his hands through your hair and then nothing. Not another word.

Fuck.

You only woke up because Nick was moving around so much. As quiet as he tried to be and as softly as he tried to move out from under you, he always failed at it. When he realized he’d woken you up again, he froze.

You grabbed one of the pillows and yanked it over his face as you climbed out of bed. You didn’t want to have to get up because that meant that you would soon have to leave. You grabbed your phone out of your bag on the way to the bathroom, not bothering to get dressed. Nick loved seeing you walk around the room naked, and that was why you always ignored that nervous nagging feeling that told you to cover up.

“Sorry,” he called out.

You didn’t respond.

After you brushed your teeth, you opened the door. You heard him moving around the bedroom as you were performing your simple morning skincare routine. He always did that, just waited until you were done so he could get in. He liked making you watch in the mirror.

And right on cue, Nick entered the bathroom, stopping just inches behind you. You didn’t turn, you merely watched him in the mirror and waited. He wrapped his arms around you, and you noticed the single red rose he was holding. He started at your lips, letting the flower trail down, then over your nipples, and down just above your navel.

You shivered when he pulled it away, offering it to you. With a smile you were looking down to hide, you took the rose from him.

He kissed the side of your face, arms wrapping loosely around your waist He pressed one hand to your stomach, and you were reminded of how much you loved his stupid hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m sorry about what I said last night. I know it was…a lot.”

Yeah, it was. You’d built it up in your mind as some terrifying thing that you would never want to hear, especially from him, but when he said it, it just wasn’t like that. When he said it, it made you feel safe. It made you feel loved. “But did you mean it?”

“Only if you’re not going to run away.”

You finally looked up in the mirror, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I won’t.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“And maybe I love you back.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” you confirmed. “And maybe I’m even considering staying.”

He perked up at that, turning you around quickly to face him. “Tell me what I need to do or say and I will.”

You brought the rose up and set it to his lips, smirking again.

He narrowed his eyes.

All you did was shrug. “Not sure yet, but you have all day to convince me.”

“I thought you were leaving today.”

You set the rose down on the counter. “Changed my mind.”

He was beaming as he picked you up and sat you on the counter. “That means you’ve already decided to stay.”

“I never said that.”

“I’m not letting you leave. Ever.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your smile. “I have to go home, you know…and pack.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled. “Probably a good idea to let my mom meet my daddy.”

“Please don’t make those jokes in front of your parents.”

You snorted. “Oh, now you want to be a gentleman?”

“Always am, angel. Open your legs and I’ll prove it.” He spread your thighs wider as he got down to his knees. He pulled you to the edge of the counter and with his eyes on yours, he took your pussy with his mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “But this means you have to stop smoking.”

He pulled back, narrowing his eyes at you. “Now, seriously?”

You buried both hands in his hair and pulled him back in.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics @gotnofucks

#nick vaughan x reader #my writing

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charming-charlie · 4 years

Text

Like Father, Unlike Son

Title // Like Father, Unlike Son

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of absentee parents. Mentions of sex. Maybe some other little triggers, especially toward our man ☹

Summary // Buck’s parents are in town. Are you sure you want to meet them?

Word Count // 2.7k

Prompt // Hey! Hope you're doing good! I don't know if you ccurrently do requests or not or if this is where to ask for them but I have one in case you do take them. Evan Buckley x reader where his parents come to town and they are really passive agressive towards him, complaining about his work and that he's "not as nice of a boy as he used to be" but he doesn't tell them to stop. Eventually they remark on his birthmark, hitting an old insecurity and reader comforts him? Thank you for your time! <33

Author’s Note // Okay listen writing this broke my heart. Someone fix it by sending me cute little Buck gifs <3

“What are you doing?” you asked your boyfriend, firefighter Evan Buckley, as he pranced around his loft apartment. Armed with a duster in one hand and a broom in the other, you would’ve made a bet with Maddie that he was dressing as Cinderella for Halloween. It was a weird sight to see because he was cleaning. The man was actually cleaning and you could not get over it.

You took your phone out and secretly snapped a few photos of Buck. He was dusting the top of the fridge and it just occurred to you… is that an area people are supposed to clean?

This was getting more and more strange.

You sent the photo to Maddie, who instantly replied, ‘all he is missing is an apron!’ with a few laughing-crying emojis. You smiled at her response, letting your brain picture the sight of Buck prancing around in an apron, holding various cleaning tools, like some 1950s housewife. You would’ve hung onto that ridiculous thought if Buck didn’t decide to speak up just then.

“I told you. My parents are coming. This place needs to be spotless,” Buck started dusting the undersides of the kitchen cabinets and you continued watching him. Your face was scrunched up as you followed his hand movements. Did Buck ever clean like this before?

For as long as you’ve known him, he never really mentioned his parents and that was not something you wanted to ask about unless he brought it up. Maddie mentioned a few things to you, in order to prepare you for the day, but it wasn’t much. Both Buckley parents were absent in their children’s’ lives, forcing Maddie and Buck to rely on each other while growing up. This would be the first time you’ve met them, and the first time Buck has seen them in who knows how long. This was a big deal. You thought you should be the one who is nervous. This would be the first time meeting the boyfriend’s parents and you needed to make a good impression. But Buck… he was acting like the world was going to end if the spout of the kitchen sink wasn’t properly polished. He was nervous enough for the both of you. Your job, which you were trying to settle into without overthinking, was to be calm and level-headed enough for the both of you.

That still didn’t stop the butterflies from moving full speed in your stomach.

When Buck started to pull out all the Tupperware containers and begin rearranging them in a new, organized, and super unnecessary way, you decided to intervene. Standing up, you made your way to your boyfriend and you slipped your arms around him, essentially hugging him from behind. Your head rested between his shoulder blades as you just held him in a comforting way.

Buck froze for a second and you could feel how tense and stiff he was. However, he instantly relaxed in your arms, like a weight had been lifted and you could sense a grin that splashed onto his face. He turned around in your arms, facing you while you hugged him at the waist.

He was taller than you by a good foot. Even if you stood on your tippy toes, you would not reach his lips, and damn did you want to right now. It was a good thing he knew you well enough to read your mind because he was thinking the same thing. He leaned down, much to your happiness, and placed the sweetest, softest kiss upon your lips. It was perfect, the way he dangled himself in front of you, leaving you wanting more and knowing you couldn’t reach him. He teased you in a way that made you both frustrated and excited.

“I know I’m acting crazy. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you,” Buck said as he captured your lips with his one more time.

The second kiss caught you by surprised, but you welcomed it. You leaned into him and your fingers instantly tightened and gripped his white shirt. You tried to let go, knowing his pressed white shirt and black blazer were for show and he wanted to make a good impression on his parents, but if you didn’t hold onto him, you were going to melt into a puddle of goo.

Imagine Buck trying to clean that up.

You grinned into the kiss as the new image that popped into your head, but it was short-lived. There was a knock on the door, five concise raps in a row. Buck instantly pulled away, and you caught a small, tiny look of fear in his eyes. He masked it by putting on a brave face but you knew him better than that.

“Go get the door, I’ll clean this up,” you told him with a gentle smile. You firmly nudged him toward the door and Buck reluctantly went to open it. You hurriedly put all the Tupperware containers back in their original cabinet, with organization going out the window. The door opened just as you shut the cabinet door, and you turned around on your heels and leaned against the counter, trying to act calm and casual.

You could hear the greetings and see the hugs before you saw the people. Buck’s parents appeared into view, smiling at their son, who you would’ve guessed they haven’t seen in such a long, long time.

First, you saw a woman. Her hair was tightly pulled back into an updo and she dressed in a business suit, paralleling her son in a semi-formal way. Following her was an older gentleman, dressed nearly identical as Buck. Apparently, looking proper was part of the Buckley charm. You must have missed that memo, since you were wearing jeans and a nice shirt, more casual than the Buckley family.

“You must be the one my son is so smitten with,” the woman replied with a smile. She made her way across the living area and into the kitchen, pulling you into a weird and awkward one-armed hug.

“I didn’t know firefighters could afford places like this,” the older gentleman said as he looked around.

You looked at Buck, who’s smile seemed to twitch with slight offensiveness. You knew he was proud of his job and you remember telling him that he loved his job more than you. Naturally, Buck denied that but played along and said his job kept him satisfied in ways that you couldn’t. You took it as a challenge and the two of you had mind-blowingly incredible sex that night. However, you were now cursing at your brain to abandon this train of thought at the station. You didn’t need to think about your sexual life with Buck while his parents were right there.

“I’m doing well for myself,” Buck said with a proud smile.

You nodded in agreement. Buck was doing good. He had a semi-stable job, he was healthy (especially after those blood clots in his leg that gave everybody a scare), and he was happy. Life was pretty good for him, and you could see how he was taking things all in stride.

“I thought you would have made something of yourself by now, Evan.” His mother spoke up. She was standing right next to you and it took every ounce of your strength to pull yourself together and not flash her a ‘what the hell did you just say????’ look. Instead, you kept your eyes on Buck, showing an obvious emotion of confusion.

Buck was certainly caught off guard by his mother’s words and seemed to be rendered speechless when his father chimed in with agreements.

“Firefighting is not a career, you know. I thought we raised you better than that,” his father said so casually, like he was making normal conversation and not offending his son by his choice of employment.

You felt a sense of dread swirling inside. You were longing to meet Buck’s parents and now you could not wait for them to leave.

“He does a very good job as a first responder. He saved countless people. Maddie also helps. It’s pretty great seeing the two Buck siblings take on the world together,” you said, trying not to cringe at how pathetic you sounded. Buck wasn’t speaking up, which meant that you had to take the reins and defend him. He deserves to be treated better than that.

“And to go so long without a phone call, or a letter, or even an email!” Buck’s dad was rambling as he walked around the apartment, staring at how immaculate Buck tried to make it, “would it have killed you to let us know what you’ve been up to? Seems like you just dropped off the face of the earth!”

If that wasn’t disgusting enough, the laugh that Buck’s dad gave shortly after sent your blood boiling. Was he finding this funny, calling his son out like this?

“You used to be such a nice boy,” Buck’s mother said as she approached her son, “but now it just feels like you and your sister enjoy ignoring us.”

How Buck was still standing was impressive to you. If it were you, some deep-rooted anger would have shot out right now and slapped his parents across the face. Buck told you bits and pieces about his parents. They were never there growing up. Their careers were more important than their children, leaving Buck and Maddie to sort of raise each other and look out for one another. It was not an ideal situation, and it broke your heart when Buck told you. He was visibly upset when it came to sharing details about his parents and you didn’t ask further questions.

But when Buck received a phone call from his mom, saying that both mom and dad will be in Los Angeles for a conference, you saw how excited he was. Hell, he was waltzing around the apartment, cleaning and tidying things up all week, after his mom mentioned that she would stop by for a visit with his dad. What was it all for? To be continuously kicked while he was already down?

“And this thing,” Buck’s mother said as her face scrunched in disgust, “you should get this removed. You would look much more handsome.” Her hand brushed against the birthmark on Buck’s face, and Buck instantly pulled back at the touch.

If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed the part where Buck’s father actually nodded in agreement without having said anything. Your hands were shaking, and you stuffed them into the back pockets of your jeans, trying to keep your nerves in check. These people were Buck’s parents? This is how parents act toward their children?

Buck’s jaw clenched as he inhaled deeply, sending the worst disguised smile in his mother’s direction. “I wonder what’s keeping the food. I’m gonna check, be right back.”

He left the apartment, and you immediately felt like you were swimming in awkwardness. With Buck gone, they might pick on you next, and you were not going to let that happen. Racking your brain for an excuse, you settled with a simple one.

“Shoot, he forgot to grab the money to pay for lunch. I’ll be right back,” you flashed a friendly yet passive-aggressive smile in their direction and took off after your man, who was outside in the fresh air and taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, like he needed to practice meditation in order to calm down.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing him by the arm gingerly. He pulled back quickly, and his eyes popped open, but once he saw it was just you, he relaxed. “Sorry.”

He shook his head at your little apology. “Don’t be. Are you glad to have met them now?”

There was anger laced in his voice and, while you knew it wasn’t directed at you, it still stung a bit to be talked to like that. He could see it on your face and his features melted into pure apology as he reached for your hand. You let him take it, and he slowly tangled his fingers through your own. You let silence wash over the two of you, because that was what was needed right now. Sitting through lunch with those two people was going to be hell, and you wanted no part of it, but you needed to be there for him.

“You know,” you said, leaning into him a little. You couldn’t help it; he was like a magnet that always pulled you in. “You don’t need them. You have a loving, supportive family at the firehouse. Bobby and Athena can be your new parents. They already act the part.”

Buck let out a soft, sweet laugh. The fact that he found your little quip to be entertaining was music to your ears. “You don’t regret dating me, do you?”

You stared at him, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. The look on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was really asking. Apparently, his parents verbally beating him up made him question a lot of things. You frowned, thinking at how just a fifteen-minute conversation with Buck’s mom and dad could change almost everything about him, you, and your relationship.

“Of course not,” you responded evenly, without even having to think about it, “I love you for you. You can sometimes be dumb, you know this, but you have a true heart of gold. And honestly, Buck, you are hot as hell.”

He laughed again, this time deeper and genuine. He let go of your hand and pulled you into a sweet hug, holding you tightly against his chiseled physique. “I needed that, thank you.”

You pulled away from him just enough to look at his handsome face. “I mean it. You are perfect. Your parents haven’t seen you in years, they haven’t seen how much you’ve changed. I see you every day. I’ve seen the progression. I’ve seen the pain you went through to be who you are today, and I love you so much for it. Let’s just get through this lunch and send your parents on their way, and you never have to think about them again.”

It wasn’t the greatest speech, but it comforted him. His smile never wavered as he looked at you, soaking in the words as they left your mouth. He nodded in response, feeling a newfound sense of bravery seeping inside. “I’ll do it if you are by my side.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” you said, knowing exactly how cheesy that sounded. But you didn’t care.

Buck leaned in, claiming your lips against his own in a welcomed surprise. You went back to leaning on him, his arms snaking themselves around you as he kissed you. Your heart was beating erratically as adrenaline pumped through. Your head was slowly filling up with fog and you were losing all sense of direction. If he wasn’t holding you like he was now, you would have no way of knowing which direction was up. Everything was blurry and out of focus, and it was a state of euphoria that you loved being in.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the Buckley residence? I have eighty dollars’ worth of Chinese food here,” someone’s voice squeaked into your thoughts, taking root much to your annoyance.

You pulled away from Buck’s lips, looking surprised. “Eighty dollars’ worth of food?” you couldn’t help but ask in shock.

“Okay listen, I was planning ahead,” Buck retorted with a smile. He shrugged like he did nothing wrong, like he was not guilty of spending so much money on a Chinese feast.

“Planning for what?’

“You and I aren’t going to leave the apartment for a couple days. The food is to help us replenish our strength.” He winked at you. Since when did he start winking at you?

“Are we working out or something?”

“Yeah, in bed.”

You slapped his arm with a gasp as he laughed and went to the deliver driver to collect the food. God, he was so good to you, and you had to smile at how happy he made you. The two of you could do this. You could both get through one afternoon with the Buckley’s because afterwards, it would be just the two of you again. No worries, no stress, no fear. You wanted that more than anything.

Despite a rocky start, you had a newer outlook on his parents. After all of this, there was one thing you knew for certain. Evan Buckley was not like his parents and you have never been prouder of him.

#Buck #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #evan buckley x you #9-1-1 #911 #oliver stark #writing request

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batarella · 4 years

Text

The Bullet: A Sequel to the Commander - Part 3 (Jason Todd x Reader)

this might be the longest smut fic I’ve done. the entire first half is nothing but sex (and angst) but shit, wow. i’m definitely going to the tenth circle of hell

WORDS: 8199 WARNINGS: SEX. LOTS OF IT. mentions of miscarriage :( violence, firearms, death

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

Visions.

Even as the fantastical reality played out, there was no sure stream of what really went on. They came in parts, blurred parts, when the arousal, the sensations, they were barely in the presence of acknowledging thought, when they were merely in it to feel without so much as thinking about what to do or what was about to happen. Instead of words, there was music. Instead of speaking, listening, there was only feeling. Like a wonderful dream one won't be able to truthfully recall, yet when asked about them, their faces soften into a light-hearted grin thinking about the remnants of just how magical it was so lightly brushing against their hot skin.

It has always been this way, after long, difficult times, having to go through the worst of brutalities only to end in such an ecstatic rapture. And with it comes singing, light, mellow singing from angels and perhaps even beautiful demons.

Limbs entangled, palms rubbing against hot, flushed skin, kisses where kisses felt the best, breaths burning and boiling, and the water, flowing like raindrops so scorching onto their heads, faces, necks, flowing further down to their bodies, it was, without a doubt, so painfully slow, yet they lingered around that pain, made it tingle down their spines and flesh and every bone in their bodies felt so weak and at the verge of shattering.

And it was like no time had passed since the last.

It didn’t start out so erotic. It started with nothing more than sensual, beautiful love. With the water droplets dripping onto the damp floor the only sound there was, it started with a light kiss on her shoulder. And it took a while, just his lips, tasting her skin. Y/N took the aromatic soap from the little glass shelf and lathered her hands with its foam. Then Jason watched on, mouth parted, as she started to soak her neck, chest, and arms with it. So slowly, taking her sweet time to feel her skin. She washed down her stomach, and gravity started pulling the foam down to her sweetest parts.

Y/N finally around.

Jason’s eyes, hooded and dark yet contrasted to the icy blue of his irises, Y/N drew her finger down the sides of his drenched face, going along with the droplets that fell to his cheek, his lips. His hair stuck to his forehead. There was nothing else so beautiful and mesmerizing as staring so deeply into his eyes, getting lost along with all other features of his face. The scars, the ones she had as well, she traced her finger along the lines.

Then with her lathered up palms, Y/N started to wash him.

She’s never felt love like this, taking care of him, washing him, running her hands up to soak him, it felt just as tingling to her skin as the best orgasm. Over his shoulders, his neck, his hard muscled pecs and down his abs, his breath hitched when both her hands went ever so slowly up her sides. Then she washed his shoulders, the new scars and old ones.

And she could just see how much he loved her when she finished up soaping his entire body with her hand pumping the soap around his twitching cock. Jason closed his eyes. It was only a few times, but already he couldn’t get enough of it. It was clear when she withdrew her hand and he whimpered in response.

Then in was back to the soft mellowness when Y/N took the shampoo in her hands, reaching up on her toes to wash his hair.

Jason’s eyes were shut closed but just from the look on his face, how his muscles softened and how he went from being such an intimidating figure to a lone little puppy in need of the kind of love and affection he wasn’t always so used to. It was an action so often overlooked. Washing someone’s hair. But when it came to her, to him, being taken care of and actually feeling such care and love in such a deep level…

She felt it after she finished and Jason took the shampoo for himself and started rubbing down her scalp, her hair, letting the warmth seep through his palms. It was beyond the pleasures of fucking. This was making love, and it didn’t have to be something so sexual. She circled her arms around his waist. How he tended to her like he was patching up her scars, letting the foam trail down her neck while his fingers dug into the drenched up strands, massaging her head so sensually, she needed this. This was all she ever needed. He was all she ever needed.

His hands didn’t leave Y/N’s head. After he had done with the soap, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips, feeling the hot water and the steam burn even more. Her arms went around his neck, and she let her soaked up chest press so nicely up against Jason’s. He started holding around her waist, and for so long, that was the state they were in, arms around each other, lips so leisurely moving around. The shower started to fog up, but even then, they could see each other as clearly bright as day.

She loved him so much.

Jason turned her around.

Her head falling to his shoulder, Jason had his lips tickling the softest skin on her neck, and when his tongue started swirling around her skin she felt like orgasming right then and there. His large, wonderful hands, tracing down her front, the space between her breasts, her nipples, her thighs. He started kneading both breasts, so passionately enjoying them and making sure they made her feel the tingling jolts down to her core. Then the other hand started to rub further down. Y/N managed to turn her head to the side, catch his cheek with her lips, and stayed there when his fingers reached down to her soaking wetness.

He didn’t touch her clit. Not yet. Jason took the time to touch every part of her, going around the folds, ever so lightly inserting the tip of his finger into her hole. The base of his thumb brushed against her clit on accident and she jumped up on her toes. He hushed her to calm, right up against her ear, then he started breathing against it so the sensations would amplify. When the tip of his finger started pressing themselves together, rubbing in slow, lazy circles around her clitoris, she cried.

Y/N’s hand went around behind her to stroke his cock, and he choked against her ear. He was so awfully hard, she could feel his tip throb for attention. She wanted it. Bad.

Then Jason gently laid her back against the glass wall of the shower, kissing her lips before he knelt down.

Her heart started beating faster. Harder.

When he hooked her one leg over his shoulder, crouched down so his lips were facing directly against her pussy, he teased her with his teeth digging into her innermost thighs. Hand on his hair, pulling him to go on, Jason dug in and started with a big, fat lick up with his firm tongue, up from her hole to the hood of her clit. She couldn’t hear her moans. She could hear the singing, the music. Her head pressed up against the wall with her eyes shut. He continued with the long licks until his hand went up, fingers returning to her cunt while his tongue focused on tracing the slowest circles up and around the sensitive bud.

“Oh…” Jason inserted two long fingers inside her, and she could feel every move he made, curling up at an angle he knew she liked best and lightly pressing, rubbing against that spot up to her pelvis. That, with his tongue going faster at each turn, she had to hold back from going absolutely ballistic. “Jason…”

At the sigh of his name, Jason thrusted his fingers even deeper inside her, pumping at an even pace. He sucked on her clit, eyes looking up to see how she was reacting. And she was reacting. The pressures of the spot sending the most pleasurable shocks down her limbs. She didn’t want to cum yet. Not when the night was still so young. But his tongue, his fingers…

A long, high pitched sigh of wordless cries shot out of her lips. She trembled against the wall, electrified, spineless, she could barely keep herself up if not for his arms keeping up her stance. Y/N placed her hand against the wall and let it print against the fogged up steam. Jason’s hand went up to hold her stomach. He watched her cum, come so undone from his fingers and mouth, she knew this was just the beginning. He wanted to watch every bit of her nerves shake from his cock when he fucks her so good and hard. The things he wanted, the things he yearned to do to her, now he was going to do it.

When he stood up, held her waist, pressed his forehead tightly against her own, he could see tears down her face, and he could tell them apart from the water droplets from the shower. She was crying, arms around his neck. She loved him. She loved him so much and she never should have left. Kissing him with her lips so hungrily searching for his love back, he gave it immediately.

He took her thighs, brought her legs to wrap around his waist. Jason was inside her before she could even cry out. Y/N continued to cry, eyes continued to close, the water felt so good against her skin when his cock was moving so perfectly insider her, sucked in by her cunt so tight and good. Eyebrows pressed tightly together, eyes shut closed, they were both equally mad at the world, at themselves, for letting go of the beautiful things they had together. They were angry at how this had to be left behind, making love, closing the distance between their bodies and make the other feel as heavenly as they could.

Her body slammed repeatedly against the glass wall, and fog wiped out by her skin being rubbed against it. He pounded into her, not so fast but not taking his time either. Jason kept a wonderful, steady pace, and Y/N looked down to see how perfectly his dick went in and out of her cunt, how it was clenching around him, stretching as tight as her mouth would allow her.

“Oh!” His hips snapped up to her ass, and with his incredible strength, Jason placed both her legs up to his shoulders so he could plunge even deeper than he possibly could. He moved up and at the same time, she let her momentum take course with her ass bouncing against his hips. She was pressed so firmly against the wall now, and she kept moving to her best capacity with her legs hoisted up, back against the wall, hands against the fog on the glass, she screamed.

Squirting loads out of her pussy, her juices spurted out on his cock, along with the water droplets down to the floor. There was nothing as humanely ecstatic and inconceivable as the explosion of an intense bursting of a waterfall, a coaster that descends to the bottom with the strongest force, a current that sparks up all the living cells on her body that had rendered her limbless, motionless, and it continued on as Jason chased his own release. Her high did not so easily fade, when his long strings of cum spilled inside her, so wonderfully filling her insides with his love and juices. Her head fell onto his shoulder and when he trembled, strength beginning to falter, Y/N’s legs dropped down to his hips, shaking at the immense feeling of everything happening at the same time.

Still at the reverb, Jason met her eyes, panting, kissing her lips, then he smiled. She smiled back.

Jason turned the shower off, and without even drying themselves off with the towel, lips occasionally meeting as they made their way out of the bathroom, they delved into the darkness and felt the coolness against their skin.

Y/N led Jason to the couch, and he plopped down with his damp body underneath her. She straddled his lap, arms around his neck. Her pussy just laid on top of his cock, not doing much to stimulate it, but when they kissed, so slowly and lovingly, she arched up her back so their chests would be pressed against each other as tight as she could. His arms the curve of her spine, running down her ass and thighs, she pulled away so she could whisper.

“I love you…”

“I love you,” he said right after. He held her face so desperately wanting to never let go. “Please don’t leave me again…”

She wiped a tear that stained down the mark on his cheek, even as her own had fallen down her neck. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore…”

“Then don’t leave… It hurts so much when I’m not with you…”

“Jay,” she cried as her hand held his face. She wanted to smile, because she was here, now. And he loved her. She wanted that love more than anything else. She remembered, one night back in the barracks, after a long night of fucking, she had reached out to this man, wanting to hold him for the night only for him to leave after he was done with her body. She remembered thinking it could never evolve to anything beyond that, and it did. Jason loved her now.

And she’d hurt him.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Please…” he pleaded. “Please stop it…”

“I killed our-“

“No,” he held her hands, trying to stop the tremors but he was shaking as well. “No. Don’t say that.”

“But I did…”

Pulling her hands away, only for him to pull them back around his neck so he could place his chin gently on top of her shoulder, holding her so close, he let her weep.

“Our son…” she buried herself into him, and he couldn’t stop his tears, holding her weak, naked body that had never been so vulnerable until now.

“Please. Y/N…”

“Our little bullet… you were so nervous when you found out…”

“Please,” he swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault…”

“I never want you to get hurt like that again…”

“Y/N… You were hurting, too…” his whispers were soft, cooling despite it hot against her mouth. “You wouldn’t eat or do anything… I wanted so much to be there and take care of you. We were supposed to go through it together… and when you left… god, I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared of what could happen to you out there… I already lost our unborn baby… I didn’t want to lose you, too.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t leave anymore. Please.”

“I won't,” she kissed him, finally like a release of the grueling months, so cruel to them and merciless. “I won't… I love you…”

“I love you.”

He pulled her to the couch, on their sides. Jason held her close so she wouldn’t fall off the edge and encased her in his strong arms. Hugging his neck, letting the tears fall despite the rising heat, he let her heavy breathing against his ear harden his cock once again. He wiped out all other thoughts, of their sufferings, their losses. He forgot all of them for the moment and focused on the feel of her skin rubbing against him. Then he was inside her once more, so slowly moving and stretching her walls in the most intimately enthralling way possible. Her lips started to hurt from being pressed so tightly against his, her inner thighs starting to ache, the water from the shower was soon replaced with their hot sweat sticking to their skin.

The friction from the couch’s leather on the sides of their arms, she ignored such discomfort. She felt each thrust of his long, hard member, how it impaled her, reached out to her insides to call out more of her juices, her cries of love. She kissed him, bit his lip, then Jason reached his hand down to violate her clit. And not long after another hard slap of release fell through. She trembled at the quaking of her limbs, let herself fall into that release that relieved her of that itching within, one she couldn’t have reached herself. His cock did that job, and for a moment, she was out of her body, letting the tickling forces through her flesh and bone. He came inside her not long after, spewing his cum, though less than the first time, but as equally warm and soothing to feel spewing out of her pussy.

His cum continued to spill out of her hole as he pulled away, panting, smiling. She pulled his head to her as she felt her muscles relax from such an intense contraction.

They kissed on that couch for hours, falling asleep, waking up, kissing again, holding each other as close to each other’s body as they possibly could. She loved the feel of his rippling muscles, scorching hot being pressed against her chest.

Holding his face, Y/N finally, after so many months, smiled at him, at the sight of his beautiful face. His fingers were so lightly tracing her sides admiringly feeling her skin. Jason propped his head up with his arm, taking in the sight of her. He was smiling as well.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

“I’m just happy you're here.”

She leaned in to his lips for the nth time that night. “Me too…”

The lightness of her finger, tracing the lines between his pecs, further down to his abs, she made sure her she could still see every detail of him despite the darkness. Though, in just a few hours, the morning will come and greet them as the first, wonderful day of being back into each other’s arms.

Y/N hummed as Jason helped her turn around, pressing her back and ass up against him so he could encase her so lovingly with his biceps. She kissed his arm, dragged her lips against his skin, then Jason kissed her shoulder and whispered.

“I’m glad I have my partner again.”

She giggled. “I though Red Hood worked best alone.”

Teeth sinking into her collarbone, she sank deeper into him. “I need a hot sniper on my back.”

She turned her head back to kiss him, smiling.

“Anything happen lately?”

“Dick and Tim came up to me,” he grunted. “Assholes won't leave me alone.”

“They’re just trying to reach out.”

“I’m not interested,” he rolled his eyes and his arm held your waist closer to him. “What about you?”

“Amanda Waller called me. Again. She offered me a place in the squad without having to live in prison.”

“But you’ll have a bomb in your head.”

“Yes.” Y/N felt him snuggle into her tighter in an attempt to calm her irate nerves. “Even had the guts to use you against me.”

The sun had started to come up, and she was so awfully tired. She pressed her nose against his arm.

“Don’t worry. You’ll protect me.” Jason winked.

“And you’ll protect me.”

Another sweet, gentle kiss on the lips, then Jason reached over to grab a blanket he had on the couch and placed it over them, finally having the long, much needed rest they’ve been needing after months of endlessly agonizing loneliness.

-----

“Breaking news, on Good Morning, Gotham…”

Y/N dressed in an oversized hoodie and nothing else, took the cup of coffee from Jason’s hands and thanked him as he joined her on the couch, arm stretched behind her. Without speaking, they focused their attention onto the TV.

“At nine pm last night, the billionaire crime syndicate Roman Sionis, also known as Black Mask, has been found dead in where has recently been found out as hideout, office, and criminal base, along with thirty-two members of his founded False Face Society in another one of his safehouses and his warehouse at the Gotham Docks. Although there have been speculations of the body belonging to a double, DNA tests have confirmed that it was, indeed, Mr. Sionis, who had fallen four stories down from his office window.”

“Thank god,” Jason started munching on his toast. “Thought I’d killed another double this time.”

Y/N leaned against his arm, legs folded on the couch as she placed her head on his shoulder.

“Although it has not been confirmed, it has been suspected that the infamous Red Hood was behind this massacre…”

“Infamous,” she nodded in pride. “Nice job.”

“Thanks. You like my picture?”

His photo was of him flying in the air, a stolen shot from one of the reporters from The Gotham Times.

“Hot,” she kissed him.

“In other news, on the same night his known partner Deadshot was found in a high-speed car chase in Drescher after raiding what has been discovered as Mexican drug lord El Penitente’s warehouse. Ten bodies were discovered in the vicinity. Deadshot had driven a truck belonging to a nearby pizza restaurant and had disappeared, with the assistance of the Red Hood, by the time the truck was found crashing at the apartment buildings near Crime Alley.”

The clinked their coffee mugs together.

“The Gotham City Police Department is looking for more evidence on Deadshot for the murder of Salvatore Maroni, another billionaire discovered to have his own crime ring in Gotham, as well as evidence on Red Hood for the murder of Roman Sionis. If you have any information that you think can help-“

Jason turned the TV off, placed their mugs onto the coffee table and leaned in for a kiss. Y/N giggled, placing her legs over his lap, then played with his lips so gently without using her teeth as much to bite as she often used to. His hands, going up her waist underneath the hoodie, stopped when he pulled back to look at her.

“We should head over to your place. Get your stuff out and move them back in here.”

“Mmm,” her hand went to his crotch. “Right after this.”

Pushing his body to lay on top of the couch, they fucked for another few good hours until the morning became the afternoon, rain turned to a cloudless sky. The day never shined so bright, so much ahead of them.

She held his hand all the way over to her apartment. She’s never been so excited, never had so much to look forward to. They took his car, drove over to Bleake Island where her smaller apartment building was not far from the clocktower.

They reached the porch, and she couldn’t help but notice her window was open, curtains floating about.

As they made their way upstairs, she had no idea what to expect.

The first thing to notice was that the moment she opened the door, it had fallen out of its hinges before it could even fully swing open.

“Motherfucker…”

Couch torn apart. Bed practically inside out. The floor was covered from the feathers of her pillows, and the curtains, pulled down from the windows and teared on the floor. Her tiny kitchen had been mutilated, pots and pans all over the place as well as knives being thrown to the walls. Her TV was on the floor, broken in half. Her studio apartment, with what little size it had, had no floor surface she could even step into without knocking around any of her stuff.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

She didn’t care about any of it. Y/N, with the first thought that raced to her rational mind, ran to kitchen floor, throwing out all the feathers and clothes and other debris on the way, then took the floorboards apart.

“Fucking hell, thank god,” she sighed in relief. Jason went up to her side. Her guns. Her entire arsenal of weapons. They were all stashed under two layers of wood where the kitchen counter was supposed to be. Smart.

“You think Waller did this?”

“Other than the fifty other people in Gotham who want me dead? It’s a possibility.”

“How did they even find your place?”

Y/N took out a box from the closet, one that hadn’t been ripped to shreds, and placed all her weapons inside.

“I don’t know…” she flattened her lips. Jason knelt down beside her and rubbed her back. “Now I’m scared they’ll follow me to our place and hurt you…”

“Hey, hey,” he kissed her at the top of her head. “I can take care of myself.”

“Jay,” she gulped, holding onto her pistol like a little girl would to a doll. “Carmine Falcone is behind this…”

“Falcone?”

“After I cleared Floyd’s debt, he wanted me gone for good. He thinks I’ll rat him out.”

“What is it that he thinks you’ll rat him out for?”

Switching over to face him, on her knees, she let Jason take her hands.

“He asked me to kill off his rival gangs. The Chinese Triads. Manuel Escebado. Dragos Ibanescu. Sal Maroni. Even outside Gotham.”

“And Black Mask?”

“He knew what Falcone was trying to do, and he wanted to stop it before he kills him, too.”

“Shit.” Jason poured his breath out and swallowed. “This is dangerous.”

“I know…”

Looking down at her gun, finger tracing her palm to soothe her nerves, Jason placed the gun into the box, then held onto her hands as tight as he could.

“We’re in this together now. As I said. And I say we kill him.”

“What?”

He held her face.

“We kill Falcone. We wait until he’s out in public and take him out in plain sight.”

She laughed. “Jay, it’s not that easy…”

“It was easy when you killed off all those other guys.”

Y/N bit her lips before her grin hurt too much, then placed her forehead against him. Jason kissed her hairline, then pulled her close.

“We can do this… Together…”

She wrapped her arms around his chest and never let go.

-----

It was perfect.

The Change for the Children Fundraising Gala, held at the Gotham Museum of Art at Founder’s Island. The biggest names in the city will be all over the place begging for a photo, and it was well known that ownership of the museum had been turned over from the city government over to Mr. Carmine Falcone.

This year, for their memorial tribute for Bruce Wayne, the man who usually hosted this specific gala himself, the famous Bat signal will be shone from the museum all the way up to the sky to honor his name.

They were Mr. and Mrs. Peter Wallace for the night. They had already hacked into the guest list and added their names there without donating so much as a buck. They infiltrate the place, find Carmine Falcone, and if they were lucky, they can get him alone in the Museum.

Jason scratched the itch on his neck from the collar pulling on him too tight. Hair swept back, tie on his chest. He sat up, fixed his jacket. This was completely out of his comfort zone. How could he possibly move around in this? He’s worn suits, a number of times back in the manor. And he hated them. He looked good, obviously, even he couldn’t deny that. But his tie had always been too tight and his jacket too small. Now, even when it fit, he still wasn’t so comfortable looking at himself like this.

From the mirror of their bedroom, he straightened himself up, sighing in an attempt to calm his trembling nerves.

His face. His damned face. The ‘J’ mark on his left cheek that haunts him every morning he gets up from bed. He hated it to the bloody core. It whispered to him, to his ear, just how disgusting he looked with that mark on his face. He can't escape it. No matter what. No matter how much he tries to heal. It was always going to be there.

He turned away and walked to the bathroom.

“Holy mother of-“

Now. That. That. THIS. This was definitely, without a doubt, something he hadn’t expected but made complete sense considering how hot she looks with whatever she wore, whether it were bed clothes or a hoodie or her Deadshot suit and especially when she was naked.

But this? With whatever deity was up there, he only hoped he can get through the night without an erection taking his life away.

Leaning over the bathroom sink to put on some lipstick, his eyes started marveling over her perfectly made up face, not too much but as glammed up as he’s ever seen her before. Lips parted, as red as his tie was, they teased him and his choking breath. Her eyes looked glistening under that shade of her shadow, and her hair, flowing in its natural state yet neatly combed, pinned, and set behind her gorgeously curved back. Her shoulders looked so sexy and bare. And her dress. God, her fucking dress. It was gonna kill him. Definitely. A long, light beige evening gown that hugged her figure so perfectly well, over the curve of her back, the thin straps on her shoulders, how the light fabric molded over her ass being pushed out into the air, held up even firmer with the sexiest heels in the whole fucking world on her feet.

Jason’s cock looked painful trying to pry itself out of his pants. If he had the time, he’d jack off just by the sight of her right now.

“Like what you see?”

“Fu-uh-uck…” Shit, it even hurts to move.

Y/N grinned and placed her lipstick into her bag. “Come here.”

Moving over in front of her, he let her fix his tie and jacket so it wouldn’t fall apart from him scratching so much. His eyes were still as wideset and in disbelief, even more now that he could see her face up close. “You look so handsome…” she patted his chest.

“Mo-o-therf-fucker…” he choked. “If we’re going out like this, we won't get to get out at all… Fucking h-hell you're hot…”

“Stop it,” she hugged his neck, then he tried to lean down to kiss her but she pulled away, giggling. “Jay, my makeup-“

“Fuck, right now I wanna bend you over and fuck the living daylights out of you and you won't even let me kiss you.”

“You think I don’t wanna get down on my knees and suck you dry with this suit on?” she ran a hand down his chest. He almost came right then. “You’re so hot…”

His hands were on her ass, kneading them and pressing his erection against her stomach to do anything to ease it.

“Where’s your gun?”

Y/N smirked, then she held out her right leg, where the slit on her dress was, then showed him the gun strapped to her inner thigh.

“H-holy Jesus, I think I just jizzed my pants…”

“Stop,” she laughed even more. “I got my wrist gun on my ankle as well.”

“Please do this more often…”

“No. We’re here on a mission.”

“Then I’ll host those fucking galas myself if it means I get to see you look this fucking amazing.”

She was blushing, despite there already a pinking glow on her cheeks. “If we get to live by tonight,” she flicked his nose. “You can do everyting you want…”

“Falcone better die soon ‘cuz it’ll be awkward killing him with a hard on.”

“You ass.” He kissed her cheek, and stayed there for long minutes with her giggling filling up the room. They couldn’t stay long, for Jason’s sake, and eventually he had to pull himself away from her. They took his car and drove all the way over to the Museum, parking a reasonable distance away so they wouldn’t be caught driving a second-hand sedan next to the sports cars littered about in the driveway.

She pulled out her optics and placed it on her head. Jason was drooling at the sight of her.

“Fucking hell, you're killing me…”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We should stay behind. Just a bit longer when a lot of people swarm in. Don’t wanna draw too much attention to ourselves.”

Jason let his lingering gaze enjoy the sight of her some more, but as the excitement died down, the reality sinking in, he turned to the windshield and instead, saw his reflection.

The fucking ‘J’ mark.

Yeah. Not draw attention to himself.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“You have some more of that, uhm…” fuck. This was embarrassing. “That concealer of yours?”

“For what?”

“The uh…”

It broke his hear to see how her smile so slowly started to fade.

“Jay…”

“Can't draw attention to it…”

Y/N closed her eyes. Jason knew what she was thinking, what they were both thinking. She wanted to tell him there was absolutely nothing wrong with how that mark was still there, how it does absolutely nothing to change how she sees him as the most handsome, perfect being there was. But he was right, and she knew it. It had to be covered up.

Y/N took out her purse and pulled out the tube of concealer. She patted it onto his skin, and Jason kept his eyes closed. He flinched at it being touched. God, he hated it.

And when he looked up, at his reflection, it was gone. Like it wasn’t there at all. He looked like himself before he was torn out of his body, torn out of what he used to be, from the life he once knew.

“Thank you…”

Y/N nodded and licked her lips. “Jay-“

“I’m fine. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N reached out to his face, holding his good cheek. And her smile, oh, how it was so beautiful. She looked absolutely perfect. Not a flaw. Not a single one. Not to his eyes.

Even after all those years, just in the tiniest bit, he wasn’t completely healed.

But Y/N was here now. She was his cure. She was his light.

Y/N leaned in and kissed him. Instantly, he smiled. God, he loved her.

“Let’s go in, Mr. Wallace.”

“After you, Mrs. Wallace.”

-----

Jason’s hand on Y/N’s back, the couple went into the gala halls with their heads up high, as smug as they could look blending into the other smug little bastards with billions to their name. But, in all honesty, it wasn’t as if they weren’t rich themselves.

Actually, they had no right to be disgusted at these billionaires’ dishonesty, fraud, embezzlement, exploitation of their workers. Whatever they did, it probably wasn’t as bad as their means of income.

If dishonesty were to be weighed in, they’d be sunken through the floor.

So yeah, they can't be so smug. But they had to be. To blend in.

They were probably one of the youngest in the halls that weren’t with their parents tailing along, so they had to stick to crowds, find their table, find Falcone, and get the hell out of here before anyone notices.

An attendant suddenly came up to them, holding a clipboard. “Good evening Mister-uhm…”

“Wallace. Peter.”

“Ah,” he nodded his head and placed a check. “You and your wife. Please. Your table is over there.”

They both smiled at the attendant, then at each other.

“Kinda like calling you my wife.”

“Kinda?” she grinned, squeezing his arm as they made their way to the table. They shouldn’t wait for the program to start. They can't take too long.

Also, Y/N’s ass had been at arm’s reach for hours now and his dick couldn’t handle being suffocated for so long.

“Do you see him?”

Y/N looked around, over at the tables, at the crowd at the center. Nothing. “No…”

Then a waiter served them their food. And as much as they didn’t want to get distracted by the food, it would raise suspicion. They ate as little as they could of the expensive fillet mignon and caviar and hoped their target actually would show up.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We’d like to open this fundraising auction with a word from out esteemed host, billionaire philanthropist Mr. Carmine Falcone.”

“How much do you think he’s stealing from this fundraiser?” Y/N leaned over to Jason’s ear.

“All of it. Let’s be honest.”

The old man fixed his white, shining suit jacket as he walked up on stage with a hand over to calm the applause. His hair was grey, mustache over his lip, and his eyes were permanently squinting at whatever it was in front of him as he stood straight up, hands over the podium, and started with his speech.

While he did, they went over their plan.

Earlier that day, they had inspected the place, went over its history and why exactly Falcone wanted to add this museum to his impressive list of properties. Turns out, the museum had a large underground basement used to store all its relics and artworks that already had its intensive security system. And it was much larger than any old warehouse could get. His cartels from abroad, disguised as museum artifacts, will be sent over to the museum all the way down to the basement. This place was actually the new base of operations for his drug empire in Gotham and it was all in plain sight for everyone to see.

And down there, Falcone had an office, which they plan on going through before they put a bullet right between his eyes.

Falcone had finished with his speech and it was time for the auction. When he left, he didn’t bother with the mingling or going around the tables to greet their guests. Instead, he went over to the back, along with three other men, his goons no less. Yes.

Jason looked at Y/N and nodded.

Y/N stood up walked over to one of the guards.

“Excuse me, I’m having trouble finding the bathroom, do you think you can show me the way.”

Jason fucking hated how he was ogling over her. But he had to move. Fast. Y/N went on to distract the guard and he walked away from their table, over to the back where they saw Falcone walk into. He turned over to a corner, and just as their plan went, Y/N turned the guard over to look the other way, her arm outstretched so he’d point to where the bathroom was.

And just as he turned to her, Y/N had disappeared.

“Nice job,” Jason said as Y/N joined him by the steps descending to the basement. They hurriedly walked down, and Y/N pulled out her optics, covered the bottom half of her face with a white scarf, while Jason pulled out his red visor.

“Where the hell did you hide that?” Deadshot asked.

“That’s a secret. We can't risk getting caught.”

Their heat sensors took them further down to a long narrow hall, dark and grey, with doors to other offices and rooms lead to probably for the administrators of the place. Everything had been emptied out and no one was in there. And if they went further in, to an armed door with five different locks, they’d find Falcone’s office, as well as his drug stash.

“You think it’ll be good to expose this place?”

“Not right now. They’ll hold these people hostage.”

“I knew that.”

Red Hood and Deadshot went into the hall where the lights started to fade out. They turned to a corner, and by then, it was almost completely dark. Deadshot turned on the lights on her optics. The armed door. It was there.

They each worked with one lock after the other, Red Hood with the bottom hinges and Deadshot at the top. After about fifteen minutes, Red Hood placed a disruptor against the wall to stop any lasers they might have installed behind it.

When the opened the door, another set of steps led down to the undergrounds.

Red Hood’s visor picked up the firsts of the sacks of cocaine lined up like they were mere bags of rice. And there was a buttload of them. And basically nothing else in the room. Bags upon bags stacked on top of the other, in rows leading all the way down to an endless side of the room. Deadshot’s light showed just parts of it. “Fuck.”

“Do you see his office?”

“There.”

At the corner. An empty room. With another set of locks. But the x-rays on Red Hood’s visor picked up a desk with lots of vaults and safes inside. There was no one in. Where was Falcone?

Deadshot unlocked the door, keeping the lights off. Hand grabbing her skirt she walked over to the desk while Red Hood kept to the door on the look-out.

“Where do we start?”

“How bout that?”

A safe at the center of the console table from behind.

Deadshot pulled out her knife and started to unlock it. “Anyone coming in?”

“Not yet, no.”

The safe opened, and she took out a folder inside stacked full of files that looked strangely suspicious. And they were.

“Oh my God…”

“What?” Jason asked.

“Maroni sold his casinos to Falcone.”

She held out a piece of paper. “Ibanescu’s night clubs. They’re all bought out by Falcone. Everything. The Triads. All their properties. Their money. It all went to his name. This one says Lew Moxon bought Falcone’s hotels, which is all the way in Indiana and I’m sure doesn’t even exist.”

“They’re all forged.”

“So Falcone had you kill them all. Now he owns all their properties and their money.”

“Which puts his ridiculous net worth at-“

“Almost two hundred billion dollars.”

Deadshot placed the files back into the safe. “Fuck…”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t. I blame my stupid uncle for messing with a guy like this.”

Red Hood looked back over at the door.

“Waller warned me to stop my deal with Falcone. She must have known what was going on.”

“Never thought we’d admit to that woman being right.”

Red Hood watched on as Deadshot dug further around his desk.

“Shit! They’re coming! Hide!”

Carmine Falcone, esteemed billionaire philanthropist, swung his office door open.

“That fucking Sionis. I sure hope he rots his stupid fucking mask off in hell. Bastard wouldn’t know what hit him in the head. Ya know he lost all his money to fucking Bruce Wayne at one point? Yeah. A buyout.” The old man went up to his desk to grab a cigar. “What’s the total at?”

“A million dollars, sir.”

“Ah. That Mario painting’s the real deal. Make sure it doesn’t go below two m-“

The door suddenly slammed closed, just before any of the five men in the room could turn around, and Red Hood and Deadshot leapt out of their hiding spots.

Red Hood snapped the neck of the guard nearest to him, and Deadshot climbed over a man’s back, hands over his head, then twisted it over until he lost balance and fell to the ground. She then expertly grabbed his arm, tore the bone off his shoulder, before she slammed his bald head against the floor.

Red Hood ducked just before a guard could swing at his head, then he grabbed his body pushing it all the way over to a wall to stun him. He swung his fists immensely fast over and over at his chest until he felt his ribs break. “Deadshot!”

She dodged a gun shot from Falcone, flying in the air. Red Hood hurried to disarm him. Then Deadshot took out a vase from a nearby table and threw it at a man’s head. He caught it, but Deadshot’s heeled shoe was practically a knife when she kicked his stomach, pushing him to the ground, then she grabbed the vase and smashed it against his head with one swing.

Fuck, she’s hot.

Then they both grabbed their guns, pointing them at Falcone at the same time.

“Okay,” he held his arms up. “How much do you guys want. Ten million? Twenty?”

“We don’t want your fucking money.”

“Oh… Deadshot…” he eyed her too maniacally. It was disgusting. Red Hood shot his leg before his eyes could trail any further.

“Fuck! What the hell do you want from me!? A confession? You working for the police now, Hood?”

Deadshot took out her mask, let him look straight at her eyes as her finger went over the trigger.

“Is it true?” she asked. She shouldn’t be wasting time. She should be killing him now. “Did you take all those empires for yourself?”

“What’s so wrong with eliminating competition? Is this about your uncle? Floyd?” He laughed. “I’ll give you the fifty million. Debt cleared. That what you want?”

“Nope,” she clicked her gun. “I just want you to stop bugging me.”

She shot him in the head, and Falcone had it in him to not expect she’d actually do it. His eyes were wide open, head thrown back against the chair. His blood was spattered out all across the room, even on her dress and Jason’s suit. She wiped off a drop of blood from her face and stretched out her neck.

Red Hood helped her put on her mask, holding her hand so tight just to soothe her, even though he knew she did this basically everyday of her life. He locked the door, then they hurriedly snuck out of the basement, taking the stairs all the way up to the second floor where a window was waiting for them to escape with, where no one would see them.

Before they turned up the stairs, they saw a man walk into where they came from. A few seconds later they saw him rush out of the building, sweat pouring down his forehead as he whispered to the guards. Fuck.

Hand in hand, Red Hood rushed with her to the window nearby one of the art exhibitions and hastily pried the glass open with his hands. It was a story above ground, and the car was waiting for them across the street. They heard footsteps from behind. Fuck.

“There!”

“Get them!”

Deadshot threw her heels out the window and jumped onto the grass. Red Hood followed close behind. Not stopping for a second, they ran, then they heard bullets, shouts, screams from civilians. Police officers on standby rushed to the scene with their own guns. They ran through the museum’s gardens, through the streets, then they got into their car and sped away.

“I got eyes on Red Hood and Deadshot! Don’t let them get away!”

------

“Another breaking news on Gotham City 24. Earlier tonight, billionaire Carmine Falcone has been found dead in his office from a gunshot wound to his head, along with four of his accomplices in the underground basement of the Gotham Museum of Art, in the middle of his Change for the Children fundraiser which the philanthropist was last seen giving his speech just minutes before he died. What was thought to be a generous move for the people of Gotham turned out to be quite the scandal when five tons of cocaine were found stashed in said underground.

The act was done by no other than the vigilante partnership Red Hood and Deadshot. This report confirms their involvement in the deaths of Salvatore Maroni and Roman Sionis. They were seen leaving the Museum of Arts, rushing out to a parked vehicle before they narrowly escaped yet another high speed car chase.

The two had also been rumored to have been the masterminds behind the famous occupation of the City of Gotham two years ago by the Arkham Knight Militia. The Red Hood, as confirmed by Commissioner James Gordon himself, is the man behind the operations as the Arkham Knight, and Deadshot, the Commander of the Militia Army, who has been one of the most well-known mercenaries since the last Deadshot, Floyd Lawton.

Red Hood and Deadshot, as shown in these photographs, have now reached one of the East Coast’s most wanted vigilante criminals there is, with a bounty of ten million dollars each over anyone who can find them dead or alive. This news has circulated all over their home city, with its citizens calling the two Gotham’s very own modern day Bonnie and Clyde-“

Y/N, with her legs folded over Jason’s lap and her arm around his neck, turned the TV off and let out the most relieving sigh of exhaustion. She was still in her dress. Jason wouldn’t let her change out of it. Soothing his hand over her ass with the arm he had around her Jason playfully kissed her jaw.

“Bonnie and Clyde. I like that name for us.”

She snorted. “Those two couldn’t do half the things we’ve done.”

“Hey,” he squeezed her thigh. “What was it you promised you’d let me do if we got out of it alive?”

She traced his jaw. “Everything…”

His teeth sank into her neck and she let out the hottest breathy moan.

-----

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc@multifandoms916@icequeen208@offendedfishnoises@egdolan@xemiefx@arkhamtoddler@elsenthal@mythicbitchx@supremehaunter burning-alive @lucy-roo roseangel013bf @ loxbbg reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherriesshadowsndaisiesriver9noblezphilophobiazannoylinglyaries@knightfall05x @l-horizon11flowersgirl02

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #red hood #jason todd reader insert #jason todd smut #the commander #the bullet #the bullet series #batarella

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reddrobins · 4 years

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please do [d.grayson]

Dick Grayson x Reader

Request: Hi! Could you do “You’re jealous.” and “I love you, but stop talking.” with Dick Grayson, please 💖? By @bored-green (thx for requesting love)

Summary: Dick overhears the reader talking to Donna about some guy named ‘Norman’ and jealousy flares within.

Warnings: language? Jealousy… is that a warning?

Your bright laughter echoed throughout the halls of Titans Tower. Dick couldn't help but smile as he heard it from the kitchen.

Currently, you and Donna were sitting in the den chatting about god knows what.

It was something that you liked to do every once and awhile, invite the rest of the Titans over for a little movie night. A way to distract you all from the craziness of the world of supers. Sadly, tonight it was only going to be you three as Kory had the kids and Hank and Dawn were busy doing… whatever it is they do.

While the two of you chatted, waiting for the others to arrive, Dick was on popcorn duty. Why? He didn't know, out of the lot of them, he knew he was not the best cook. However, here he was, buttering up the air popped yumminess and dividing them into equally portioned bowls.

Walking into the living room with trays in hand, he overheard a snippet of your ‘girl chat’.

“I’m serious Donna! He’s honestly the best cuddle buddy out there.”

Dick stopped in his place, taken aback. Were you, were you dating somebody? He panicked, no, you couldn’t have been, you would’ve told him by now… right?

“Okay, I believe you (N/N). It's just really cute how much you love him.”

Love him?

Dick swallowed, this can't be happening, this officially was the worst day of his life.

You, his one true love, had already been swept off your feet by some guy. Probably isn't even a vigilante, Dick muttered to himself. Apparently, not quite enough.

“Dick!” Your face brightened at the sight of him, “You okay?”

The raven haired man coughed into his fist and tried to regain his composure, “uh yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just, nevermind. How are you?”

God why did he have to be so damn awkward?

Donna laughed, “You sure you’re okay Dickie, you look like you seen a ghost?”

The man in question nodded sharply letting out a gruff, “I’m fine.” before setting the popcorn down on the table.

“Okay then.” You said, “I was just filling in Donna all about my new little bunch of love Norman.”

Dick cringed, Why would she fall for a guy named Norman? Dick was just so much better for her, I mean they had history!

“Glad to hear it. Uh,” His voice cracked and he grumbled once more, “Tell us more about this Norman.”

You missed the spite and venom laced with his words. Donna didn’t, she looked curiously over at Dick, a smirk plastered on her face.

“Sure!” Dick didn’t like how excited you were to talk about your new lover. “He’s the sweetest, softest and best boy out there. God I just love him so much. Sometimes when I’m sad, he’ll snuggle up to me in bed and it's just amazing.” You looked off dreamily, reminiscing about the image.

“That sounds great, (Y/N). I’m so happy for you.” He gave you a pained smile and you smiled back, happy to hear that. Especially from Dick.

“Movie time now?” You asked. Donna nodded and went to grab the remote, “Oh wait, hold on, I’m going to the bathroom. Don't start without me, my girl wonder!”

Donna rolled her eyes but nodded nonetheless, “I hate it when you call me that, reminds me of this idiot.” She tilted her head towards Dick, who all but glared.

As soon as you left the room, Donna whipped her head at the younger male “You may just be the biggest idiot I know.”

Dick was taken aback by Donna's statement, “What? Why?”

The older girl laughed, “It's so obvious Dick! You’re jealous!” At this, Dicks whole face turned a light pink colour causing Donna to laugh harder.

“You know, you know the best part?” She said between fits of laughter.

“What?” Dick grit out angrily.

Donna held up a finger, signaling to give her a minute while she continued her rampage of laughter. “(Y/N)’s talking about her cat you dumb ass! She just got a new kitten named Norman. Dear god, I can't believe you!”

Dicks face flushed, he was jealous of a cat? He slid his hand down the front of his face in embarrassment. “Are you sure it's her cat?” he asked.

Donna nodded through her giggles, “Yes Dick, I don't think she’d describe a man as ‘fluffy and warm’ otherwise. Fuck, this is hilarious.”

At that moment, you returned to the room, a confused look present on your face, “Ha, What’d I miss?”

You sat back down next to Dick as Donna tried to compose herself. “Nothing (N/N), Nothing, just Dick being Dick.”

The older, smarter, prettier girl then bit her lip, smirking to herself. “I really hate to be a flat-leaver, but is it possible if we can reschedule for another night. I think Dick needs to sort some things out with you.”

Dick perked up at his name, giving Donna an incredulous glare.

“Oh, Uh sure. No worries. Is everything okay?” You asked between the two of them.

Before Dick could retort, Donna spoke out, “Yes, everything's fine, I just think that Dick needs to talk to you about some… issues he wants to work out.”

Donna quickly fled the room before you could question her once more, leaving you confused and to be quite frank, a little worried.

“Dick?” You asked quietly, “is everything okay?” You gently placed your hand on his as a way to get his attention.

He nodded, “Yeah,” He said scratching behind his ear, “All good, just some confusion is all really…”

You furrowed your brows, what could he possibly mean, “Confusion?”

Dick chuckled lamely, “Yeah… I, god this is so embarrassing but, I thought you were talking about a boyfriend and not your cat so I… got jealous.” He trailed off at the end making it difficult to hear him.

“You what?” You asked.

Dick groaned, once again putting his palm up to his face, “I got jealous.” He stated, this time clearer.

You all but laughed at him, making Dick feel much more embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Really,” You stopped your giggles, “But why?”

Dick bit his lip, was he really going to confess now? Better late than never…

“I like you, a lot. Hell I might even love you, I don't know. All I know is that from the moment I met you, all those years back in Gotham, I, I just knew you were the one. And I’m sorry if you don't feel the same, I just had-”

You giggled again, this time blushing as well, “I love you, but stop talking.”

Dick looked down, smiling, “I guess I deserved that.” He then made eye contact with you, “Do you though, love me?”

“Of course, bird brain.” You smiled, “or else I wouldn't do this.”

Dicks brain stopped, wouldn’t do what- oh.

You kissed him.

At first he was in shock, but then he got into it, pulling you towards him. You gasped a little but smirked as his hands found your waist.

He slowly pulled away, the two of you breaking back for air. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He said.

You blushed and he moved his hand up to swipe away a stray piece of hair, “Can I do it again?” He asked.

“Please do.”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing x reader #titans x reader #titans imagine #titans #batman #batman imagine

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norisxfics · 4 years

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NCT’s Dorm Maid: Chapter 6 - Haechan

Title: NCT 127’s Dorm Maid

Genre: smut

Chapter: 6

Characters: Haechan x oc/reader

Chapter Masterlist

Previous Chapter

I had gotten closer to Mina since she first started working here. She was really cool and fun to hang out with, not to mention really good at games. We played pretty often together. We liked to bug and pick on each other, it mostly me who was bugging her though. At some point our normal teasing and jokes turned into sexual ones, it mostly jokes but at times it got a bit more serious than a joke.

She really enjoyed teasing me a lot and it honestly drove me crazy. She was always the more straightforward one saying the most while I was more shy and kept it more tame.

Today was the same as usual, she started teasing me, working me up and saying some lewd things. We were on our way back to the company building to talk about some new songs and record in the studio and she knew that, yet she still wanted to work me up. The last thing she sent me was an image of her holding a pink dildo against her chest, her cleavage out in the open with the text “What should I do with this toy?”.

I cursed under my breath and checked around me to make sure no one saw. I decided to stop being tame and let myself go as I wrote my reply.

Haechan: There’s a lot you can do with that toy, but that doesn’t matter. Let me tell you what I would do to you instead. After I strip you down I’m going to touch you and kiss everywhere, I’m going to mark you all over, and when I finish doing that I’m going to spread those thighs of yours wide open and eat out that sweet little pussy of yours like there’s no tomorrow, licking up every bit of your sweet sweet juices. I’m going to bend you over my lap and spank you till your ass is red then I’ll make sure to fuck you so good you can’t walk the next day. That toy? Let me tell you what you can with that toy, you’re gonna fuck yourself with it while I watch, hell I’ll fuck you along with that silly toy of yours and stretch out that pussy of yours.

I never usually spoke like this with her, or anyone at the fact, it just came out, even I was surprised at myself. About a minute passed before she finally replied.

Mina: Holy shit Haechan, this is the first time I’ve seen you speak like this, do you know how wet you just made me? Fuck I never knew that you could be this dirty, who are you and what’d you do to my sweet Haechan?

Haechan: You asked for it, just sayin’ anyway gotta go record ttyl

Mina: Oh no you don’t

Mina: Haechan you can’t just say something like that to me and leave me all hot and bothered

Mina: So that’s how it’s gonna be? Fine, let me know when you finish recording

I smirked to myself, muting my phone and putting it in my pocket before heading into the studio. After recording my parts I sat on the sofa outside the recording room plugging in my headphones into my ears, listening to music as I watched the others record their own parts. As I was going through my playlist I received another text from Mina.

Mina: You done yet, cutie?

Haechan: Yeah I just finished, I’m watching the others do their parts

Mina: good...guess what I’m doing right now

Haechan: Being a horny slut and playing with yourself

Mina: Damn you’re good at this…

Mina the Maid is calling…

I was flustered when she suddenly called, but I answered immediately

“H-hello?”

“Are you alone?”

“No, I’m sitting with the other members in the studio…”

“Hmm...can they hear me?”

I glanced up to see what everyone else was doing, some were on their phones some were practicing their lines.

“No, I have my headphones on,”

“Good, cuz I want you to hear me moan for you, baby,”

I felt my eyes pop out of my head. Was she really about to do this?

She was, she really was.

She began to describe how she was touching herself, her voice soft and seductive. I couldn’t help but picture everything she said.

I pictured her rubbing her clit with her fingers, sliding her fingers between her folds as they got covered with her wet juices. She let out the softest and sweetest moan I’ve ever heard as she began to finger herself, I could feel my face growing hotter. I glanced around the room, pulling a throw pillow into my lap. She soon moved her phone telling me to listen as she pleasured herself, the sound of her fingers slapping against her wet pussy flowing into my ears. I pictured my own fingers replacing hers, I pictured that it was me there pleasing her.

I could feel my breath grow heavier as I tried to keep a straight face. She was now using her toy, I could hear it vibrate as she pounded the toy into herself, her moans growing louder and my name being slipped in between moans. My length was uncomfortably hard now, pressing against my jeans.

“You okay?”

My train of thoughts was interrupted by Mark and I quickly hung up the call.

“Um...yeah I’m good,”

“You sure? Your face is red and you’re breathing heavily, are you sick?”

I bit down on my lip “yeah, I’m done right? You guys don’t need me anymore?”

“I think so…”

“I’m going to go home first then if that’s okay,”

“Sure-”

I rushed out of the studio and took a taxi straight home, once I arrived I took the elevator up to Mina’s floor, making my way straight to her door. Mina answered the door, she was wearing a silky black night robe. She gasped as I quickly grabbed her by her shoulders, pushing her inside and closing the door behind me. I picked her up by her thighs and pressed her against the wall, my lips crashing onto hers into a rough and heated kiss.

She wrapped her legs around my waist and arms around my neck as she returned the kiss.

“How about we take this to my room, cutie?” she mumbled against my lips. I’ve been to her apartment before to drop some things off so I had already known where her room was. I made my way inside, closing the door behind me with my leg before setting her down on the bed. She slipped out of her robe before lying back on the bed, smirking at me as she gestured for me to come closer.

I admired the view of her body, my heart racing at the sight of her. Usually I would be more shy and hesitant but I was too worked up and heated to even think about it. I climbed onto the bed, sitting over her waist. My hands roamed along her body, the feeling of her skin underneath my fingers exciting me.

I then cupped her breasts and began massaging them, I leaned down and started kissing down her neck and collarbone. As my lips moved down along her skin she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me down against her as she started moving her hips against mine. I couldn’t help the groan that left my lips, my eyes going up to meet with hers. She then cupped my face, bringing me in for a kiss. This time the kiss was more gentle and sweet. Her lips were soft and tasted sweet, I don’t know why I didn’t notice this earlier.

My hips pushed down into hers, moving along with hers, her soft moans were music to my ears. Encouraging me to continue. Her hands moved down my chest, grasping onto my shirt, I broke the kiss to help her get it off, she tossed it off to the side before looking up at me, her tongue swiping across her lips with a smirk. I gulped.

“N-noona...can you sit on my face please? I wanna taste you,”

She then non-hesitantly pushed me off of her and onto the bed before climbing on top of me “you’re such a cutie, you know that?” she let out a soft giggle and I blushed “If you keep calling me a cutie I won’t let you off easily,”

“Oh? Tough guy huh? We’ll see about that later, baby,”

She fixed her position so that my head was now resting between her thighs. I stared up at the sight of her swallowing back my saliva. I wanted to taste her so bad.

“You hungry, baby? Make sure to eat it all up and don’t leave any left overs, okay baby?” She chuckled softly, and I wrapped my arms around her thighs “ Don’t mind if I do,” I pulled her down and began exploring her sweet wet lips. Tongue moving between them and against her sensitive bud. I soon began to suck on it, letting out a soft groan as I tasted her.

I felt her fingers running through my hair before she tightly grasped onto it, whimpering out my name. I spread her lips apart and slipped my tongue into her, moving my tongue along her walls as I tasted her. She soon lifted her hips, I was going to question it but she had changed her position, turning around and reaching for my jeans, undoing them. I lifted my hips as she pushed my jeans and boxers down, my cock springing up as it was finally free from the restraints of my jeans.

I grabbed Mina’s hips, pulling her back down as I continued to eat her out. I felt her hand wrap around my shaft stroking it as she started teasing my tip with her tongue before I felt her lips wrap around it, tongue still flicking against the tip as she sucked it, a groan escaping my lips.

I had never tried this position before, honestly there’s a lot I never tried yet and right now the way she was sucking me off, she was so damn good. I tried not to thrust into her mouth. She took my cock as deep as it would go, she gagged on it and I worried but as she continued I realized she was enjoying it. She moaned against my cock, making me moan in response against her.

When she released my cock from between her lips I almost let out a whine. She climbed off of me and off the bed, pulling my jeans and boxers off of my legs then she stood there staring at me as I propped myself onto my elbows. She was smirking at me, looking down at me with lust filled eyes, her fingers were gently grazing over my knee, slowly moving up my thigh as she climbed back onto the bed over my lap.

“Tell me cutie, do you want to feel what it’s like to be inside of me?” I gulped, her sweet yet seductive tone entrancing me. I couldn’t say anything, I could only nod.

Her hips were now right over mine, she positioned my cock at her entrance tilting her head “hmm? Sorry I didn’t hear an answer, baby,”

I cursed “fuck, yes, I want to feel you, noona”

“Then beg,”

I was surprised when she asked me to beg, her tone was authoritative and dominant and hell it was sexy. I never thought I’d be into a dominant woman but here I was. Completely turned on by it.

“Please, Noona, let me feel you, I want to fuck you, make you moan, please,”

She gave me a sweet smile.

“Good Boy,”

She started lowering her hips onto my cock, slowly, very painfully slow, I couldn't help but whimper. Once I was buried deep inside her she began to slowly ride me, moving her hips in different motions. I rested my head back against the mattress, gripping onto her hips. She was teasing me too much at this point going painstakingly slow and I couldn’t take it anymore, so I thrusted my hips up into her and she let out the cutest sounding gasp.

“Oh my, is my little cutie getting impatient,”

“Call me cutie one more time,”

“Or what? You’ll spank me? That’s cute~”

I tightened my grip on her hips, flipping her over onto the bed so that I was now on top. I began thrusting my hips roughly into her “Oh, fuck, Donghyuck,” she moaned “Fuck, yes just like that, baby,” she held onto my shoulders but I grabbed them, pinning her wrists down above her head.

I pressed my lips against hers before trailing the kiss up to her ear.

“I told you to stop calling me cutie, you goddamn slut,” I growled into her ear. I then felt her walls tighten around my cock, as she cursed under her breath.

I began to move my hips deeper and harder into her, my breath hot and heavy against her ear “Fuck you feel so good,” I moaned. I soon stopped my movements, pulling out of her “get on your stomach,” when she rolled on to her stomach I appreciated the sight of her soft round ass. I ran my hands down her back and over her ass, giving her a squeeze. I then positioned my tip at her entrance before thrusting into her.

I leaned down and started kissing her shoulder, her hips squirming underneath me as I fucked her. Her moans and whimpers were just so beautifully lewd that she could have been mistaken for a porn star.

I soon felt her getting tighter around me and she started squirming more beneath me “Fuck, Donghyuck I’m gonna come,” I nodded, too immersed in the moment to speak. I kissed her neck and continued moving my hips, pounding into her. I felt her start shaking beneath me, her hips jerking up into me as her juices flowed out.

I continued to thrust into her though and she would move her hips with mine, once I felt myself getting closer, I let out a groan “Noona...can I come inside you?”

“Yes, baby, come for me, fill me up,”

Her words set me off. I gave a final thrust before releasing my juices into her. I rode out my climax, slowing down my movements before pulling out. She turned underneath me, examining my face as I tried to catch my breath. She then wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into her and I didn’t hesitate to snuggle up against her.

“You did so good, baby, are you tired?”

She spoke softly, gently brushing her fingers through my hair. I nodded my head in response “haven’t felt that good in a while…”

“Well, whenever you wanna do it again you can always come to me, I can make you feel good anytime you need me to, baby”

After cuddling for a little while I put my clothes on and headed back up to my apartment.

When I entered my room Johnny was there on his bed, he looked up at me as I walked in and walked over to my closet “Where have you been? I texted you and called you a few times and you didn’t answer,” I froze for a moment before looking over at him.

“Sorry, Hyung, I was um...taking a walk,”

“You’re taking a walk so you don’t answer your phone?”

“I had it muted because I wanted some time to myself, you know?” Johnny raised a brow, it felt like he was staring at me as if he could see right through me. Images of what had happened earlier then popped in through my head and I blushed. I quickly grabbed my towel from the closet “whatever it’s not a big deal, I’m going to go shower.”

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your-wings-of-freedom · 4 years

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“Mom?”

Authors Note: Levi Solo (Sorry x Reader lovers!) This was going somewhere and then it wasn’t. It’s been stuck in my head so I wanted to get this out of the way before I get to my requests. This was actually such a challenge to write TT^TT Words: 1,905 Summary: If Levi had a chance to speak to his Mom again.

‘…What the hell?’ Steel grey orbs cast their gaze over a set of shelves that had a nice display of different matching sets of teacups and teapots, as his eyes continued to sweep across the room, on the wall opposite was a set of shelves that housed a decent array of tea leaves. ‘What is this?’ He seemed to be in an empty teashop. Not a bad place to be if you asked him. But how did he get here? What the hell was he doing here? Had he died? Is this what the after-life looked like? Tch. He couldn’t decide whether it was a decent replacement of ‘heaven’ or not. A quaint teashop didn’t sound all that bad… but it still begged the question of what the hell was going on? Is this a dream? It feels different than a dream. His dreams…well… he didn’t dream. He had nightmares. He glanced down and found his was still in his uniform, minus the green cape that proudly wore the emblem they stood for, and the heavy weight of the ODM gear. Still, he wore the brown jacket with the Wings of Freedom patches proudly on display on the upper arms of the jacket. Even without the ODM gear, he still wore the straps and boots that came with the uniform, signature cravat too. Luckily for him, he was in pristine condition; not even a speck of dust on his uniform. Impeccably clean.

“Hi Baby.”

His head snapped up from inspecting his uniform, grey eyes widening at the sound of a voice behind him, lips parted as a shaky gasp fell past. It can’t be. He knew that voice. He spent quiet moments in the late hours of the night (or early hours of the morning) fearing he was beginning to forget what that voice sounded like. But he could never forget. It was full of what this world was robbed of; purity, sweetness, beauty, comfort. Head still face forwards, his orbs travelled sideways, managing to catch a glimpse of a long flow of raven locks. While it couldn’t exactly confirm anything, there was no denying that it only added to the list of key factors. He was too scared to turn around. Heh. Could you believe it? A boy who lost someone he loved so much, had the opportunity to talk to them, and now he couldn’t find it in himself to turn around. Could you blame him though? The shit that he’s seen, that he’s gone through… this almost feels like it’s a cruel joke. That he’s going to turn around and find someone else, or something else. The rapid beating of his heart worked in overdrive as his lungs stopped working, unable to breathe, he swore he could hear the blood rushing through his veins in his ears as he finally turned around and his steel grey eyes rested upon one of the most beautiful women who ever graced his life. “Mom?” a man in his thirties asked the question like a scared a little child. The woman, his mom, let out the softest, sweetest sound of laughter he’d ever heard. Genuinely having forgotten what her laughter had sounded. He watched as her eyes closed when her smile reached those twinkling orbs, lips that produced one of the most beautiful smiles were pulled back to show a set of gleaming white teeth, long locks of raven hair swayed slightly with the sound of laughter from her. “You’ve grown into quite the handsome young man.” Part of him wanted to run to her, touch her, hug her, make sure she’s real and not just a figment of his imagination, or some cruel trick. But he stayed where he was, and she made no attempts to move closer to him, sensing the hesitancy within him. A mother’s intuition never dies.

He glanced around the tea-shop, taking it in before his eyes cast back on the woman before him. “…Am I dead?” Her smile of laughter dropped to a more gentle smile, “No, baby. It’s not your time. You’re only dreaming.” He’s dreaming of his mother in a tea-shop of all places? The hell? Why here? Why not in a field of flowers where there’s blue sky and a warm sun? The thing he longed to be able to give his mom and yet they were still stuck in a room full of walls? He took a few steps to glance outside the window of the teashop, surprised to see a blue sky up above them with the odd bird flying by. So, they weren’t in the underground then? Good. It’d be a really shitty dream if that were the case – to have his mom here still stuck underground. His gaze dropped from looking at the sky to resting on the street before them, though not really focusing his gaze on something in particular. She was quietly watching him, always having all the patience in the world with him. He really has grown into quite the handsome man. Not exactly the hairstyle she would have chosen for him but it suited him well.

“You look sad Levi.” Her soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts and his eyes cast back over to her. He stared at her for a good few moments. The waves of emotion crashing in those grey orbs of his; trying to remain suspicious of his ‘mother’, thinking it’s nothing more than a cruel joke – almost expecting a titan to appear, but quickly losing the fight because he just wants his mom. Then there’s so much he wants to say to her but he can’t find the right words, and so much has happened – the majority of it comes from a copious amount of lives lost beneath his command and - “Don’t, sweetheart. Don’t do that to yourself.” She suddenly interrupted his train of thought, reading him like a book. “Do what?” It was probably stupid to play dumb but he did so anyway. He didn’t want to worry her, or fill her with all the negative shit he deals with on a daily basis. This is his mom. He didn’t want to drag her down. Steel eyes hardened as he tried to cover up the wave of emotions washing over him, but failed to do so under his mother’s gaze. “Blame yourself. None of it was your fault.”

His lips parted to argue against her but words failed upon him. Especially when his gaze met his mother’s and she knowingly stared back at him. He couldn’t help but buckle beneath it. So he chose to remain silent, knowing if he didn’t, his voice would give away just how much he was truly struggling. “I’ve watched you make some of the toughest decisions, Levi. I’ve watched you force yourself to do things you didn’t want to do for the sake of achieving a greater success. No regrets, remember? Isn’t that what you said? I’ve watched you lose people and carry the weight of that burden upon your shoulders. You feel their loss and you carry it heavily in your heart while putting on a strong face. No one else has that kind of strength. I watch how you still manage to carry your comrades through it all, despite all of what has been lost. ‘Humanity’s Strongest’ – I believe it.” This earned Levi’s typical ‘Tch’ scoff, which made his Mom smile slightly in amusement before it softened to a genuine smile, “I’m proud of you Levi. I’m so, so proud.” His eyes had long since trailed off his Mom as he stared at one of the chairs, listening to her words, but they snapped up when she said she was proud of him. What the hell was there anything to be proud of? And out came one of the deepest fears he carries with him on a daily basis. “I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t protect you!” “Oh sweetheart…” Narrowed grey eyes watched as his Mom moved from where she was standing, now that Levi didn’t seem overly suspicious or hostile, and walked over to him, cupping his face in her hands. His eyes widened at how gentle and soft her touch was. Not realizing, until now, just how much he had truly missed everything about her.

“I wanted to get you out of that wretched place. I wanted you see the sunlight, feel it on your skin.” She smiled softly at him, her gaze adoringly held his. What did she do to deserve such a kind-hearted son? Her thumb softly caressed his cheek, “I do, Levi. Every time you ride out and look up at the sky, I see it through your eyes. Don’t ever stop cherishing those small moments. You suffer so much pain, I don’t want you to lose sight of the little moments that matter.” She pulled him into the warmest embrace he’s ever felt - then again, he’s not exactly the hugging, physical-affection type of guy, but in this moment he melted beneath her embrace. His arms wrapping around her and burying his face in her neck, where she also tucked him in, her cheek resting upon his raven locks. His eyes fluttered shut at the warmth and peace that enveloped him. The smell of jasmine overcoming his senses, was this his Mom’s preferred smell? She never had such luxuries like perfume. If she smelt like Jasmine… he must start remembering to keep an eye out for some. He felt his Mom’s arms tighten ever so slightly around him. Suddenly everything felt alright. Safe. He’s never had that feeling before. “…I miss you Mom. I wish you were here.” He whispered, fingers gripping her a little bit tighter, too scared to let her go. He felt her move ever so slightly as she pressed her lips to his head in a tender kiss, whispering back, “I’m always here baby.”

A lone tear slid down his cheek. He missed her. He missed her so much. He often wondered whether his Mom would have been proud of him, or disappointed in him. But she was nothing but supportive, loving, encouraging, empathetic. Just how he remembered her to be. She may not have had the most glamourous job underground, but that never stopped Levi in believing her to be one of the most graceful souls he’s ever known.

Light faded to dark as he stirred awake, feeling the tear slip down his cheek. It wasn’t often he fell asleep for a long period of time to the point where the candle was almost dying out. Still, it made a nice change to dream about his Mom rather than be riddled with nightmares. Rubbing his sleeve against his cheek to the wipe the tear away, he stood up from the desk and stretched his limbs out from being slumped over the desk too long. Suppose he was lucky that the dream didn’t last too long otherwise his Mom would’ve reprimanded him for his bad habits. Probably even worse when it came to the shit that comes out of his mouth sometimes. And also how he could be a little more lenient on the kids.

He walked over to the window and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as he glanced up at the night sky where the stars shimmered like diamonds and the moon shone brightly. ‘…Every time you look up at the sky, I see it through your eyes….’

Okay Mom.

End Note: Might do one for Petra. Have Levi tell her he loves her or whatever. Depends on how well-received this fic is and whether or not readers consider it slightly too out of character (which I won’t take offence. I tried to keep him in character but he’s also quite complex).

Also my lil HC is that Jasmine reminds him of his Mom. I imagine that she wouldn’t have a lot of access to any nice smelling perfume underground, or if at all, but IF she did, I feel like Jasmine would have been her scent.

Reviews/thoughts would definitely be appreciated ^^”

#Levi Ackerman x Reader #Levi x Reader #Levi Comfort #Levi Requests Open #kuchel ackerman #Kuchel x Levi #Levi Ackerman Dreams #Levi Ackerman Mom #your-wings-of-freedom

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whenihaveyouromione · 3 years

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 8

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer.

Follow the Instagram account ‘whenihaveyou.romione’ for extra stuff, including writing challenges and dtiys stuff.

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Chapter 8

Ron had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. Not only was he on a date with Hermione, she had taken him to Muggle London, and they were now standing out the front of a building that she called a cinema.

She'd tried explaining exactly what it was to him, and what he got from it was sitting in front of one giant, talking portrait for two hours, and he was supposed to enjoy it.

Well, he was going to enjoy it, but it wasn't going to be because of this giant talking portrait thing. Hermione had dressed up for the occasion, and while he considered her amazing all the time, he really couldn't help but admire just how beautiful she looked under the street lights in Muggle London. And he'd told her as such. It felt strange saying it, but she seemed to appreciate the compliment.

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked. "It starts in ten minutes."

Ron nodded. He'd probably never be ready for an introduction into the Muggle world — not completely — but he supposed he'd have to get used to it if he wanted to be with Hermione for the long haul. And he wanted that more than anything (though he wouldn't dare tell her that yet).

"You just do all the talking. I don't want to look like an idiot."

They walked slowly into the building, and Ron's first thought was of his dad and how this would have been some kind of heaven for Arthur Weasley. He'd probably be unable to contain himself with all the new things that were here to play with.

Hermione made her way to a counter where a young Muggle girl was standing. There were lots of sweets around, things Ron had never seen before. He looked at them, stunned.

Hermione purchased the tickets using Muggle money (it amazed him that she knew exactly what she was doing), and then they left the counter and stood by a door with the number 3 plastered across it.

"I think you'll really like the sweets here, Ron," Hernione whispered after a moment. "I'll be back." And before he could ask her not to leave him alone, she disappeared again, digging into her small handbag for more money.

It slightly bothered him that he wasn't able to contribute to their very first date, but at the same time, he knew that in the coming months he'd be able to make up for it. He'd sent a reply to Kingsley that afternoon to accept his offer. Training as an Auror was a paid job, and for the first time ever, Ron was going to have his very own money. He was excited at the idea, but also relieved. Harry had always had a lot of money, and despite having Muggle parents, Hermione never seemed to be short of Galleons either (apparently her parents were paid well in their Muggle jobs). Now, he could join them. He could even contribute to things like he'd never been able to before.

While Hermione was gone, Ron took the moment to take in his surroundings without looking like he didn't belong there. It was a fascinating place, this cinema. He doubted he'd ever learn how everything worked, but he supposed he could try. Hermione was proud of her Muggle parentage, and it would mean a lot to her if he tried to embrace aspects of it. He just hoped she would be patient with him.

She returned a little later carrying lots of food he'd never seen before. His eyes drifted from her to the food and then back again.

"You'll like it," she promised, beaming. "I tried to pick things that are similar to what you're used to."

To Ron, none of it looked the slightest bit similar to the abundance of wizarding sweets he was used to, but he nodded. There was a queue forming out the front of the doors they were supposed to be entering. The people around them were talking eagerly about the anticipation of this ‘movie’ they would be seeing, and Ron listened in on the conversations with wide eyes.

Soon, the doors opened and people began filing in slowly. Ron took some of the food from Hermione to help her carry it, remembering that she couldn’t just use her wand to levitate everything in front of her. Reaching the front of the line, Hermione handed over the tickets to a worker and she led them to their seats.

This cinema reminded Ron very much of the Great Hall, but smaller… and with the long House tables removed. And rather than the teachers right at the front, there was a ginormous thing that Hermione called a ‘screen.’ As they sat down, she muttered to him quickly, trying to explain how it worked.

So, that was where he’d see the big talking portrait thing in a moment. He’d been expecting it to be quite a bit smaller.

“You alright?” Hermione asked, seeming to sense his discomfort. She suddenly looked concerned, as if wondering if she’d made the right decision coming here.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Just going to take some getting used to, isn’t it?”

She smiled. “You’ll like it, I promise. I… um… picked something gentle for your first experience.”

Ron wasn’t sure what she meant by that, and he didn’t have time to ask her to explain either, for in that moment the lights turned off and the giant portrait in front of them flashed on. He nearly jumped out of his seat, and might have done so had Hermione not seemed to anticipate the reaction and held firmly onto his arm.

“What the hell is that?” he hissed, pointing to the giant portrait.

“The movie,” Hermione said calmly. “Well, it will be. These are just some ads.”

Ron directed his gaze up to the screen, eyeing it suspiciously. Muggles would continue to amaze him, he supposed, if this was what they considered entertainment.

But, by it turning on, it seemed to have some kind of magical effect on everyone, for they all fell silent at once. Ron looked around. Every single person had their eyes looking up at the screen.

He sunk into his chair and looked down at the food in his lap. Well, if he was going to be here for two hours, he may as well try everything.

Hermione had been right about one thing, at least. He did like the Muggle sweets. She’d bought quite a mix, but hardly touched any of them herself (something about her parents being Muggle teeth Healers and convincing her too much sugar was bad).

The movie started, and for a while, Ron watched it in fascination. He once again thought of his dad who would have been absolutely thrilled to be here. It was quite entertaining, the show. He laughed a few times, along with everyone else. They said some ridiculous things, but he understood it enough to find it funny.

After a while, though, his attention drifted to Hermione. She really was beautiful, and he wished he had told her more often over the past month and a bit, because now he wasn't going to be able to tell her for a long time.

Seeming to sense his eyes on her, she turned her head and smiled at him. He really wanted to kiss her, but even he knew this probably wasn't the place to do it. It seemed a little too open.

So instead, he settled for reaching across the armrest and holding her hand, which she accepted and her smile widened at the gesture.

It seemed strange that this was to be their last night together for a while, and yet it was their first time on an actual date. Everything had been so backwards because of the war, and he couldn't help but wonder, if they had started out normally, would he have felt the same way about her?

He decided he would have. The situation hadn't made him feel this way; it was her. It was all her.

When the movie finished, everyone stood up to leave. Ron watched them, mildly fascinated at how normal this seemed for everyone. This was what they did for fun, when they couldn't do magic. This was what Hermione must have done before she got her Hogwarts letter.

A thought occurred to him as they walked slowly from the cinema, hand-in-hand. "Hermione, I've never asked you before, but do they have Muggle schools?"

"Yes, Ron," Hermione said, sounding mildly amused. "Harry has mentioned it more than once over the years. I daresay I have too."

"And you went to one?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I did. Since I was about six."

"What did you learn there?"

Hermione stopped right before the exit, turning to face him, and looking exasperated. "Are you really wanting to spend tonight talking to me about my educational history?"

"Er, no, not really. I was just curious, is all."

Hermione smiled. "Can you be curious another day?"

Ron nodded. He then looked around. People were beginning to file out of the building and disbanding in different directions. "Where to now?"

Hermione gave him a rather devious look as she grabbed his hand again and dragged him onto the streets. It was quite busy, and they blended in nicely.

“I really hate it when you get an idea in your head and don’t tell me what it is!” Ron huffed as Hermione turned down a quiet road with very few people. “Where are we going?”

Still without answering, Hermione pulled him into an alley off the road. The moment they were out of sight, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her so quickly that he didn’t think she intended for her back to hit the wall as hard as it did.

“Are you alright? That sounded —”

“Just shut up for once, Ron,” Hermione breathed, and she drew him into a deep kiss.

Surprised, Ron pulled away, both of them breathing heavily. He stared down at her. “Hermione!”

“What?”

“This is so very unlike you.”

The devious look she’d given him before, returned. “Well, I feel a little adventurous…”

“Here?” Ron asked, gesturing down the alley. “Really?”

She shrugged, drawing him towards her again in another attempt to kiss him. This time, he let her, moving his hands to her face. She tasted the sweetest she ever had, her lips the softest they had ever been.

He groaned, reluctantly breaking away.

“What?” she asked, the street light giving him a glimpse of her very flustered face.

“I love you,” he breathed. “You do things to me, you know? Amazing, wonderful, incredible things.”

Hermione smiled up at him, her arms tightening around his neck, as if she was making a point — though, he didn’t know what that was. Then, just as Ron was about to kiss her again, three people walked past the alley and Hermione lowered her arms. “Should we go?”

“Where?” Ron asked, his voice weak.

"Your room?”

Ron gripped her tightly and she smiled.

“Come on, I’ll Apparate us both.”

Ron didn't have time to ask anymore questions before they were spinning through the air and landing moments later in his bedroom.

He stared at her. Out of courtesy, his family always Apparated from and to the Apparition point just by the boundaries of the Burrow. Especially so late at night, when…

But his thought never finished, because Hermione had thrown herself at him once more, kissing him so furiously that he lost his footing.

No thoughts were in his head now aside from her. All he could comprehend was her and how much he loved her, how much he wanted her, and how much both of them seemed to want their last night to be memorable.

He kissed her back with so much force that she sighed in response and her hands came around his neck and then she pulled him onto his bed.

Then he was entirely lost in her, his mind turning into a big pile of mush simply by having her so close to him.

He was going to miss this. He was going to miss everything about her, about their relationship, so damn much.

…

Ron woke the next morning to a feeling of complete bliss. He savoured the moment, keeping his eyes closed and remembering every detail of last night, every detail of Hermione, from her eyes, to her mouth, to the way her body felt against his. He knew that once he opened his eyes, the reality of today would hit him, and he wasn’t ready for that quite yet. He’d savour the last moments with Hermione for as long as he could.

There had been a moment last night where he’d been overcome with so much love for her and he’d accepted something that he’d not allowed himself to think about until then — there was no one else for him who could possibly make him as happy as she did. She was it. It was either her or no one, but Merlin, he hoped it was always going to be her.

He had a vague memory of perhaps telling her that at some point, but he couldn’t quite remember. If he had, he hoped she didn’t mind him being so forward. She didn’t seem to have minded, though. Or maybe she thought he’d only said it because of the moment they were in. But he’d mean it without sex being a factor. He hoped she knew that too.

He felt her stir within his arms and he smiled, finally opening his eyes. “You’re not going to forget about me while you’re gone, are you?”

“You’re not going to forget about me when you’re immersed in your Auror training, are you?”

Ron’s smile widened. “Never.”

She returned his smile. “Then, never.”

He shuffled forward, kissing her, drawing her body towards him. He’d spent most of the night doing that, but it never got boring. Besides, he had to make up for all the times he was going to miss while they were apart.

“I love you, Hermione. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Ron.”

He began absently stroking her hair, watching her, knowing that soon this would have to end; that soon they'd have to get up and she'd be going away and that he'd not see her for at least a month.

"Let's just stay here forever," he said. "You, me, forget about everything and everyone else. Who needs to be an Auror? Plenty of jobs out there, right?"

Hermione laughed. "Can you really see yourself working at the Leaky Cauldron, washing dishes your whole life?"

Ron shrugged. "If I got to come home to you every night after, then why not?"

Hermione smiled, then grabbed his wrist to look at his watch. "The Portkey leaves at eleven, so we still have a few hours. I'm all packed, so we've got the whole morning together. What would you like to do?"

Ron considered telling her that sex would be good, but by the look on her face, that didn’t seem to be an option, so instead he settled against her and said, "I just want to stay here."

And that was where they laid, for at least an hour longer. Then his mother called them for breakfast. She no longer came into his room ever since the incident some weeks ago now.

Reluctantly, they got out of bed, dressed, and then headed downstairs to find everyone else already up.

"How was your evening, dears?" Molly asked as they sat at the table. Ron immediately began helping himself to eggs and sausages.

"Do you really want an answer to that, Mum?" Ginny asked, smirking, and both Ron and Hermione turned a bright red.

Molly, shooting Ginny a rather disgusted look, said, "How was the picture… moving… thing?"

"Hilarious," Ron said, grinning. "I think I'll go again. There's different ones, right, Hermione? You'd like it, Ginny."

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"You, me and Harry," Ron continued. "Harry can work out the Muggle money for us. Will be fun."

Ginny didn't look convinced, but Harry, who was sitting beside her, nodded. "You know, I've never actually been. The Dursleys didn't really feel it necessary to invite me to any, whenever they went."

"Hm, sounds like the three of you have already got plenty to do for the next few weeks," Molly said, and a smile crossed her lips. She'd been thrilled to learn that Ron was no longer going to another country and had made a point to emphasise this delight whenever she got the chance.

Breakfast was one of the best in a long time, Molly going to an effort to make Hermione's final morning with them memorable. After they'd eaten, they made their way to the living room where Charlie and Percy were talking about dragons and the Ministry's handle on them before they left for work. It seemed that the two brothers disagreed with one another, and not wanting to involve themselves in the argument, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny hurried up to Ginny's room.

"Percy is a lot more tolerable now," Ginny said, "but he's still a prat at times. That will never change. Have you heard, he's got himself a girlfriend?"

"What?" the others all asked at the same time.

Ginny nodded, grinning. "He hasn't told anyone, but I caught him trying to work out how to send a letter the Muggle way the other day. Her name is Audrey, I think. She must be a Muggle." She shrugged.

Of all his brothers, Ron thought Percy would have been the least likely to find a Muggle to go out with. Ginny must have been mistaken. "Maybe she doesn't have an owl?"

Ginny shrugged again. "Maybe, but I don't think so. He kept muttering about how he didn't know how she survived with this kind of post…"

"The weirdest part in all that is Percy has a girlfriend," Ron said.

"Oh, Ron, he's so much better now," Hermione said. "I mean, after the war. And if she is a Muggle, then she's not going to know about… everything."

"You think he's told her?" Ron asked. "He's a stickler for rules, and telling her would be breaking a lot of them. Or does she think she's just dating some office bloke with a good, but secretive, job?"

No one had an answer for that, so they changed the topic, Harry wondering when the Quidditch league might start up again.

"Eh, soon, I hope," Ron said. "Maybe the break will do the Cannons some good. Honestly, they just keep putting together the worst combinations…"

The morning moved on far too fast for Ron's liking, and as much as he enjoyed the company of his sister and Harry, he now only had one hour left with Hermione. He dragged her from Ginny's room, and into his own.

"Ron—"

"I just want it to be us," he said. "At least for half an hour."

Hermione's face softened and she smiled.

Ron wrapped his arms around her, hugging her, but not in a way that was romantic; it was a way that said I'm going to miss you so goddamn much.

They stayed that way for some time, and when they did pull away, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. And she actually said the words.

"I'm going to miss you."

"Just write every few days," Ron said. "Keep me updated."

"Of course," Hermione said. "I'll let you know what happens when I find them. I'd imagine they'll be disoriented for a few days. Of course, that's if I can—"

"You will," Ron assured her. "You'll do it."

She smiled, her arms still around his neck. "I love you," she said. "I love you so much, and I wish I'd had the confidence to tell you a long time ago."

"Nah," Ron said, "if you had, we probably wouldn't be here right now. We probably would have broken up over something silly and may not even be speaking to each other. The timing was perfect."

“Broken up over what?” Hermione asked, sounding curious.

“I dunno.” Ron shrugged. “Something really stupid. Maybe I didn’t do my homework on time. Or maybe I said something insensitive, and it resulted in a silly argument. You know, old time’s sake.”

“We were a bit stupid, weren’t we?” Hermione said.

“Yeah, just a bit,” Ron agreed.

Eventually, they couldn't delay any more. Hermione picked up the beaded bag from where it sat on Ron's bed, and they headed back downstairs.

"All ready, dear?" Molly asked, smiling kindly.

Hermione nodded.

"And the Portkey leaves at eleven?"

Hermione nodded again. "So we better be going." She looked over her shoulder where Harry and Ginny emerged from the living room. "Are you two coming as well? If not, I'll say goodbye here…"

"Of course we're coming," Harry said. "We can't miss seeing you off."

Hermione smiled at them, then said goodbye to everyone else. A moment later, Molly put some Floo powder into the fire.

"Good luck, dear. I'm sure you'll manage to help your parents. And, do know that if they ever need somewhere to stay, they're welcome here, of course."

"Thank you, Molly."

"Because that's what they're going to want, Mum," Ron said. "After learning their minds had been altered by magic, to come and live with a whole family of wizards."

"Oh, Ron, stop!" Hermione said. "I'll see you there." And she disappeared in a wave of green flames.

When they'd all reached the Ministry, they were greeted by Percy, who was personally organising her travel. He looked at Hermione with a small smile.

"All ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, and they began following him to a lift.

They reached the level the Magical Transportation department was on and Percy led them into a large room.

There were so many odd and mis-matched objects in there, they could only be Portkeys.

"Which one are you going to take, Hermione?" Ron asked, amused. "An old sock or will it be a tin can?"

"Actually," Percy said, "it's a cushion."

Sitting on a desk was the frilliest, pinkest cushion Ron had ever seen. He snorted. "I love Portkeys."

"Five minutes, Hermione," Percy said.

Hermione turned to Harry and Ginny, and gave them each a hug.

"I'll miss you guys," she said. "And I'll be sure to write and keep you all updated."

"We'll see you when you get back, Hermione," Harry said. "If anyone can do it, it's you."

Hermione smiled gratefully at Harry, and then, looking rather teary-eyed, she looked at Ron and flung herself into his arms and kissed him hard.

Ron vaguely heard Ginny say to Harry, "What a goodbye!" He held onto her just a little longer until Percy's warning that she had thirty seconds forced her to break away (Ron kissed her one more time) and she clutched the cushion to her chest, as if using it for comfort.

"Have fun," Ginny said, waving. "See you when you get back."

Ten seconds and wanting to get the last word in, Ron said, "I love you!"

But before she could reply, the Portkey and Hermione vanished from the office.

A silence filled the room for some time, and Ron felt Harry's arm across his shoulders in an act of comfort.

It was Ginny who broke the silence. "So, Perce," she said, "you going to tell us about this girl?"

Percy stared at her. "What — how?"

"Is she a Muggle?" Ginny pressed.

Percy looked at her, an incredulous expression on his face. "How did you know?"

"Are you going to tell her?" Ginny continued. "Or will you wait until you're married? Imagine the shock..."

"What are the rules anyway?" Harry asked. "When you marry a Muggle? I've always wondered."

Percy just stared at them, lost for words.

Ginny grinned at him. "Well, you should introduce her to the family. Imagine the look on her face when she learns about Quidditch!" And leaving Percy with a thunderstruck expression, Ginny left the office with Harry and Ron following behind her.

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chubbymoongoddess · 4 years

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Pampered

I have no idea how I feel about this. i’m indifferent.. like I like it but I also don’t. But all that matters is that I tried- This is crossposted to ao3.

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Seokjin was adopted into a rather well off family during Christmas one year. He was essentially a gift for the couple’s rather spoiled son who absolutely loved the siamese hybrid. The boy would groom Seokjin, would cuddle him, even enter him into shows where the hybrid would win first place each time. Seokjin knew he was gorgeous. He knew he was purebred and he made sure everyone he met knew it. Over the years however, the boy lost interest in the hybrid, locking him in a cage when he didn’t want to be bothered, not grooming him.. At all, hell the kid barely even fed the poor siamese. He always opted to go out all night or even days at a time with friends, leaving Jin home alone, hungry and wondering what he had done wrong to deserve such treatment.

A day came where the boy had forgotten to lock Jin’s cage before he left with his friends, so Jin took this chance to escape. The boy’s parents were never home as it was, so leaving the house was as easy as walking through the front door. The siamese hybrid frowned once he was outside, looking back at the door only once before he made his way down the street. He had grown weak in the past months thanks to the neglect and had lost a substantial amount of weight. So when Seokjin had smelled a small hint of food in a nearby alley, his stomach loudly growled. So, he followed his nose. Unfortunately, the smell was just an empty pizza box, which had the weakened hybrid sniffling. How was he supposed to find food on his own? All he had ever known were his previous owners and the high quality hybrid food they had fed him. He didn’t know how to fend for himself out here. Maybe he should just give up, he thought, sliding down onto the dirty alley ground. He curled in on himself there, wrapping his arms around himself as he quietly cried, the pain in his stomach worsening.

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Jimin had just finished his daily walk through the neighborhood. He was just about to walk up his driveway when he heard a small cry coming from the alley next to his home. Out of pure curiosity, he turned and made his way into the alley, calling out gently. “Hello? Is anyone down here?” When he got no response, he stilled his movements, listening for the cry again. It took a few moments, but he did hear another few sniffles and whimpers, making the young man move deeper into the alley. It took no more than a few steps for him to see Seokjin curled in on himself and the sight of it had Jimin’s heart dropping. “Oh.. oh honey..” He frowned, kneeling down and holding his hand out as Jin peeked up at the blonde man. “Hi there.. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.. Are you lost? I can help you find your home if you are.”

Jin frowned at Jimin’s question and slightly shook his head. “No.. not lost. I don’t have an owner anymore..” The statement had Jimin’s frown deepening. He looked at the hybrid’s gaunt face and then over his obviously malnourished body. He must have been living out here for months without him knowing. “No owner?” Jimin spoke. “How long have you been out here, baby? It looks like a few months at most?” Again, Jin shook his head, curling up into a tighter ball. “No.. only about half an hour.. I’ve been neglected for y..years.” He was tearing up again, his voice wavering as he spoke and all Jimin could reply with was a soft “Oh.” How could anyone neglect a hybrid? Especially one that looked like he was the softest and sweetest thing on the planet. It took a few moments of thinking before jimin gently reached out to pet Jin’s matted hair. “Well.. I can’t in good conscience leave you out here. What’s your name, honey? And do you want to come home with me? I promise I’ll take very good care of you.”

Jin looked up immediately then, squinting his eyes at the other man in front of him. “You.. you promise? How.. How do I know I can trust you?” He sniffed, carefully shifting into a sitting position. “And my name is S..Seokjin..” “Well..” Jimin began, pulling his hand back for the moment. “How’s this, I’ll make you a deal. I’m a veterinarian for hybrids. So, if you want to come in, let me check you out, get you cleaned up and get you some food and a place to stay for the night, you can. If you want to leave in the morning, I won’t stop you. But, if you want to try letting me take care of you, you can stay. That okay? I really can’t leave you out here tonight by yourself.. It looks like it’s going to rain anyway.” This had the siamese weighing his options. On one hand, he could have food and a warm bed or on the other hand he could sleep out here and get rained on. Besides, this guy seemed pretty genuine and the look in his eyes told him how he felt.. He could have even sworn there were a few tears threatening to fall out of the other man’s eyes. With a sniff and a small sigh, Jin nodded. “O..Okay but only if you tell me your name too..” Jimin smiled, standing and reaching a hand out to the other. “My name is Jimin.”

Over the next few hours, Jimin had completely checked over Jin. He was obviously malnourished and had some issues with matted fur, but otherwise he was healthy. He used that term lightly. The smaller man showed the hybrid to the shower and let him bathe himself to give him privacy, though he checked on him every few minutes to make sure he was okay. After he had cleaned up and gotten out, Jimin had given him the biggest pair of pajamas he owned, hoping he’d be comfortable in them until he could buy him new clothes in the morning. Unfortunately, the younger man didn’t have any hybrid food on hand, so he decided to make dinner for the both of them that night. A little human food couldn’t hurt if it was just one day, he thought. While Jin ate, Jimin had to remind him to slow down so he wouldn’t get sick, since he hadn’t eaten in awhile. Thankfully, he listened and Jin ended up with a full belly for the first time in months.

After dinner, Jimin showed the taller man the room he’d be sleeping in, secretly grabbing a brush while the older looked around. “Seokjin? Would you mind if I brushed your hair before you settled into bed? It’ll help get any left over mats out of your hair.” Jin almost teared up again but nodded, slowly sitting down on the bed and letting Jimin crawl behind him. As the brush glided through his hair, Jin had started to purr. Something he hadn’t done in years. It sounded so foreign to him but he loved this attention and Jimin was being so gentle. He almost didn’t want it to stop, but it unfortunately had to. Ten minutes later, Jimin put the brush down and crawled off the bed, leaning over to press a small kiss to the hybrid’s temple. “There we go. If you need a nightlight, there’s one right there okay? I’ll see you in the morning and I hope you rest well. Remember to think about my offer, okay?” Jin quietly nodded and mumbled a soft “Thank you.” as Jimin left the room, closing the door behind him.

Seokjin did turn on the nightlight but he didn’t sleep. Instead, he laid out on the bed and thought. He thought about Jimin’s offer. Thought about how a stranger had shown him more love in a day than he had gotten the last two years. He was conflicted to say the least. What if Jimin was telling the truth? What if he really did take care of him and love him for the rest of his life? But.. What if he was lying? What if Jimin just abused him like his last owner? It took hours of thinking, but in the end, Jin had made up his mind. He had only gotten about three hours of sleep before the sun rose and the birds started chirping. It was okay though, he’d get better sleep tonight. The hybrid had quietly gotten out of bed when he heard noises coming from the kitchen. He quietly padded in peeking around the corner at Jimin. It took him a moment to gather the courage to clear his throat, but when he did, the shorter man turned and gave him a bright smile. “Seokjin! Come sit! I’m making breakfast.” The siamese nodded and moved quickly, sitting down at the table. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment as he watched Jimin cook. “Um..J..Jimin?” He squeaked, making the small blonde turn around once more, head tilted to show he was listening. “I was thinking.. I.. I wanna stay if you’re still offering.” Jimin beamed wide and bright at the older man. “Of course you can! You can have the room you slept in last night and after breakfast we can get you some new clothes and some proper food, okay?” For the first time in years, Seokjin cracked a small, genuine smile, nodding at Jimin’s words. “O..Okay!”

Jimin had kept his word, buying the hybrid all sorts of new outfits, high quality hybrid food and anything else he asked for which wasn’t much, just his own blanket and a few snacks. Jimin was fine with the snacks, one every once in a while wouldn’t hurt Jin thankfully. Over the next few weeks,the two had gotten closer and Jin had comfortably settled down in his new home. The hybrid had started to sleep with Jimin about a week in, snuggling against his back and hugging onto him as he slept. Jimin definitely didn’t mind this and it helped Jin sleep much better. Every now and then, Jimin would give Jin a few snacks or a few bites of his dinner, cooing and praising him, telling him how gorgeous he was. How good he was.

Every now and then became more than once a day and over the course of four months, Jin’s snacking had taken a toll on his weight. All of his shirts now rolled up the curve of his stomach and he had trouble getting any of his pants up and over his ass, which now wobbled whenever he would walk. His moobs jiggled in his shirt whenever he moved and he had a rather thick double chin as well as his thighs brushing together more and his arms having slight wings. This never phased him or Jimin even, as the shorter man would continue to dote on the hybrid. After his nightly grooming, Jimin would gently rub over his belly and sometimes even kiss at it, making sure to let Jin know how handsome he was. Why would Jin’s weight bother him anyway? He was still being loved and pampered and Jimin had shown no signs of stopping. Whenever he would snuggle the smaller man at night, he’d have him pressed into his tummy. Jimin seemed to like that, as he’d turn over and snuggle deeper into the feline’s wobbly tummy.

Seokjin had noticed how Jimin would watch him whenever he walked anywhere. He always had a small smile on his face whenever Jin’s sides would barely brush against the door frames in the house. Was there lust there? Probably. But Jin saw a ton of love in the other’s eyes as well whenever he caught him staring. There was a night where Jin crawled into bed and nudged Jimin, head tilted slightly. “Jiminnie? I always see you staring.. Do you um.. Wanna play with my belly? You seem to like it a lot..” The younger male blushed slightly but nodded. “I do like it, sweetheart. I love seeing you so happy and well.. Pampered like you’re supposed to be.” He mumbled while reaching to gently rub and grope at Jin’s slightly exposed belly. “I like how soft you’ve gotten and it’s really cute to see you waddling around the house and needing my help more often.” This had Jin’s chubby cheeks tinted pink and had him fiddling with his fingers. “You.. you know, I like it too? I love that you give me all of this love, it’s all I’ve ever wanted? And I like how you snuggle into me more now that I’ve gotten softer? So.. I wouldn’t mind if I kept getting.. Well, bigger.” Jimin smiled, leaning over to kiss the hybrid on his nose and cheeks. “If that’s what you want, Jinnie, then that’s what we’ll do, okay?” Jin nodded and smiled, relaxing completely against the bed as Jimin rubbed and played with his tummy, eventually nodding off.

-----------------

Two years had passed since Jin and Jimin’s talk and since then, the hybrid had ballooned. He couldn’t even turn sideways to get through the doors because his belly got stuck in the frame. If he tried to waddle through normally, his hips and ass would get wedged. Jimin had given up on making him wear clothes because he always grew out of his new ones within a month. Seokjin had gotten so big that Jimin had to buy a bigger bed for both of them to fit and even then, whenever the hybrid rolled over, he would crush Jimin under his belly. The younger didn’t mind it, especially in the winter. Jin’s belly had kept him warm whenever he was pinned under it. His belly drooped down, almost brushing the floor when he stood, his moobs had grown into full on breasts, his cheeks had plumped up and his double chin had started growing into a triple. Jin needed at least two and a half chairs if he could still sit at the table, but lately he’s been opting to lounge on the couch or the special cloud chair Jimin had bought him and placed near the window so he could sun. His thighs could rival tree trunks and his arms were just as flabby.

None of this stopped Jimin from doting on him or grooming him more than once daily now. His fur and hair were still healthy and sleek and with all of the praise the younger male had given him, jin knew he was still as gorgeous as ever. He was happy and he had a loving owner. It’s all he had ever wanted and it was never going to change.

#chubby bts #chubby jin #chubby seokjin #feedee jin #feeder jimin #hybrids #belly kink #fat kink

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Text

Dimension Jumping pt. 1

The Fellowship of the Ring x Reader

But a lot of the stories are about the reader falling into Middle Earth…. what about the other way around? If you wanted to do all the characters, you could do a point after they left Rivendell, before they split up?

Like for example, after Gandalf ‘dies’, and it could be something sweet and cute or whatnot where the reader helps them grieve a bit, give them a bit of a rest before continuing on their journey?

—

Weekends have always been your favorite time of the week.

No responsibilities, sleeping in, more time, freedom, the list goes on and on.

Your weekends are usually spent idly doing things you enjoy, like sleeping, and lot’s of stress free activities.

Not this weekend though, for when you got home after a grocery run, you were met with quite the surprise.

A total of 8… people? lay strewn about in your living room seemingly unconscious. They are dressed in odd clothes, holding medieval looking weapons, and they look rather raggedy and dirty. Four of them are extremely small, and if it weren’t for their older looking faces, you would’ve thought them to be children. There’s also a handsome blond with pointy ears, a short red headed, bearded… man, and two semi-regular looking tall dudes.

Your groceries fall from your arms and land on your carpeted floor, but you barely pay that any mind since you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the pile of people in the middle of your damn living room.

Your floofy white dog Penny is sniffing around them, but she doesn’t seem to be alarmed nor agitated by their presence, so that’s good at least. She’s an excellent judge of character after all. Eventually she settles down next to the tall guy with dark brown hair, and though you don’t like that she’s next to these strangers, you allow it.

The sound of your things falling to the ground seems to rouse them, and you watch as the man wearing dark clothing with dark hair opens his eyes and groans quietly. At first his eyes scan around the room, then they fall upon you.

He sits up slowly, still eyeing you as he glances down at his small child-looking friends. A look of relief passes his expression before he looks at you once more, saying nothing while the rest of his merry band of crazies begin to sit up.

This is supposed to be your fucking day off, and this shit happens? A bunch of renaissance weirdos laying in your house, making your clean carpet dirty.

“You know what, no.” You state loudly, successfully startling the dark haired man, “This is my weekend off, and I am not dealing with this. Whatever this is."

You turn on your heel and begin picking up your groceries, though you remain vigilant incase one of them intends to try something.

Once you’ve gathered all your discarded things you stand again and look behind you, seeing that most of them are on their feet and looking at you and your home as if you’re some alien in a structure unknown to them. You quickly look forward again and go to your kitchen, placing everything on your counters while you try to decide how the hell you’re going to deal with this.

You look over your counter at the still staring people and ask slowly, "Does… anyone want a snack?”

Two of the small blonde men perk up when you say ‘snack’, so you take that as a yes and begin preparing apples, celery, and peanut butter for everyone to eat.

By the time you’re done cutting up the apples you’ve only got two left, but you just sigh and bring out a tray with the snack and place it on the coffee table.

The two blond… boys? run over to it immediately, but are halted by a sharp “No.” from the brown-haired guy.

Said brown-haired guy is looking at you distrustfully, and you feel your blood begin to boil with his distrust (even though HE is in YOU home).

“Okay dude, I get you don’t know me or whatever but you guys literally broke into my house, so if anyone is supposed to be cautious here it’s me. M. E. Me. I’m offering your… children…? Adult babies? Boys? Food, and damnit if they want it then they’re gonna eat it.” Your little outburst gets you several shocked looks, but you’re so FUCKING tired, you’ve just got no energy to deal with this.

“We 'broke into your house’?” He repeats slowly, “I have no recollection of our relocation to your… house, and I’ve never seen someone of your caliber, nor a place so… odd, before. So forgive me if I am skeptical of our suspiciously willing host.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and it successfully ruffles your self control.

“Now you listen here Mr. Broody, I’m not about to get sass in my own home. By god if Penny didn’t seem to love you so much I would vaporize you where you stand!” Big talk for such a small person, yes, but you stand by your statement.

Only you don’t get the reaction you were expecting, because suddenly everyone looks horrified.

“You can do that?” One of the small blond boys(?) gasps, scooting closer to his look-alike.

The guy you were mouthing off to grabs the hilt of his -is that a fucking sword?!- weapon and steps in front of the small guys. The tall blond dude, other actual human, and short ginger haired man do the same, and suddenly you feel a lot less satisfied.

“Woah there fellas, It’s a figure of speech!” You say quickly, raising your hands in a surrender motion.

Penny senses your sudden distress, so she bounds over to you and presses her nose against your knee in a way meant to gather your attention. You glance down at her and visibly relax before looking back up at the still tense men in front of you.

“Tough crowd…” You reach down slowly and pat Penny’s head, watching as their eyes follow your movements. “Okay, look. I’m not going to like, poison you or whatever you’re afraid of. How about we start with introductions, hm?"

The same guy from before nods his head slowly (it seems he’s the leader here) and tells you a little hesitantly, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. A Ranger, also known as Strider by most."

What in the ever loving hell did he just say?

You can’t even stop the laughter from bellowing out of you, because this is just so god damn ridiculous and completely baffling. You grasp your stomach and double over with laughter while everyone else just watches silently and confusedly.

Eventually your laughter begins to subside when your sides start to hurt, so you stand up a bit straighter and wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, "Ahaha, ah… wow that’s good. But really though, I’m not looking for stage names bud, I’m being serious here.”

This 'Aragorn’ doesn’t seem to find it as funny as you do. “Stage names? No, I believe you are misunderstanding.”

The smile on your face drops and you suddenly don’t find it as funny either. “So… your name is actually Aragorn then?” Well, maybe not all of them have weird names, “Right, then what about the rest of you?"

The other guy who looks like an actual human speaks up next, "I am Boromir, son of Denethor and Captain of Gondor.” Oh heck.

Blondie comes up next, “I am Legolas from the woodland realm.”

Shortie #1, “Gimli Son of Gloin."

The small dark haired man child comes forward, "I am Frodo Baggins, and these are my friends Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck."

"What the-” you pause and cover Penny’s ears, “Fuck is all of this?"

It seems your actions amuse the taller dudes because their stand-offish demeanors diminish as they seem to deem you harmless (I mean who covers their dogs ears when cursing? Clearly you’re pathetic).

"I’m afraid I don’t know what to tell you.” Mr. Aragorn states.

“Well, start with where you come from, maybe?”

They all share a look before 'Legolas’ states, “We come from Middle Earth and have just traveled through the Mines of Moria."

You literally don’t know what any of that means.

"Well, alright. Right now, I can tell you that you’re on Regular Earth and in my living room.” You don’t mean to be so sarcastic, but both the functional and rational parts of your brain are failing you big time, “Do you know how you got here?"

You get 8 respective no’s, and while you expected that, it’s no less frustrating. "Shoulda seen that one coming, I guess."

The Gimli character looks you up and down and asks in his gruff voice, "And what about you, you’ve not told us who you are."

"Oh, right, my bad. I’m Y/N, and this cutie,” you reach down and pick up Penny’s front paws from the ground and wave them at the group, “Is Penny. She is the softest, sweetest, and cutest doggo you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. Disrespect her and there will be consequences."

You stand back up and pat Penny’s head, watching as they all nod their understanding and appear rather nervous suddenly.

"That was also a joke.”

Most of them relax.

You tap your foot a few times and seem to think over your options, looking away from them and out the window.

Clearly there is something very wrong going on here, so you can’t just throw them out, but at the same time you don’t have enough energy to deal with this today. And there’s the very real possibility that they could be psychos. But there’s also the fact that they seem to be a little worse for wear, some of them have puffy eyes, and is that blood? Their disheveled and tired appearances tug at your heart strings, and you find yourself wanting to help them.

“Okay, against my better judgement I have decided that I’m going to welcome the lot of you into my house until we can figure out what the hell is going on here.” This seems to surprise Aragorn and his two tall besties. “I don’t know why… but something is telling me that I should help you out, so I guess that’s what I’m going to do.”

Two of the small blond ones smile brightly, but you haven’t finished yet.

“But!” Their smiles drop and everyone seems rather serious again, “If any of you try anything funny or start any trouble, I will kick all of you out. I don’t know any of you, and you all have weapons. So if I’m gonna let you stay then you’re going to have to behave.”

“Miss Y/N, you do not have to-” Aragorn begins, but you put up your hand and shake your head.

“It’s fine. Just please don’t break anything, and if Penny wants head pats you had better give them to her."

It seems your rules are fair enough, because you get 8 more head nods.

The two small people attack the snack you made finally, and you find that you can’t help but to laugh a bit.

A thought then strikes you, "Oh!"

Everything pauses and every looks at you again, more alert, but you just roll your eyes at how on edge they are.

"I was just going to say that I have two bathrooms is anyone wants to wash up.”

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Lullabies

Summary: Request of sorts- Things get out of hand when Luke’s daughter doesn’t want him to sing her to sleep.

A/N: Look! I finally wrote it!

Content: Dad!Luke, Uncle!5sos

Word Count: 2.1K

And away, and away we go!

~~~

You weren’t sure who cried harder when you announced your pregnancy, you, your husband Luke, or his bandmates. “Oh, we’re gonna sing her the best lullabies!” they all decided.

“Or him.”

“Nah,” Luke said, his blue eyes blurry as he rested his hand on your abdomen. “It’s totally a girl. My little princess.”

A week later, you were presented with a tape to play for the growing baby bump. You proudly blasted the tape to your bump for the rest of your pregnancy.

More tears spilled as you cradled that pink bundle to your chest, kissing the fair and thin hair. Amelia “Mia” Rose Hemmings was about to be the world’s most loved little girl.

You didn’t get to hold her long as Luke was quickly taking you from her, rocking her gently in his arms. “You got to hold her for nine months. There is still so much you’ll be able to do for her that I can’t,” he explained as you started to pout. “Let me have this, please?”

Singing. You had been accustomed to hearing it everywhere since you started dating Luke. That man was always either humming softly or singing at the top of his lungs. But there was something extra special about the sight of your husband dancing around the hospital room, the softest and sweetest sounding lullabies rolling off his lips as he rocked his princess to sleep.

~~~

“G’night love. I’ll be down the hall if you need me, okay?” Ashton told his niece as he tucked her in for bed. Y/N and Luke were on a double date with Crystal and Mike, and Calum was out visiting his sister, which meant Ashton was on overnight babysitting duty. Not that he minded in the slightest. He loved his niece like she was his own. They all did.

“Unca Ash!” Mia called out after him, making grabby hands.

“Yeah, love?”

“Sing!”

He froze.“Sing? Love, I don’t sing. Daddy sings. Do you wanna call him?”

She shook her head. “No. You sing!”

He sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “You sure you don’t want a story?”

“Sing!” her little voice begged.

“Alright,” he relented.

Mia’s bright blue eyes grew brighter as Ashton started singing. She had never actually heard her uncle sing, but she still recognized his singing voice as strongly as she would have recognized Luke’s. It was inherent.

~~~

“Mia, shh,” Luke soothed, cradling her in his arms. He was getting flustered. He had always been able to soothe his daughter with his singing. Why was tonight suddenly different?

“No, Daddy!” she whined, squirming out of his arms. “No sing!”

“You don’t want me to sing to you?” he asked, his heart breaking. He wasn’t ready for his little girl to be too big for lullabies.

“No!” she said, crossing her arms.

“Do you want Momma to read to you?” you offered, leaning in the doorway. Luke may have claimed the lullabies, but you had bedtime stories on lockdown.

“No! Lullaby!” she demanded shrilly.

“You want a lullaby?” you asked, trying to decipher the toddler’s words.

“Yes!”

“Do you want me to sing to you in the music room?” Luke asked her. Sometimes Mia preferred her lullabies to have the musical accompaniment.

“No! Daddy no sing!”

Luke laughed in frustration, his hand raking through his blond curls. “I do- Princess, you want a lullaby, but you don’t want me to sing?”

“Yes!”

“Mia, baby,” you jumped back in, coming to sit on the little girl’s bed. “Daddy sings. Momma reads. Who do you want to sing to you if not Daddy?”

“Unca Ash!”

“Ashton doesn’t even sing!” Luke cried in outrage, before he started to pace the room. “My princess… my own daughter! Wants the drummer to sing to her?! What?! I’m the lead singer! Mike? Sure. Okay. Cal? Definitely. But Ash?!”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to hide your giggles while Luke continued his pacing and venting while Mia began to bounce in bed, her hands clapping together as she chanted, “Unca Ash! Unca Ash!”

“Ashton!” Luke’s voice hissed into the phone. “What do you mean why do I sound pissed?! You turned my daughter against me! Yes! She wants you! Stop laughing! Alright, here she is.” He moved to sit on the floor beside you and Mia, putting his phone on speaker. “Tell Unca Ash what you want, princess,” Luke sighed heavily.

“Unca Ash!” Mia cheered, her blue eyes wide in excitement, grabbing Luke’s phone from his hands. “Sing!” she ordered.

Ashton giggled over the line. “Love, you sure you don’t want your daddy to sing to you?”

“No! You!”

Ashton giggled again. “Alright, love. Ready?”

“Sing!” she ordered again, her impatience growing.

“He’s never babysitting again,” Luke hissed up at you as Ashton’s voice lulled Mia to sleep, Luke’s phone clutched in her small fist.

~~~

Unfortunately for Luke, he wasn’t able to follow through on his threat that Ashton would never again babysit the princess. “Are you going to stop laughing?” Luke grumbled as he pulled into Ashton’s driveway.

You shook your head, hand clapped over your mouth as your body heaved with silent laughter. It had been a solid week of Mia demanding Ashton to sing her to sleep instead of Luke. And now, the little girl had demanded the drummer as her babysit because Luke had been stupid enough to ask her. “Why’d you ask her which uncle she wanted to watch her if you don’t want Ash watching her? Of course she’s gonna pick him,” you finally said when you caught your breath.

“Unca Ash!” Mia screamed happily, running up to Ashton after Luke freed her from the backseat.

“Love!” Ashton called, just as happily, crouching to wrap his niece in a bear hug. “Did she get lunch yet?”

You shook your head, passing him Mia’s bag. “She said she wanted to eat lunch with you. Something about a grilled cheese sandwich?”

Mia gasped and nodded her head excitedly, placing her hands on her uncle’s face. “Unca Ash cheese!”

“You know your daddy knows how to make them too, love,” Ashton said, looking over at Luke who glared back.

“No, Unca Ash cheese!” Mia said with more force.

Ashton looked over at Luke worriedly. “Mate, I- she’ll come around. You’re her dad.”

Luke continued to glare. He couldn’t be made at his princess, but he could sure as hell be mad at Ashton.

“Cheese, cheese, cheese!” Mia chanted in her uncle’s arms.

“Okay, I’ll make you a grilled cheese. Say bye-bye to Momma and Daddy.”

“Bye!” Mia told you and Luke.

“Bye, baby,” you said, kissing her blonde curls. “We’ll be back tomorrow, okay? Be good for Uncle Ash.”

“Eepover?” she asked, her eyes going wide as she clapped her hands.

“Yeah!” Ashton told her, feeding off her energy. “You’re gonna sleep over at my house. How’s that sound?”

“Yay!”

“Bye princess,” Luke said, giving his daughter a kiss on her cheek. “Momma and I love you.”

“Bye! Wuv you!”

~~~

“Oh, mother-” Ashton started to swear before he remembered he was in the presence of little ears. “Don’t stop!” he blurted the first thing that came to his head. Yeah, he decided. “Don’t Stop” was a good filler for cursing that would be sure to drive Luke nuts. He had been trying to be nice to Luke, knowing that the younger man was genuinely torn up about his princess showcasing a preference for Ashton over her own father. But, Luke was testing Ashton’s patience with the pettiness of it all. All Ashton was was Mia’s uncle. He’d never be able to have the bond with her that Luke had. No one could. It was time to fight petty with petty.

Mia looked at her uncle in confusion. “Daddy says big people words.”

“I know,” Ashton said, setting the sandwich that had the faintest scorched lines on them for himself. The sandwich hadn’t been in danger of burning, but he knew Mia would only eat the sandwich if it was lightly toasted because the black scorch lines “taste icky.” “But you shouldn’t use those words. So you say ‘don’t stop,’ okay?”

She nodded her head excitedly, like Ashton had unlocked a secret world.

~~~

It didn’t take long for Mia to utilize her secret. As luck would have it, the bomb dropped during a big 5sos family outing.

You all watched in silent horror as the ice cream scoop slid off the cone and plummeted to the ground, six sets of eyes whirling to watch what the little girl would do. Her mouth opened, and you all braced for the shrill scream. And promptly busted into a fit of giggles when that shrill scream was “Stupid don’t stop ice cream!”

“Mia, baby,” you quickly said, body shaking in held back laughter. If you looked at Mike who was already rolling in the grass, crying, you would definitely lose it. “Let’s not call things stupid. We can get you a new ice cream.”

“Unca Ash said!” was the blue-eyed protest.

A different set of blue eyes snapped to Ashton, humor gone. Of fucking course. “Ashton!”

“What? I told her not to actually swear,” Ashton defended, his hazel eyes dancing, his lips upturned in a humorous smirk.

“But ‘don’t stop’? Really? All the phrases in the fuckin’ world and that’s that one you fuckin’ go with?!”

“You giant don’t stop!” Mike wheezed from the grass which set Calum back into a fit of giggles, his hands covering his face.

“I hate this band,” Luke grumbled as Crystal picked Mike up off the ground and you got Mia a new ice cream.

“At least she’s not swearing like her dad,” Ashton tried to be helpful.

“Oh, don’t even!” Luke turned, using the slight height difference to tower down over the older man. “First you take lullabies from me, and now you have her substituting swears with the damn fuckin’ phrase!”

“Whoa!” Calum and Mike said, their humor disappearing as well. “Mia’s been asking Ash to sing to her?!”

“Yeah!”

“Mia! Don’t you like Uncle Cal’s voice?” Calum pouted at his niece.

Mia looked up at him with an ice cream smeared smile and shook her head. “Unca Ash!” she announced proudly, reaching to grasp Ashton’s index finger in her hand.

“But, Mia-sweets, Uncle Ash doesn’t sing. Uncle Cal does.”

“That’s what I said,” Luke told Calum with an eye roll. “Mike, how come you’re not more upset?”

Mike shrugged. “Kid’s got good taste. If she asked for me I’d be a little worried for her.”

“Mike, you sing fine,” Ashton said. “But, I think I might know why Mia likes my singing…”

“Oh, do tell,” Luke said with dramatic gesturing, complete with an eye roll.

“Y/N, how often did you play that tape we made when you were pregnant?”

“Like all the time, why?”

“Did you ever listen to it yourself?”

“No. I just played it for Mia. Why? Where is this going?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Luke screeched at Ashton in realization. “You sang her lullabies, didn’t you! When you watched her!”

“I tried to read to her. I knew singing was your thing. She didn’t want that. What was I supposed to do? Tell her no?” Ashton fought back.

“You fuckin’ idiot! We were all singing on the tape! She knew your voice!”

“Of course she knows my voice! I’m her uncle, you dumbass!”

“Did you ever sing to her before the night you watched her so we could have date night?”

“No, of course not.”

“And she never had a problem with me singing to her until then. Do you know why?!”

“Because of the tape, dumbass! That’s what I was getting at!”

“Because of the tape! Y/N played it for Mia on repeat her entire pregnancy. She recognized your damn singing!”

“Unca Ash sing pretty,” Mia chirped, not sure why the her dad and uncle were being so loud.

“Princess,” Luke groaned, scooping his daughter into his arms. “Don’t you want Daddy to sing?”

“Unca Ash!”

“Mia baby,” you interjected softly. “You’re making Daddy sad. He wants to sing for you.”

Mia gasped, her little mouth making an ‘o’ shape. “Daddy no sad! Daddy sing! Uncas sing!”

“Everybody sings?” Luke asked.

Mia nodded happily. “Sing!”

“See, mate? Told ya she’d come back around,” Ashton told Luke, clapping the man on the shoulder.

“I’m still mad at you, you giant don’t stop.”

“Giant don’t stop!” Calum and Mike started to snicker again.

All was right in the world back in the Hemmings household that night when Luke sang his princess to sleep for the first time in three weeks.

~~~

Tag List (Leave a message at the beep)

@goeatsomelife @flameraine @cashtonasff5sos @here-for-the-uproars @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @baldcalum @sparkling-chaos @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession

#lullabies #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fic #dad!luke #uncle!5sos #5sos #galcal irwin

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punkandsnacks · 4 years

Text

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Four; Acquaintances.

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Trigger Warnings: Nothing much to trigger in this chapter - just as the title suggests, a swooning moment or two perhaps-

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

The sky remained hard. Resolutely letting snow sift from the thick great heavens, like icing sugar drifting down. The ground also continued to be frosty hard and scattered with patches of hidden silvery ice.

No sooner than the sun had risen over the tumbling flat frosty vista of Hampshire hills and frost crusted meadows, than Iris is up, and going about her daily chores all in the life of a gently bred - yet unwed- daughter, of fairly considerable means.

She takes food parcels to the poor. Calls on sick relatives or companions for tea. Pays calls. Fetched supplies for cook from the butchers or the grocers, or the fishmongers in town.

When one of the maids is ill, or is suffering a passing heartbreak until the next suitor comes along, Iris is the one to step into the void and fulfil their tasks. She collects the eggs from the chickens at the farm, or makes the ailing girl a hot milk posset or a cup of hot chocolate to cheer them.

It seemed like every other week their maids, Meg and Julia, seemed to go getting their hearts broken. Some farm hand. Or the boy from the butchers shop. The milliners son, or the strong handsome one who works in the drapers shop. As ever; Iris steps into the fray when - another - devastating crisis comes their way. She helps cook in the kitchen with supper. Or she helps out with idle cleaning around the house. Or see’s to the chores on the farm.

This morning is no different. Meg took to her bed with an ailing heart of the most acute kind. For the boy she fancies had become engaged to another girl. Iris brings her a cup of chocolate after breakfast and lends her a handkerchief and a shoulder so she can have a good long cry about it.

So household tasks fall onto her today. Fetching in what cook needed from market for supper. Even though she’d have liked to have spent a morning reading her book, or helping Julia get on top of the household washing. She’s wanted to take down the parlour curtains and give them a good scrub, for weeks now.

Or today she had ideally wanted to lend Flora and Posy a hand in drying some flowers, and french lavender and roses. For perfumes and bathing oils. They had to use their home grown stock from the gardens carefully. It was a long winter. And the convenience of summer blooms are far off yet. Dried flowers cost a pretty penny up the market.

Her duties are endless. She’s got calls to pay. Off to the butchers to buy sweet meats and game for the jugged hare cook is making tonight. She needs to buy beeswax candles and salt, and some more soaps.

And Posy and Flora are allowed to purchase two new ribbons each. They’ll walk into the village with her. No doubt nattering all the way there about what colours they want. And all the way back that they should’ve chosen different ones.

Iris steps outside in her wintry best and her cracked leather boots. Two pairs of wool stockings this time. Her navy blue wool pelisse over a thick white cotton dress. For good measure, she puts a bonnet on to keep her ears warm, and wraps a gold embroidered shawl around her shoulders.

Posy and Flora are trussed up as if they’re off to go personally meet the Prince Regent. Flora is in her gold pelisse with her pink dress under. And Posy had her powder blue coat over her mint green dress. They’re both wearing bonnets that they made up themselves. Their hats staggering under the weight of ribbons and cloth and trims and flounces.

Iris’s was far simpler - No fuss. No trims. A gold straw bonnet with grey ribbon tied under her chin.

Iris has to chide Posy, when they step out of doors, for forgetting to wear her gloves. She insists she hasn’t a decent pair and slips back into the house to go up to Iris’s room to conveniently borrow her grey rabbit fur lined gloves. Making her elder sister roll her eyes. The plot was clear.

They had a heavy basket each to carry. Some old granary loaves, soused herring, and some jars of Jam from their kitchens to go to the poor. They’re not even at the end of the drive and Flora is whinging about the weight of her basket. Iris heaves a sigh and grabs it off her.

She trudges behind them. Both arms carrying heavy baskets.

Her and Posy link arms, giggling, walking along merrily, animated and discussing last nights ball. Or, more accurately; making sport of the people who’d attended.

“Did you see that awful Lavender gown Jane Penwell had on?”

“I thought it suited her very ill indeed.”

“And did you hear about Lawrence Fisher? Apparently he’s now to be courting Lucy Miller.”

“I cannot stand her. Last night she was so boastful about the lace trim on her dress. She’s vile. And I haven’t had any new lace on my dress for over a year! Not since last summer. I’m sure she does it deliberately, just to vex me.”

“You are far prettier than Lucy Miller. She has ten million freckles and no conversation at all. She’s a pale ugly little thing.” Posy’s insisting fiercely to her younger sister.

Iris is amused by the sheer frailty of their worries.

“And besides, Mama said she had a letter from Mrs Thornby today, and apparently Lord Ren and Iris were the talk of the ball all night, last eve.” Flora says cheekily.

Turning over her shoulder to scrutinise her sister with a smug grin that flashes her straight little row of teeth.

Iris rolled her eyes. Strongly suspecting that as of now, her and Lord Ren would be gossiped about in front parlours for weeks. This was a sleepy country village with little amusement and not much variety to sustain it.

Mama’s and girls of the Ton would fall on the new shred of tittle-tattle like wolves.

“He left the ball last night without talking to any other girl, mama said.” Posy explains.

“The poor man probably didn’t have time enough to get through all the desperate Hampshire girls, eagerly throwing themselves at him to make an acquaintance.” Iris thinks aloud.

They walk up Westwell’s frosted drive and out onto the snowy lanes that cut through quaint countryside and woods.

The golden sun is in its early rising, striping ribbons of thick satin gold through the trees. The ruddy browns and ash greys and ochre coppery rusts of the Turner-esque English countryside. Of fields and hedgerows and treetops. The grass is no longer green. It’s a musty white. And that same cloying powder clings onto the dead taupe leaves and branches of every tree. The air is bitter to breathe in.

Iris takes a deep lungful of it, and its like a chest full of sharp pins. Needling at her lips and her neck. She should’ve thought to employ a wool scarf. As it is she can only tuck her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Tucking the heavy baskets into to dig deeper into her elbows. The frost numbs her feet, and sneaks up her skirts and snatched cruelly at her legs.

She clenched her numb fingers, scrunching and unscrunching them up in her much too thin gloves.

Posy and Flora continue their giggling and swapping tidbits of gossip about Lord Ren.

“You know he didn’t even dance with anyone!”

“A great sin, I’m sure. Punishable by death.” Iris thinks to herself under her breath.

“He probably didn’t have time-“ Posy remarks.

“Or he doesn’t know how.” Flora supposed.

“A man that lofty, of course he can dance. Maybe he prefers not too.”

“Maybe he has a false leg, or, or a war wound!”

Iris rather wishes her ears were purely ornamental by this point.

Give me a pair of vestigial ears anytime you wish. She idly prays. Turning her eyes skywards.

“Maybe he’s shy-“ Flora squeaks. Posy clasps her hand over her mouth and laughs so loudly it startles the chaffinches out the trees.

“I don’t think he can afford to blend into the wallpaper with a stature like that.” Flora grins.

“His shoulders were twice the width of me.” Posy says dreamily.

“Did he have soft lips Iris? For you must’ve felt them through your gloves... Were they heavenly?” Flora demands to know. Both sisters walking in step alongside her now.

She side eyes them. “That is not a proper thing to discuss. And well you know it Flora Jane Ashton.” Iris insists. Concealing her secrets to herself.

She wasn’t telling her sisters how her whole body burst into shivers popping and skipping up her spine. How his touch made her skin feel like it was dancing of its own accord. Free from her body. She shivered yet she was blushing hot.

His lips were the softest, sweetest things that had ever come into contact with her body.

Her whole arm felt dizzy afterwards. It wasn’t possible. But that’s how it felt. Hours after she was still rubbing the patch where his lips had lain on her satin gloves.

When she got home after the ball, she peeled her glove off and looked at her hand.

It still looked ordinary. Her skin wasn’t red or marked - but it felt like it should be. It felt as if something utterly astounding had happened to her.

The memory of his eyes gazing their arrow-striking glare into her own haunted her head all night long. Swam behind her closed eyelids in her sleep. Those opulent piercing eyes.

“We won’t tell a soul.” Posy promises

“Oh, look. Here is the Barton’s cottage. Flora pass me the ointment for Mr Barton.” Iris demands.

Seeing the little boxy cottage coming into view. Roof thick with iced thatch. Walls butter yellow. With fat pink sickly rose vines creeping up the walls. Iris sees the chimney is smoking. They must be home keeping warm on this frigid morning. Acrid woodsmoke from the house drifts across the woods.

They deliver the ointment into Mrs Barton’s hand. Along with some jam, a loaf, and pickled goods to see them through the wintry cold week. They were a frail elderly couple after all. And Iris likes helping people. She always had. Her mother always insisted she’d been cursed with an unshakable vein of kindness.

Which often meant as a child she was forever taking in birds wounded falling out their nests in the gardens. Leaving carrots out for the wild rabbits. Seeds for the birds. Feed for the little monk-jack deers. She shared all her dolls as a girl. Forever saw to caring for the people and creatures which surround her. She visits the infirm with medicine. Reads to the lonely old matrons who’d lost all the grandchildren of their own.

Now she’s grown that inclination hasn’t left her. She likes making sure none of the infirm elderly, or the more impoverished friends of her acquaintance suffer through the bitter cold climes. They never have to struggle alone. Iris is a balm to the hurting. She gives what she can. And is a friend to everyone kind enough to recognise it.

Before long, the trio of ladies dispense their generosity upon those who need it. Giving what sustenance and leftovers they can spare. It’s not much really- when all is said and done. But it’s helping in any little way possible. And that’s what matters.

They come eventually into Pembleton high street. The every busy and jagged row of higgledy Tudor houses. Separated by a lane of sticky brown mud where horses hooves and carts churn up the dirt. Carts and stalls line the streets. Modest shopfronts sell their wares. The air is full up of woodsmoke and the scent of roasting nuts from the brazier on the stand nearby.

Iris loses Posy and Flora very quickly to the haberdashers, where the ribbons hang from great silken trails in racks from the ceiling. Every colour Imaginable.

She sees them fussing over Belgian lace and leaves them be. She steps into the butchers for Cooks desired hare and sweet meats. She buys the candles, salt and the paper wrapped little cakes of soaps from Mr Milton’s shop next door.

She crosses the street to the grocers. Fills her basket with green leeks, onions, potatoes and carrots. She tucks everything in her basket, around the poor lamented hare with its fur still on, and covers it with a patterned linen cloth.

She has a shilling spare- she wanders over to Mr. Greeley. The proud proprietor of the roasted nuts stall. She buys a bag of warm, buttery sweet chestnuts.

Hides them from Posy and Flora. This was her one little indulgence for today. She sneaks one of the hot things onto her tongue and savours it.

She strides back up the line of shop windows. Looking and listening to the clack and bustle of the street behind her. Clopping hooves, rattling carts, ponies and traps clunking along the high street. Friends and acquaintances stopped to gossip and chat in the street. Young and old. Of every walk of life.

She looks in the drapers window. The reflection off the glass, showed her a watery image of a gaggle of matronly mamas stood behind her across the street, loudly gossiping in her direction. Pointing and gesturing toward her.

She rolls her eyes in huffing annoyance.

She wasn’t enjoying being the inconstant centre of attention. Open to such censure and fascination in odes to the Hearst’s ball last night.

Also in odes to the mysterious new stranger to these shores, too. The dark, dashing, and taciturn Lord Ren.

Every wet-behind-the-ears girl in all of Hampshire was busy envisioning their swirled initials joined with his in their embroidery. A big handsome stranger from far off lands. It was the precursor to the stuff of romance from drippy novels. A harbinger of a great love story.

Maybe not hers. Lord Ren may have kissed her hand and called her handsome. But so have countless other rich suitors, and then two months later them and their pretty blonde heiress of ten thousand pounds, are lavishly married and installed in a house in Brunswick square. She’s sure he’ll eventually find some far more moneyed girl to march into matrimony.

It won’t be her- not her turn to pick out her wedding clothes. It never is.

She lets the whispers and doubts about her, flourish from unimportant mouths.

She never cared for the savagery of society. She won’t start being missish about it all, now. It won’t serve her any purpose-

She can only hope the next scandal or engagement or elopement, or any other source of fascination to the bored inhabitants of this county, comes flooding in quick to snatch away all unhealthy - and rather undue - interest in her.

She waits outside the haberdashers for her pair of silly sisters. They eventually come out. Comparing their new ribbons with each other’s. Flora has a pink, Posy has some frothy white lace.

Posy hands Iris a teal silk ribbon. “For your hair. It would become you so well. And it will go with your eyes.” She insists.

Iris smiles. Wrapping the long length of satin around her grey glove. It was very pretty.

“Pray how did you afford this?” Iris narrows her eyes in smiling suspicion at the pair of them.

“I saved up my allowance.” Posy insists plainly. Iris continues her look. She tilts her chin down a notch. Let’s her eyes harden to steel. Arched her muddy shaped brows.

“...And the haberdasher’s son is so very obliging.” Flora beams. The younger Ashton’s giggle together knowingly.

Iris sighs again. Strongly suspecting she could safely boast that she had two of the silliest siblings in the entire country. Hell, in the entire British Empire.

“Let’s take our leave shall we...” Iris says. Slowly heading away. Down the street in the opposite direction they came. It took them home down on the woodland path.

She picks up her pristine white skirts and steps over the mud. Baskets heavy with her goods now thunking against her hip as they walk. One filled with meat. The other with candles and potatoes and other luxuries for supper.

Posy and Flora trail behind her. Discussing how best to use their ribbons. On bonnets or around the waistline of their favourite dresses. Iris drowns them out and listens to the crunch of her feet on the frost. The silver wisp of her breath as its whisked away up into the reach of the sky. She likes how sun glimmers off frost like sparkles and diamonds and gems. Like something fine and rich.

They just come across a curve in the lane. Leading through an open meadow full of frosted grass and withered wildflowers. When a thundering sound gallops into being, hitting the hard ground in succession from beyond the bend.

Iris looks up, attention captured swiftly by the beast of a large rider atop a colossal shimmering black horse, moving quick towards where they are walking along the quiet little lane. The peace shattered by the horses hooves pounding the earth.

A great hulking beast of a man sits astride it. Who indeed almost matches the brutally-enormous muscled intensity of the creature he rides.

Lord Ren.

Iris startled and went to move aside. But he sees them and is already slowing the horse. She draws a deep breath and watches as he tugs the reins to reel in his galloping mount. Reducing to a canter, a trot and then to a slow stop. Hooves churning up frost and spitting wet and crushed muddy grass, under its enormous stomping treads.

The sun in fiercely shining behind him. So Iris can only make out the silhouette at first. There’s no mistaking that singular body for another man. The primal size and bulk of him is unmistakable.

But then he shifts forwards on his horse as it stops. Lumbering towards them all. And that winter sun shines amber over his shoulder and she’s met with the full face of the handsome man she became acquainted with yesterday. His breath and that of his horses turn to silver smoke in the cold air

He passes the strops of its black reins into one gloved leather hand. His attire not much changed since yesterday. Still all black. The shining calf riding boots. The breeches that sit entirely too snug to the sturdy trunks of his legs and hips. The tailored black wool coat. White shirt tied with an elaborately knotted wine coloured cravat. Diamond pin studded central into the tie of the cloth.

His hair is free and rumpled by the wind. Desirable and untamed. Wild. He wears no top hat on his head like most gentlemen of civility did, when out riding.

Something about that lack of full dress she admires. Maybe he likes to feel the wind tangle his hair. The suns kiss his pale skin. The wind stinging at his cheeks. Likes galloping across the terrain at full speed on his mammoth sized beast of a horse.

“Good morning ladies.” He nods to them all. Still seated on his horse.

“Miss Ashton.” He smiles directly down at Iris as his horse shifts and stomps and nibbles the dewy wet grass below.

She ducks her head and curtseys. “Good morning. Your Lordship.” She says politely. Dwarfed by his horses shadow.

He holds her gaze for a second and smiles. Eyes more opulent charcoal in their shade than ever, this morning. He even had a kiss of pink colour in his cheeks. He looks healthy. Less alabaster pale. She strongly suspects its because of the icy wind stinging his cheeks as he rode.

He unlatched his right boot from the stirrup and smoothly swings himself off the horse. Grips the pommel at the front of the black saddle and swings himself down. Feet land to earth with a crunching thud. Frost and grass crushed underfoot.

His long wool riding coat flaps at his knees. Billowing open at his chest to show just his white shirt beneath it. Such thin layers. He must’ve been freezing.

“If I may be so bold, Miss Ashton, allow me to see you along to your intended destination?” He asks kindly. One big hand patting the solid flank of his horses shoulder when it huffs at his dismounting.

Iris’s cheeks go flaming red. She’s sure of it. Throat dry she manages to answer.

“Oh. Forgive my impertinence Lord Ren. But I don’t wish to take you out of your way. Only we are heading in the opposite direction to your path.”

“With your permission. I should like to walk with you. I’ve done a sufficient amount of riding for this morning.” He tells her.

Iris smiles. Flattered that he’d rearrange his ride, just to see her safely home. Just to walk with her for a moment or two.

Posy digs a sharp elbow into Flora’s ribs. Which jolts the youngest into speaking. “Iris. We were just going up the lane here to call on Charlotte Morris.”

Iris gazes pointedly at Flora with a piercing state that could’ve rivalled a dressmakers needle. “How remiss of you not to bring it up until now...” Iris glares a little.

“Should you mind?” Posy asks. Fluttering her lashes.

“Of course not.” Iris says flatly. “Mind the hour home and do for heavens sake be sensible.”

“We are the very vision of sensibility.” Flora beams.

Iris quirks a wry brow at the both of them. Teeth grit.

The two most transparent pests on the planet. Their plot was clear as day- One of sneaking away and leaving their elder sister unchaperoned and alone with him.

They turn away giggling and make for the little lane opposite. Gabbling and whispering all the way. Loud giggles follow them like fluttering birdsong.

When she turns back to Lord Ren he looks slightly amused. She blushes.

“I feel I ought offer an apology, your lordship. They are- most puerile and trying at times.” Iris offers as she shifts to step nearer to where he is.

He smiles gently. “They are young girls who fancy themselves cunning, I wager. No apology is necessary for that.” He declares affably. Patting his horses neck.

He brings the big horse around. Holding the gathered reins in his left hand. He leads his gigantic horse around with a click of his tongue and some soft words in urging Bavarian. The big creature follows his lead. She moves and alters the heavy baskets on her arms.

He sees this. Kylo frowns at the heavy weights at both her elbows. She shouldn’t be tasked with fetching and carrying like a damned pack horse. He extends a hand. “Allow me, Miss Ashton.”

“Oh, no it’s- I couldn’t.” By the time her protestations die on her lips. He has one basket in one hand, the other, he tied the handle to a saddle bag strap on his horse. Lays it rest against the saddle.

She’s mortified that a Lord offers to carry her basket for her.

“That’s truly a magnificent horse. I’ve never seen the like before.” She says. The steeds eyes glitter as if it knows it’s being discussed. “What’s his name?” She asks rummaging in her basket he holds. Hand slipped under the cloth.

“Erland.” Kylo says. The horses ears twitch.

“Erland. A majestic name. For a majestic beast.” She smiles at him.

She steps up to the horse and strokes her gloved hand down the flat bone between his eyes, leading down to his snout. Scents of hay and oats and animal sweat pour musky off his coat.

“He’s a lovely animal.” She says. Stroking his solid flank.

“Percheron. He’s a French draft horse. His breed originated in the Huisne valley in western France.” Lord Ren tells her.

“Bred for use as war horses, and pulling stagecoaches. This one has a fair mount of Arabian blood in him too. Makes him far too proud and headstrong.” He announces. Erland flicks his swishing tail at his owner. Snorting at him.

“I bought him with me from Bavaria. He’s the best riding horse I’ve had for a while. Stubborn temperament.” He offers. He watches her stroke his head. Touch the soft spot behind his ears.

“You like animals, Miss Ashton.” He states.

Most girls, as far as he’s aware, deigned horses as smelly, ugly creatures, whose only purpose was beneath them. Or to pull their carriages. She seemed to like this big equine creature very much.

“I do. Especially ones who are as beautiful as him.”

“Careful. Or else that flattery will shoot right to his ego.” He warns lightly.

She smiles.

Erland’s hairy velveteen muzzle cheekily nudges at her shoulder for more affection. He clearly likes her touch. Kylo tugs on his reins and frowns at him.

“Benehmen Sie sich.” Kylo rumbles in a firm Bavarian command at his horse. Calling him back. Telling him to be good. Rubbing his stocky shoulder. The round strong bones of him and the hot silk of his coat underneath his gloved palm.

She smiles. Lets the carrot she fetched from her basket, sit in the flat cradle of her gloved palm. She offers it to Erland, who snuffles it up and crunches on it. Breaking the frail vegetables skin with his big teeth. Munching it all down. Nuzzles her for more when he’s done.

He snorts when Kylo speaks up. “Anymore and you’ll get fat. You great beast.” He assures his horse in that soft foreign dialect. Shoving his snout into Miss Ashton’s hand for yet more treats. Erland’s head was so big and his power so strong, he could’ve very realistically knocked her over with one push.

She steps back and takes her place alongside a Lord Ren so they can continue in their walk. He’s a busy man. She doesn’t wish to hold him up. They fall into step easy. Her on Kylo’s left, Erland in his big lumbering enormity on Kylo’s right. His master has his right hand holding his stallions reins. The other easily carries her basket for her.

“Did you enjoy your introduction into Hampshire society, Your lordship?” Iris can’t help but ask him with mirth creeping into her voice and on her smile.

He turns his head to look at her. “The sheer amount of handsome and accomplished young ladies hereabouts is staggering.” He comments with dry humour. “I wonder if this isn’t the most accomplished county in all of England.” He states.

Iris finds herself smiling. Every desperate mother worth her salt last night would be crowing her daughters praise to high heaven. Enough to induce the possibility that her very accomplished, pretty and upstanding daughter might have a chance at landing him.

“Mothers can be so very domineering when the subject of marriage arises.” Iris promises. Looking down to step over a particularly frosty puddle.

Kylo looks across at her. Watches her profile. Along the curve of her nose and the swell of her smiling lips. It occurred to him then, that she didn’t know of her beauty. She was not aware of its potency. He could sense it; this was a girl who overlooked her own worth and highly underestimated her attractiveness.

With her pebble-ash eyes shining in the marigold sun like that, sparkling as if made of moonstone gems, and her rosy smile so unguarded and free. She didn’t see her beauty then. Not the way he could. Didn’t see it lay in the kiss of pink in her cheeks or the merriment of her face. On the geniality of her laugh and smiles.

“I know I shouldn’t comment on such things. But I do feel so dearly for every new suitor who comes to this village. Every Mama and every daughter must veritably drown poor men with their female offspring.”

Kylo raises one brow. “Rest assured. I’m not a man so inclined to favour polite safe conversation.” He promises her. He doesn’t tiptoe around propriety.

“And I will admit I lost count of the young ladies I was introduced too last eve. My ears were quite ringing with names and sickly smiles by the end of the evening.” He confesses.

She smiles wide again. Looks across. “I do sometimes wish that the people here could look beyond the scope of their own ignorance. To look beyond the defining goal of matrimony.” She confesses.

“Why should a woman’s worth be tied onto who she weds? Can she not be her own person and find a man to suit that.” She avows. Letting her stalwart brain run away with her rather passionate mouth.

“That’s very forward thinking of you.” Kylo says to her with a kind smile. Her face falls. She’s inspired insult with that comment.

She’s flushing with embarrassment.

“Mother would faint if she heard me confess that to you. Do forgive me, for the impertinence of my tongue.” She begs. Face wrinkling into a worried frown.

“You have a mind. Miss Ashton.” Kylo says. “It’s entitled to make itself known.”

“I’m a gently bred, unmarried, woman. And the eldest daughter, Lord Ren. My mind should be silent at all times. And possessed only, night and day, by thoughts and longing for matrimony.” She says. Quoting one of her mother’s rants.

“Well. You have my word. I’m most blessedly glad it’s not.” He says. Turning to look deep into her eyes.

She seems curiously confused. “You are?”

“Indeed.” He answers plainly.

“It means you are the one woman in this entire county with whom I can conduct a refreshing conversation. One that doesn’t revolve around reminding me again and again, that I’m a rich man who desperately needs a wife.” He offers.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Iris says laughing. “Not often I happen find someone on the same page as myself.”

“English men may find your so called ‘impertinence’ intolerable, Miss Ashton. For they were raised to know no better. But I am not a English man. Where I came from, it is applauded that a woman might speak her mind and have judgements and executions of her own.” He supplies.

“Our way of life here must seem so strange and strict to an outsider.” She dares. The defining pinnacle of English country society was its savage nature, after all.

“I don’t see much of the society in Bavaria.” He explains. “I see to the welfare of tenants on my land. I go hunting every season to pass the time. I’m afraid I rarely indulge in attending parties and balls.” He tells.

“A castle must be an incredible home.” She guesses.

“Even so- it can be very limiting being confined to it in the cold dark winters. Very little company. Little to entertain. I found myself wanting a change of scene. I had looked for some land opportunity’s to enclose in over here. When Hellford became available. It seemed a good opportunity to travel. Sink my teeth into a new venture.” He smarts. Eyes darkly roaming over her face with that handsome smile.

She nods. “I quite understand.” Erland clops alongside them in the misty morning sunshine. Snorting breaths silver and wispy still in the biting air.

“What are the winters like in Bavaria?” She enquires.

He smiles. “Beautiful. But bitter.” He explains. “The snow can be deep. As tall as me some days when it falls.” She smiles at his description.

“The castle stands out of a tall pine forest. A lake and a river to the east. One of the biggest woods in the country. Full of wolves, boars, and deer. It’s quite a wilderness in its own right.”

“Goodness- wolves. Isn’t that terribly dangerous?” She frets.

Not as much as me. He thinks. Matter of fact, when he steps foot in that forest, he is the most bloodthirsty dangerous animal in it.

“The beasts respect the boundary of my castle. I respect the forest is theirs. It’s a symbiotic relationship.” He tells her.

“Surrounded by wolves. You must feel very at home here too, then.” She jokes.

He laughs. “There’s something familiar I grant. Though the wolves back home don’t don lace caps and thrust all their daughters at me.”

She laughs at his remark. And suddenly, she goes spinning off course. Her worn boots slipping on a sneaky patch of frost and ice. No grip to their soles in this devilish cold. A yelp leaves her mouth as she skids. Blood flashing flushing hot and terrible suddenly. The shock of slipping stabbing at her stomach.

He acts quick. He lets go of Erland’s reins and steps that big form forwards and snatched one arm out to grab her. Slips back around her waist, cups the back of her hip, and yanks her tight to him to stop her falling.

She gasps and trembles as her vision spins, to be quickly halted by a sheer wall of cold, dark clad muscle. She barely registers where she is now.

Because she’s pressed right up into Lord Ren’s redoubtably firm chest. Her palms crushed flat on his lapels. His arm seizing her back and cupping her onto him to stop her slipping. She can feel under her coat how her breasts are crushed flat to him. Can feel his breathing heaving up and down, much like her own.

A shaky gasp leaves her mouth as she looks up, peering past the peak of her bonnet with flaming cheeks. Realising that they are slanted very close together. His face is right there, and he’s gazing down at her.

She’s in his arms. Buried into his chest. And it feels incredible. Such musculature and sheer masculine mass under her palms. Her head swims. He’s dizzying. Hypnotising.

Eyes as dark as burnt-ember molasses flecked with gold, and his lips look so invitingly pink ripe and soft- she curses at herself for that treacherous thought and her blush rises more. His wool coat and cologne nearly smacks her in the nose as she almost collided into his pectorals.

Kylo can hear her fluttering heartbeat. Like a racing preys pulse beating wild. Frail and fast, like a baby birds. A huge drift of her fragrance absolutely drowns him, pulls him under. Clary sage, French lavender and peppermint. Sweet and calming. Addictive. He wants to lean down and taste the salt of it off her neck...

It seems an eternity passes before he speaks.

“Are you hurt?” He asks. Making sure she didn’t turn one of her ankles. Or damage the bone

“T-Thankyou. I’m, I’m well.” She gasps. “I’m so sorry- I” She explains moving her hands down off his chest. He nearly swept her up off her feet. Now only her tiptoes brush the icy ground. The only part of her barely rooted to earth. Lost in those eyes.

Domineering, commanding, brutal, eyes. Eyes that had seen this world ten times over. But never gazed upon anything comparable to her-

Erland brings them both back down to earth. Snorting and fussing. Swishing his tail and nudging his nose at his masters shoulder.

Sense swims back through the fog of attraction and the heady bloom of lust. Kylo unleashes her back and her hip from his hold.

Quite liking the feel of her he accidentally - and literally - caught underneath her coat. The plump of her thighs and the shapely flesh of her hip and her bottom. There’s doubtless a figure to rival Venus herself, under this shapeless coat and thin dress. She slowly drags her hands off his chest and steps back. Avoiding the ice beneath her toes. Her gloves rasp on his fine wool coat.

“You fell. Miss Ashton. No need to be sorry for such a thing.” He tells her.

“You’ve a steady hand, Lord Ren.” She compliments. Thanking him further. He still held her basket in the arm that had not reached out to catch her. He looked as if he barely had to flex out an arm to catch her. Just twisted his body. His reflexes were sharp and cunning. As strong as he was.

He reached out and retook Erland’s reins.

They continue walking carefully along the little lane. For Westwell is just beyond the tree line now. It saddens her that she’ll be home soon.

Back to her daily chores. Back to scrubbing curtains, and helping cook roll pastry and mediating the silly shouting screeching arguments that Posy and Flora have over who gets to take turns to wear their favourite bonnet

She reflects how restoring it is to talk to someone so fully - without having to watch or guard her tongue. It’s even more enlightening to talk to someone such as him. Someone who, like her, feels like an outsider. Never fully fits in. And harbouring no desire too.

She feels her heart sink, morbid mournful and grey settling in her ribs, when they come to the meagre gateway along the short drive to Westwell. The twin stone pillars signifying the gateway were old and crusted with frosted moss.

Kylo calls Erland to halt. She pats the wonderful beasts strong shoulder in goodbye. He rubs the great velvet plain of black his forehead at her. Kylo untied her basket and handed it to her.

“I’d have no hesitation in seeing you to the door directly. But I fear your mother might see fault with our being left unchaperoned.” He disclosed. Giving her back the groaning full wicker basket with a clever grin.

She shivers when their hands brush. If she had any doubts in her attraction, that betraying little Judas of a tingle that thrashed her body, made her realise otherwise.

She likes him-

“Astute observation, your lordship. I Thankyou for your discretion.” She blushes. Hooking the baskets back on her arms. Adjusting the shawl where it had slipped down from her shoulders.

She looks down into her basket, and smiles. “A token of gratitude.” She explains before handing over the still warmed bag of chestnuts across to him.

He cradled them in his leather gloved hand. Appreciative of the gift. He rarely ate food. There wasn’t much need for it and it wasn’t the manna that’s sustained him. He had little joy in any human sustenance - apart from humans themselves.

When he did eat food, it was red meat that was still rare, juicy, and dripping blood. And he only drank sharp deep red wine.

He reaches over and took her hand. Once again dropping Erland’s reins. He took her dainty hand and brought it up and bows to kiss her palm.

He’s tired of satin and calfskin under his lips. He rather wanted to grasp a taste of her skin. Soon.

“Always a pleasure, Miss Ashton. I hope the experience of your company repeats itself shortly.” He compliments.

She smiles, apples of her cheeks creasing dimples with her widened smile. She nods politely and curtseys. “Your Lordship.” She curtseys gently. Bonnet tipping forwards. Criminally covering that beautiful face of hers.

She turns and he watches her walk up the pale lane to home. Sun striping through the trees onto her bleached linen white skirts. Bleached by sunshine. And softly scented of fresh cotton and French lavender.

Miss Ashton is made up of good intentions and possesses a giving heart as pure as gold. Pure. That’s his little dove all over-

He looks down in his hand and weighs the small bag of nuts she’d gifted him. He lifts it to his nose and inhales their scent. Buttery, sweet, burnt and acrid.

He tips his eyes back up to watch her. Thought creases up his brow. He’ll never know how it is to have such a virtue as a kind heart.

She was made up of honour and purity and softness. Doves feathers, lavender and rose petals. And he is made of cruelty. Of war and broken glass and shards of steel. He was made between ash and snow and a landscape soaking swimming festering in blood.

There’s no kindness in him. No mercy. Barely any love in him either.

He cares little for humans. After he was turned. That’s just how he became. They became meaningless specs of nothing to him. She has no idea what he is- who he is- he’s sent entire scores and countries of men shrieking to their deaths and writhing in agony into hell, cursing his name on their lips.

And here she was handing him this little harmless gift, like he wasn’t one of the most fearsome beasts put on this earth.

She’s not far away when she turns back - just as he’s about to mount Erland to ride back to Hellford Park once more. He tucks her meaningful present into his coat pocket.

“Erland... Is that a Bavarian name?” She turns and asks curiously. A kind frown on the lintels of her eyebrows. She tilts her head curiously. Her grey eyes glitter innocently off the sun like honey poured onto slate.

She’s so innocent. And it strikes him so deeply right then. How much he admires that.

He hoists himself into the saddle using the pommel. Feet slipping in the stirrups. Hips resting back onto the cantle behind him.

“It is a Norse name.” He calls to her. Erland is whinnying excitedly. Stomping his hooves to get out to the open fields and get his blood pumping. Kylo can feel the excitement shivering through his stocky legs.

“What does it mean?” She seeks.

“In old Nordic tongue, I believe it means ‘Outsider.’” He tells her.

She smiles. “Well. I trust you both know you have atleast one friend in this Hampshire county.” She smiles.

“Good day, Lord Ren.” She beams brightly. She turns away and she’s already missing the gaze of those melting cocoa eyes appraising her warmly.

Her skin still thrashes from the memory of his touch. All over her skin is alive with the memory of that strength of his. His chest under her hands she’s never felt the like- he was as cold and solid as marble. Some Greek god manifested out of carved stone and come to life.

He turns Erland back onto the snowy road. Clicks his tongue and urges him to run with a sharp dig of his shoe into his side. He feels the ice and the wind sting his skin for all the ride home.

He thinks about her parting gift and her touch against his body for the rest of the day - truly he does. It’s moved him.

He hasn’t been moved so much by another being in all of his years.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

#kylo ren #kylo ren oc #vampire!kylo #vampire au #very wolves and doves #Iris vibes 🕊#Lord Ren vibes 🐺#Draegan vibes 🥀#vampirelovestory #vampire #demon #ao3 fanfic #lovestory #angst #slowest of slow burn #slow burn

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